#tried my best to make it look more like a tattoo than smudged makeup

[justanotherignot]

Thank you SO much to the amazing @aetherpoint (the very same Aetherpoint on Nexus Mods!) for teaching me how to take screenshots like these.

[mywritingonlyfans]

A fic about sucking / Smut with Damiano David

warnings: it's what the anon said, it's smut! like just smut!

a/n: i hope you don't mind but i'm taking some stuff you guys send and writing and yeah, i'm back. oh, and it's small, 1,378 words of pure smut

It was similar to sucking his energy to yourself.

He would come off stage all agitated, let you jump into his arms, lifting you and spinning you around. The air would come out of your lungs, because he was irresistible like that, so he would kiss your cheek, your neck, marking the spot with his teeth so that you squirmed in his arms, and as a calling, soon he would be getting rid of the others to be pulled by you to some quieter place. It was always like that after their concert when you were present, no exceptions, and today would be no different.

“Did you like the gig? What did you think?” He asked, knowing the answer well; just wanting to have his ego fueled by you as he closed the door behind his half naked body.

Catching your lower lip between your teeth, you placed your hands on his chest, pressing him against the door, looking straight into his eyes from the tip of your toes. “It was good, I kinda fancy the shirtless man throwing himself at people who made the best facial expressions when singing. Quiet hot I might add.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” His voice thickened, making you shiver.

He held the collar of your shirt, guiding you closer to him until his mouth was inches away from yours, before thousands of exchange of glances, you got on top of his feet and kissed him.

"Dami,” you whispered into his mouth, letting your breath take him as your fingers delved into his damp hair, pulling some locks for yourself.

“Huh,” he pulled his lip to himself, pulling a quiet moan out of you. When you opened your eyes you had a flushed Damiano, already impatient in front of you.

You sighed between giggles at his restless behavior, rubbing your knee between his thighs to feel how excited he was for you; as expected he was in his half solid state coming from your little touches. “I wanna praise you properly for tonight,” you added strength to his bulge, digging your nails through the hair on his chest and working your way down to the bottom of his shorts. “Can I have a taste of you pretty boy?” Your finger slipped inside the hem of his underwear, causing his stomach to contract and you to smile even more.

“Sure, go ahead, babe,” He didn’t hesitate, holding on to your shoulders for you to kneel before him; you didn’t blame him, in any other circumstance at this time he would be the one pounding into you or diving into your juices because it was always you who didn’t control yourself and needed him to put you in your place.

Doing as he expected, you tucked your hair behind your ear, getting your locks out of sight, and propped yourself up on his thighs, your hands right below Jesus. “Unbutton yourself, babe!” You instructed him, placing a gentle but wet kiss on his tattoo’s nose.

Obeying you, with his eyes still fixed on your face and swollen lips from his previous actions, he pulled his shorts off along with his underwear, revealing what you wanted so badly; your smile was priceless under his gaze. “Do you like what you see, angel?” He sounded softly, both knew it wouldn’t last long until your character dropped. In minutes he would be the one to shut you up by being in charge, not you; it was a fact.

“Yeep,” You said excitedly, holding him in your hands, following for a few pumps, making him let out sighs that filled the room you were in. “Are you excited about it, pretty boy? Imagining when you have my mouth?” With that being said, and his hip thrusted into your hand, you leaned in, watching him look at you intently, and licked his slit, gathering his sweetness for yourself.

“C’mon, angel,” he said already breathless, holding your hair and putting it around his fist, before that you had your lips pressed against him.

“Wait, it was my time to shine!” You whined, not sounding annoyed at all; even because you weren’t.

“You shine when you’re not being a tease, baby doll,” he said simply, guiding his tip between his lips. “Now be good and take what you want, huh?”

You nodded, gathering saliva to accommodate him, opening your mouth wide with your tongue ready for him, letting him fill you. He held on to the back of your neck, making you close your eyes and concentrate on sucking his entire length into your warmth. You went on like this, having him lost in front of such a scene until he realized that he needed more. “Look at me, angel,” he pulled you by the hair so he could pull him out of your mouth, resulting in a pleasant ‘pop’ noise to sound in his ears as he admired your saliva running down the corners of your lips.

“What’s wrong?” You said quietly, wiping yourself off with the back of your hand.

“Nothing angel, I just need more,” he paused, swallowing hard; a simple act, but enough for you to understand what he wanted. You were never one to want to be in control when it came to him anyway. “More of you for myself.”

You smiled enthusiastically, assuring him that it was what you needed. “Yes, babe, please,” you whispered, leaning properly on his thighs, parting your lips again for him.

Silencing you with his weight, he held tight to your hair, guiding you the way he wanted you to be positioned. His eyes roamed over your face, only to receive a nod assuring him that you were okay with that and with your throat appropriately relaxed for taking him. Following the signals, he thrust his hips into you, filling your mouth with him and pulling up to the tip just to fill your throat right after. His movements were repeated until his noises were way too loud inside the small room and your eyes were melting into tears. If there was someone outside, they would clearly know what you were doing.

“God, yes,” he groaned, his raspy voice making you want to touch yourself as he eased into you. “You’re taking me so well, fitting me just right into your mouth, angel. I bet your velvety mouth was made for this, right? Just to take me like that.” He ran his thumb down your cheek, wiping away a tear of black makeup as he violently went at you.

You agreed, feeling drool on your chin as a few drops trickled down your arm. Lost in your senses, you watched him, taking note of his makeup-smudged eye; which was certainly better than yours right now and the veins in his neck that were tight in between his silent moans, within minutes your throat was being filled with his hot liquid as you swallowed every drop of it; or at least tried.

“Fuck,” he lamented, needing to get you out of him because it was becoming too much.

You took a few last licks at him, coughing a little as you felt your throat scratch for the lack of him as you tried to push away your blurred vision with your wrists.

“C’mere here, sweetheart,” his sweet voice welcomed you as he knelt in front of you, grabbing you in your arms and kissing your forehead, wiping your mouth with his hands. His arms tightened around you, pulling your face towards him, showering you with kisses, cheek, nose and then your mouth in an act so gentle that made the previous moment seem banal for both of you. “You’re such a lovely mess right now, love, but you did so great for me, I’m very proud of you.” He pecked your forehead, still trying to clean up more of the mess that was the makeup under your eyes.

“Proud enough that I can be repaid?!” You asked, giving him your best puppy eyes while holding his chin so he could be looking you right in the eye.

He bent over you, leaning your back gently on the icy ground, running his teeth over the sensitive skin of your neck and cheering you up. “Always babe, always.”

------

tagging: @pingpongchamps @oro-e-diamanti @marriedwithmarktuan @its-afucking-mess

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry radiates sex appeal. We hope you enjoy this fics! If you find our rec lists useful, please support them by liking the post and reblogging it to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Gimme Gimme | Mature | 5957 words

He dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped down face-first onto the bed, groaning, and started thinking about that new neighbor. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe this was the time for him to actually try and find a love interest that lasted longer than 2 weeks. He rolled over and sat up on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out the window.

And what he saw was probably the most amazing thing on the planet.

Walking into his new neighbor’s house was a man in a suit, carrying a briefcase while his Porsche sat in the driveway.

2) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht?  That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on.  He also thinks he'd like to get closer.  Just to see what's under those aviators.  Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet.  Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life.  On a yacht.  In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.  

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

3) Sweet Like Cherry Vodka | Not Rated | 8039 words

When he exits the building he instantly sees him. He’s leaning against his white Mercedes Benz convertible. The car makes him look more expensive. Of course, the navy blue suit that fits tightly around his broad shoulders — making Louis want to fall to his knees, mind you — also helps to get the message across. He looks up from his phone, his sleek black aviators block Louis from seeing his dark eyes.

When Louis knows Harry's watching him he smiles. A grin grows on Harry’s mouth, his strong jaw moves cockily while he chews his gum. How does someone make chewing gum so hot?

“Need a ride sweetheart?” Harry calls to him, the statement adds to his cocky demeanor.

“You know I do, silly.” Louis laughs at how ridiculous the older man can be.

4) You And I ‘Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

5) Guns N Roses | Mature | 14069 words

Harry's an assassin, Louis is a government agent. They hate each other but not really.

6) My English Love Affair | Explicit | 19198 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

7) The Way The Storm Blows | Explicit | 21649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

8) Even The Best Laid Plans | Explicit | 25190 words

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

9) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

10) Carnelian | Explicit | 30631 words

Louis finds himself donating blood to the most beautiful being he's ever seen.

11) Take My Pure (And Wash It All Away ‘Til I’m Cured) | Explicit | 40629 words

They're all 19. Louis is a twink, Harry is a frat boy hunk. Harry for some reason wants his makeup done for pride, and Louis is just trying so very hard to stay clear of all alleged fuckboys this year.

12) In The Still Of The Night | Explicit | 68568 words

The Dirty Dancing AU where Louis is a feisty omega who wants to change the world, Harry is an alpha from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody puts Louis in a corner.

13) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76576 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

14) Your Name is Tattooed on My Heart | Explicit | 86809 words

Note: This fic has mentions of top Louis.

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

15) Beyond The Point Of Weird | Mature | 108331 words

Louis meets Harry one night and well... Of course things lead from one thing to another. How could Louis not be interested in having a go at the ex-Rockstar who'd starred in his first wet dream?

When Harry asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend to help him clear up his image, Louis agrees because why the fuck not. Yet it kind of feels like the only 'fake' part of their relationship is the title they chose for it... And then it gets confusing.

Louis' pretty sure he walked right into a trap - one he's not quite sure he wants to escape.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[missymurphy1985]

The Dressing Room (Cillian Murphy one shot)

Warning - smut

A/N - Cillian is performing onstage in Grief is the Thing With Feathers.. He has no wife or children here, he's just a carefree bachelor 😉

Request? Yes

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

It was 9pm by the time you'd arrived at the back doors of the Gaiety in Dublin, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he left the theatre and hopefully get your copy of Grief signed. You had tickets to see the play the following night - opening night - tonights show was just a warm up. You knew he normally left the theatre after the curtain call, avoiding the crowd at the front and never having a drink after a show with the crew. Tonight however, seemed to be the one night he didn't leave on schedule...

You checked your watch - 9:30pm. It was the middle of October and my god you were freezing, but you knew if you left now he'd come out... Just another ten minutes...

9:55pm.

10:15pm.

Your fingers were so cold, you couldn't feel them anymore. Your feet were like blocks of ice at the end of your legs. Looking around, you could hear the throng of people at the front of the building start to quieten - they were clearly moving on too. Your bladder was screaming at you - you knew that last cup of coffee on the train was a bad idea....

You were regretting your decision massively. The only reason you came tonight was because it would be quieter than tomorrow - just a warm up show for close friends and family. Obviously he had decided to stay behind for a while, or maybe he'd left through the main entrance... Fuck it. Wrapping your coat around you, you turned to leave before you finally heard the back door open. Turning, you saw him. Wrapped up in a long tan coloured scarf and beanie hat, but it was undoubtedly him. He spotted you with your book and pen and you definitely saw him sigh and roll his eyes.

"Cillian, I'm sorry I just - "

"Come back tomorrow night and I'll sign whatever you want me to sign," he huffed, turning his back on you and walking towards the car park.

"Are you fucking serious?" You almost laughed, looking to the night sky.

"What did you say?" Shit, you said that louder than you thought...

"I said - are you serious... I've been stood here for nearly two hours waiting for you, desperate for a wee, freezing my fucking arse off, and all you can tell me is to come back tomorrow? The self-proclaimed nice guy of Hollywood huh, not so nice are you? All I wanted was a fucking autograph.." You turned on your heel shaking your head and walked away.

"Hey! I never said I wouldn't sign it, I said I'd sign it tomorrow! Jesus... Some sense of fucking entitlement huh?"

"Fuck you, Cillian." Your angry eyes met his stunned ones for a moment, before you turned around and walked away.

**************************************************************

The following evening, after a lot of angry discussions with yourself in your head, scolding yourself for acting like a spoilt, entitled brat, you finally decided that the train ride and hotel booking was worth more than your pride. You'd arrived at the theatre with your tail between your legs, hoping he hadn't prewarned the staff about the psycho girl with red hair and banned you from the theatre....

Fortunately nothing happened. You watched the show in awe, his performance was utterly mesmerising... And it was easy to understand why he looked so exhausted the night before - my god the man barely stopped to take a breath!! You felt so guilty.. the thought of asking him to sign anything right now was absolutely terrifying, so you decided not to bother... Picking up your bag after curtain call, you made your way back into the foyer when there was a sudden tap on your shoulder. Turning around, one of the stewards was smiling at you.

"Miss? Were you at the stage door behind the building around 11pm last night?"

"Um... Yes... I know I wasn't supposed to be there and it won't happen again -"

"Could you come with me please?"

You panicked - you knew it was trespassing... He led you back into the theatre and up through the stage into the backstage area. Your hands were so shaky, the panic coursing through you, when your eyes suddenly made sense of where you were - the large door in front of you with Dressing Room clearly emblazoned across it...

The steward knocked, and a thick Irish brogue called him in. He opened the door and ushered you inside before you could protest. Sat on the couch was Cillian, his makeup freshly removed and he was back in his normal clothes again. On the table in front of him was a bottle of rum.

"I owe you an apology... What's your name?" he looked up at you and smiled, offering you a glass.

"I'm sorry, what the fuck?" You asked, looking at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"I was an ass last night - figured one drink with me and an autograph might soften the blow a little?"

He offered you the glass again and you took it. He clinked his glass against yours and knocked the rum back in one, you did the same. Rum wasn't your normal beverage of choice but it'd do for now. He poured a second glass each for you and you sipped this one.

"Haven't eaten since lunchtime - this is gonna go straight to my head," you laughed.

The two of you chatted - over an hour had gone by before either of you noticing. You were sat on the couch side by side as he continued to top your glass up. Now and again your hands would meet, or legs brush up against each other, and you swore you saw him bite his lip and smile every single time... Was he flirting with you?

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" You asked after a short pause.

"Everyone thinks I've already gone, only the steward knows I'm here. This is where I was last night - hiding. Pretty sad huh?" His words were definitely slower now the rum had kicked in.

"Not really - it's an intense show, needing some downtime on your own isn't a bad thing?" You were definitely slurring your words a little, trying hard not to be a complete lightweight and failing miserably.

"I owe you an autograph..." His blue eyes met yours, another lip bite... You felt your stomach knot...

"Yes you do..." You had to squeeze your thighs together to suppress the sudden ache you felt between them, his eyes were seeing into your soul, you could feel them burning into you.

"And where would you like me to sign?" You reached into your bag and groaned - you hadn't brought the book... You hadn't brought anything... A thought entered your head... And you'd had just about enough rum to ask for it...

"Ever had a tattoo of your autograph done before?" You asked him. He shook his head.

"Nope. So you want me to sign your arm?" You shook your head.

"Leg?"

"No."

"Back?"

"No..."

"Then where?" You unbuttoned your blouse from the neck down, his eyes widening with each loosened button. You stopped unbuttoning once you reached your cleavage, pulling the shirt off one shoulder to hang by your elbow. You tapped on your collarbone.

"Maybe a quote from the okay, written across here, and your autograph underneath?" His eyes covered your chest, following your finger as you traced a line over your collarbone.

"Uh... Yeah, yeah I can do that... Let me grab a pen..." He grabbed one from the desk, and came back, kneeling on the floor between your legs as he tried to figure out the best angle to get at your skin without smudging it... Or touching something inappropriate...

"This is tricky... Can you lay down?" He asked, and you lay on the couch - your blouse hanging further down now exposing the black lace bra underneath. He cleared his throat and focussed on your future tattoo. It was impossible to write it without laying his right arm directly on top of your breast, and his left hand holding the skin on the right side of your chest tight, just above your right breast. Once he'd decided the right quote, he set to work, his right arm brushing across your nipple as it moved, sending vibrations and shockwaves through you. You couldn't help but feel the dampness between your thighs, and you had no control over how deep your breathing suddenly became and your eyes fluttering closed at the sensations.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked, watching your thighs clenching.

"Mhmm.."

"What is it you're enjoying, exactly?" He moved his arm again, brushing over your breast.

"Mm... That... Do it again.."

"This?" His fingers traced over your left breast at the tip, circling the skin softly, tracing slightly under the material of your bra.

"Yes..."

"I can't get all the way across your collarbone... Your bra strap's in my way.." he whispered, and you arched your back as he reached a hand underneath your blouse, pinging the clasp skilfully. You pulled your arm out of the sleeve and he pulled the bra strap down over your hand, lifting it off your chest. Your left breast fully exposed now, and your left hand resting on your abdomen, scraping your nails over it, so tempted to run it down over your core that was now desperately throbbing, aching for attention. He looked down at your hand, and smiled.

You bit your lip as he stretched the skin again, setting back to work. He knelt closer to you, he was hovering over your chest now and you felt something digging into your right arm. Shifting slightly, his obvious erection was directly underneath your forearm. You bit your lip, and moved your arm so it was rubbing against it, making his hand slip, a deep groan emitting from his lips.

"I need your name..." He moved his mouth to your ear, the pen gone and his hand cupping your left breast, "Need to know what name I'm calling as I bend you over this sofa..." You gasped as his lips met your earlobe, his fingers squeezed your breast, moving down over your abdomen and under your jeans. His eyes met yours, looking for permission. You nodded, telling him your name.

"Y/n... If you don't tell me to stop now, there's no going back..."

"Don't you fucking dare." That was all he needed to hear. He stood, moving to the door and locking it, turning back to find you also standing. His body met yours, lips crashing together as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the strands. He lifted you off the floor, your legs wrapping round his waist as he carried you to the wall, pinning you against it. You could feel his erection pressing into you through your clothes, which he soon began to remove quickly. You stood bare in front of him, as his fingers moved between your legs, tapping the inside of your thigh to open them. You lifted one leg in the air, hooked under your elbow, as his fingers teased you.

"No playing... Need you inside me now, please..." You gasped, as he unzipped his jeans allowing them to fall to the ground. Your hand quickly slipped inside his boxer shorts, gripping the shaft of his erection and moving your hand up and down making his hips buck. You removed your hand, only to pull the shorts down to meet his jeans on the floor around his ankles. Lifting your body, he wrapped your legs around his waist and lined himself against your slick opening, pushing inside you slowly as you both let out primal, deep groans.

"Holy shit.. so deep, Cillian fuck..." Your breath caught in your throat as he bottomed out, his lips quickly capturing yours in a heated exchange, you hands digging into his shoulders as he began to thrust up into you. You rotated your hips as much as you could to meet his thrusts, soon stopping when his desire took over and he increased the force and pace of them.

"You feel so good.. clamping that hot little pussy around me... You gonna cum for me y/n?"

"You're gonna have to do better than that Murphy..." You smirked, biting your lip, hoping he was about to make good his threat of the sofa...

Within seconds he had you there. Your upper body bent over the back of the couch as he pounded into you from behind.

"Harder... Harder!!" You begged, your orgasm so close it was almost painful. You could hear him panting behind you, his cock pulsing and throbbing deep within you and you knew he was as close as you were.

His hand reached over your back, and gripped your long red hair - pulling it back, setting you on fire. The coil in your abdomen exploded, your core erupting with the most powerful orgasm you'd ever had.

"Fuck yes... Fuck.. yes... Y/n, fuck..." He grunted behind you feeling your walls contracting around him, before releasing his load deep into you, your name on repeat as he came.

He skilfully turned you whilst remaining inside, hoisting you up so your legs were round his waist again. You rested your head against his shoulder as he carried you to the couch, sitting down with you still in his arms, his cock still inside softening.

"That was something else..." He panted, stroking your back and neck.

"That was amazing..."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Hmm... More work needed." He pulled you back and grinned.

"So what do I have to do to earn your full forgiveness?" You grinded your hips against him and nudged his nose with yours. He bit his lip and felt himself hardening again inside you. Your hips rotated on him, squeezing your walls around him, edging him back to full erection deep within you.

"You gonna ride me?"

"I'm gonna ride you so fucking hard..." You moved his hands to your breasts, leaning back to give him full access to them and bounced like your life depended on it. He squeezed your nipples under his fingers, watching your soaked core devour his cock, bouncing on it.

"That's it... That's it..." You gasped as he moved his hand down to rub your clit under his thumb as your hips rocked against him, your hands resting on his knees behind you.

"You like that? My fingers rubbing your clit while you ride me?" His voice was like velvet against your ears, his words edging you closer. He pressed your clit with his thumb harder, his other hand rolling your breast under his palm, squeezing the flesh.

"Please... Oh fuck I'm gonna cum Cillian..."

"Let it go, I've got you baby.." your core throbbed as your orgasm swamped you, taking him with you as he threw his head back against the sofa, filling you up a second time. Both of you panting against each other again as you came down from your climaxes.

"Fuck me... I have to be forgiven now..."

"Getting there," you smiled, pulling your body off his and grabbing your clothes off the floor. You pulled out a notepad and pen, writing something down and stuffing it in his jeans pocket on the floor. You dressed quickly, his eyes watching your every move.

"Leaving already?"

"My phone number is in your jeans pocket. Call me if you're in town again?" He smiled and nodded, promising to take you up on the offer. You leaned over him, stealing one more kiss, before heading out the door.

**************************************************************

Your phone buzzing on your bedside table woke you the following morning. A number you didn't recognise calling you. Answering it groggily, the voice suddenly woke you up with a start.

"I still owe you an autograph."

[gotnofucks]

Master of His Own Fate

Pairing: dark!Bucky x Reader, dark!Steve x Reader

Summary: As far as Bucky knew, fate would not decide who you belong to. Very twisted dark soulmate AU.

Words: 3.3k

Warning: forced bonding (in a way), blood, violence, messed up stuff, language, noncon (if you squint). 18+ ONLY

MASTERLIST

A/n: I have no idea how this got deleted ^.^

Part 2

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

Bucky crushed the phone in his hand and let the broken pieces clatter to the floor. His whole body trembled with barely restrained anger and he took deep breaths to calm himself. How could you do this to him. How dare you.

You’d known each other for two years now since you joined the Avengers Medical team at the tower. As someone who frequented the med bay a lot, you both saw a lot of each other. Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that you were a sweetheart. His sweetheart. He didn’t care that the initials on your wrist were not his. He didn’t care about the stupid Soulmate legend. You were made for him and that was the end of it. So why now did he find your profile on findmysoulmate app? Why were you looking for the person whose name matched the initials on your wrist when the one who you belonged to was right here?

“Buck, you okay pal?”, Steve asked, and Bucky’s gaze flew to him.

“No. I am not alright. My girl has decided to whore herself out to other men and I am not fucking alright Steve!”

“Your girl…Y/n would never do that. I just saw her this morning.”

When the people said Steve and Bucky were best friends on and off field, they forgot to mention about how alike they were in their thinking too. If Bucky said you belonged to him, Steve believed him, no questions asked.

“She has a profile on findmysoulmate. I saw it. She’s looking for him, whoever he is!” Bucky shouted and then started pacing back and forth. Steve let him work out his frustration for a minute before stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You know, maybe you should finally talk to her now. She’s young, innocent. And she spends awful amount of time with Wanda who never shuts up about soulmates. She’s impressionable and must have been confused. You can put that right. Let her know who owns her.” Steve said gently. Bucky blinked at Steve then nodded. It made sense after all. You were a nice girl. You would never intentionally break his heart.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. I need to let her know she’s mine. I’ve waited long enough for her to come to the conclusion on her own anyway. She’s young, she needs help to see it.”

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

You were returning to the compound after a day of disappointment and exhaustion. Wanda had convinced you to make an account on findmysoulmate and post a pic of the initials on your wrist. Everyone wasn’t born with some stranger’s initials tattooed on their body. You’d lived with these two letters since the day you were born, and people had told you how lucky you were to be gifted with someone special. They did not however understand how utterly taxing it could be to have a soulmate. Finding the person you are destined for is not easy, since they could be anywhere in the world, in any country. You had no luck finding him, whoever he was, and you were losing hope.

People who didn’t have their soulmarks didn’t understand the burden it came with. Once you knew that there was someone out there in the world for you who was going to be in absolute sync with you, you just couldn’t settle for anyone else. It doesn’t matter how many nice men you met or dated, you kept thinking about the person you’re meant to be with. You can’t be happy with anyone else, ever. For the longest time now, you’d ignored your soulmark after having no idea who the initials belonged to. You couldn’t live your life searching for him. Instead, you focused on your studies and honed your skills until you became the youngest doctor to join the avengers. You loved working here and the busy atmosphere almost always took your mind off things. But then you met Wanda Maximoff and the girl wouldn’t shut up about the mystery man you’re meant to “marry and have cute cute kids with who’ll call me auntie Won-Won!”. How Wanda convinced you to not just join the app but go on a date with a man who matched your soulmark you don’t know. But it was a disaster. Though the man had your initials on his wrist too, it was more than obvious in the first few minutes that you both were not the people destiny paired together. Not only was he a pervert whose gaze barely lifted from your cleavage, but he was also a junkie who took out a pouch from his pocket and laid down two lines of coke on the table as dessert. After you had made sure to report your date and pay for the miserable dinner, you’d gone out on a drive and stopped by every food cart on the way to indulge in comfort food.

Now, it was way past midnight as you returned to the compound with your beautiful dress wrinkled and makeup smudged from crying. You were tired and you vowed to give a piece of your mind to Wanda the first thing tomorrow morning, right after chucking your phone in her face. You entered the security pin to your apartment and shut the door behind you, blindly searching for the switchboard. Flicking it on, you removed your high heels and sighed in relief.

“Welcome back.”

You screamed and stumbled back, before you recognized the figure sitting in your living room. Bucky had his legs crossed at his ankle and he was drinking whatever soda you’d left in the fridge.

“What the fuck, Bucky? You scared me to death!” You huffed in annoyance. “What are you doing here at this hour anyway?”

Bucky took another gulp of his drink before setting his glass down and looked at you with a frown.

“The question should be where the fuck have you been all this time? I’ve been here since seven in the evening and you are returning hours later looking like you just spent a few hours sucking some good for nothing bastard’s dick.” He had never cursed in front of you like that or been rude to you.

“Excuse me, what the hell is wrong with you. I – You know what, just leave. I’m too tired to deal with anyone’s shit at the moment. Go.” You just wanted to burrow in your bed and sleep your horrible day off. You’ll worry about a cranky Bucky tomorrow.

“No, I think we’ll stay.”

“We?”

That was when Steve emerged from your kitchen and you tried your best to rouse your half-asleep mind. Bucky and Steve were in your apartment after midnight, without your consent and they seemed less than friendly. You looked at them cautiously, very sure they were in no need of emergency medical aid to prompt this visit. Both of them were frowning at you, their eyes displeased at your ruffled appearance.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I am seriously too tired to care. I had the most horrible date of my life and I’m sure I ate too much and will end up puking in the morning. Whatever you have to say, can it wait until tomorrow?” You were already crossing the hall to your bedroom as you spoke, but Bucky quickly stood up and stopped you with a grip on your arm.

“You were on a date?” He growled and looked at Steve as if to say, ‘what did I tell you’.

You shrugged his arm off, the cold metal of it waking you up along with the dark tone of his voice. Suddenly, though you were in your home, you felt unsafe. It was bizarre because these were two avengers who you counted as friends and felt very secure with, but you gut was screaming at you to get as far away from them as possible. The very peculiar feeling of fear formed in your gut, the very same one that women get when they know they are being stalked in a dark alley at night. You hesitantly moved away from Bucky, only to bump into Steve. You peered at him over your shoulder and he wore the most disappointed expression you had ever seen on his face.

“Where do you think you’re going Y/n? Bucky asked you something, answer him.” Steve said and pushed you towards his friend with a hand on your back. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you, waiting. You felt trapped, your exhaustion waning with every passing second.

“What’s happening guys? You both are scaring me.” You said.

“Maybe you should be scared, sweetheart. You just came home having spent the last few hours with a man who’s not me and going by the state of you, your evening was very eventful. Did you let him cum in you? Did you compare those tattoos on your wrists and make plans for future?” Bucky had crept closer and now he was inches apart, his words spoken directly in your face.

You blinked almost stupidly at this sudden twist in your night. Bucky was angry at you for having gone to a date, Steve was disappointed. But that makes no sense. Why should it matter to them at all, unless for some reason Bucky thinks…?

“Buck, you are my friend. I don’t know why you’re talking this way. Why you sound so –”

“– So jealous? Because you fucking belong to me. You have always belonged to me.”

The moment the words left him, your worst suspicions were confirmed, and you wasted not one second before sprinting for the door. You think you would have managed to evade Bucky had Steve not been there. He seemed to have been waiting for you to make a move and you had taken only a step before you were grabbed by the back of your neck and pulled into Steve’s body.

“Stop! Both of you! Let me go!” You struggled but Steve held you fast and soon Bucky was at your back, his breath on your neck and hands capturing your arms.

“Baby, you need to slow down. Your squirming is turning me the hell on and as much as I would love to wipe any other man’s essence from you, we need to do something else first.” Bucky said and a second later he bit your neck making you screech. He kept pushing his teeth in, breaking your skin and you felt blood pooling in the juncture of your neck.

“Buck, stop.” Steve said and threw Bucky off you with a powerful shove. “Shit, come here sweetie.” You were cradled in Steve’s embrace, his handkerchief at your neck putting pressure on the wound and hand caressing your head. When Bucky made to move forward you whimpered and Steve stopped him with a raised hand.

“Baby, I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Bucky said and you looked at him with tear filled eyes. Your day today has been a whirlwind of shitstorm and you just wanted it to be over so you could forget everything about it.

“Y/n look at me” Steve said softly and raised your face to his with a finger. “Did you have sex with your date tonight?”

His voice and actions were so soft compared to Bucky’s that you shuffled closer to his warmth and shook your head.

“No, I left early. It was terrible, so so terrible that I went out for a drive to clear my mind. I didn’t expect to be so late, but time just flew away.”

You knew you didn’t owe them any explanation; you knew they don’t have any right to ask anything from you. But you were tired, exhausted, shit scared and absolutely terrified of what they would do to you if you didn’t answer them. They were genetically enhanced super soldiers while you were a brainiac doctor who worked overtime to avoid thinking about a man she had never met. You were no match for them physically and you were smart enough to accept defeat when you had to.

“Shh, I got you sweetie. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? I know you’re so tired of being alone, of not having someone with you. But you’re so naïve. Look behind you, the perfect man who will love you more than anyone else is standing right here.” Steve said and turned you to face Bucky. Bucky slowly walked to you and held your hands, kissing both in apology.

“I know this seems sudden but believe me when I say that I’ve loved you practically from the first moment I saw you. Everything about you sets my nerve endings on fire. You dominate every part of my life: my thoughts, my dreams, my very breath has your name on it. You’re mine.”

Your breath caught in your throat in fear. This could not be happening to you. You struggled to remove your hands from Bucky’s, and he relented in the end with reluctance, a scowl on his handsome face.

“Bucky listen to yourself. You’re talking like a crazy man. I don’t belong to you, I literally can’t. I belong with him.” You said pointing at the initials on your wrist. You knew immediately you’d made a big mistake because every last bit of sanity faded from Bucky’s blue eyes and they turned feral. He crowded you and his hands, tight as steel brands, caged your body.

“How dare you, hm? How dare you talk about belonging to someone else in front of me? Don’t think for one second sweetheart that just because I love you, I’ll not punish you.” His voice had gone soft, the way it does when he’s as his most dangerous. Steve stirred somewhere behind you, but your eyes were locked in terror to Bucky’s who pinned you frozen with his glare.

“Buck, please…” You didn’t even know what you were asking him for. He apparently didn’t care to know because he had started dragging you across the hall towards your bedroom while you shouted and wrestled in his grip. You shouted for help and begged Steve to help you, but he had was silent and watched you being hauled to your room with no emotion on his face.

Bucky entered your room and swiftly pushed you to sit at the edge of the bed, one hand on your shoulder and other grabbing fistful of your hair to manipulate your head. You were pulled up and his kiss descended on you with the force of a truck, knocking you back and his body followed. He swallowed your moans and protests, teeth clashing against each other’s. You barely noticed his hand reaching for the hem of your dress and then the ripping sound echoed around your room and cool air met your bare skin.

“Please, don’t!” You said, hiding your breast with your hands. Bucky stood with his gaze fixed on your body and when his hand reached for his pants you started sobbing. Curiously, he didn’t reach for his zipper but instead fished from his pocket his trusty knife. You whole body began shaking enough to rattle your teeth and gibberish spilled from your parted mouth in fear.

“Don’t look at me like that baby, I will not kill you.” Bucky said but you were far from reassured.

You saw Steve enter the room from the corner of your eyes and heard the door shut. He walked swiftly to Bucky’s side and restrained the hand with the knife.

“What the hell are you doing pal? You’re scaring her, put this thing away.” Ever the voice of reason but Bucky looked at him imploringly.

“Don’t you see it Steve? Look at her wrist. As long as she lives, she’ll live with this ‘what if’. But we can change that. Set her free from whoever this man is.”

While the talked you made your last attempt to escape and jumped out of bed towards the door. You could almost taste the freedom on your tongue, the door knob was clenched in your hand when you were yanked back by Steve who hoisted your twisting body on his shoulder and dumped you back on bed with almost no effort. You curled in yourself, acutely aware of your nakedness.

“Don’t take away my soulmark, please. Don’t cut it!” You croaked out and Bucky looked at you with his head titled.

“Cut your arm? No no my love, you’ve got it wrong. I won’t cut your arm” He assured and bent over you to kiss your sweaty brow. “I’ll carve myself into you.”

With that he straddled your waist and kissed you again, the cold knife in his hand making a terrifying trail down your cheek to you neck and collarbone, before stopping right above your heart.

“You think these letters on your wrist make you someone else’s? Well, guess what sweetheart, I’ll put my letters on your heart. Then you’ll become mine!”

Your body jerked violently under his trying to buck him away and Bucky urged Steve to take hold of your arms. You lay prone with a hoarse throat and watched with fascinated horror and pain as Bucky’s knife nicked your skin and glided smoothly to form his initials. He was great with knives, so it hurt less, and the effect was neat. He wiped away the blood and you could see shining on your skin, right over your heart the initials: JBB.

You belonged with, no, you belonged to James Buchanan Barnes.

Your tears had stopped, and you lay limp on the bed, lower half immobile under Bucky’s weight while your arms were held fast in Steve’s. The fight had left your body and you wanted to drown in the numbing embrace of sleep.

“I’ve let too many people control me all my life. The army, then Hydra, even Avengers. They order me and I follow like a good soldier. But I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Not even fate. I’ll be the master of my own fate. You bear my marks now. You’re mine.”

His weight was gone, and he said something about getting you water before leaving the room. You didn’t move but when Steve lifted you a little, so you were in a comfortable position, you for some reason reached out to him and nuzzled your face into his chest to weep. His large hand patted your head and back, voice soothing as he shushed you.

Bucky came back with a chilled glass of water and painkillers but stopped at the door, watching you in Steve’s arm. Your eyes met his and you thought he’d be jealous and pissed but a content smile lit up his lips.

“Steve” His voice rang out and Steve looked at him. Whatever passed in that wordless gaze you couldn’t tell but a minute later Steve was puling you harder to his chest and his lips were pressed in your hair.

“I’m sorry” He whispered in your ear and he did genuinely sound upset. “If there was another way, I swear I would do it.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he rolled off the bed and resumed his position of taking hold of your arms. Bucky was again over you with his knife and a wild, almost passionately crazy look in his eyes. The knife was back over your heart but just below the three newly carved letters into your skin. As it sliced into you again, Bucky spoke.

“You can’t belong to me without belonging to him too, for we both are one. And after tonight, the three of us will be bound together.”

The blood forged a small river down your breast, and you hissed as a neat SGR was carved into you.

“You’re our girl Y/n.”

They cleaned you up and dressed you in your softest nightdress, both super soldiers on either side of you. They each held a hand of yours and their own clasped hands lay on your stomach as they slept. It didn’t matter now who was the man who bore your marks. Fate was too late.

[cakesunflower]

Inevitable [C.H. One Shot]

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

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

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

        “—nervous about getting married?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Until she met Ian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        She really wished Aunt Lorraine was with her.

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “Ian,” Adeline supplied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Some things never changed.

*****

        “Do you believe in fate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Dr. Boocz nodded. “And this ex—”

        “Calum,” Adeline supplied.

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

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

        “Why’d you two break up?”

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

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

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

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

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

        “But what would you rather focus on?”

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

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

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

        “That’s good, Adeline,” Dr. Boocz said, a smile on her face as she nodded. “But I want you to keep something in mind.” Adeline raised her eyebrows, listening intently. “It’s okay to reconnect but make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Take things slowly. Don’t fall into anything serious, romantic or platonic, while in a vulnerable state. Think about what’s good for you in this moment and what would make you happy, and not depending on others to make you happy.”

        Adeline pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek, Dr. Boocz’s words swimming in her head. She knew her therapist was right, knew that she was in a vulnerable state and shouldn’t dive into anything. But Adeline genuinely believed there was no harm reconnecting with Calum; if their conversations at the bar were anything to go by, Adeline had felt comfortable and safe with him. But yeah; it would be foolish of her to fall into something new as she dealt with her relationship with Ian falling apart, especially after Aunt Lorraine’s death.

        Even if Calum wasn’t anyone new.

        The afternoon sun felt good on Adeline’s skin as she stepped up from the subway station and headed towards her street. Her music played in her ears as she walked down the sidewalk, Frappuccino in hand to sip from as she approached her house, only to stop in front of the three steps leading to the front door when she saw who was sitting on them.

        Adeline inhaled sharply as Ian stood up, a disgruntled scoff escaping him as he declared, “Finally. I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes.”

        “What the hell are you doing here?” Despite the firmness in her tone, Adeline felt her heart beginning to quicken its pace, the sight of Ian not something she was prepared for.

        “Trying to talk to you,” Ian frowned, stopping just a few feet in front of her. She still felt like he was too close. “You left without a word, cleaned your things out of our place and you haven’t said shit to me. You have any idea how much you embarrassed me, Adeline, in front of all our friends and family? The fuck is wrong with you?”

        He took a step closer with every sentence, and Adeline’s grip on her cup tightened as she took a step back, teeth pressing together tightly. She wasn’t intimidated by him, by any means; she just didn’t want him too close, wasn’t comfortable with it. And despite the shock of his presence, Adeline didn’t lose her voice.

        “I embarrassed you?” she repeated incredulously, sharp eyes meeting his dark blue. How arrogant was he? “You’re the one who played me, who was only in it for the fucking money. I don’t care if people think I’m the bad guy—but I would be damned if I let you make any more of a fool out of me than you have already.”

        She found it in herself to walk past him, purposefully bumping her shoulder into his as she did so. But Ian grasped her wrist, turning her around as he demanded, “You’re gonna walk away from me, just like that? That’s how you treat people you love?”

        Holy shit—how delusional was he? Adeline genuinely wondered if he was living in some reality where he hadn’t done anything wrong, where she truly was the villain of this story. Adeline would’ve laughed at the surrealness of it all if she wasn’t so bewildered at his arrogance. Her jaw tightened and Adeline, without hesitance, successfully jerked her wrist out of Ian’s grip. He glared at her, one she returned with full ferocity, a fire burning in her eyes as she snapped, “That’s how I treat people who are scum. You’re a liar, Ian, and I refuse to waste another second on you. Get the fuck off my property before I call the cops.”

        The last thing she saw was the astonishment flash across his features, her harsh words slapping him across the face as she turned and stormed up the steps, keys already out to unlock the front door. Adeline didn’t look back, didn’t need a reason to, and slammed the door behind her before letting out a deep breath. She looked up at the ceiling, finally acknowledging the quick pace of her heart, exhaling slowly as she told herself to relax, to calm down. She had felt good about the words she had said, felt good in shutting the door in Ian’s face.

        It would take time, and it probably would be painful, but Adeline knew she would eventually move past the shit show with Ian. Closing the door on him was the first step.

*****

        Friday nights, unsurprisingly, were busy at the bar. Calum, although he hadn’t wanted to at first, had eventually decided to clear out some tables and chairs when it got really busy so patrons could take advantage of the space and dance to the music being played. He didn’t really care for it at first, but after a couple of broken glasses, he figured the cheapest thing to do would be to clear out the tables and chairs just for nights like these.

        He wasn’t bartending tonight, his two other employees staying busy, so he remained by the end of the bar as he chatted with his friends, though he kept an eye around the bar and was willing to step in should his employees need him to. As usual, people of all ages were frequenting the bar, mostly those in his age group, all ready to ring in the weekend after a long week of work. Calum stayed by his friends, sipping his beer, the enthusiastic atmosphere of the bar not one he wasn’t used to, obviously.

        “Hey, Cal—can I get another White Claw?” Crystal asked, and Calum gave her a quick nod before making his way towards the other end of the bar where her drink of choice was kept.

        He made sure not to get in the way of his working bartenders, the bar expectedly busy, and right when Calum stood straight after pulling out can from the small fridge on the ground, his eyes instinctively drifted over to the door. His heart stopped, the surprise momentarily freezing him in place when he easily recognized Adeline enter the bar. He found himself staring at her, blinking out of his trance only when Adeline’s eyes managed to land on his despite the people in between them, a small smile quirking against her lips under the red and purple lights of the bar splashing across her face.

        He watched as Adeline approached the bar and Calum stepped closer as well, another woman following behind her, and once she was within earshot, Adeline smiled, “Fancy seeing you here.”

        A smile lifted Calum’s lips through a scoff, arms folding on top of the bar as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I think that’s my line,” he returned smoothly.

        Adeline let out a laugh, one he hadn’t been able to hear much the last time they saw each other about a week ago. Her in front of him now, with that easy going smile on her face, made Calum feel a bit better than the last time she was on the other side of his bar. Patting the messenger bag hanging off her shoulder, she said, “I have your clothes.”

        Quirking an eyebrow, Calum felt his smile turn into a small smirk as he asked, “Is that all you came for?”

        “You make a mean Henny and Coke.”

        Calum laughed, a lightness in his chest, realizing that Adeline had brought a friend and he needed to go back to his. He stood straight, ticking his head over to the left. “You wanna join? I’m sure Mike and Luke’ll be happy to see you.”

        Her smile softened, straightening as well as she nodded and said, “Yeah, sure.”

        He made his way back down the bar, glancing over to see Adeline and her friend making their way through the mild throng of people. When he reached his friends, Calum handed Crystal her drink before nodding at Luke and Michael. “Look who I found.”

        Everyone looked to the left, and Calum watched as recognition instantly flashed across Luke and Michael’s features as they both put their drinks out and cheered, characteristically loudly, “Adeline!”

        Calum grinned, an amused chuckle escaping him as her eyes widened in surprise at their grand reaction, watching as they got up from their seats to wrap her in hugs. As that happened, Calum met Ashton’s gaze, who quirked a knowing eyebrow as he mouthed, “Adeline?” because he knew exactly who she was despite never meeting her. Of course Calum had told his best friend, the one he’d made in college, about running into his high school ex again. Calum kept a lot of things to himself—seeing Adeline again couldn’t hope to be one of them. His excitement had been almost childish, despite the circumstances.

        Once Adeline introduced them to her friend, Gabby, and she was introduced to the few people she didn’t know, Calum took it upon himself to prepare their drinks. He found himself glancing over in the couple of minutes he’d stepped away, watching as Adeline and Gabby animatedly chatted with his friends, Luke and Michael having given up their seats for the two of them to sit on. He looked at Adeline, who didn’t look as drained or hollow as she had the last time, a smile on her face that he enjoyed the sight of.

        “Cal told us you two ran into each other last week,” Michael grinned, leaning against the bar next to Crystal. “I thought he was just messing with us.”

        Calum rolled his eyes as he sipped his beer, watching as Adeline laughed and teased, “Calum’s a lot of things—I don’t think being a liar’s one of them.”

        “Hey, hey, don’t try to butter him up—you’re already getting free drinks,” Ashton joked with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand, eliciting laughter from the group as Calum flipped him off from where he stood at the end of the bar.

        Adeline’s jaw dropped with the laugh that escaped her before she moved with purpose. Calum watched, amused smile on his lips and eyebrows raised as she dug into her bag before producing a couple of bills that added up to the cost of her drink. She purposefully showed Ashton the money between her fingers, earning a dimpled grin from him before she leaned over Gabby and pushed the money in the front pocket of Calum’s jeans. He laughed as he watched her do so before she grinned at Ashton, “Drinks aren’t free, but the truth is.”

        Calum scoffed through a laugh, deciding he’d give her the money back later instead of doing so now and squashing the point she was making. Right now, although he was engaged in the conversations with his friends, Calum was still trying to wrap his head around the sight of Adeline sitting among them.

        It was dangerously coming close to how things used to be when they were back in high school, in addition to a few new friends, and it warmed Calum’s heart to see her so comfortable with them. She didn’t look like she was folding into herself, a bright smile on her face as she chatted and laughed and sipped her drink. When he realized he was admiring her for too long, too frequently, Calum tried to distract himself by finding things to do. He’d wash his gaze around the bar, making sure everyone was good, checked in with his bartenders to see if they were keeping up with the orders—really just doing his job to avert his gaze from Adeline every now and then.

        “Hey, Cal—we need another bottle of Absolut and one of Bacardi,” one of the bartenders, Bridgit, told him from where she stood making a margarita.

        Calum nodded. “I’ll bring ’em.”

        He excused himself from his friends and walked around the bar, heading to the door that led towards the inventory room. He offered smiles to the customers he recognized who frequented his bar enough as he went, using the key he kept on him to unlock the door.

        As he opened it, he heard Ashton say, “I’m surprised you managed to look away from Adeline long enough.”

        Calum rolled his eyes at the teasing tone in his friend’s voice, stepping inside the dark room. He switched the light on as Ashton followed him, and Calum muttered a resigned, “Here we go.”

        Ashton’s tone was conversational, a little too innocent as he said, “She’s sweet and very pretty. I can see why you dated her.”

        Wandering over to where the supply of Absolut was, Calum threw Ashton a frown over his shoulder before quickly looking away, grabbing for one of the bottles. “Those weren’t the only reasons why I dated her.” Why he felt the need to defend himself, he didn’t know. Ashton knew Calum wasn’t that shallow, yet the words still slipped.

        “Oh?”

        Calum did a mental count of how many of those bottles were left before moving onto find the Bacardi. They should still have a few of those sitting around. It was one of the kinds of liquor that went out fast. “We were friends before we ever got together. She was one of the only other people, back then, who knew me as well as Mike and Luke did. Probably more. When we got together, it felt. . .”

        Calum trailed off, jaw clenching as he grabbed the neck of the Bacardi bottle and pulled it out, feeling a tightness in his chest as he thought of the time he and Adeline were together and happy. It was all happy. Blissfully so, even if they had just been in high school.

        “It felt what?” Ashton asked, curiosity coloring his tone.

        Calum turned to face his friend once more, the words climbing up his throat, begging to let out. He thought of that first day he met Adeline: second period honors English on the first day of his sophomore year, and her freshman year, of high school, where they had been assigned to sit next to each other. She’d worn her silver framed glasses, hair tied into a French braid, looking like the prettiest girl sixteen year old Calum had seen. So he lifted a shoulder, voice drawn yet sincere as he answered, “It felt inevitable.”

*****

        One of Adeline’s favorite things about her job was that a majority of it could be done from home. She worked as a content editor for a popular fashion magazine—but mostly for the magazine’s online content, with a few projects in the physical versions. But because of her job, Adeline was able to do it from home on her laptop, not really needing to venture into the office where most of the other employees worked from. The only time she went was when there were important staff meetings or if her work was to be done on the physical versions—she preferred doing those in the office.

        She liked going into work; truthfully, Adeline didn’t really need a job, not with the inheritance she had from Aunt Lorraine. But her aunt had always told Adeline that working for her own money was something to be proud of, something everyone should be able to experience. It was why Adeline had many summer jobs as a teenager, anything from scooping ice cream to working in department stores. Just because she had money, doesn’t mean she couldn’t work for it, too.

        Besides, what the hell else was she supposed to do with her time? All of her friends had jobs, and she could only keep herself company for so long.

        But going into work lately had been somewhat of a challenge. Ever since she ran out of her wedding nearly two weeks ago, Adeline had become the topic of office gossip, given that several of her coworkers and boss had been in attendance. At this point, a lot of the talk was dying down—mostly thanks to Veera Waters, their boss, who had heard some employees not so discreetly talking about how trashy it was to run out of your own wedding, and berated them six ways to Sunday. Adeline had appreciated Veera stepping in because it put an end to any of the negative comments anyone was saying. It wasn’t everyone who felt that way, but Adeline didn’t need to hear it. She didn’t care what anyone else thought—but that didn’t mean she had a desire to hear any of it.

        “I need a vacation,” Adeline announced with a huff as soon as she sat down on the chair opposite of Gabby. She hadn’t need to stay at the office after the weekly staff meeting, so once she had her assignment, Adeline left to meet up with Gabby for lunch at one of their favorite spots by Bryant Park. “Badly.”

        Gabby smirked slightly as she sipped at her drink. “I told you, you should’ve just gone on your honeymoon instead of getting a refund.”

        Adeline snorted, arms resting on the rests of the chair as she crossed her right leg at the left knee. “Yeah, right. Spend a week in the City of Love by myself after breaking up with my fiancé? Fat chance of that happening.”

        An exasperated look crossed Gabby’s face. “Paris is the City of Love. Not Venice.”

        Of course Adeline knew that. “Not for me, it isn’t,” she retorted. She preferred the beauty of Venice over the beauty of Paris any day. Now she wouldn’t get to see it because Ian was a piece of shit.

        The waitress came by then, a familiar friendly face by the name of Holly, and Adeline rattled off her usual order while also asking for some wine. She needed it. “Seriously, though,” Adeline spoke up with a sigh. “I need to be out of this city so I don’t run into Ian. And I need to be out of cell range from the vultures.”

        Gabby made a face at the mention of those people. Adeline’s best friend knew first hand how money-thirty Adeline’s extended family could be. All the second cousins and great aunts or uncles who spent a lifetime trying to get on Aunt Lorraine’s good side to have a sniff of the money she had in her grasp. Now their attentions had shifted to Adeline, the sole inheritor of it all. And after talking to Aunt Lorraine’s most trusted lawyers, Adeline knew it was only hers to do with what she pleased. And she would be damned if she let it get in the hands of greedy family members who weren’t happy with the money they had and wanted to dig their claws in her deceased aunt’s vault.

        No fucking way.

        “What about the lake house?” Gabby suggested just as Holly returned with Adeline’s wine—and a basket of deliciously warm bread.

        Adeline’s stomach twisted at her friend’s question—one asked tentatively, she could tell. Picking up a piece of bread, Adeline tore it in half and reached for the little rectangle of butter. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

        Truthfully, Adeline hadn’t been to the lake house since she went to spread Aunt Lorraine’s ashes. Even though Adeline used to go to the lake house to spend weekend with friends, it was also the place she and Aunt Lorraine used to close themselves off to when they wanted to take a break from the city. It was their happy place where they spent time cooking, baking, swimming in the lake, visiting the small town it was near because sometimes they preferred that over the business of the city. But it had been two months since Adeline had been back, and although she yearned to go once more, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

        “You wouldn’t be going alone,” Gabby assured her as she put down her glass. “We can make a trip out of it. Invite more people, if you want.”

        The idea was fun, Adeline could admit, and one she would’ve jumped at the opportunity for a few months ago. The lake house was full of happy, nostalgic memories, and Adeline knew Aunt Lorraine would want her to continue making more. Adeline offered a small smile to Gabby, bringing the piece of bread to her mouth. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

        It was a non-answer, but Gabby seemed to understand that was all she would get from Adeline and nodded in acceptance. When Holly returned with their food, Gabby asked, “So—Calum. What’s going on there?”

        Adeline glanced up from her plate of shrimp scampi, eyebrows knitting together. The jump in her chest at the mention of him wasn’t something she could totally ignore. “What do you mean?” Adeline returned, twirling the pasta around her fork. “Nothing’s going on anywhere. We only just reconnected.”

        “And are you gonna keep reconnecting?” Gabby questioned, a glint in her eye. With a teasing smile, she said, “If my high school sweetheart looked like that, I totally would.”

        Adeline felt her cheeks warm at Gabby’s reference of Calum being her high school sweetheart. Technically, he was. But hearing someone else say it was strange—and not in the bad way. Keeping her tone flat, Adeline said, “Do you really think I’m capable of pursuing something after ending it with Ian? Who I was with for three years, need I remind you?”

        Three years down the drain. God. Was any of it real? Adeline found herself wondering that more often than she liked. She wanted to be rid of him. To scrub her body clean of any trace of him. As much as she had loved him, as soon as the truth had come out, Adeline felt nothing but a burning anger when she thought of Ian, alongside the pain that came with a blindsiding heartbreak. Love was complicated but hate—hate wasn’t. And Adeline knew, despite spending years with him, loving him, her anger and hate won out.

        Gabby clicked her tongue with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to pursue anything,” she said. “You told me you guys were friends before you dated, and from what I can tell, Calum seems like a really nice guy. Besides—” An almost excited glimmer appeared in Gabby’s eyes, a small smile dancing on her lips as she leaned forward. “Don’t you think it’s, like, wild how you left Ian only to end up at your ex’s bar? That shit’s from the movies.”

        Adeline swallowed her mouthful of pasta, lips twisting to the side. Gabby had only voiced exactly what Adeline had been thinking about since the moment she saw Calum. What were the damn odds of that happening? New York was a big city, sure, but to not have seen Calum for six years and only to run into him on her would-be wedding day? Adeline recalled her conversation with Dr. Boocz about fate, how Adeline herself wondered if that’s what this was.

        She found herself hoping for it to be true. No matter how cliché or fictional it seemed.

        But this wasn’t a movie. If it was, Adeline was desperate to fast forward to the end. Maybe then everything would stop hurting.

*****

        The looming brownstone looked almost exactly as it had the last time Calum had seen it years ago, except now the bricks were obviously weathered, but the greenery around the steps were bright and lively. He stopped in the middle of the small path leading up to the front steps, taking a moment to admire the house, the early afternoon sun making the bricks almost glimmer with the dew that still clung to them from the brief rain that fell early in the morning.

        For a moment, Calum wondered why he never stepped foot here until now. When he and Adeline broke up, it wasn’t like he never came back to the city—it wasn’t as though he didn’t know exactly where she lived. His own family didn’t live in the city anymore, having moved when he graduated high school. But Calum could’ve guessed Lorraine’s house was still here. Although his and Adeline’s break up had hurt, it was still mutual. They could’ve tried harder to be friends. If texting and FaceTime hadn’t been enough to keep together their relationship, maybe it could’ve kept their friendship intact. So why hadn’t they tried?

        Calum kind of knew the answer.

        As pathetic as it was. . . It would’ve been too difficult to just stay friends with Adeline right after the break up.

        But he could’ve tried. Which was what he—both of them, really—was doing now.

        Taking a breath, he headed up the few steps leading to the front door, raising a hand and ringing the doorbell. When Adeline had texted him, asking him if he wanted to come over for lunch, Calum had stared at his phone for a solid ten minutes, unsure if what he was seeing was real, before snapping into action. He was glad she wasn’t able to sense his eagerness through a text message that said Sure, sounds great.

        The door swung open, and suddenly Calum felt like he was sixteen again and he’d stood on this very doorstep to pick Adeline up for their first date. Back then, they’d taken the subway to Coney Island and had spent all day on rides and eating junk food that made their stomachs hurt later. It had been so worth it.

        Now, Adeline stood in front of him in jeans and a blouse tucked in, cheeks pink and a smile on her face that Calum realized, not for the first time, still tugged at his heart. Against the afternoon sun, Calum could make out the dozens of freckles that dotted her skin; across the bridge of her nose and spreading on the apples of her cheeks, while also spreading up to decorate her forehead. They had dated, they were re-establishing a friendship that had been absent for six years, but Calum wasn’t that prideful that he could never admit how beautiful she was. Undoubtedly.

        Her brown hair tumbled past her shoulders in waves, smile bright as she greeted, “Hey.”

        Calum returned it, finding it a lot easier to do so than he expected. “Hi,” he said as Adeline opened the door wider for him to enter. He stepped through the threshold, a scent hitting him that launched him into the past. His gaze landed on the dish of pasta resting on the glass coffee table—she was as obsessed with pasta as he was—alongside a dish of vegetable gratin, and even a little bowl of guacamole with chips. Calum felt a faint smile tug at his lips before he looked at the pasta once more. Glancing down at her with a quirk of an eyebrow, he asked, “Is that three cheese lasagna I smell?”

        A laugh escaped Adeline as she shut the door, her own gaze darting to a bag he held in his left hand. “Only if that’s wine.”

        His smile widened a bit as he pulled out the bottle of red. He’d asked Adeline if she wanted him to bring anything, and she’d suggested wine if he was in the mood to drink it, so he swiped up a bottle on his way over. He remembered she enjoyed drinking it when it was just the two of them hanging right in this living room and Lorraine wasn’t around.

        “Your wish was my command,” he told her, earning a laugh from her.

        “Oh, crap, I forgot the wine glasses. Sit, I’ll be right back,” Adeline said, gesturing towards the couch before she went down the hall and around the corner where the kitchen was.

        Calum put the bottle down on the table, but instead of sitting, his gaze wandered around the living room. It hadn’t changed much since he’d last been there. There was a staircase directly ahead of the front door, about ten feet away, and to the right was the living room with a burnt red sectional facing the TV that was placed in a wooden unit, surrounded by books and picture frames and trinkets placed in the shelves.

        Calum’s gaze caught on the pictures, many of them consisting of Adeline and Lorraine, with a few photographs of Lorraine with Adeline’s mom, and of a toddler Adeline with her parents before they passed. A tightness locked in Calum’s throat as he gazed at her young, smiling face. She’d lost all of these people, all of her parents. He foolishly, unrealistically wanted to get rid of all the pain she had suffered—was suffering through.

        Just when he was about to turn away, something else snagged at Calum’s attention, and he felt his lips curling when he noted the marks on the strip of wall next to the window that faced the street. It was right in the corner where the two walls met as he approached, a small huff of a laugh escaping him as he recognized the markings.

        They started when Adeline was four, each marking higher than the next, rising with her age. The last one was put when she was seventeen, putting her height at 5’4”. That was seven years ago.

        “I haven’t grown an inch since I was seventeen,” came Adeline’s voice, and Calum turned to see her enter with two wine glasses in her hands. She stopped in front of the couch, her light brown eyes taking in the sight of him, and Calum willed his heart not to betray him now. Her lips curved up. “You, on the other hand, look like you hit puberty three times over.”

        A short laugh escaped Calum, hand rubbing the back of his neck and, for fuck’s sake, was he blushing? He couldn’t remember the last time he did that—

        Alright, he could. It was in high school—because of Adeline, no less.

        “I’ve always been taller than you,” Calum pointed out, pushing aside whatever the hell was going on in his chest as he walked over to her.

        Adeline’s smile was teasing and Calum wasn’t sure if he was remembering the moments of when they were friends or more. “Yeah, but I never had to crane my neck to look you in the eye,” she said with a light laugh.

        True, but Calum had always liked the way his body towered over hers. He’d loved it when her arms would wrap around his waist and she’d rest her cheek against his chest, and he’d be able to rest his chin on the top of her head. He loved it and he missed it.

        Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn’t handling this too well.

        Clearing his throat, Calum sat down on the couch, Adeline joining him, and he looked towards the food again. Almost tentatively, he asked, “Did you master Lorraine’s recipe?”

        She glanced towards the three cheese lasagna that waited before them, a small smile dancing on her lips. Three cheese lasagna was one of Lorraine’s famous dishes, and she would make it every time she knew Calum was coming over when they were in high school. It had easily become one of his favorite dishes and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until now, until it was waiting for him and he could smell the delicious aroma.

        “According to her, I did,” Adeline told him, and he recognized the longing mixed with sorrow in her voice, though the small smile remained on her face. She picked up the plates, handing one to him as she said, “Let’s see what you think.”

        He made sure to get a little bit of everything Adeline had made onto his plate as she poured the wine, and Calum couldn’t help the small smile that danced on his lips when he brought a forkful of lasagna to his mouth, aware of Adeline’s eager eyes on him. The flavor exploded on his tongue, the taste of the cheesy pasta so achingly familiar, not even bothering to hold back the satisfied groan that escaped him.

        “This is fantastic, Adeline,” Calum praised, eyebrows rising as he looked at her, catching the relieved and thrilled grin on her face. With a smile, he told her, “You made Lorraine proud.”

        Her smile widened, and Calum knew he’d said the right thing. The two of them settled back on the couch, plates full, and as Adeline’s fork clinked against the plate, she said, “Go ahead. Ask me.”

        Calum looked at her. “Ask you what?”

        She shot him a knowing look, lips curving. “The question you’ve been dying to ask since I texted you about coming over.”

        If Calum had forgotten that Adeline knew him better than he thought, this would be a reminder. He scooped some guac up with a chip, looking down at his plate for a moment before meeting her patient gaze. She was right. There was a question in his head, begging to be asked, but he hadn’t wanted to jump the gun. But if Adeline already knew of his curiosity, might as well ask it.

        “How come you invited me over?”

        Her smile turned gentle, almost nostalgic, and Calum’s heart jumped. Her light brown eyes were sincere as she gazed at him, taking a deep breath before answering, “We’ve been. . . Out of each other’s lives for longer than we were ever in them. And that. . .” She frowned, giving a shake of her head. “I don’t like that. I hate that we just fell out of each other’s lives after we ended things, and I think it’s time we, you know, fixed that.” Her gaze turned almost hesitant, hopeful. “If you’re okay with it.”

        Adeline spoke quickly like Calum knew she did when she was nervous about something, wanting the words to get out before she could think twice about them. He noticed not because he noticed every little thing about her, but because he was hanging on to every word she said—hanging on to the fact that she, just like him, wanted to once again be a part of his life. To what extent, Calum didn’t know and he wasn’t about to ask. Not when this old thing was starting anew, not when she just left her fiancé. He was just so grateful that she seemed to be on the same train of thought as him.

        Then again, more often than not, they both always were.

        “I’m more than okay with it, Addie,” Calum told her, the nickname slipping out easily. Before he could talk himself out of it, he rested his fork on the plate and reached his right hand out, grasping Adeline’s left, and Calum wasn’t sure if that had been a good idea because as soon as his skin touched hers, the warmth spread through him like a wildfire, electricity sparking his veins and tingling to the tips of his toes. But he kept the easy smile on his face, focused on the way Adeline squeezed his hand, how hers seemed so small in comparison, and Calum’s heart was racing as he looked at her and told her what he’d been dying to say since the moment he recognized her in his bar. “I missed you.”

        He saw her throat work, her smile soft as she let out a relieved sigh. “I missed you too, Cal.”

        And then it was like there had been no time lost.

        As they ate, they talked about what had been going on in their lives for the past six years. He told her about buying the bar and starting up his business, and she told him the summers she spent traveling with Aunt Lorraine and getting a job at a top magazine. Calum told her about his dog, Duke, and Adeline had immediately said that next time lunch would be at his place so she could meet the little guy. They wisely stayed away from the topic of Adeline’s ex-fiancé and the whole wedding situation. Instead, they talked about moments of when they were in high school, the dumb shit they got caught up in—skipping out on classes or sometimes the whole day altogether, the soccer games he played in and she attended to watch. They even talked a bit about Lorraine, fond smiles on their faces and pain creeping into their eyes. He wanted to ease Adeline’s ache, wipe it from her face as they talked about lighter subjects.

        Too long. It had been too long since he saw her smile or heard her laugh. How could he have gone six years without it?

        As Adeline smiled against the rim of the glass, sipping her wine, something tightened in Calum’s chest. He’d never moved on from her, despite believing that he did. The years he spent in the beds of different women and in relationships that never went anywhere should’ve been proof enough. It didn’t click until he was right there, sitting with her, remembering all of the reasons why he fell in love with her in the first place. Dating her for a little over two years felt like nothing compared to the lifetime they’d assumed they had.

        A lifetime she was so, so close to spending with someone else. He tried not to think about it. Tried not to focus on the profound and selfish relief at that very fact not coming to fruition.

        Even if he wanted to break her fiancé’s nose for hurting her.

        Calum had been at Adeline’s place for over two hours already. They’d finished lunch and were sipping from their wine as Calum finished up telling her about a Coldplay concert he had attended a little while back with Luke, Michael and Ashton.

        “I can’t lie—I’m kind of jealous,” Adeline mused once he was done, sitting with her back against the arm rest, left leg folded under her as the right hung off the couch, facing him.

        Calum’s right arm was resting on top of the couch, left hand gripping his nearly empty glass. “Because of the concert?” he asked with a light laugh.

        “Well, that too,” Adeline replied with a gentle roll of her eyes. “But mostly because, I don’t know, you’re still friends with Luke and Mike after high school and you and I aren’t. Or weren’t,” she corrected, shifting nervously where she sat as the smile on Calum’s face slightly faltered. “I mean, obviously the circumstances were different but I just—I don’t know, I wish it wouldn’t have been painful to stay friends after we broke up, you know?”

        She stumbled over her words, but Calum understood what she was trying to say all the same. Of course, he did—he felt the exact same way. And it was a relief to know she shared that sentiment with him. “Yeah,” Calum said, his voice sounding rough in his own ears. He cleared his throat lightly before saying, “We can’t change the past, but I’m more than ready to make up for the years we lost.”

        Her smile brightened her face and Calum could never get enough of it. Adeline sat up, leaning forward and holding her glass up. “Here’s to unplanned, but wholly welcome, reunions,” she declared, grin wide and eyes glimmering. Calum clinked his glass with hers before sipping his wine, gaze never leaving Adeline’s as he drank.

        When it was nearing five, Calum knew it was time to go, given that he had a shift soon at the bar. He was reluctant to leave, stalling by helping Adeline in bringing all of the dishes back into the kitchen. If she knew that’s what he was doing, she didn’t comment on it. Too soon, she was walking Calum to the door, their time together—for now—coming to an end. In his hand, he held a bag with a couple of Tupperware inside, filled with the leftovers of the delicious food she’d made.

        “Thanks for lunch, Addie,” Calum said as he faced her, back to the door as he looked down at her.

        Adeline smiled, brown hair framing her face as she slid her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, shoulders lifting. “Thanks for coming,” she returned.

        A question danced on Calum’s tongue, one he hadn’t asked anyone in years—one that was reserved just for Adeline because it had always been their thing. He wasn’t sure if he should voice it now, but maybe the nostalgia, or the excitement of finally, finally, finally seeing her again got to him. So Calum tilted his head ever so slightly, a half smile curving at his lips as he lifted his chin a bit. “So, when can I see you again?”

        Adeline’s eyes widened, grinning lips parting as she gaped up at him in absolute delight. Calum’s stomach tumbled. “Oh, my God—you didn’t,” she laughed, leaning forward slightly as she did so as one hand ran through her hair. Calum joined in on her laughter, admiring the flush of her cheeks. It was probably the wine, but he hoped it was a little bit because of him, too. “Wow, that—I haven’t heard that in a while.”

        It was silly, silly thing between them, dating back to the night of their first date when they returned from Coney Island and Calum had walked her right up to this door. He’d asked her, then, when can I see you again? and Adeline humbled him by letting out a laugh, as if it was the funniest thing he’d said because who even asks that anymore? before giving a teasing response of, Monday morning, by my locker.

        Ever since then, whenever they had a date night and he would drop her home, he’d end the night with that question. Sometimes it had ended up with Adeline sneaking him up to her room. Most of the times, she would give the same response—

        “Inevitably, in your dreams.”

        Calum’s heart jumped to his throat when he heard her utter those four words, the same teasing glint in her eyes he grew familiar with years ago. It had been a promise between them, a reassurance.

        Who fucking knew it would become a reality for some nights for the past six years?

        Adeline was smiling, biting her lower lip. Calum’s mouth was dry. He hadn’t felt this way since, well, since Adeline. What a dangerous, dangerous game they were playing.

        Willing himself to snap out of it, Calum returned her smile with a breathy chuckle, fighting the urge to clear his throat and indicate just how much of an effect her words had on him. He felt warm as he stepped forward, holding his arm out as he said, “Bye, Addie.”

        She closed the gap by returning his hug, fitting right under his chin as Calum rested it atop her head, and he found himself closing his eyes as she invaded his senses. Adeline could probably feel his heart thundering under the cotton material of his shirt, but he didn’t care. All he could focus on was the aching familiarity of her body against his, even in a hug, how warm and fitting she was. The scent of coconuts danced in his nose—fuck, she even smelled the same, terribly dizzying.

        It dawned on him, then, how much he could miss her and only realizing the extent the moment he finally held her in his arms again.

        Calum wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, hugging each other for the first time in years. The past two weeks or so since she walked into his bar, they’d only seen each other three times in total, most of their tentative communication being done so through texts. They never got to hug—not until now. Calum didn’t think he’d be forgetting the way her arms wrapped around his waist any time soon. Not that he would want to.

        Eventually, they moved to pull away, but their movements were slow, stalling. And they didn’t pull away—not all the way. Adeline’s arms remained around Calum’s waist, only lifting her head off his chest, and he only moved his head to look down at her, his own arm still embracing her shoulders. They were close—close enough for Calum to count all of her freckles if they had the time, close enough for him to see the two flecks of dark brown in the right iris of her light brown eyes without the help of the sun, close enough to feel her breath fanning against his lips, just like he knew his was against hers as well.

        What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing? The voice in the back of his head was loud, insistent, most likely reasonable in its questions and yet Calum silenced it for now. He couldn’t think of anything but Adeline, her coconut scent wrapping around him like a childhood blanket as his forehead pressed against hers.

        He watched her gaze drop, watched as it landed on his lips as her eyelashes grazed the tops of her cheeks, their noses brushing together. It hurt—his heart hurt because of how heavy and tight the longing was, how desperately he wanted to close the remaining distance between them and see if her lips felt the same way they had when they were teenagers. The air between them crackled like it had so many years ago, and that had to mean something, right?

        Calum squeezed his eyes shut, jaw ticking as he clenched his teeth together. He couldn’t do this. He wanted to so badly—but he couldn’t. In those stretching moments, Calum felt like he was at war with his head and his heart, wanting to so desperately kiss her but knowing he shouldn’t. They’d just gotten each other back and Adeline—she’d just been engaged just a few weeks ago. He didn’t want their first kiss to be a result of overwhelming nostalgia, didn’t want there to be any lingering pain for Adeline. He wanted to do it right, if it were to happen again. And right now, this—this wasn’t right.

        His body roared in protest, but Calum kept himself grounded with a tight grip on the bag in his hand as he dropped his other arm from around Adeline, swallowing thickly as he pulled his head away from hers while murmuring a quiet, “I should go.”

        Adeline blinked quickly, arms limply dropping to her sides as she looked up at him. She seemed dazed, almost, before pulling herself back and Calum hated to see the disappointment she was hiding in her eyes. Adeline stepped back, her hands sliding down her thighs as she nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, throwing a quick smile his way. Calum didn’t try to see if it reached her eyes, he already knew the answer. “I’ll see you later.”

        Calum nodded, turning away to open the door, the late afternoon sun now bathing the homes across the street in golden. He stepped outside, glancing over at Adeline once more as he said, “Bye, Adeline.”

        She smiled again, this time softer, holding the door as she gazed at him. His heart jumped at the look in her eyes, gentle and. . . Longing. “Bye, Calum.”

        He went down the steps, not looking back even when he heard the click of the door shut. The smell of coconuts followed him all the way home.

*****

        “So I did something stupid.”

        Dr. Boocz raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

        “Well, I almost did something stupid,” Adeline amended, twisting her lips to the side. “But it was something you definitely told me not to do. Remember how you told me to, y’know, take things slowly? After I told you I wanted to reconnect with Calum?”

        Realization flickered across Dr. Boocz’s face. “Yes, I remember.”

        Adeline chewed on the inside of her cheek, lips puckering as she scrounged up the courage to talk about what the fuck she’d almost done just two days ago. It was all she could think about, having blurted it out to Gabby when she’d gotten home from work that night. Her best friend had been both amused and unimpressed, saying something about how it was bound to happen. That hadn’t helped. Adeline had then proceeded to finish the rest of the wine bottle Calum had brought before drowning in her conflicted feelings. She wasn’t sure if the mild hangover the next day was because of the wine or her thoughts.

        “I invited Calum over for lunch and we got to talking. Just, like, reminiscing old times and stuff and catching each other up on the past few years,” Adeline explained, twisting her fingers in her lap.

        A small smile curved at Dr. Boocz’s lips. “And how was that?”

        “Really fucking good,” Adeline breathed out with a smile. And it had been—God, it felt so good to sit and just talk with Calum, to be in his company. She’d missed it, missed him, so damn much. How had she gone six years without it? She didn’t think she could do that again. “It felt like we never left each other. It was so comfortable and normal and just like it used to be. But then, right before he left. . .” Dr. Boocz remained silent, patiently waiting. Adeline let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the plush couch as she confessed, “We almost kissed.”

        Dr. Boocz raised her eyebrows. “But you didn’t?”

        “No,” Adeline answered, the word semi bitter in her mouth.

        Her therapist, of course, noticed. “How do you feel about almost kissing Calum?”

        Adeline swallowed, picking at invisible lint from her jeans. “Disappointed but. . . Also relieved.” Knowing Dr. Boocz was going to ask why Adeline felt like that, she continued on. “I want to move on from Ian, and even though it hasn’t been that long, I don’t spend every minute raging about what he did. But it’s still, like, fresh. And kissing Calum would just—it wouldn’t be smart,” she reluctantly admitted. “And it wouldn’t be fair.”

        “To him or to you?”

        “Both,” Adeline said with a shrug. “I don’t want to get into anything, serious or otherwise, without completely being rid of Ian and any lingering feelings I may have.” Her jaw tightened, the mere thought of her heard harboring any feelings for him making her irritated, even if it was expected. They’d been together for three years, after all—she had said yes to spending the rest of her life with him. “And Calum, he. . . He deserves better than that. I won’t do that to—I won’t hurt him.”

        Dr. Boocz considered her words before asking, “Who stopped the kiss from happening? You or Calum?”

        Adeline’s eyebrow quirked. “Calum.”

        “It’s important that you realize you recognized how kissing him could’ve complicated things,” Dr. Boocz said. “Thinking about both yourself and Calum and what the potential result of a spontaneous kiss like that could be is good work, Adeline. And in terms of you not wanting to hurt Calum. . . There’s a chance he may have stopped anything from happening because he understood where you were at. He respected you enough to stop before it got too complicated.”

        Adeline’s heart jumped at that. She could easily believe that, where Calum was concerned. He’d always been so receptive of others, could read them so well. Still, with a short laugh, Adeline dryly said, “Or maybe he just didn’t want to kiss me.”

        Dr. Boocz cracked another smile. “I don’t think even you believe that.” Adeline’s cheeks flushed and Dr. Boocz let out a gentle laugh. “You didn’t do anything stupid, Adeline,” she then said, responding to the statement Adeline had made earlier. “You were acting on your feelings—there’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone does it. My advice to you is still the same: take things slowly and focus on yourself, whatever that may mean for you, healthily. There’s nothing wrong with reconnecting with Calum. From what you said, he was an important part of your life, and seeking him out after losing another important part is normal—”

        “I’m not, like, trying to replace Ian with him or anything,” Adeline quickly said, hoping she hadn’t given that impression. That made it sound like Calum was some kind of rebound, which he absolutely wasn’t. He was. . . He was Calum. He belonged to a part of her life that was meant just for him, and now he was reclaiming it.

        “I know,” Dr. Boocz nodded and Adeline believed her. “Life just happened to work out this way when it led you to Calum’s bar after leaving your wedding with Ian. Calum was your friend before he was anything else, right? Finding a friend in him again is normal. If it evolves into something more, and if you feel that you’re confident in letting go of Ian, then you do what’s best for you.”

        Adeline rolled her lips into her mouth, nodding along slowly to Dr. Boocz’s words. She was silent for a moment, mulling over what she’d heard, before another thought crept into her mind, one she thought about often since seeing Calum again. Looking at her therapist, Adeline said, “I think about Aunt Lorraine a lot when I’m with Calum.”

        Granted, she’d only been in Calum’s presence less than a handful of times, but that didn’t make what she said any less true.

        Dr. Boocz tilted her head, a gentle softness in her eyes upon hearing the mention of Adeline’s aunt. “How so?”

        “She liked him a lot,” Adeline said, a small yet fond smile curling at her lips. “I didn’t date that many guys before Calum, but Aunt Lorraine didn’t think any of them were anything special. It was different with Calum. She. . .” Adeline bit her lower lip, a familiar ache clenching at her heart. “She wasn’t like that even with Ian.”

        “She approved of Calum.”

        “She did. They got along well—they were like friends, you know? Calum and I talked about her when he came over for lunch and it just—it felt good to talk about her with someone who knew her kind of like I did,” Adeline explained, thinking of the conversations they had. She remembered the fondness in Calum’s eyes as he talked about Aunt Lorraine, how she was the first adult in his life that let him have a beer in her presence, how she didn’t treat him like a child like every other adult in his life did. Aunt Lorraine was always popular with Adeline’s friends. It’s why everyone loved her.

        “I mean, I can talk to Gabby about her, but Calum had known Aunt Lorraine since he was, like, sixteen. There’s more history there so I feel like he just. . . He gets it more.”

        Dr. Boocz nodded along. “Is it easier to talk about her with him?”

        Adeline thought about it for a moment. In the dark of her room at night, of course the tears came a lot faster when she thought of her aunt, when she thought about the fact that she lost the only parent she’d ever known. She had been so young when she lost her parents and because of that, their loss, although sad, didn’t inject Adeline with a paralyzing pain. Not the way Aunt Lorraine’s death did.

        Talking to Gabby about Aunt Lorraine helped; her best friend had some of her own fond memories with the woman. But the pain always threatened to overwhelm Adeline. But even though she only talked about Aunt Lorraine, in depth, with Calum once, it had felt. . . Doable. The pain was present, but it didn’t burn her like all of the times before. She didn’t understand it, but she appreciated it, nonetheless. Maybe it was because of how much Aunt Lorraine adored Calum, and how it wasn’t one sided. She was the only parent Adeline had, and even before they dated, Calum had been determined to get on her good side. It had been effortless for him—it even took Michael and Luke a minute to get on Aunt Lorraine’s good side.

        So yeah. It was easier to talk about Aunt Lorraine with Calum. Everything, Adeline knew, had always been easier with Calum.

*****

Hey, I know it’s last minute but it’s Ash’s birthday tomorrow so we’re gonna be pregaming at the bar at 8 and then going to the Blue Ribbon if you wanted to come?

        The second Calum had sent that text the night before, he’d let out a sharp breath as the panicked voice in the back of his head demanded to know what the hell he was doing. He’d offhandedly asked his friends if it was alright if he extended the invitation to Adeline, and they all replied their agreements, and Calum had ignored the knowing looks in the boys’ eyes as he texted Adeline. When she had replied that she would be down to go, relief and nerves pinched Calum’s stomach.

        Truly—what was he doing?

        It had been a week since Calum saw Adeline—through no doing of their own. Work kept both of them busy, honestly, so they hadn’t been able to see each other since he had lunch at her place. Calum wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not, after their almost-kiss. When they texted throughout the days, everything seemed normal; neither of them brought up what had happened, and Calum didn’t know if either of them would. He realized that he was fine if they didn’t talk about it. They could blame it on emotions running high after their proclaimed reunion, they could blame it on the wine, whatever. So long as it didn’t seriously fuck up them finally being in each other’s lives again, Calum was fine.

        That didn’t mean his heart didn’t jump every time her name flashed across his screen. He felt like a teenager again.

        It was nothing compared to the feeling of seeing Adeline walk into his bar around 8:10, tight black jeans with a mesh top hugging her figure as her brown hair fell down her back like damn waterfall. Her grin was bright as she spotted them at the bar, walking over as they all greeted her over the music playing and she gave Ashton a hug while wishing him a happy birthday.

        Adeline came to stand next to him, the heels she wore giving her some height, as she looked up at him with a smile. “Hey, Cal,” she greeted softly, bumping her hip with his.

        And just like that, any tension in Calum’s body eased as he returned the smile effortlessly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her in for a side hug. Her own arm went around his waist. “Want a drink?”

        “Shots first!” Sierra exclaimed and upon everyone’s agreements, Calum lined up eight shot glasses and picked up the bottle of vodka, filling them up quickly and efficiently.

        They all clinked their glasses together, some of the drinks spilling over, before quickly downing them. Calum welcomed the burn in his throat that was already numbing, and as he put the glass down, he realized his arm was still around Adeline’s shoulders. Hers was still around his waist. Neither of them made the move to let go, and suddenly Calum’s body felt warm not from the alcohol he’d consumed, but because of the woman standing so close to him.

        He tried not to think too much of it. Though, that was a bit difficult given that Ashton, Luke, and Michael seemed to be eyeing them both knowingly. Calum regretted telling them of his slip up at Adeline’s house.

        They stayed at the bar for about an hour before deciding to head out to the Blue Ribbon, and Calum informed his assistant manager, of his departure before following his friends out of his busy bar. The eight of them, rather than taking an Uber, headed toward the 28th street station, going down the steps in a flurry of animated chatter with Metro cards in hands before waiting on the platform for the R train.

        They had a couple of minutes, and Calum’s gaze swept over to Adeline. She was leaning against a beam, a fond, somewhat tipsy smile on her face given that she’d taken a bunch of shots, listening to everyone chattering instead of engaging in it. Even standing there, under the harsh lights of the humid subway station, Adeline looked beautiful. So effortlessly did she rob Calum of his breath in a way no one had ever been able to, and Calum wondered if she was even aware of it.

        He walked over to her, leaning on the left side of the beam with his shoulder, peering down at her shorter frame. With an amused smile tilting at his lips, he asked, “You doin’ okay?”

        Adeline lifted her head and smiled up at him, a light laugh escaping her. “Totally,” she nodded and then huffed. “But it’s so hot in here.” Her brown eyes gave him a once over before meeting his gaze again. “How are you not sweating in that?”

        She was referring to the leather jacket he wore, which was a fair enough question. But the jacket was some kind of comfort that he wore when he went out on nights like these. “We’ll be in an air conditioned train soon, Addie,” he assured her with a chuckle.

        Adeline wrinkled her nose. “Unless it’s one of those shitty old ones that haven’t been renovated since the dawn of man.”

        “Oh, you’re not fun,” Crystal’s voice rang out, nudging Michael where they stood. Her blue eyes then found Calum and Adeline, and she brightened as she said, “Adeline—you’ll dance with us, right? Mike would rather be up there with the DJ than on the dance floor.”

        With a laugh that was drowned out by the approaching train, Adeline answered reassuringly, “Until my feet fall off.”

        The trip to the club wasn’t long, but the three minute subway ride seemed to drag on as he sat next to Adeline, their thighs pressed together, her shoulder brushing against his upper arm with every rattle of the train. But she was engaged in a conversation with Kaykay, and Calum was doing his best to not focus on how the warmth her touch gave him was much more preferred than the warmth of whatever alcohol was humming through his veins.

        Sometimes, he felt as though his lips were still humming from their near kiss.

        Calum clenched his hands into fists on top of his knees. He needed to get a fucking grip. He was losing himself; he could tell. And yet, even knowing that, he wasn’t that wary of it. All thanks to Adeline.

The short subway ride was followed by a five minute walk, and because they knew the right people, they were allowed right into the Blue Ribbon instead of having to wait in the queue outside. They walked up the steps and through the heavy drapes, the music thumping against the walls as they stepped into the main part of the club, the lighting an ever-present dim with the appropriate blues and purples flashing. Couches surrounded tables along the walls, and their group approached the one reserved for them as the women who worked there walked around carried several bottles topped with sparklers as people around them danced.

        As soon as they got to their table, the drinks were brought out, and when Calum moved to pour them for everyone, Luke swatted him away. “You’re always serving us, man. Chill,” he said with a laugh and Calum rolled his eyes, though the smile danced on his lips as he watched his friend pour more shots.

        The shots were taken right after cheering to Ashton’s birthday, their laughter nearly drowned out by the upbeat music blaring around them. Their table and sitting area were on a higher platform, but people were all around dancing, the DJ’s booth set up a few feet away to their left and the bar opposite of them, separated by dancing bodies.

        It didn’t take long for the girls to want to dance, and Calum watched with a small smile as Sierra grabbed Adeline’s hand and the two of them followed Kaykay and Crystal to dance, Ashton and Luke joining them. There wasn’t that much space right by their area on the platform, so his gaze trailed after them as they headed down the couple of steps for more room.

        “So—question,” Michael spoke up from where he sat next to him, sipping whatever mixed drink he created for himself. “Are you gonna ask Adeline out again, or are you gonna do what you did in high school and crush on her for two years before finding the balls to do it?”

        Calum pursed his lips after swallowing his own drink. He settled for a glass of whiskey that he planned to stretch out throughout the night. The shots they’d taken hummed in his veins and he could feel the lightheaded effects of them, but he didn’t plan on getting shit faced tonight, even if it was one of his best friends’ birthday.

        But he shot Michael a flat look, suppressing a sigh at the mention of his teenage behavior. He’d endured Luke and Michael’s teasing when it came to Adeline, fully aware of his feelings for her but never acting on them—until he did.

        With the rest of their friends busy dancing and the loud music serving as a tool for privacy, Calum let out a sigh. He looked down at his glass, the amber liquid looking darker thanks to the lack of light in the club, elbows resting on his knees as he ducked his head to mess with his hair. “I don’t know if asking her out would be a good idea,” Calum admitted, the words more bitter in his mouth than the drink he nursed.

        “How come?” Michael eyes, green eyes near translucent under the flashing lights. “Didn’t you guys, I dunno, have a moment the other day? Ask me, that’s not just a slip.”

        Calum licked his lips, tasting the spicy whiskey as his gaze wandered to where he could see Adeline dancing with their friends. He caught glimpses of her between people, but the smile on her face was too bright to ignore. Her brown hair danced with her and the lights made her skin glow—he couldn’t tear his gaze away. The day at her house. . . That wasn’t a slip.

        And maybe it was the sense of security Calum felt being in the blustering club, too loud and noisy. Maybe it was the fact that Adeline was too far away to have a chance of hearing Calum’s most inner, desperate thoughts. Or maybe it was that Michael, other than Luke, was the only one who knew Calum and Adeline’s history well. Maybe it was just the alcohol giving him courage.

        But Calum found his voice lowering, too quiet for this roaring setting, but enough for just Michael to hear as he said through a dry throat, “There’s never been anyone after Adeline.” He could feel Michael’s gaze on him, but Calum kept his eyes glued to his ex-girlfriend, who was laughing as Luke spun her around in a twirl. Calum was hit with the urge to go down there and dance with her. “Over these past few years, every time I tried to start something with someone new, I’d always go back to her. And now she’s back and I just. . . I don’t want there to be anyone else. Nothing felt right—not like my relationship with her did.”

        “If you knew what—who—you want, then what’s stopping you?” Michael inquired, not unkindly. His friends, Calum knew, sometimes had a hard time figuring him out. Truthfully, the boys were some of the very few people who knew Calum inside and out. They were who Calum was a hundred percent comfortable being himself with, and Adeline used to—still does?—fall into that category. Even so, sometimes his boys couldn’t quite decipher Calum’s feelings. Calum didn’t blame them; more often than not, he was in tuned with what and how he felt. But sometimes, even he couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on in his heart.

        Calum took a sip of his drink. The whiskey didn’t even burn anymore. With a dry laugh, he told Michael, “She just broke off a three year relationship, Mike.”

        “Yeah, like, over a month ago.”

        Calum scoffed in mild amusement at the frankness of Michael’s tone. “They were going to get married. I don’t think a month’s long enough to just move on from that.”

        “Why don’t you let her be the judge of that?” Michael retorted with a raise of an eyebrow. “Besides, the guy ended up being a total asshole, right? Trust me—knowing you broke it off with a shitty person sometimes speeds up the healing process.”

        As opposed to breaking it off with someone you still loved—that sort of thing you didn’t get over. Ask Calum; he was still more or less—okay, totally—in love with the same girl after six years.

        Admitting that wasn’t as emotionally difficult as Calum would have thought. God, he was fucked.

        “Still—I don’t want to rush her or anything,” Calum said as a Travis Scott remix started playing. He frowned to himself then. “I’m not—I don’t even know if she would want to start anything with me. Being friends is one thing, but being in a relationship. . .”

        Calum trailed off, jaw tightening briefly as he watched Adeline sing along to the song, doing so right into Crystal’s camera as she recorded the two of them.

        He was vaguely aware of Michael watching him. Calum still couldn’t bring himself to look away from Adeline, and he heard Michael scoff. “Yeah, no. I don’t think you two can ever just be friends.”

        Despite himself, Calum snorted, lips curving wryly. He couldn’t help but agree.

        Their friends danced for a couple of more songs before they stepped back up onto the platform, smiles on their faces as Luke sat down diagonally of Calum and leaned forward to pour himself a drink. Adeline stood on the other side of the square table, hands on her hips as she looked down at Calum, unimpressed.

        “You’re so boring—why aren’t you dancing?”

        Calum was leaning back on the couch, drink still in the hand that rested atop his right knee, the ankle resting on his left knee. “When have I ever been known to dance, Addie?” he asked over the sound of the music.

        A small smirk tugged at her lips. Just like the rest of them, a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her skin from the dancing and she’d gathered her hair over her shoulder. “When you’re drunk enough,” she answered knowingly. Ashton snickered, muttering she’s got a point as Calum rolled his eyes. “You’re not—”

        Her words cut off and Calum’s foot fell off his knee, ready to stand to help her catch her balance as someone accidentally bumped into her. But Crystal was right next to her, grabbing onto her arm, as the guy who bumped into her turned to look over. “Oh, my bad, I’m—you’re shitting me.”

        Calum’s eyebrows knitted together as the guy, with dark hair and about as tall as Ashton, scoffed when his gaze landed on an equally unpleasantly surprised Adeline. Calum noted the way she took a step back as she looked at him, and upon hearing the stranger’s words, their table fell silent despite the lively club around them.

        Something twisted in Calum’s gut, having a feeling that he knew exactly who this guy was by the darkened look on Adeline’s face. His thoughts were only confirmed when Adeline merely stated tightly, “Ian.”

        Calum could sense all of his friends tense, exchanging looks, as Calum’s own body tightened. There was a sharp, blinding urge to put as much space between Adeline and her ex-fiancé as he could manage. His grip on his glass tightened; there was also an urge to throw it at the guy’s face.

        So this was the asshole who fucked Adeline over, who wanted her only for what was in her wallet and not for who she was. The mere thought seemed unfathomable to Calum, but he figured not everyone was like that. He hated that Adeline was involved with someone as, well, despicable as Ian. Hated that she almost married the guy.

        From what Calum could tell through the flashing lights of the club, there was no longing in Ian’s face as he gazed at Adeline. Just pure distaste and anger. Sure, it probably didn’t feel great to be left at the altar, but it was kind of hypocritical, wasn’t it? Given that he was only in it to fatten up his own bank account. Ass-wipe.

        “Adeline,” Ian returned, and Calum recognized the tight, mocking tone he spoke in. It only made him all the more tense, ready to jump in. “How’s single life treating you?” His gaze gave their table a once over, unimpressed, before looking back at her. “Run out on any more weddings?”

        Her response was quick. “Only the one with you at the end of the altar.”

        Ian’s lips curled and even though the music was pounding as loudly as his own heart, Calum still listened intently as Ian lifted his chin. “You sound pretty proud for someone whose family has apologized more to me than you did.” He clicked his tongue, the sound barely registering. “You’ve become such a disappointment to all of them.”

        Calum recognized the scowls on all of his friends’ faces, and Luke, who sat closest to where Ian stood, looked about five seconds away from kicking Ian’s feet out from under him. If Ian’s words had an effect on Adeline, she didn’t show it. “You think I care what they think? You and them—you’re all the same: greedy for wanting what you’ll never have.” Her jaw tightened, eyes sharp and unforgiving. “I’ve got nothing to apologize to you for. You were only looking out for yourself—you don’t get to be pissed that I did the same for myself.”

        There was a swell of pride in Calum’s chest as he listened to Adeline stand up for herself, to be utterly unapologetic for what she did. Leaving Ian when she found out the truth hurt her, Calum knew, but he also knew it was far better than remaining oblivious and going through with the wedding, only to find out the truth later. She had saved herself from more pain than what she already went through.

        The second Calum saw Ian’s eyes flash—and not from the trick of the lights—he was on his feet, glass on the table. He could feel some pairs of eyes on him, but his hardened gaze was on Ian as he took a threatening step towards Adeline and snarled, “I wasted three fucking years on—”

        “That’s enough,” Calum interrupted, arriving at Adeline’s side. She didn’t need him fighting her battles for her, he knew, but Calum couldn’t sit back and let this motherfucker talk to her like she was beneath him. He was physically incapable of it. So Calum took a step between them, and instantly Ian’s gaze went to him, the anger at Adeline and interruption not well received. Calum stared him down, jaw tight. “I’d walk away if I were you.”

        Ian scoffed, as if he couldn’t believe Calum’s audacity. Calum couldn’t help the slight machoistic and smug feeling of being taller than him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

        Calum felt a hand on his arm. “Calum—” Adeline started, not to give Ian his name but to probably tell Calum that it wasn’t worth it.

        But she didn’t get to finish, because recognition instantly flickered across Ian’s face upon hearing his name. He let out an unsurprised guffaw, clapping his hands together once as he looked at the two of them. Calum didn’t move, shoulders squared, as a new kind of aggravation settled in Ian’s eyes. Looking at Calum, Ian scoffed. “So you’re the infamous ex she’s been hung up over.” Ian clicked his tongue. Calum’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Gotta tell you, man, you raised her standards a bit too high. But it seemed to work out for you two, didn’t it?” His hateful gaze flickered down to look at Adeline, who now stood at Calum’s side. Ian’s lips curled into a bland smirk. “Walked out of our wedding just to jump right back into his bed, huh? Doesn’t fucking surprise me in the least.”

        Adeline was tense beside him, and Calum’s own anger was simmering in his blood at the blatant disrespect. More than anything, he wanted to connect his fist to Ian’s jaw, wanted to knock him right on his ass for the way he was talking to and looking at Adeline. But he knew the second he did that, he’d lose Adeline’s respect. And no matter how much he wanted to break Ian’s nose, it wouldn’t be worth it.

        So he clenched his fists, fighting the urge, teeth aching from how tightly he was pressing them together. But there was deathly calm look in Calum’s eyes that presented itself in the anger he felt, his gaze never wavering from Ian’s. “Walk away, Ian. It would be the smart thing for you to do—trust me.”

        Ian’s lips curled into a sneer, harsh gaze remaining on Adeline before he stood straight. He let out a scoff with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry, I was just heading out. Wouldn’t wanna be caught dead in the same place as her.”

        And then he was gone, and Calum’s blood was still boiling. But he focused on Adeline instead, who was still staring after the direction Ian had walked and disappeared from, and he couldn’t get a good read on her expression. Adeline took in a sharp breath then, blinking as if she was tying herself back into reality, and looked past Calum towards where their friends were silently sitting.

        “I’m so sorry about that, you guys,” Adeline said, her voice thick as she looked at all of their worried faces. Calum knew, just then, she was holding back her emotions. The encounter affected her more than she was letting on. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Just—please—don’t let it screw up this night.”

        Calum had the urge to hold her hand—to hold her—when he realized Adeline needed the reassurance that what just happened didn’t, in fact, mess up anyone’s mood. And Ashton seemed to realize that, too, as he spoke up in that reassuring tone of his, “It didn’t, Adeline. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. We’re not gonna let some asshole ruin the night.”

        And given that this night was to celebrate him, Ashton’s words seemed to have a calming effect on Adeline as her shoulders sank a bit, a small smile on her lips. “I’m, uh,” she ran her fingers through her hair, taking a breath. “I’m gonna get a drink from the bar.”

        She turned quickly, walking off the platform and towards the bar. Calum kept track of her as she went, his jaw still tight, as he heard Kaykay ask, “Is she alright?”

        Calum glanced back at them, pursing his lips. “I’ll check on her.” He turned to go before pausing and looking at them once more, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “Just—don’t look so focused on her. Dance. Drink. Pretend that shit didn’t just happen.”

        He left then, wandering down the steps and making his way through the crowd as he approached the bar where he caught Adeline leaning against it. Calum was vaguely aware of a guy or two nearby glancing over at her, probably debating on whether to approach her. He killed their train of thought by sliding up next to her and asking, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

        Adeline faced him, left elbow propped on top of the glass bar as she looked up at him with eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Angry tears. “I want to rip his eyes out with my bare hands,” Adeline seethed, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her this pissed off before.

        Calum glanced down at her fingers, noting the pointed ends of her maroon painted nails. “You’d be able to do some damage,” he pointed out with a quirk of his eyebrows.

        “I mean—” Adeline scoffed in disbelief, before looking away and sniffling, shaking her head. “Who the fuck does he think he is? Treating me like I’m the bad guy in this whole thing? He hasn’t even fessed up to his bullshit manipulation even though I heard him myself and he’s trying to make it seem like I ran out on him without precedence?” The incredulity was heavy in her voice as she ranted quickly, and if Calum dug deeper, he could hear the hurt, too. But none of it was as prevalent as the anger. “And then bringing you into it—God, I hate him. I really think I do.”

        The bartender placed a drink in front of Adeline. Calum recognized it as Hennessy and Coke. Looking at her, he said, “No one would blame you if you do.”

        Adeline’s hand wrapped around the glass, another scoff escaping her, this time with a wry smile. “No one except for my beloved family,” she said. Calum clenched his jaw. There was a reason why Calum only ever met one other member of Adeline’s family. The rest were, like she always said, vultures. No wonder they sided with Ian in this whole ordeal. Adeline’s jaw worked as she looked down at her drink, shaking her head absently. “Aunt Lorraine was right. I never should’ve let it get so far with Ian.” She brought the glass up, sipping through the straw before muttering absently, “Total downgrade.”

        Calum wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to hear that, but he did even over the sound of the thumping bass, and it had his heart skipping a beat as he watched her. Suddenly he felt as though he needed a drink, shuffling closer to Adeline when someone bumped into his back.

        The movement had Adeline looking up at him, throat working. “You didn’t have to jump in but, um, thanks, Calum. I appreciated it,” she said, her words bringing him a sense of relief he didn’t know he needed. He was just glad she wasn’t bothered that he got in between them.

        He offered a half smile, lifting one shoulder. “It was instinct,” he told her truthfully. Adeline’s gaze met his again, and Calum’s chest felt warm. “Someone was being a dick to you—I couldn’t just sit and watch it happen. I know you’re capable of defending yourself, but it doesn’t mean you have to.”

        She smiled then, grateful and adoring. They were silent for a moment, watching the ongoings around them, and Calum kept his gaze away because he could feel Adeline’s on him. Keeping his expression neutral had never felt so difficult. “Thanks for not bringing it up.”

        He dragged his gaze back to her then, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Bringing what up?”

        Adeline smiled wryly. “What Ian said—about you being the ex I’ve been hung up on.”

        Calum had a feeling if Adeline really focused, she’d be able to hear the way his heart picked up even under all the noise of the boisterous club. That statement from Ian hadn’t slipped Calum’s mind, turning it over and over as he already started analyzing it. Although his posture was casual—slightly bent to rest his right elbow on the bar top, leaning against it—Calum felt anything but.

        Somehow, he found the nerve to ask, “Was there any truth in what he said?”

        He could’ve sworn he detected some nervousness in her gaze as she peered up at him, free hand fiddling with the thin black straw in her glass. “What do you think?” she asked instead.

        “I don’t wanna answer that,” Calum told her with a short chuckle. “It’ll only make it sound like I’ve got an overinflated sense of self-worth in your life.”

        His response, for whatever reason, made Adeline grin around her straw, lifting her chin as she kept her gaze on him. She pushed herself away from the bar, moving to walk past him into the direction of where their friends were. But she paused briefly to say, “Your sense of self-worth in my life is exactly what it is.” Calum’s teeth pressed together, inhaling sharply as that glimmer returned in her eyes. Her smile was teasing, but her eyes were honest. “It might actually be more.”

        And then she was walking, and Calum was left staring at her dumbly for a moment. He was an idiot if he ever thought he’d move on from her.

        He joined all of them quickly after, and the night fortunately continued as if Ian’s interruption never happened. Calum even let Adeline drag him onto his feet to dance some, ignoring the need to have her closer to him than she was while they danced.

        Most of the night, though, they spent at their table with glasses in hands and their chatter creating a cacophony with the music playing. Adeline ended up sitting on top of the couch, leaning her back against the wall the couch was up against. And Calum was sitting on the couch itself, glass once again in hand as he leaned back on the couch, his body framed by Adeline’s legs.

        Nobody blinked twice when Adeline’s fingers started playing with Calum’s blonde hair, the dark roots gradually growing in. Nobody found it odd that when Adeline wanted to speak directly to Calum, one of her hands found its way under his chin from where she sat above him, and gave his head a tilt until he was looking up at her and she was leaning down to speak to him over the loud music, her hair sometimes framing them—shielding them from others’ views. Nobody made comments when Calum’s left arm wrapped around Adeline’s left leg, fingers trailing from her knee to her ankle and up again through the material of her pants.

        It looked right. It felt right. So they let it be.

        And Calum, for the first time in six years, felt what it was like to once again be complete.

*****

        The smell of earth—damp mud and wet grass—tickled Adeline’s nose as a gentle breeze kissed her skin where she stood on the spacious back porch of the lake house. She gripped the wooden railing as she took in the lake before her, glimmering under the early afternoon sun, the leaves of trees surrounding it whispering against one another in the wind. The smell of the city after a rain shower was different than the smells that rose at the lake house—and Adeline had missed this.

        She kind of hated that she had hesitated so much on returning here since emptying Aunt Lorraine’s ashes, but after the shit show on Ashton’s birthday with Ian last week, Adeline’s need for a vacation had multiplied tenfold. And the only place she could think of to go to was the beloved lake house. She didn’t want to go alone, though, so she told all of the guys and the girls to come if they wanted. The lake house had five bedrooms because this had been a place where Aunt Lorraine would come to with her friends for mini girls trips—it was one of the reasons why she bought it, other than to get out of the city with Adeline when it got too much—so there was enough rooms for all of them if they shared.

        They were going to make a long weekend out of it, arriving on Friday and then leaving Sunday. But because nobody had been at the lake house for two months, Adeline figured there would be some cleaning to do despite most of the furniture being covered in sheets. So she drove the hour and a half drive out of the city on Thursday, a whole day before everyone was set to arrive, to tidy the place up.

        And adjust to being there without Aunt Lorraine.

        Adeline had already gotten started in cleaning up the living room and kitchen, putting away the sheets that covered the couches and tables and using the appropriate supplies to rid of any dust that had settled. The lake house was lovely, built with wood and stones of different shades of brown and grey, wooden beams supporting the structure. The walls of the living room had large windows that gave a view of the lake in the back, smaller windows in the connecting kitchen to provide the same view. There was no formal dining room, instead a picnic bench style dining table was set up in the living room.

        A TV was mounted on the wall with the fireplace underneath, and in the corner was a liquor cabinet Adeline had stocked upon her arrival—along with making sure the fridge and kitchen itself had food and drinks for her and her friends. She’d connected the TV to Spotify and was playing music to fill the silence while she cleaned, knowing if it was too quiet, she would lose herself in nostalgic thoughts she didn’t quite want to revisit.

        Adeline was about two hours into cleaning when, through one of the further back windows, she saw a car pull into the driveway. She shut off the vacuum, eyebrows furrowing together at the unfamiliar vehicle, before her heart jumped at the sight of Calum stepping out. She had given all of her friends the address of the lake house, but they weren’t due until tomorrow.

        Hastily, Adeline approached the door, pausing to peer down at her denim shorts and oversized grey Santa Cruz hoodie in a moment of insecurity. It left as quickly as it came, realizing that Calum had seen her at her worst while they were dating and, well, it was Calum. So she opened the door right as he was about five feet away from it, a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder.

        “You’re about a day early,” she said by way of greeting, though there was no stopping the smile from growing on her face.

        Calum chuckled, the sound raspy and delicious, as he stepped through the threshold. “Didn’t feel right, letting you come here and clean the place up by yourself.” She closed the door and watched his brown eyes take in his surroundings, doing her best not to focus on the sharp line of his jaw as he let out a low whistle. “It looks exactly the same.”

        “It feels the same, too.”

        Calum quirked a dark eyebrow. “Was it supposed to feel different?”

        Adeline offered a small, almost sheepish smile, playing with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. They were long and she’d had to scrunch them up to her elbows to work efficiently, but it was one of her favorite sweatshirts. It brought her a calming sense of comfort. “I was kind of expecting it to feel. . . Haunted,” Adeline admitted, her gaze darting around the place. There was a tightness in her chest, not painful, but still present. “But it doesn’t. It—it feels like home.”

        And it did. It felt home in the way the paintings Aunt Lorraine liked were still hung up on the walls, or in the way there were still candles set up on the ledges around the place that her aunt always loved lighting. Little touches of Aunt Lorraine were still all around the lake house, and even though she wasn’t physically there, Adeline still knew she was.

        “I’m glad to hear that, Addie,” Calum said, looking at her once more. “I—”

        He cut himself off as he gazed at her and Adeline blinked at the look on his face. Her breath caught at the way he stared at her—a way that was so intimately familiar and one she felt her heart flutter at the sight of. Adeline had absolutely no fucking clue what was going on between the two of them, but every time she thought about it—about him—it made her feel like that teenager again. She’d missed that feeling so much.

        When she was about to ask Calum if everything was okay, he beat her to it, his accented voice slightly thick as he stated, “That’s my sweatshirt.”

        Adeline looked down at herself, as if just realizing what she was wearing and, in a way, she was. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that he was right—this sweatshirt was Calum’s, one she’d all but stolen back when she was eighteen and still his girlfriend. It had ended up with her at college, and Adeline never thought to give it back after they’d broken up. Could never bring herself to, so she kept it.

        She didn’t think he’d remember. It had lost his smell a long time ago.

        “Oh,” Adeline breathed, looking up at him once more. The look in his brown eyes—it was too much but it was everything. She didn’t know what to do with and she knew that he didn’t, either. She kind of felt awkward, but the way he was looking at her made her feel so warm. “Sorry I never gave it back—”

        “Don’t be.” Calum cleared his throat, blinking away the glimmer that had found its way into his eyes, replacing it with that boyish half smile that had her stomach flipping. Suddenly, he looked like that sixteen year old boy she met in second period English. “It always looked better on you, anyway.”

        If they flirted anymore without acting on it, Adeline was positive she’d burst into flames. Or tears. Either one.

        “Come on,” Calum ticked his head, the smile still on his face. “We’ve got some cleaning to do, yeah?”

        Adeline was more inclined to jump his bones but yeah, sure. Cleaning would do.

        He put his things away in one of the bedrooms since they had to clean upstairs anyway. There weren’t any sheets on the beds or pillows, so they got some from the linen cabinet and worked on two rooms each, the music that was playing on the TV downstairs filtering upstairs, too.

        One of the rooms Adeline was in was Aunt Lorraine’s old bedroom, and Adeline was surprised it didn’t hurt too much to be in there. Maybe it helped that none of Aunt Lorraine’s personal effects were in the room, other than decoration pieces. Besides, Adeline was already living in their house, had already found her way back to the lake house—the pain was there, sure, but it didn’t feel as paralyzing. Dr. Boocz would call that progress.

        Adeline cursed under her breath as she knocked her foot against a cardboard box poking out from under the bed, but she didn’t pay it any mind until she had the sheets on the bed and pillow. Once she was done, she pulled the box out, eyebrows furrowed, as she sat on the floor and leaned her back against the bed. The box wasn’t taped shut or anything, so Adeline opened the flaps and peered inside, eyebrows shooting up as she caught sight of a red photo album—one that had Adeline written across the front in gold cursive.

        She recognized the photo album; it was one Aunt Lorraine had kept since she was a child—since she had come to live with her after her parents’ deaths. Adeline waited for the burst of pain to shoot through at the thought of her aunt making this album, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was a warmth in her chest that she labeled as fondness, and a small smile curved at her lips as she opened it.

        The pictures started with Adeline as an infant, photographs she figured her mother had probably sent Aunt Lorraine. The pictures went as Adeline grew up, going from infant to toddler and so on. The smile remained on Adeline’s face as she looked at them, looked at the photos of her with her aunt and the genuine happiness on both of their faces, and she missed her. So much.

        She turned the page and suddenly the pictures weren’t just of Adeline or of Adeline with Aunt Lorraine—but of Adeline with her friends. A shocked laugh burst through her lips at a picture of her with three familiar boys, her frame already too short next to the giants looming over her.

        At that same moment, Adeline heard Calum’s voice. “Addie? You in here?”

        “Down here,” Adeline responded, raising her arm so Calum could see her sitting on the other side of the bed. She heard his footsteps, glanced up to see his tall body towering over her even now, raising his eyebrows.

        “What’re you doing?” he asked, gaze shifting to the album. “What’s that?”

        Calum sat down next to her on the floor, bringing his knees up as she peered at the album. A curse escaped him, eyes widening as he looked at the picture of the two of them, plus Michael and Luke, standing together and smiling for the camera. The photo was from the school block party that was thrown at the beginning of every year. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”

        He sat close to her, his woodsy, pine scent embracing her like a warm hug as she flipped through the pictures. It was strange seeing photographs of Calum without his tattoos—even if, for a long time, that was the only image she had of him. As opposed to now—much taller, ink coloring his skin, hair a different color and length as well. Everything about him was different and yet everything about him was the same.

        “These were all taken before you hit puberty the second time,” Adeline mused, wanting to keep the air light as she turned the page. They were getting to pictures taken when the two of them had been together.

        Calum chuckled next to her. “Exactly how many times do you think I’ve gone through puberty?”

        Her voice was serious as she answered, “At least three.”

        He laughed again, and the sound threatened to raise goosebumps along her skin. Adeline turned the page and Calum sucked in a breath as he said softly, “Oh, shit.”

        She immediately knew what he was looking at; the picture from his senior prom. The two of them had attended two senior proms, of course; one from when Calum was a senior, and then when Adeline was a senior in high school, and he was a freshman in college. He’d come back to town to take her to prom. The picture was taken in front of Adeline’s house on the steps, her in a long silver dress that shimmered even in the picture and Calum looking wickedly handsome in his black tux. Both grinning, arms around each other, looking every bit like the high school sweethearts everyone assumed would last forever.

        If their school crowned prom king and queen, Adeline always knew—admittedly arrogantly—that they’d win.

        Silence befell them as they looked through the pictures; next came Calum’s high school graduation picture in his blue cap and gown, diploma in one hand and the other wrapped around a proudly grinning Adeline. The next two pictures came in the same order; first of Adeline’s senior prom—this time she wore a royal blue dress—and then her own graduation picture, dressed in her cap and gown with Calum standing behind her, arms wrapped around her and a grin just as proud as the one she’d worn for him.

        Something in Adeline’s heart tugged, realizing they’d reached the end of the album, because after that, there hadn’t been as significant moments between them to capture—they had broken up just a few months into Adeline’s freshman year at college. That was where their story had ended. Until now.

        Adeline closed the album, hand resting on top of the smooth velvet of it as she tried to rid of the dryness in her throat. She was acutely aware of the man sitting next to her—the man who’d been a boy in the pictures they just went through. Her heart was flipping tumultuously in her chest, and she wondered if Calum was feeling the same thing, or any semblance of it.

        His warmth still seeped into her body from their closeness, his scent still around her, and Adeline tried to work up the nerve to look at him, half afraid whatever was raging inside her was just for her and he didn’t share in it.

        Because in her heart and in her mind, Adeline knew that this wasn’t just fondness for the past acting up. She knew she wasn’t in some vulnerable state and letting her emotions get the better of her. She knew that whatever she was feeling, she was valid in feeling it. Because Calum—he wasn’t just anyone. He was exactly what she needed, what she wanted, and Adeline could feel the anxiety creeping up on her that it was unrequited.

        She finally looked at him, her brown eyes meeting his darker ones, and the breath caught in her throat. He was so close—she could count all of his unfairly long eyelashes, could imagine the scratch of the stubble on his chin and around his mouth, could feel the slight brush of his curling hair against her forehead. Was he waiting for her to say something? That could take a while—Adeline seemed to have lost all coherent communication skills.

        Calum’s lips, so soft and pink, parted but he didn’t say anything. She could see from the subtle twitch of his eyebrows that he wasn’t sure what to say, either. But she waited. He’d always been the more articulate one of the two of them. His throat worked and then Calum rasped in a quiet voice that wasn’t meant to disturb the silence of the house, “When can I see you again?”

        A startled, adoring laugh threatened to burst out of Adeline, but she kept it down. Her heart was beating wildly—could he hear it? She knew exactly what he was asking of her, and Adeline could fucking cry from relief. But she didn’t. Instead, she took a breath, voice shaking with yearning and anticipation as she whispered, “Now. You can see me right now.”

        She saw the profound relief that crossed his face before he leaned forward, because of course by see he meant kiss and of course Adeline knew that as she met him in the middle, eyes slipping shut, and finally kissed the only man she ever truly, undeterredly loved for eight years.

        It felt like coming home.

        Calum’s lips were as soft as she remembered, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek and pull her towards him. Everything else slipped away except for Calum as Adeline sensed him lower his legs and draw her closer, and Adeline shifted until she was straddling his lap, hands gripping the front of his shirt. He kissed her like he would die if he didn’t, his touch warm against her as he deepened the kiss and, God, how had she gone so long without this? Without him?

        Calum’s hands dropped to the back of her bare thighs and, in one swift movement, gripped her and stood to his feet. The kiss never broke as Calum lowered Adeline carefully onto the mattress, his body between her legs as he hovered over her.

        He broke the kiss and Adeline’s heart was pounding, vaguely aware of the music still playing throughout the house—a Hozier song. But her focus was on Calum on top of her, the warmth of his body and the way her lips hummed from his kisses. His darkening blonde curls fell over his forehead as he looked down at her, his own lips pink and kissed, and he looked absolutely perfect. The tightness in Adeline’s chest eased and she couldn’t possibly begin to describe what she felt in that moment—what she’d been feeling since the second he kissed her. Home. That’s what he was to her. And she’d been away far too long.

        “I wanna say somethin’,” Calum spoke, his voice low and gruff as his nose brushed against Adeline’s. His hooded gaze was on her lips, his jaw popping briefly. “But I don’t want you think I’m only saying it because of—this.”

        Adeline didn’t think her heart would calm down any time soon. Her hand reached up, brushing back some curls from his forehead before cupping his cheek, her smile soft when he leaned into her touch. The back of her mind whispered its guess of what Calum wanted to say, but she needed to hear it from his voice. Her own tone dropping to a breathless whisper, she said, “Say it.”

        Calum’s gaze lifted so his brown eyes could lock with hers, lips parting as he took in an unsteady breath. His eyebrows twitched together, and Adeline knew he was working up the nerve, and she waited patiently with a thundering heart. And when he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but firm with absolute truth. “I love you.” Adeline sucked in a sharp breath and she wondered if he could feel the way her hand trembled against his cheek. A soft smile tugged at Calum’s lips, never breaking their gaze. “Never stopped, if I’m being honest. If there’s one thing I regret, it’s not coming back for you.”

        There was a sting in Adeline’s eyes and she didn’t want to cry, but Calum’s words had more of an impact on her than either of them could’ve guessed. Her heart was thundering under her chest as she looked up at him. “I think,” she began, her voice a shaky whisper as she tried to find the right words. “I think I was blinded by whatever sense of security I thought Ian gave me—so much that I almost went through with the biggest mistake I could’ve made.” Adeline’s throat worked as Calum hung on to every word she said, her lips curving up in a small smile. “But the truth is, it’s always been you.” A breathless laugh escaped her, hand sliding from her cheek to the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair as a smile grew on his lips. “I love you, too.”

        He laughed then, too, breathless and overwhelmed as she was before closing the gap and kissing her, setting a fire in Adeline’s veins as she pulled him closer.

        They moved together, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies effortlessly as kisses broke only to get rid of the offending clothes. Adeline’s hands slid over Calum’s body, fingers dancing over the ink on his skin, feeling the muscles shift and flex under her touch as he kissed her deeply. The press of his bare body against hers, the unobstructed warmth as he touched every curve, was so, so wonderfully familiar but excitingly new, and Adeline couldn’t get enough.

        They touched each other like it was the first time and last time, finding home in the swells and dips, not mourning what they missed by welcoming the sense of belonging they found in one another. Every kiss, every touch, every drag of hips was slow but desperate and purposeful, her soft sighs and his deep groans a cacophony with the music still playing throughout the house. Calum’s rings chilled her skin that was deliciously scratched by his stubble and her nails dragged down his back seductively, needily, and it was everything they could’ve hoped for and more.

        Adeline craved him; his kisses and his touch and the way he fit so perfectly and, fuck, how’d she go so long without any of this? Even back in high school, Adeline knew Calum was someone special, way before they started dating. She knew he was someone she wanted in her life in any way he could exist. How fucking stupid to have let him go, to live six years without his smile and laugh and company and touch?

        Never again.

        They lay on their sides after, spent and breathing back to normal, legs tangled together under the sheets as Calum’s fingers played with hers. There was a pinkness in Calum’s cheeks, resembling her own, as she watched him watch the way their fingers lightly, gently played against one another’s. An unrecognizable ballad was playing softly throughout the house, but Adeline paid it no mind, too focused on the man laying before her.

        He loved her. He still felt the same way about her, and it was everything. The years and distance between them didn’t matter, not when being with him felt so right, like it was exactly where she was supposed to be. They found each other once again, after so long, and this time Adeline would be damned if she ever let this, ever let him, go.

        “It feels like nothing’s changed,” Adeline said softly, not wanting to disturb the intimate quiet between them.

        Calum’s eyes met hers, one corner of his lips curving up. “One thing’s changed,” he said in a low voice, and when Adeline quirked an eyebrow, he continued, “I know what life’s like without you. And it’s not something I want to experience ever again. It was—I hated it, Addie, being away from you. Not knowing where or how you were. Every day that I didn’t try to reach out to you—I hated myself for it.”

        Adeline didn’t want to dwell on that—both of their refusal of finding the other. She knew his reasoning was the same as hers; too afraid to disrupt the other’s life. And it was that fear that kept them apart, but no longer. There was nothing keeping them apart, nor would there be. Spending a life without Calum seemed unfathomable, and Adeline had no interest in doing so.

        “We’re here now,” Adeline said, moving her fingers so they threaded through Calum’s, holding his hand. “If there’s one thing Aunt Lorraine taught me—” Adeline took a breath, briefly preparing for that sting of pain. It was there, but not as prominent, as Calum squeezed her hand. “It’s to keep those important to you close.” A simple lesson, but one Adeline was finally understanding. She let out a soft laugh. “It’s about time I learned it.”

        Calum grinned, breathtaking and wide and allowing his crinkles to make an appearance. He kissed the back of her hand, eyes never leaving hers, before he asked with that smile turning boyish and teasing. “So, Addie—when can I see you again?”

        Her breath caught with the grin she wore, the flutter in her chest one she never wanted to be rid of. She didn’t think she’d been this happy since—well, since before Aunt Lorraine passed. How unsurprising that it was Calum, of all people, who brought that happiness back in her life.

        “Tonight,” Adeline answered through her smile, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. “Tomorrow,” she continued, speaking between kisses as Calum’s hands found her hips and pulled her on top of him. The sheets slipped down a bit, but her hair provided a curtain for the two of them, lost in their own worlds as she kept kissing him and his laughter rumbled deeply through his chest, keeping her close.

She knew he wasn’t about to let her go any time soon—she obviously wouldn’t want him to, her own hands resting on his shoulders. His eyes were bright, a light shining in them that she had missed. Calum, this, the two of them together—it would always come down to this. They were inevitable. “The day after that. . . And every day after that, too.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten @loveroflrh @meetashthere @astroashtonio @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbabiesss @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @malumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @tpwkcal @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @notinthesameguey​ @mycollectionofnuts​ @cthwldflwr​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @socorroann​ @talkfastromance4​ @calumftduke​ @musichoney​ @treatallwithkindness​ @partlysunnycal​ @dead-and-golden​ @kaeleykaeley​ @harrys-sun-flower​ @br-hoe​  

[yodawgiherd]

Too Close For Comfort pt.1

>>>Read on AO3<<<

I wanted to take a short break from writing canonverse, and luckily I had an idea to write. In most EM fics, Eren and Mikasa get together as adults (if at all ;( ) and the story usually ends with them realizing their love. So I thought, what if they were better at talking and were together for a looooong time? What if they weren't two lonely souls but the annoying couple that is pissing everyone off by being so in love with one another? Well... :D This first part is mostly world-building to establish the AU setting, the second part will be focused on the perils of their friends who have to deal with Eren and Mikasa being hopelessly in love since childhood. Hopefully you'll like it :)

Mikasa and Eren are nine years old when they first confess their love to each other.

Each confession is for a different reason, as the two lifetime neighbors both experienced an event that made them reconsider what they felt towards their childhood friend.

Eren was teased by Jean again, and when the guy said that he had “A hundred girlfriends already.”, he was flabbergasted.

“Where did you get them?”, Eren asked, but all Jean did was a smirk.

“As if I would ever tell a virgin like you.”

Which presented a new problem, because Eren had no idea what a virgin is. He knew that his mother used virgin oil sometimes, but the logical part of his brain argued that Jean was hardly talking about that. So, he asked the smartest guy he knew. Armin explained that a virgin is a person who didn’t have sex yet, but that didn’t help.

“What is sex?”, Eren wanted to know.

“N-Nothing important.”, Armin stuttered, “Don’t worry about it.”

Telling Eren Yeager not to worry about something is practically beginning him to search for it. So, he asked the second smartest person he knew. Grisha spat out the coffee he was drinking when Eren asked, telling him to ask his mother. Carla went white in the face and demanded to know where Eren heard it. Not about to snitch on Armin, he lied that he heard it in school, so Carla frowned and said: “We will tell you when you get older.”

Nuh-uh.

It was risky, but Eren managed to google sex during a computer class, and what he found made his eyes go wide. It also greatly increased his respect towards Jean, if he was able to do it with a hundred girls already he must be quite a specimen. The respect was tainted by a large dose of jealousy. If Jean was able to get a hundred girls, why couldn’t Eren get even one? That wasn’t fair.

And thinking about it, about a girl he would like to be close to, Mikasa was an obvious answer.

Mikasa’s confession was fueled by a movie. It was R-rated, and she watched it in secret so her parents wouldn’t know. There was a lot of blood and death, but what traumatized her was the romance between the main cast. The girl was forced to kill her lover in the end, saving the world but dooming their love in the process. Mikasa cried her eyes out at that, so sad about the tragic and unfair world, and it got her thinking too. Who was a guy that she would never like to kill? Someone that she cared for a lot and would like to be more than friends with? The answer was easy.

When they met the next day, both had a confession ready, so they went to sit under the tree where they often played, staring anywhere but at each other.

“I... I need to tell you something.”, Eren finally pushed out.

“Me too. Uhm, do you want to go first?”

“No, let’s do it at the same time, okay?”

“Okay…”

3.2.1..

“I love you Mi-…”

“Eren, I love y-…”

Now they were staring at each other, cheeks flushed. Talk about a coincidence. They spent a lot of time together as always, and when Eren came home, he puffed out his chest and walked to his parents.

“I have a girlfriend now.”

Zeke, who was visiting from college, laughed and high-fived him, Grisha’s eyebrows rode so high that they disappeared into his hairline, and Carla was worried sick until Eren told them that it’s Mikasa.

“Oh good.”, she reached down, ruffling his hair, “I’m happy for you, sweetie.”

Mikasa had a much colder time at home because Levi threatened to kill that guy, her father was silent and her mother rubbed her pregnant belly, sighing.

“Are you sure that you want to get into this business so young?”, she asked.

But Mikasa wouldn’t budge, and her parents knew better than to try and convince her. Even Levi backed down because Mikasa said that if he harms Eren she will never talk to him again.

And just like that, they were dating.

It didn’t change much at first. Eren announced it out loud at school to Jean, who frowned and said whatever.

“She looks weird anyway.”, he scoffed, “Her eyes are slanted and her skin too pale, my girlfriends are much prettier.”

That was enough to make Eren jump him in defense of Mikasa’s honor, and the teacher had to separate them. Eren got a bleeding nose and a written notice to his parents, but he couldn’t care less. In his vicinity, not Mikasa slander would be tolerated.

Years went by.

They shared their first kiss at eleven, but it was strange and not very enjoyable.

“Are we doing it the right way?”, Eren wondered, unsure why would the adults ever bother with it.

“I think so, it looked like this in all the movies.”, Mikasa said, somewhat disappointed.

“Maybe it will get better when we are older.”, Eren offered, “We can just stick to hand-holding till then, you like that, right?”

Mikasa blushed and nodded, so he grabbed her hand and they headed to Armin’s house, kiss almost forgotten.

It took two years before they started the whole kissing thing again, and Eren was right. It did get better with age. It was also around that time when he started noticing things. He knew that Mikasa is pretty, but as she was growing up he had to reconsider that statement. Mikasa was much more than pretty, she was beautiful. At the age of thirteen, it didn’t mean much, only that he was more and more proud of his girlfriend.

Another two years passed, and things were starting to get heated.

Mikasa got into the whole goth thing, wearing black and whatnot, she even tried getting Eren into it. Unsuccessfully, but he always allowed her to try her make-up on him, or dressed as she wanted sometimes to appease her. He did like how she looked though, the dark makeup and black lipstick suited her, not even mentioning that fishnets and chokers were hot as fuck

She got her cartilages pierced and added piercings to her earrings, another thing that Eren was too scared to try. They would get a tattoo together, he promised, but had to wait till eighteen because Carla was strictly against it.

The kissing got even better, and now Eren’s hands were roaming all over her body while he was doing it. Mikasa also did her part of groping, and the young couple was slowly but surely edging towards the one thing all parents fear. Intimacy.

More and more often, Eren was coming home with face covered in black lipstick smudges. A lot of love bites bloomed on Mikasa’s pale neck and trying to hide it with her red scarf didn’t help. Their parents noticed, and they did not like what they saw.

Grisha tried to have “the talk” with Eren while taking him on a fishing trip, but Zeke tagged along and was ruining it with his goofy faces and bad-timed laughter. In the end, when Grisha got the message across to the red-faced Eren, Zeke pulled out a pack of condoms and threw them at his brother.

“It’s dangerous to go alone.”, he said dramatically, “Take this.”

Grisha hit him over the head for that, but to Zeke, it was totally worth it.

Mikasa got the talk too, first from her mother and then from Levi, who sat on her bed and described in detail all the ways he’s going to kill Eren if he ever does anything inappropriate to her. She threw him out of her room, slammed the door and that was it.

Despite all the good-natured warnings, and Levi’s threats, they began easing into it at sixteen. Mikasa sneaked into Eren’s room, because she could climb the tree next to his window without breaking a sweat, and their classic make-out session was interrupted when Eren’s hand slipped under her black panties.

“Can I…?”, he asked in a weak voice, but Mikasa found herself wanting it.

She watched so many romantic movies, Twilight being one of her favorites, and the physical romance was always glossed over. She wanted to experience it herself. And honestly? It was pretty good, being touched by Eren. Just like that, the gates sprang open and warnings of parents were forgotten.

They experimented at first. Hands touched, mouths kissed, tongued swiped over. Internet was a great teacher because for once Eren didn’t feel like asking Armin about the stuff. And they found their way.

Mikasa and Eren had sex for the first time at the age of seventeen, tipsy from Jean’s house party but not too drunk to not know what they are doing. It was okay but not as mind-blowing as Mikasa wanted it, and Eren promised that they would get better at this.

And they did, both eager to do so. Eren now had black lipstick not only on his face, but around his crotch too, and Mikasa’s love bites spread from her neck to her thighs.

On a nice day, when the sun was out and the neighbors got together for a small party, Grisha was manning the grill alongside Mr. Ackerman, the two of them having a beer and overall a nice time. Eren and Mikasa were doing their usual thing, which meant sitting in a corner with her on his lap, sharing kisses and giggles, and overall just ignoring the rest of the world. Next to them, Armin was with the rest of the kids, the whole group doing their best to not be weirded out. Then again, they kinda got used to it at this point. Seeing it all, Grisha couldn’t help but wonder out loud to his neighbor and friend.

“Do you think that our children are having sex?”

Taking a swig of his beer, Mikasa’s father wanted to deny it, but deep in his heart knew that he could not.

“I just hope that Levi won’t find out.”, he said, making Grisha laugh.

When eighteen and college hit, Eren fulfilled his promise and they got a matching tattoo together, wings on their backs. Going to the same college, of course, they rented an apartment because being separated by dorms was too much of a pain for the pair. Everything was great, everything was perfect, and the couple couldn’t be happier.

But did their friends feel the same way?

[fandom-blackhole]

My beloved darling my brain is on overheat, let's get this bread!

Armorer = Andromeda yess, did I tell you that I love your galaxy brain?,

This name can also explains Paz' fixation on the astronomical stuff,

Omg, he'd not only tatoo his babygirl's name but outline of Andromeda galaxy to go with it,

Grogu saying bad words omg,

Next time you and Boba are babysitting him, you are supervising them 25/8,

You let Boba teach Grogu how to swim, since you have a nice huge pool and it does seem harmless right?,

Next second you glance at them, Boba is doing some kind of water wwe with the kiddo, throwing him into the water lol,

LET ME KISS YOUR BRILLIANT MIND,

Also that meme that you've posted earlier of our connected minds is a real manifestation,

Listen, I thought about Rex and Cody too!,

But.. Jaster and Jango omg, honoring great grandpa and grandpa 😍,

Well since you and Boba have a big house, there is no problem with having more than two children,

Omg imagine the future vision of Grogu, Jango, Jaster, Rex and Cody being protective over Andromeda also sibling goals!,

Shit we need names for little Djarins tho,

I believe in you since you came with these brilliant ideas for Paz and Boba's children,

Boba playing guitar and singing for you,

He is secretly a big old fashioned romantic,

Also your jewelry collection must be worth more than entire national reserve lmfao,

Since Boba likes cowboys, space or not, he bought you a pony yeehaaw,

And you've had enough practice with riding, right? 😉,

Paz is really crafty, obviously,

He makes you flowercrowns using flowers from his little garden 🥺,

Boba saw your tumblr and decided to sign up too,

He immediately got attacked in the dms by those obnoxious, p0rn bots,

''Princess, why are random people asking me if I am looking for a sugar daddy? What is this bulshittery'',

You tell him to ignore these messages and that there is no point in responding because these are bots,

He doesn't get it, responding to every single one of them with I WILL FIND WHERE YOU LIVE YOU COCKSUCKER,

He actually commands his best hackers to find who is behind all of this shitshow lol,

No one messes with the Fetts, even bots,

Din doing your make up?,

Since he does a lot of drawing and doodling both in class and with Grogu his skills are pretty decent,

He'd even manage to put fallsies on you!,

I feel that Paz could totally slay your looks,

You'd be beaten to the gods, it's like mixing and adding ingredients so he's got you!,

Boba on the other hand is pro at smudging your lipstick and making your face stained by tears mixed up with mascara 😉,

Also Paz knitting???,

Making cute matching socks for him, you and Aurora and Ad'ika??? 😍,

When Din is home alone he vents to Crest about his existential crisis,

She just throws one of Grogu's plushies at him,

Boba asks if he can post pics of Fennec too,

You agree but under one condition,

You will send him pics done by you that he can post lol,

Paz, Boba and Din brotherly bonding st the shooting range,

They set up a little tournament,

But they all are so good,

Boba and Paz obviously have the work experience, but Din?

Auntie Armorer being a bad ass she is, trained Din and Paz in some martial arts and how to use a gun,

Grogu sneaking up on them and shooting straight bullseye lol,

Getting drunk with them?

Paz, due to his larger frame can drink a lot and still feel somewhat sober,

But when he is wasted he becomes even more of a goofball, wrecking chaos wherever you guys were partying at,

Din becomes drunk easly,

And he gets all blushy on his face,

Also he becomes really touchy and handsy with you 😉,

Boba being drunk?

Yeah, I think he can only become pussydrunk 😳😳😳

Okay sorry darling, but I need to calm down, I became too distracted after the last bit - 🐣

Listen there is no calm over here, and don't apologize for all of this beautiful masterpiece....

So names for Din's kids.... for a girl I like the name Farrah or Luna and for a boy what about Jax??

Boba totally tries to go behind your back and teach little Grogu things

You only find out about them because he tries to teach kids at school the same things and Din freaks out

All of the kids are super close and they all are protective of eachother

Especially little Andromeda, because she's just softer and more caring and she is the target when other kids are around

Rex and Cody are pretty much attached at the hip, doing everything together, and you and Boba aren't sure how but Rex was born with blonde hair, and Cody has a birthmark spanning where his scar is in the movies/show

Boba singing and playing the guitar? Be still my beating heart

Boba singing the the babies to sleep!!!!

Boba owning enough horse for all of you to go horse back riding when ever you want to

Boba has a movie theater in his house

BOBA BEING ON TUMBLR AND JUST GETTING PORN BOTS MESSAGING HIM LEFT AND RIGHT

Boba totally messages them all and tells them to fuck off he already has a princess

Listen Din is actually super good at art, and he loves when you let him do your make up

Grogu loves when Din does HIS makeup

Paz also is so good at making your base makeup look fucking flawless and natural and you aren't sure how he does it

And Boba is the KING of giving you that, just fucked look 😉😉

Paz knitting?!?!? 2739203/10 best image ever

He totally makes Andromeda's baby blanket as well as a bigger matching one for you

Din, Paz, and Boba totally get together every couple of months, especially if they haven't seen eachother in a bit

The Armorer definitely made sure her boys could defend themselves because she didn't want to see them hurt

Grogu is a total natural at shooting, but Boba will claim that he taught it to him because of the babysitting incident

GETTING SMASHED WITH THE BOYS!!

Din definitely can't hold his liquor and he talks so much more with no filter when he is drunk

He also will try to shove his hand down your pants, even if you are in public so watch out

You aren't even sure Boba can get drunk, but he does love drinking with you

Or better yet, drinking you 😉😉

Paz is totally a giggly drunk, and he always thinks he comes up with the best ideas but they are always terrible

But he does come up with some pretty good recipes while drunk

God imagine family dinners with all of the kids and Paz cooking 🥺🥺

Paz would be so overjoyed if you got a tattoo that symbolizes him

You both getting the mando vows tattooed in mando'a!!!!

Bob totally fills all the dad role with the kids so well

You find him telling them stories before bed and giving them each kisses on the forehead

(SEND ME THOTS!!!)

[smallblip]

Set phasers to stun!

Levihan | Rated for language/Mild mild mentions of doing the deed

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27152473

Levi is second to Kenny in the Ackerman gang, it's a family business. Zoë Hanji walks up to him at a disco and the rest is history.

“Set phasers to stun, hot stuff?”

“Zoë.. I still don’t get that reference.”

It’s 9.30pm in Sina, the city that never sleeps. Neon flashes and the image of the serpent illuminates the wet cobblestone streets. It’s an institution- a club that has stood the test of time. It’s interior- an eclectic mix of red velvet couches, a disco ball, black and white tiling, and a disco dance floor. Everyone knows of it’s dubious ownership. Something about a gang- more specifically the Ackermans. But then again, you throw a pebble in Sina and you’re bound to hit an Ackerman establishment. Besides it’s the place to be, and it’s packed on a Friday night.

Who says disco is dead?

The music is good- the best in the city, the drinks are a little pricey but they are strong enough, and the DJ knows her well and queues her requests ahead of everyone else’s. There’s no other reason why it’s her favourite club, Hanji thinks.

She’s in the middle of her dance number to a medley of ABBA hits when she feels his gaze on her.

She makes her way over after he shakes his head at her attempts to get him to join her. She’s slightly disappointed that she has to leave in the middle of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!, but it is what it is.

“Set phasers to stun, hot stuff?” Hanji says, coquettish.

“Zoë.” He says, “I still don’t get that reference.”

“Then maybe you should think about taking up my offer of a date, Levi...” Hanji says, slick as she leans against the counter.

“And your idea of a date would be to marathon the entirety of Star Wars?” Levi cocks an eyebrow and hands a drink to her.

“Star Trek. And yes. Maybe it’ll help you stay culturally relevant.” She accepts the drink and takes a gulp. A Long Island. Levi remembers. She grins.

“I’ll take your offer into consideration.” Levi says.

There are tattoos sprawling all the way up his neck and down to his hands and her eyes inevitably trail over the serpent tattoos on his chest that are peeking through his dress shirt. Levi notices, corner of his lips curving into a smile.

“So...” He says, “faculty still giving you problems for blowing up your lab?”

“Thank god no... I have the biggest research grant in the faculty, pretty sure they can’t get rid of me that easy. Plus the insurance covers so I’m good...”

“Maybe if you were more careful...” he chides, but his words are gentle and Hanji links her pinky with his. Definitely no other reason she loves this particular club.

“Wait for me, I have a few more songs queued,” she says, although some of the songs are medleys, but Levi doesn’t need to know that.

“One more song. I don’t have anything on tonight. We could go get something to eat.”

They compromise on two songs, with Hanji dragging Levi over to the dancefloor. “If I had known you were gonna dance with me, I would’ve picked a ballad...” she says in his ear as she tries to sway with him to Car Wash. “You didn’t give me much of a choice...” he replies as he twirls her.

The night air is welcome, and after a few hours in the club, Hanji’s ears are ringing. “Come on! I know a place!” She says, grabbing his arm as they make their way past the party people. They are sitting on a public bench as Hanji decimates a chicken shawarma. Levi’s face crumples in disgust as he watches her wipe the sauce off with the back of her hand, still, he passes the napkins to her wordlessly.

“It’s not good?” Hanji says, perplexed, “this is not a good shawarma?” Levi looks at her like she’s the biggest idiot. Because, of course it’s not good? It’s a dismal 1.9 stars in reviews online and their cleanliness leaves much to be desired.

“What gave you the idea it would be good?” Levi frowns, abandoning his greasy chips.

“It says so on the sign! ‘Best Shawarma in Town!’” Hanji says, and she’s climbing on the bench, waving her fist at the shop, “filthy liars!” she shouts.

And Levi laughs, pulling her down into his lap for a kiss.

→

The Serpent is busy on a Saturday night. It isn’t Nanaba and Mike’s typical scene, but Hanji’s enthusiasm for disco has always been contagious. Nanaba has acquired a taste for the Bee Gees.

Target acquired, Hanji makes her way across the dance floor. She excuses herself from her friends, and Nanaba holds Mike back before he can ask her where she’s going, I'll tell you later, she whispers harshly in Mike’s ear and waves Hanji off with a smile.

The crowd swallows her, moving to accommodate her form. She readjusts her dress. It’s black and tight and the slit threatens to expose more than Hanji is willing to show. Her usual club getup in a pile in the corner of her room, Hanji is wearing Nanaba’s dress and she thinks maybe her friend is an opportunist for passing her this particular article of clothing with a giggle and a casual “you can wear this Hans!”

There’s enough alcohol in her system to feel a buzz. Just enough to forget what Shadis had said about professionalism and having impeccable image and greater responsibility from here on, since she now tutors a bunch of freshers. She thinks maybe that can wait until tomorrow. Shadis was young once, he‘ll understand.

Besides, it’s the disco. Nobody here cares. It’s freeing and Hanji leans into it.

She makes her way to him once she decides she can’t get the slit to sit any better on her thigh. He’s alone at the bar, leaning against the counter, watching.

He turns his attention to her now, his hard gaze softening. His eyes wander, skimming across the neckline of her dress down to where her thigh is exposed. He clears his throat.

“What’s with this?” Levi gestures to her dress.

“This is me forgetting to do my laundry and having to borrow Nanaba’s clothes.” Hanji answers, eyes lighting up at an opening, she takes it, “like what you see?”

“You’re not your usual mess...”

“And you mind my usual mess?” She raises a brow.

“I never said I minded.“

Hanji wonders if it’s the spotlights or the gin, because her face is heating up. Someone is stumbling towards the bar counter, and Levi reaches to pull Hanji closer. His hand remains around her waist longer than necessary. But who’s talking about necessity. “You’re alright.” Levi says.

Hanji catches his gaze lingering on her lips and she smiles. He straightens, “how did your first tutorial go?”

“Aced it! Some of them even came for office hours!” Hanji beams, hands on her hips.

“Expected no less...” Levi says, lips curving into a smile.

Hanji grins, “so... Are you free tonight?”

“Maybe not tonight... I’ve got... Things to attend to...”

“Ah...” Hanji leans closer to Levi, “thug things?” She stage whispers.

Levi chuckles, “yeah.” He sets his empty glass down on the bar and he tells her he’s got some time to spare, and she gets his message. She tugs him towards the toilets, her other hand holding her dress down. They make out in one of the empty stalls and I Feel Love streams in, muted as it mingles in the air with the florescent lights.

“Apt...” Hanji murmurs against Levi’s mouth and he looks at her, quizzical.

“The song that’s playing... I Feel Love... It’s apt...” she answers, stilling the both of them so Levi can hear.

Levi laughs, he’s got a hand against the stall that she’s leaning against and he’s looking up at her. There’s a tint on his cheeks and his eyes are glazed over and Hanji takes it as her cue to kiss him again. And Levi’s hand slides along the curve of her waist, down to where the slit of her dress reveals bare flesh. His thumb circles against her skin and her breath hitches. He loosens his collar.

“We need to stop meeting like this...” Levi says, he’s going to be late for his appointment, but he’s transfixed and does nothing to indicate any sense of urgency. Work can wait.

“Mmm... But I like this... Reminds me of the first time we met...” She says as she kisses the beginnings of a smile on the corner of his lips.

“Can I see you tomorrow evening?” Levi says, breathless, because really, it’s stupid that they’re still playing this game. It’s not the 50s and he’s not a boy sitting in the bleachers singing about a girl he likes with his friends chiming in as backup. There is no need for the staring and the pining and the pretending to meet by chance at the disco.

“Finally taking up my offer on a date?” Hanji says, channeling all the composure she has left. But her breathing is heavy and her eyes are hooded, and the florescent lights are casting a lewd glow on Levi’s skin that makes her want to die. “I’ll see you at that diner at 7? The one near Sunset Boulevard. You know which one?” she asks.

“I know. You haven’t stopped talking about that diner.” Levi replies and presses one last kiss to her her cheek before he leaves.

When Hanji makes her way back to join Nanaba and Mike, her hair is a mess and although she’s managed to fix her makeup, there’s still a slight reddish stain where her lipstick was smudged, thank god for the lights.

The night ends with Mike holding a hand out for her as she steps up onto the bar counter to dance. Hanji usually has a certain amount of restraint by this time of the night but it’s the last song and they are playing Bad Girls, and that song has always made her feel some kind of way.

Nanaba is cheering her on before Hanji pulls her onto the bar to dance with her.

→

It’s 7pm and it’s crowded on Sunset Boulevard. There’s a good mix of people from small-time Politicians to thespians to bikers. Hanji has always loved this part of Sina, she thinks it’s apt for a date between a Chemist and a gangster.

Levi is dressed in a white tee and blue jeans and his leather jacket is folded beside him in the booth. And Hanji thinks maybe she’s projecting because she has grown up watching movies from the 50s and 60s. But she’s shamelessly staring at him, head held up by her hands as she sips on her milkshake.

He drinks his tea. And that snaps her from her reverie.

“Who comes to a diner and orders tea?”

“If you had taken two straws instead of one, we could be sharing that milkshake.” Levi says, impassive, and Hanji lights up like a bulb.

The food arrives and Hanji says between bites, “I’m learning so much about you... Levi likes tea, and Levi is not beneath sharing a milkshake with his favourite girl...”

Levi rolls his eyes, but his face breaks into a smile. Hanji hooks their ankles under the table.

“We could go to mine? Take the route along the river?” Hanji says after they pay the bill. She’s never one to beat around the bush and she grins when the realisation spreads on Levi’s face, he opens his mouth, but settles for a nod instead.

Hanji is holding Levi’s hand, even as the river meanders them through the fancy parts of the city. People are definitely staring, but Hanji is talking his ear off about the kids in her class and how they ask her about the process of producing meth and she just... tells them? Because it technically is just chemistry.

“How much detail did you get into?” Levi asks, raising a brow.

“Oh...” Hanji pulls a face that’s an embodiment of yikes, “a lot...”

Levi chuckles, “I’ll tell Kenny to keep a lookout for a bunch of brats graduating in three years...”

“Yeah you do that... The job market hasn’t been particularly kind these days, might actually be a good career option for them.”

People are staring at them because they kind of know who he is, and Hanji points it out with a there's people staring at you, Levi... That's what happens when you're hot huh...

“They’re staring at you weirdo...” Levi mutters, face heating, and Hanji is laughing with her head thrown back and the looks people give them get dirtier. But Hanji is equal parts crazy and just goddam brilliant, and nothing else matters. Except maybe-

“What do you want Kenny?” Levi growls into the phone.

“With that attitude it’s no wonder you can’t find a girl who loves you...” The voice barks through the receiver and Hanji stifles a laugh. “I need your ass down at the warehouse now!”

Levi runs his fingers through his hair and he’s closing his eyes, cursing whatever being that’s up there because they seem hell-bent on tormenting him.

“Thug things?” Hanji offers an apologetic look, “It’s okay... I’m a big girl, I can walk myself!” She says when Levi hesitates.

But really at this point she’s sorry for herself. It’s just been so long since she’s-, and she’s been thinking about Levi a little too much the curve of his lips and his-, and she wants nothing more than to-. Ugh. She bites down on the insides of her cheeks.

Levi sighs, a long-suffering breath of defeat, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for a kiss. “Mmm... This was a nice date still...” she says, kittenish.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

→

Hanji thinks maybe it had been an oversight to sleep with someone in her postgraduate class. And the smartest one after her at that. Not to mention one who had also been aiming to do a PhD. Because now she’s in the same office as Erwin Smith and it’s kind of weird? Is it? She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, awkward. She opens her mouth to speak and Erwin sighs.

“Hanji... If you’re about to make another weird and honestly considering where we are,” Erwin gestures vaguely around their office, “inappropriate joke, I’m going to stop you right there.”

Hanji laughs and takes her seat across Erwin. “Wasn’t going to!” It had meant nothing. Just two people fooling around amidst the convenience of their shared love for organic chemistry. Hanji curses her younger self and what had been an inclination towards broad shoulders and solid pectorals. Hormones. Then again, it had meant nothing.

“So... What did you do over the weekend?” Erwin asks.

Hanji thinks about the about the bathroom stall of the club, and dancing on the bar counter, and the diner, and-

- and Levi.

She hopes her face isn’t giving anything away.

“Not much... You?”

→

And Levi does make it up to her. It's a Saturday and they are sitting on Hanji's couch marathoning Star Trek. Why are there so goddam many movies? Levi had said, exasperated. But he's on the third movie now and because of Hanji's unceasing commentary (except for when she sobs through The Wrath of Khan), he's starting to get it.

They make out on the couch mid-way through the fourth movie, with Hanji straddling him, and in the sliver of silence that makes its way between kissing and gazing at each other’s faces, Hanji chuckles a "this reminds me of the first time we met..."

Levi cocks an eyebrow, "how much of that night do you actually remember?" Hanji feigns a thoughtful expression, fingers tapping at her chin. "Not much..." she says honestly and Levi shakes his head, "you're hopeless," he says as he scrapes his teeth against her neck. She chortles.

Hanji's eyes flicker toward the television, it's a small movement, a little twitch, but Levi catches it. His face twists into something incredulous, and he's offended really, because it's probably the tenth ("sixth," Hanji corrects) time she's watched this and she’s choosing the movie over- over him? But they compromise and settle on pausing the movie for another time and moving to the bedroom.

→

It becomes a habit, this. This little unspoken arrangement. Hanji stays awake late to work on her paper, so she doesn't mind him knocking on the door at ungodly hours. And really she blames her dedication to her research for the mess she finds herself in one morning.

It starts with the jangle of keys outside her door, and by then, Levi is only just waking up. He shakes her when the footsteps approach, but it's far too little too late. Hanji only opens her eyes when she hears the screaming.

"Zoë Hanji! What is this!"

Hanji is fumbling for her glasses on the night stand and Levi hands them to her. Her eyes are wide and the adrenaline has chased all the sleep from her system.

“Mom? Dad?” Hanji and Levi have now hopped out of bed. She tries for words as she struggles to put her jumper on. She’s holding the duvet like a skirt around her otherwise very bare bottom, and it’s hard to manage that and putting clothes on. Levi helps her with the duvet. She doesn’t process that it’s Levi’s jumper and Levi has no choice but to put her t-shirt on. It’s big and old and Levi is Swimming in it. Well, at least he’s got pants on.

“Zoë! Who is this?”

“How can you just- You- You just came into my apartment?” She manages, because the sleepiness is gone, but the shock remains. Levi is completely mortified, he wishes the ground would swallow him faster because he’s standing there in a shirt with the words “my best friend went to Shiganshina and all I got was this crappy shirt” printed on it in tacky font.

“Our apartment! Don’t forget we own it Zoë! Now who is this! Don’t tell me you’ve been associating with gangst-“

“This is Levi... My boyfriend.”

Levi’s pulse quickens at that word. He gapes at Hanji, then at her parents, then at Hanji again. He wonders if it’s normal for people to turn that shade of grey because Hanji’s parents look every bit petrified. Mrs. Hanji points a trembling finger at him, she looks like she’s about to cry.

“What about Erwin? He’s a nice boy,” her father supplies and she caves, “dad... We were never together...”

There’s chatter, bits of ‘but you brought him home for dinner’ and bobs of ‘he’s doing his PhD too isn’t he?’

“I brought him to dinner to appease you...” Hanji says, her patience hanging by a thread because her mom is yelling something incoherent and her dad is still going on about Erwin.

Finally her mom had enough. “This is just a phase Zoë!”

“I’m twenty seven... I don’t think phases apply anymore?” Hanji laughs humourlessly.

Then the door slams after her mom shouts something about an ultimatum. Something about breaking up with Levi or getting evicted from the apartment.

“That was waaaay too much for the morning...” Hanji says, her voice slicing through the tension that had grown thick around them. She’s feigning an ease that does nothing to hide how frazzled she is. “Sorry about that... My mom can be a bitch when she’s angry... And well... She’s always angry...”

The insults Levi can handle, he’s heard worse. But seeing Hanji like this-

“Look... Your parents aren’t wrong... This isn’t... Usual...”

“I don’t get it though? I mean this city is practically run by the Ackermans! So really, it’s like dating the mayor’s son?”

“Zoë...” Levi chuckles, “it’s not the same?”

Hanji pauses to think. With her scholarship, surviving without the apartment wouldn’t be too difficult. But rent is steep in Sina and this means she’ll probably have to find an apartment on the outskirts. Then she’d have to travel, and everyone knows how Zoë Hanji is with punctuality-

“Does Kenny need someone in clandestine chemistry? I’m really good at-“

Levi cuts her off before she gets too invested in her ridiculous idea. “I don’t want you to be put in a spot because of me...”

“No!” Hanji points a resolute finger at Levi, “I don’t like the way this sounds we’re not breaking up!” And a quieter, thoughtful, “wait... Are we?”

Levi sighs, sitting back down on the bed. He tugs on Hanji’s arm and she’s sitting on his lap, and suddenly she’s limp and sad and there’s that very real chance that this might be it.

“What do you think of us?” Levi asks.

Her mouth moves faster than her brain, it’s a curse, Hanji’s been told. “We’re writing Yelp reviews now?” It’s quiet and Levi deadpans. He waits for her answer, he’s patient, and he knows her well enough.

She recalls the boys she has dated, the boys she’s kissed, and the grey area in between that had been Erwin, and she’s never felt like this. Hanji lets out a sigh. “Best I ever had... You?”

“Same.”

“Ha... My only satisfied customer then,” she hooks her arms behind his neck grins down at him.

“Okay...” Levi says, considering, “okay... Would you like to move in with me?”

Hanji’s eyes widen because is Levi really asking if she would like to- “huh? You- you mean it?”

“Sure... It’s a studio and there isn’t much space but you could save on rent.”

“And?” Hanji’s eyes light up, dopey smile plastered on her face.

Levi rolls his eyes, “and...” he sighs, “it would be nice... Living with you...”

“Wait... Really?” As much as Hanji teases, she’s mostly surprised they made it this far. It’s a long way from disco to cohabitation and Hanji had been pretty certain Levi would lose interest somewhere along the way. But he’s... Still here? “You don’t mind that I create a mess?”

“No. I do mind that you create a mess...” he shifts his weight and dumps Hanji on the bed. “But I would still like for you to move in with me...” Levi is hovering over her now, and Hanji thinks she really lucked out because she thinks he looks good even though he’s wearing her ridiculous shirt that’s slipping at his shoulders. It’s a weird look. But even so, it’s cute and Hanji has heart eyes.

“When you’re done staring I need an answer...”

“I’m not going to deny you the pleasure of living with me if that’s what you really want Levi...” she drawls, shrieking when Levi’s fingers dig into her sides. “Also it seems like the right time... I mean... You’ve already met my parents...”

Levi groans. It certainly hadn’t been ideal.

“You introduced me as your boyfriend.”

“Oh... About that...” Hanji says, and Levi thinks it’s amazing that Hanji actually has the capacity to be embarrassed.

“I don’t mind...” Levi says. Because he’s never really had a girlfriend, life hasn’t permitted him the convenience of labels, but now looking at Hanji, her hair splayed out on the sheets, her legs hooking lazily around his waist, how she’s beaming at him, he thinks labels could work.

→

“Where am I going to go then?” Hanji is distraught, but it can’t be helped.

The notice for renovation has been filed and The Serpent will be closed for a few months. The flooring needs to be retiled and the velvet needs replacing. But I like that it’s worn... It has character... Hanji had said. But it’s getting unsanitary and grimy and well, it can’t be helped.

The Rose stands in the swankier parts of town. It’s new and shiny and the kids love it. It’s a different crowd from The Serpent, so of course Nanaba has heard of it.

“It’s the best Hans... It’s... Contemporary...” she says as delicately as she can possibly manage, and Hanji pulls a face. But it’s not the same.,,

Although Hanji hates the music, it shares the same dubious ownership as The Serpent and Levi is there this particular Wednesday night. So is her whole tutorial class apparently. But she doesn’t realise that until she has her tongue shoved down Levi’s throat in one of the back hallways leading to the emergency exit. Of course they had to chance by. Of course they travel in a pack.

It’s Armin who breaks the silence. “M-miss Hanji?” He says, part mortified and part really embarrassed. They break apart and she’s greeted by five faces staring owlishly at them.

→

Hanji thinks maybe it had been an oversight that whole incident at The Rose. She had been in an unfamiliar territory, besides she should’ve known the probability of bumping into someone she knew was high. It’s a different crowd from The Serpent after all.

She thinks about this now because Erwin Smith is very well-positioned within the students gossip circle. And it’s weird?

“You’re dating an Ackerman... So I’ve heard?”

“As far as I’ve heard... No?” Hanji tries. She types nonsense on her keyboard.

“Don’t deny what my sources confirm Hanji...” Erwin is grinning with all the confidence in the world, “so... Which one?”

“Kenny The Ripper, of course.” Hanji puffs her chest and grins back. Foolish. She should’ve known Erwin isn’t stupid.

“Based on what the students have described... I hypothesise... Levi Ackerman?”

Erwin catches the flicker in Hanji’s eyes. Ah. Got it.

“Gossiping with the students? Mr Smith... I’m very disappointed in you...” Hanji tsk-tsks, and mutters a quieter “hypothesise? Who says that in real life?” under her breath.

Erwin shrugs. “Entertainment is hard to come by these days...”

→

“So... Erwin knows...”

“The kids told him?” Levi is shirtless, and drying himself with a towel and Hanji nearly loses the point of the story.

“Can you believe it? They’re little rats! All of them!”

Levi grunts. “Well, Kenny knows too...”

“Fuck!” Hanji exclaims. “He saw?”

"No... He guessed. Something about me looking less constipated.”

“Ha! Charming...” Hanji laughs.

“Wait... Have we been trying to be discrete?” Hanji ponders, sitting herself on the counter top.

“Apparently the whole of Sina doesn’t seem to think so...” Levi is tidying her stuff off the dining table, pulling a pile of notes here, a few books there.

“Does it matter?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. This seems to be a permanent arrangement, so people can start getting used to it.”

“By the way your soup is burning,” Levi interrupts Hanji mid-swoon and she’s yelling the most creative string of swears he’s ever heard. Between peals of laughter Levi thinks this is definitely the best arrangement he’s ever been in.

"Ah fuck... I put effort into that soup...” she’s still staring at said soup, but Levi is already taking out the stew he made the previous night from the freezer and putting it in the microwave for her.

“Oh well..." She sighs, pouring the soup down the sink, "perhaps man wasn’t meant for paradise..." Hanji says, and waits with bated breath, grin on her face.

Levi furrows his brows, “Captain Kirk?” And he doesn't know whether to be impressed or slightly disappointed at himself that he knows.

Hanji punches a triumphant fist in the air and whoops.

→

It’s midnight in Sina, the city that never sleeps. Zoë Hanji is the disco queen of the late 2010s, and she graces her neon empire. She’s also now Dr. Zoë Hanji, and they’re here to celebrate that. She walks up to the bar with a purpose.

“Hey handsome, wanna go some place else?” Hanji purrs in the man’s ear.

“Can’t...” the man turns to face her, “I’m married.”

“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t mind... Levi Ackerman...” Hanji‘s fingers dance across his forearm, she laughs when she feels goosebumps rising in her wake. “What’s she like anyway this wife of yours?”

“Untidy as fuck, not very clean, and she never stops talking.”

Hanji throws her head back and guffaws, completely unhinged, and Levi snorts. “She sounds absolutely delightful!” Hanji says, her face mere inches from his, this game making her a little impatient.

“Yeah...” Levi says, and thankfully he’s pulling her close, his arm hooked firm around her lower back, “she’s stunning.” With that Levi  closes whatever minuscule distance between them and he’s kissing her deep. All soft lips and pressing and unpressing, and Hanji is breathless when they pull apart. She’s speechless for a moment and Levi thinks this is the best way to shut her up, the only way he can bear too. “And as of today, she’s also a Doctor,” Levi adds, there’s awe and admiration in the softness of his smile and in his eyes when he looks at her, and Hanji feels like when black and white transitioned into technicolor.

And between a month (or two) of Levi being patient when Hanji ignores him to finish up her thesis, and them eloping to get married in a little chapel (Kenny had insisted on solemnising the wedding dressed as Elvis), she stops anticipating for things to fuck up.

“Now go... Your friends are staring...” he says, gaze flickering over to the Erwin, Mike and Nanaba who had indeed been gaping. They’re looking away now, averting their gazes here and there, sheepish. “Also... Did you get the milk?”

Hanji shouts a swear, and she makes the most guilty face she can muster. Levi rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh, “I'll get it tomorrow morning...”

And Hanji grabs his face between her hands and kisses him silly.

“If you wanna dance you know where to find me!” She’s says and Levi tells her to congratulate Erwin on his behalf. Levi sets his glass down and leaves to the docks, something needed taking care of, but he should be able to make it back in time to get Hanji.

It's Prince night and Hanji doesn't ask put in queue requests with the DJ for Prince night because they're all hits! Hanji knows all the lyrics by heart and sings along to all the songs.

The club is emptying out by 3a.m. and Levi makes it back in time for the last song. The Most Beautiful Girl In The World is playing when he finds Hanji in the thinning crowd and dances with her.

"Apt..." He murmurs against her mouth when she reaches down for a kiss.

"Huh?" She says, a little dazed, the arms around her waist pull her in closer.

"The song... It's apt..." Levi says and she beams.

[clumsyclifford]

Rian helping Alex to dye his hair!! And complain how it'll fall out and stuff just to mask how pretty he thinks it's gonna look

alright anon here it is! my rilex debut. i hope it does not disappoint. also full disclosure i have had my hair dyed Once for me and my friends did it and i do not remember most of what happened so while i did do some light google searches please suspend disbelief if and when you must

read it here on ao3

-

Rian should know more about dyeing hair. It seems impossible for him to have been in a band with Jack and Alex for this long and not pick up on the basics, at least. Standing in a CVS, Rian feels confident that he should know this.

"Should" being the operative word.

Finally he calls Alex. 

"I forgot which brand you said," he tells Alex when he gets yeah?

"I texted it to you, you moron," Alex replies. He sounds very fond. It's always fun to hear Alex try and be bitchy when he's really just being fond.

Sighing, Rian pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his texts. "No you didn't."

"I definitely did." Pause. "Oh, it didn't go through. Whoops."

"Who's a moron now?"

"Still you. I told you the name like fifty times. Okay, it sent. If you get the wrong color, no offense but our friendship is over."

"Gotcha," says Rian. "So was it bright orange or more of a burnt umber that you wanted?"

Alex hangs up on him. A minute later he calls back.

"Love you," he says.

Rian rolls his eyes and grins. "Love you."

-

"Isn't it kind of disrespectful to do this in a hotel room bathroom?"

Alex doesn't stop setting up the hair dye supplies on the sink, but he does shoot a dry look towards Rian. "Yeah, duh. But it's just hair dye. Worst case scenario it stains the tub or something."

"Or the floor," Rian puts in. "Or your hair all burns off from the bleach and you sue and then there's a whole court case. That'd be pretty bad for them."

"But dope for me," Alex says. "So wins all around."

Not wins for the hotel, Rian doesn't say. He's not sure why he's bothering to try and convince Alex that they shouldn't do this. Not only is Alex thoroughly unable to be convinced, Rian doesn't even think he believes himself. 

It's just, Alex is dyeing his hair blue.

Rian tries not to form opinions, like, about Alex in specific, because in general his opinion is wow and good-looking and would love to kiss him and AHHHHH, and those opinions don't really change with Alex's look. Even in the most emo of Alex's hair days, Rian had been very much extremely attracted to him, and Alex has only gotten cuter since then. It will probably become a problem eventually. Rian suspects it might already be a problem that he's just ignoring very effectively.

It's not like he only likes Alex for his looks. Alex has lots of wonderful qualities, and Rian could easily wax poetic for hours. It's just that it would probably be easier not to fall in love with him if he was a little less what they in the music business called Fucking Gorgeous.

But no dice. Obviously.

All of which to say: helping Alex dye his hair blue cannot possibly end well for Rian. Alex has yet to do blue, but Rian is one hundred percent sure it's going to look as good as all the other colors have, and he's just going to find himself speechless for a couple minutes again. Which hadn't been a problem before, when Alex had gotten Jack to do it with him, but for some reason this time he's enlisted Rian, and Rian has yet to find within himself the capacity to refuse anything Alex requests, within (and sometimes without) reason.

Speaking of which: "Why isn't Jack helping you with this? Don't you think he'd be, like, a thousand times more competent? I mean, I wouldn't usually say that about Jack, but this is so not my area of expertise."

Alex huffs, opening the box of dye. "Well, for starters, Jack is busy with Zack, and they are probably banging and/or playing a board game and/or getting wasted and/or doing things that I can't even fathom because Jack and Zack are ineffable," which takes Rian a long moment to process but none of which is technically implausible or untrue, "and second, I wanted your help."

"Yeah, no, I got that when you told me you wanted my help," Rian says dryly. "What I'm wondering is why."

Alex frowns in judgement as he mixes the dye. "What's with all the questions? I just like hanging out with you, man. Do I need a better reason?"

Rian clears his throat. "Uh. I guess not."

"Damn right." Alex gives Rian a smile, and a small part of Rian melts, and he thinks about how much of a naive idiot he's been that he didn't realize how much of a problem this would be until right now. When it's too late. "Okay. Gloves on, Ri. It's gonna get messy up in here."

There's no way that innuendo is unintentional, and Rian is a sucker because he blushes anyway.

-

Apparently it's just a matter of painting. Which is much easier said than done. Not because painting dye onto hair is particularly challenging, but because Rian painting dye onto Alex's hair is, well.

"One of these days you're gonna lose all your hair," he says at one point, mostly to distract himself from the look on Alex's face as he works the dye through his hair with his crinkly-plastic-gloved fingers. That look is putting Rian's mind in places it should not be.

Fortunately, this comment alters it, and Alex opens his eyes. "I don't dye my hair that much."

Rian gives him a critical look. "Yeah, but still. This stuff can't be good for you. Even if you don't use it a lot."

"You know what else isn't good for me?" Alex says seriously. "Alcohol. Tattoos. Sex before marriage. Rebellion is hot. What kind of punk rocker are you?"

"I'm sorry it's not punk to be worried about your friends," Rian replies. "Doesn't it burn your head?"

"Nah," Alex says, closing his eyes again. "Feels nice."

"How the fuck does putting — I don't even know what's in this stuff — feel nice?"

"It's more about the experience," Alex says around a smile. "You putting the dye in my hair, it feels nice."

Awesome. Rian's fine.

"Oh," he mumbles, and then decides that not talking is in his best interest.

Rian is thorough with his task. If that means he goes twice through all of Alex's hair, it's because he's being extra careful.

(By the second time, Alex has begun humming along to the Motion City Soundtrack song playing from his phone on the sink top, and Rian is distracted for a little (long) while.)

-

With the shower cap on, Alex actually looks kind of dumb, which is a relief. The timer is nearly done ticking down from thirty minutes and Paramore is singing about how the camera's lying as Alex stares at himself in the mirror, using a washcloth to wipe off the smudges of rogue dye on his forehead.

Rian should stop watching, but there's something very captivating about the intensity of Alex's demeanor. It's not about what he's doing so much as the manner in which he's doing it, and God, Rian would give all the money in the world for Alex to look at him with that same attentiveness, even though he would probably just disintegrate if it ever did happen.

Rian was once a dignified man. He's not sure what happened but he's certain it's Alex's fault.

"Hey, Ri," Alex says. "Can you help me with this? I can't get this fucking dye off my face."

You're doing fine, Rian absolutely does not say, and instead says, "Yeah, sure. Although you might wanna think about just leaving it. I really think you could start a trend with this."

"Yeah?" Alex says, passing off the wet washcloth to Rian. "What, a trend of wearing hair dye on your face?"

"Dyed face is the new dyed hair," Rian says, grinning. He hesitates for a moment and then resigns himself to what he knows has to happen. "Don't move or talk or breathe or anything like that," he tells Alex, sliding a hand around Alex's neck to keep his head in place.

"Don't breathe?"

"What did I just say about talking and breathing?" Rian holds up the washcloth like a weapon. "Shut your mouth."

Alex presses his lips together and mimes locking them. He slips the imaginary key down the front of Rian's shirt. Rian snorts and begins his efforts to clean the dye off Alex's face. It's probably not going to go away for a little while, and they'll need to cover it with makeup, and Rian knows that, and surely Alex knows that too, so he's not sure why they're even bothering with this.

But. The position they've found themselves in is as compromising as it is tempting; Rian keeps his eyes firmly on the washcloth in his hands so they don't flit around Alex's face or land too often on his mouth. He could give himself away far too easily right now.

(He would like to. He would love to. If he kissed Alex right now, would Alex kiss him back? Would Alex have put them in this position as a joke? Is Alex a heartless monster or just a friend who thinks they're just friends? Are they just friends? Do they have to be? Could hair dye be mixed with glue to make colorful glue or does it only work on hair? All these questions and more crowd Rian's mind. It's a wonder he ever gets anything done.)

Eventually, though, Rian has to admit he's not going to get this dye off Alex's skin, and he doesn't want to hurt Alex. He sighs and drops his hand to his side, curling the washcloth in his fist. "Sorry, Al. You're gonna have to start that trend whether you like it or not."

Alex doesn't look even slightly disappointed. "That's cool," he says, smiling at Rian, smiling only for Rian, in a way that paralyzes Rian and renders him momentarily unable to respond. "It's kinda hot, in a subversive way. You know?"

Rian swallows. "Huh?"

"I mean, objectively being punk isn't hot compared to mainstream hot people, but there's something inherently hot about doing exactly what you're not supposed to. That's the whole point of punk." Rian's pretty sure punk has an additional, slightly larger point, but at the moment it's slipping his mind. "So like, this is hot in the sense that it's not what you'd expect to be hot. But I kind of make it work, don't you think?"

I think you kind of make this shower cap work, so I'm not exactly an unbiased authority on the matter, Rian keeps to himself. "Are you asking if I think you look hot with blue hair dye on your face?" he says, neutrally, trying not to give away that he does think Alex looks hot with blue hair dye on his face. 

But Alex just meets Rian's gaze and says, "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm asking."

A moment passes. Rian realizes he never reclaimed his hand and it is now just kind of cradling Alex's neck where it meets his shoulder. Another moment. Alex keeps his eyes steady on Rian's. Neither of them move. Rian starts to feel his heartbeat and wonders how he never notices when he's not feeling it. It's only startling to feel it because it's so quiet usually. People should be able to feel their own heartbeats, all the time. Then it wouldn't be such an inconvenient surprise any time it kicks to life with a thudding intensity that almost makes Rian flinch.

It's not like he can lie. Morality aside, because Rian doesn't like to lie, he also knows Alex will see through him like glass. 

Which leaves him with the truth as his only option, and unfortunately it's been too long since Alex asked for the truth to sound anything but incredibly guilty coming from Rian.

Well.

"If anyone is going to make it work," he says at last, "it's you."

Alex raises his eyebrows. "Way to not answer the question."

"I basically did."

"You completely didn't."

"Why do you care if I think it's hot? You don't need to impress me. I'm already in your shitty band."

"Maybe I'm trying to impress you for something that isn't the band," Alex says evenly, with an impressive degree of confidence, but Rian can feel his heart rate rise under his fingertips.

He has the presence of mind to think, what the fuck is going on? But instead of that, he says, "Like?"

Alex bites his lip. Rian thinks that if he's reading this right, it will flip everything upside down, but surely even he couldn't read a situation this wrong. There's nothing else Alex could possibly mean by this, right?

"I take it back," Rian says. "Dumb question."

"A little," Alex says, breathing a nervous laugh. There's a dangerously small amount of space between the two of them, the kind of small that Rian could bridge so easily, and with no reason not to, he figures there's not much more he can lose.

(He can't be misreading this. There's just no way. Alex isn't this cruel, and Rian isn't this stupid.)

Alex leans closer when Rian does, breath mingling in the air between them, so so so close, like insanely close, like Rian can practically taste it already, how impossible and incredible it's going to be to kiss Alex. The air catches in his throat, and he kind of smiles a little hesitantly, and Alex smells so much like hair dye that it is overpowering all of Rian's senses but he'd love to drown in that smell as long as it means drowning in Alex and their noses brush and Rian lets his eyes fall shut and then

The timer goes off, blaring an aggressive alarm throughout the bathroom, and Rian almost has a heart attack as he jerks backwards and he is going to fucking break his phone into many many pieces.

-

They're quiet as Rian rinses the dye out of Alex's hair. The worst part is Rian can't quite figure out what kind of silence this is, if it's awkward or anticipatory or what. But thinking for too long makes him want to scream or something, so he stops thinking and just focuses on washing out the dye. Alex is sitting in a chair they pulled in from the room, head tipped back under the sink, that same look on his face that — 

But Rian's not thinking about it.

The water starts out bright blue, and Rian almost panics before Alex says lightly, "You just have to rinse until the water runs clear. Don't freak out if it's blue, that's normal."

So Rian does not freak out when the water is blue, and true to Alex's word, it starts to grow clearer the more Rian lets it run. If it were Alex in his position he would probably have a thousand poetic things to say — it's like life, he'd say in a tone just shy of pretentious, it starts out looking like it's going wrong but then everything literally becomes clear — but Rian isn't Alex and to him it's just a Good Sign that he hasn't Fucked Up.

Well he hasn't fucked up the hair, at least. Probably. Yet.

At long last, the water starts running clear, and Rian breathes a sigh of relief and turns the tap off. "You're good," he says, wringing the worst of water out of Alex's hair. His hands are stained blue, he now notices; probably he should have put the gloves back on when he'd gone to rinse Alex's hair, but he hadn't thought to.

"Yeah?" Alex asks, experimentally lifting his head and stretching his neck. "Ah, that is not the most comfortable position, not gonna lie."

Rian grabs the hand towel and dries his hands off, then gives it to Alex so Alex can dry his neck, which Alex does, and then leaves the towel around his shoulders. They are definitely going to get dye on this towel and the hotel will not be pleased, but as Alex stands up and begins rearranging his hair to look like himself again, the comment dies in Rian's throat.

Predictably, he looks really fucking good.

Rian watches Alex like some kind of lovestruck idiot until Alex turns to him, tilting his head, and says, "So? Final thoughts? How do I look?"

"Can I kiss you now?" Rian says, surprising himself. "That's what was about to happen before, right? Like, I'm not insane?"

"Your sanity has nothing to do with whether or not we were gonna kiss," Alex says, grinning, eyes bright, "but we totally were and now we definitely are."

This time Rian wastes no time, and his dye-stained fingers blend into the blue oasis of Alex's new hair color as their lips meet. Briefly, Rian's mind is once again crowded with dumb pointless questions, but he pulls Alex closer and Alex curls a hand into the front of Rian's shirt and Rian decides that his mind can take a hike.

As they break apart, Alex laughs. "So you think it looks good?"

"It looks terrible," Rian deadpans. "Yes, of course it looks good. You could shave your head and it would look good." Alex gasps. "Well. Okay. That was an exaggeration to make a point but I'm not sure it's actually true. But honestly, Alex." The jig is up, so Rian just smiles at him. "I always fucking think you look good. This?" He tugs at Alex's hair. "Hot. No doubt."

"Well, that's the only vote of confidence I need," Alex breathes, and then they're kissing again.

(The hair dye leaves its mark on the towel and Rian's hands and the pillowcases they sleep on that night, but its impact, in Rian's opinion, is altogether immeasurable. It's not every day a box of blue hair dye gets him a boyfriend.)

[breakingsomething]

Dawn Station - Part Two

Basic summary: Chase Brody is being kept safe, far away from other people. So he thinks.

Content warnings: gore, body horror, stabbing, emeto, death mentions

Chase Brody is not ok.

Of course he's not. How is he expected to be? Ten people have died, and now he's being told he's next. He's been under police protection for days and judging by the strained snippets of conversation that he's caught from officers, even the others that had been with him are gone. Ten people, they had said. As far as Chase is aware, there were only nine other youtubers who'd been roped into this shit. Who else has this monster that wants them dead killed along with them? Does he even want to know?

He's been in this room for… three days? Four? Fuck, he doesn't remember. All he knows now is white walls, too close around him, with a bed, a tv in the top corner that he doesn't have a remote for, a black bin, a rolling table that's covered in books and other assorted things that he managed to bring with him, and two doors, one of which that leads to a small bathroom and one of which that leads outside. The second door only opens when he's being brought food. No one's telling him anything. He's scared out his mind.

An officer, a pale skinned woman with orange braids and a sympathetic smile, comes in a couple hours after he wakes for the day with breakfast. Toast, cold, with butter slabs and little packets of jam and sugar for his tea. Also cold. "Sorry, we don't have any Weetabix," she tells him with furrowed eyebrows and a sad tilt of the mouth as she clicks the door behind him. "We do have Cheerios and porridge, if you want something more to eat."

It's all he can do not to laugh. "No, thank you," says Chase, in a hoarse voice that hasn't been used in hours. "I want my phone back."

The officer winces. Her eyes are dark, crimson lipstick slightly smudged. Her nametag says "Sarah" on it in violet ink. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, in a voice so soft and falsely sympathetic it makes Chase want to scream. "I don't know if we can do that. We -"

"The others are dead, aren't they?" Chase interrupts. He knows this already. But it's worth saying to see the woman flinch. "All of them. So much for your oh-so-safe "police custody" bullshit."

She attempts to gather herself as professionally as she can, which is seemingly rather difficult. "I'm sorry," she repeats, and something about her tone is more genuine than before. "They are. But I swear to you, Mr Brody, we are doing everything we can to -"

"If I am going to die today," Chase says, interrupting again. "I want to talk to my goddamn family one more fucking time. Please get me my phone."

She stiffens, but gives a jerky little nod. He doesn't smile at her as she leaves. Not much to smile about. But she comes back ten minutes later and wordlessly hands him his slim rose phone, no expression on her face. He manages to upturn the corner of his lips in response.

Once she's left again, he turns his phone on and practically sighs at the sight of his two kids on his lockscreen. Little Connor and Louise, tiny kiddos, dressed up in their pristine school uniforms and grinning cheesily. His heart swells, and he swallows hard as the lump in his throat seems to expand. He can't cry. He's been crying enough lately. To think that two weeks ago, he was ecstatic to be receiving an email from Jack Mcloughlin himself, giving him the opportunity to play his new game's demo early. Look at him now.

Stacy is at the top of his contacts list, but only because he has her favourited still. He's not sure why. It just feels right to have her there. Her picture is a small, grainy image of her face next to a three year old Connor's. He has her looks more than Louise. Louise looks like her dad. She's a daddy's girl. Chase misses her so much it aches, and closes his eyes as he clicks Stacy's number.

She answers almost immediately. "Chase?" she yells, causing him to wince and pull the phone away from his ears. He hears her inhale sharply. "Sorry. Christ, Chase - Where the fuck are you?"

He swallows again, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. His legs are already beginning to bounce. "Police didn't tell you anything, huh," he mutters. "I'm in custody. They're apparently "keeping me safe," but I'm well aware of the fact that the others - Persephone, Rodney, Stanley, and Khia - are. Well." He clears his throat. "Dead."

He says it so matter of factly that you wouldn't know how close he was to tears had you not seen his face.

Stacy shifts, and Chase hears a door slam faintly. Two small voices giggle far off. He bites down on his lip as Stacy talks again. "Yeah. That's… yeah. Chase, I'm sorry. Uh… Jack Mcloughlin's dead too."

Chase sits bolt upright, eyes suddenly wide. "What?"

Stacy sounds alarmed. "I - Yes, did they not tell you? He died maybe two days ago. Same way as all the others. I'm sorry, Chase."

He can't breathe for a moment. Then he's numb and his body settles into cold, unfeeling static.

"Ok," he says flatly. "Great."

"Chase -"

"How are the kids?" he asks before she can finish. He's tired. He's been doing nothing but sleeping and he's tired. "I can hear them in the background, ha. Sounds like a fun time."

He can hear her scratching the space behind her ear. She does that when she's anxious. Nervous habit. She had gotten a little tattoo of a bee there when they were seventeen. It was a dare from their friend Daniel, who had also gotten a tattoo of a crocodile on his left thigh. Chase has a black bear on his right shoulder from the same occasion. When he and Stacy had been together, they would sometimes kiss the other's tattoos and descend into giggles remembering that slightly drunken night back in Ireland. His chest feels tight thinking about it. His eyes glaze over, and he tries to focus on something across the room.

"They're… not great," Stacy murmurs after a moment, making him jump. He had almost forgotten she was there. "Some brat at school told them about - this whole situation. Told them their dad was going to die. Apparently, she made up a song about it."

Chase hisses softly, grateful for another emotion besides grief and missing to focus on. "Fuck's sake. Which kid was this?"

"You know that girl who was making fun of Louise's accent last year and put chips in her hair?"

"That kid again? I thought the school dealt with her."

A sigh. "Apparently not. They came home in tears. I've been keeping them home since then."

Chase shakes his head in disbelief. "Shit, Stace. Can I… can I talk to them?"

She sighs again. "I… I suppose. But - how have you been? I take it its not been great, but are you at least ok?"

What counts as ok? He doesn't know. "I'm not dead yet. So there's something. I guess I can't really say much more than that."

"Papa?" cries a voice on the end of the line, and a grin breaks Chase's face as he recognizes his son, Connor, yelling from somewhere quite close to Stacy. "Is that Papa? Mama, let us talk - Louise, Papa's on the phone!"

Chase can't help but laugh as his daughter also chimes in, two little voices clamoring for his attention. "Calm down, kiddos, there's plenty of me to go round," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face so he can concentrate. "How are you both? One at a time, Louise first."

"Favouritism," he hears Connor sulk, but the boy quiets.

"I'm ok," Louise beams. He can hear her smile, and sees it when he closes his eyes. "I can't go to school cause Megan Penicuik was being mean. We made cookies, though, me and Con-Con! All by ourselves, no help from Mama at all!"

"Now, that's simply not true," he hears Stacy laugh in the background. Chase laughs too, his heart suddenly aching. Something weighs heavy in his chest, but he tries to push it away, feeling sick.

A scuffle on the end of the line, and then it's Connor speaking. "I miss you, Papa!" he cries. "I wanna give you a - a chocolate chip cookie, I have one here." His voice becomes muffled, and Chase hears him chewing. "Yum yum yum. Can we push a cookie down the phone? Like, through the speakers, Mama!"

Chase listens to a small squabble break out, then hears Stacy sigh dramatically. "They're doing just fine," she says, sounding so tired, yet vaguely amused. "I… I hate to say it, but I should probably go. Connor's games club is in half an hour and I haven't gotten ready at all. My makeup's a state." Her voice softens. "Will you be… ok?"

Will he? He doesn't know.

"Stace," he murmurs. His chest feels tight. "I could die. Like, tonight. That's what people are saying. I'm the last one left."

A pause, then Stacy lets out a shaky sigh. "Christ, Chase…"

He gathers his strength. "Listen. Listen, Stace. If I die tonight - I just want you to know how much I love you, ok? Even if we… if we weren't meant to be together anymore. You're one of my best friends, you know? So… take care of the kids. Don't lose yourself. And by god, don't start drinking again."

She gives a choked laugh. "Chase. God, I - Don't fucking die tonight."

He doesn't know how to tell her he won't have a choice.

As soon as the call's ended, he opens up his roommate's contact. He can't stand the echoing silence that seems to go on forever in the minute or so before the ringing starts. He supposes that if tonight is his last night alive, he should say goodbye. Even if it hurts. Even if it makes him feel sick to say it.

He nearly sobs with relief when he hears the line click, and a familiar German accent speak loudly in his ear. "Chase?"

Chase sniffles, laughing softly. "Hey, Henny."

Henrik curses, and something slams. "Mother of God, Chase Brody, do you have any idea - Are you - Fuck, are you alright?"

Good question. "I don't know," he admits, bouncing his leg anxiously, and staring at his chipped black nails. "I mean, I'm… scheduled to die tonight. So probably not. Really, I've been weirdly calm about all this."

Henrik huffs, and Chase can almost picture him getting red in the face, yanking back his hair and staring out the window of their flat with narrowed, pale blue eyes. "They have not done anything about it? Surely it is not possible that a murderer who is killing in patterns cannot be apprehended? You would think that would be easy, especially if you are being held in high security. Motherfucking useless British police. Not that German ones were much better, but Christ -"

Chase cuts him off before he can rant for another five minutes. "How are the others? Are Jackie, Marv and Jem holding up ok?"

Henrik sighs, blowing out his cheeks. "Mhm. Marvin has gone a bit mad. Fucking idiot is spending way too much time online, reading up on your situation. He seems convinced that you are going to die as well. According to Jackie, he spent all of yesterday out of the house and came back saying he had been performing. But Jackie says he had not had any parties scheduled for that day, so he was talking shit."

Chase winces. His friend Marvin is a child's birthday party performer, a magician, and spends a lot of time perfecting fun tricks and illusions to add into his routine. Chase knows how much he enjoys his job. But he also knows that Marvin's habit of spending hours on internet forums and sites, learning things from other performers, can be bad for him. "Christ. I… Goddammit it. How's Jackie coping?"

He hears a microwave go off in the background. Henrik mutters something that Chase can't hear, then keeps talking. "Jackie has been at the gym every day since you were taken in. Overworking himself. He did come round yesterday and, uh, spoke about how scared he was for you. Cried a lot, poor man. I am not good with comforting people, but I tried. He does not know what to do with himself anymore."

This isn't surprising. Chase is well aware of Jackie's habit of overexercising and pushing himself too far when he was angry or upset. "And Jameson?"

Something clatters, like Henrik's rummaging in a cupboard. A fridge opens and slams shut, and then Henrik is back. "He has been round at our flat a lot. Did you know Euan ended things with him? I did not, until he told me the day before yesterday. He was dreadfully upset. The timing was… not great, to say the least. I do not think he is doing too well, but he refuses to accept any of the help I wish to give him. He kept asking about me instead. Really, sometimes I wish he was not such a good actor."

So does Chase. Jameson is never one to be open about his feelings, instead trying to help everyone else first. Chase loves him a lot, but he wishes the filmmaker would be less stubborn and insistent that he was always ok. His heart aches at the thought of Jameson suffering alone, especially now - he and his boyfriend Euan had been so close, as well. The thought that he might never be able to figure out what happened between them hurts. "Me too. God, Hen, me too. Give them all my love though, yeah? Tell Marvin to take some time to do self care, and tell Jackie to take breaks, and tell Jameson to talk to his therapist. And you… don't you overwork yourself either. I know what you're like. Only one cup of coffee a day, dude, remember. Don't make me come over there."

Henrik laughs softly, but there's a sadness to it. "You sound as though you are saying goodbye."

Something stabs into Chase's heart. He tries to catch his breath through the lump in his throat. "Henrik. I'm going to die tonight."

There's a long pause. He can hear Henrik adjusting, rubbing his face and knocking his glasses askew. Maybe he knows his roommate too well. Far too well, maybe well enough that he knows what he'll say next. "There has to be another way."

Chase shakes his head despite Henrik being unable to see him. "No. No, Hen, no. This - this is what's happening, and we can't just… fix it. I wish we could, cause I don't even understand why, and it's so scary, and… God, I wish we could. I have so much left I want to do, and…"

He trails off. Henrik doesn't speak. Chase imagines him pulling the phone away from his face, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his mouth so as not to cry. The image hurts. Chase hurts. He holds the phone tight, aching to be somewhere, anywhere else other than here.

"You know," he says, voice choked as he speaks. "It's ironic how much I wanted to die a few months ago, and now I'm here, and I'm suddenly so scared."

"You are not going to die," Henrik suddenly shouts. There is anger in his voice that Chase knows is not directed at him. "You are not. It will not just all end like that, Chase Brody. I will not let it."

Something hot pricks the backs of Chase's eyes. He swallows hard, his chest tightening, his legs bouncing harder. "Henrik. Henrik, I - I have to go. I have to go. I'm sorry. I love you, dude. You know that? I love you."

"Chase," Henrik practically sobs. "Shit, I love you too. But you are not going to die."

Chase ends the call and throws up in the black bin next to his bed.

-

Night comes quickly, Chase thinks.

He thinks, because an officer comes to take his phone soon after his call with Henrik ends. He's starting to regret hanging up, but it had to have been what was best. Of course it was what was best. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does. This is something he has to keep telling himself. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does.

The officers ask what he wants for dinner that night instead of giving him choices. He gets it. It's a last meal. He takes full advantage of it and orders pepperoni cheese stuffed crust pizza and garlic sticks, his favourite, with barbeque sauce and churros. It all tastes like cardboard. He eats it anyway, because he's bored and his mouth still tastes like vomit and if he's going to die, it's only fitting that he goes out with a Domino's in him.

Before he's even finished eating, an armed guard comes and takes him across the building. It's the first time he's left his room in days, and he's surprised to see how dark it is outside, how little people are around. The few people he does see stare at him, some open mouthed with awe, some with sad eyes like a parent trying to tell their child that their pet fish died. Chase stares at the floor. Stares at the gun tucked into the waistband of the officer in front of him. He's scared, and his heart is racing faster than it has in years, and he thinks he's dissociating a little because he doesn't feel real and his fingertips are numb. Adrenaline thrums through his body, warming him and erasing the painful cold. Fuck, but he's scared. He's so, so goddamn scared.

He's taken to an entirely different room, a slightly bigger one that looks nearly the same, but with wooden chairs sat all around the border. There's no TV in this room. "Sit here," one of the officers says, guiding him to the blue covered bed and gesturing for him to sit. He does so, feeling silly and light with panic. He thinks he's going to be sick again. His breaths aren't coming right and fuck, he might faint from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness that's washing over him now.

One of the officers that has just come in walks over and sits next to him. He's in full uniform, a radio on his vest, a bat strapped to his belt. "Are you alright, Mr Brody?" he asks gently, looking at him with kind brown eyes, and Chase sobs with relief for some kind of comfort.

"H-h-having a p-panic attack," he stammers, shifting on the bed to try and feel something, clawing at his skin under his grey hoodie and desperately trying not to cry. "N-need my - my - my asth-ma in-inhaler, p-please, I can't br-breathe -"

He's brought his inhaler, and he clutches it gratefully, clinging to it like a child. The cold button grounds him. Maybe, maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough, he'll wake up in his bed at home and be able to get up and shower in a bathroom that's not small or lit too brightly and then he can go downstairs to the kitchen to find Henrik half asleep at the table, three cups of coffee in front of him, wearily participating in whatever Chase's dumb early morning joke is, and then he can eat toast that's not burnt or done too lightly and play his music while he writes or goes on a walk outside. Maybe. Maybe.

The armed guards keep watch over him for two full hours.

Chase Brody is terrified.

It's when it hits the two and a half hour mark that he begins to notice anything different. A faint ringing in his ears. He thinks it's his tinnitus and waves it off, simply swatting at the air around his head like that will help at all. One of the guards notices immediately. "Sir, are you alright?"

Chase nods. He's not, but he doesn't need them dithering over him. Unfortunately, the guard doesn't let up. "Seriously, it's important that you tell us what's happening. Anything at all. Anything that could help you."

Well, that's reassuring. "Strange noise," he murmurs, shaking his hair out his face. "I think it's just me, though, I'm alright -"

But the guard is standing, muttering something into the radio strapped to his chest, and is it Chase's imagination, or are more people entering the room? "What's happening?" he asks, but he gets no response, and he's starting to feel strangely dizzy and tired, like something heavy is dragging his eyelids down. "I don't… h-hey, I don't feel too… too well…"

Someone is speaking to him but the world is already blurring, his head light, floaty. "Stacy?" he slurs, trying to get a grip on the bedsheets beneath him. "Someone needs t'... m'kids, they…"

-

Chase Brody is no longer in the same room as he was before.

He doesn't know when that changed. He can't pinpoint the exact moment where the walls darkened and raised with pipes and doors and panels, he doesn't know when his bed disappeared beneath him and the floor became sticky and black, he doesn't know when the bright light of his room became a soft blue glow, lighting up the room from behind him. He doesn't know when the room had stretched both ways into a long hallway, lined with slivers of light through the windows. He doesn't know why, when he stands, his legs nearly crumple beneath him. And when he turns - god, when he turns, and he looks out the enormous windows behind him - he doesn't know why a calming sensation of numbness settles over him, burning his skin like pins and needles.

He is staring out at the vast abyss of space.

It's a blackness he's never seen before. It seems to go on forever, and maybe it does, and there is nothing but tiny pinpricks of silver light of gaseous stars piercing the inky nothingness. Nothing but that, and the ball of green and blue that Chase knows, somewhere in his mind. Earth. Earth, where he is and isn't, where his body should be, where he never left, and what kind of nightmare is this? What kind of sick nightmare, he thinks dizzily, his thoughts chugging slowly as though through a thick soup. Everything is spinning. There is no sound, the world is broken, and the space is fucking endless.

Move, says the tiny part of his brain that still has sense. Get out. Get out.

His footsteps echo on the metal panes of the floor, and he resists the tightening urge in his stomach to vomit.

He doesn't know why this place is familiar.

The hallway seems to go on forever. All the doors along the way to the left have small, glowing panels beside them that seem to demand some type of access keycard, which Chase very much does not have. Eventually he reaches one that he can open, and stumbles into a large room with a table in the centre, the walls covered in photos and clippings that he doesn't bother taking closer looks at. There is only one small window in here, over a sleek black couch that seems to have nearly been shredded right through the middle. The table has a bolted down chair and a large pile of papers next to a cracked laptop that splutters weakly as it asks for a password. The room is too dark. Chase slowly walks through it, wincing at the sound his boots make on the floor, wincing at the silence, heart racing with the promise of another panic attack that he pushes down forcefully, gripping his own wrist for support. This isn't right, screams the universe. This is too familiar. This is too real. This is too familiar to be real.

Chase has noticed that everything in this place, despite its immediate appearance of immaculate properness, seems to be slightly out of place. This becomes more apparent in the room adjacent to the one he'd just been in, a room filled with sealed metal crates and boilers that bubble menacingly from their perches on the walls, a room which has clearly been nearly destroyed. Black claw marks have torn out chunks of the walls, wires ripped from the floor, buzzing weakly and sparking from wherever they were thrown after their violent uprooting. Dark red stains splash across the floor like a tragic painting that makes Chase's stomach upturn sickly. A vent on the ceiling hisses, and the man jumps and bolts, all last dregs of courage leaving him in an instant. He knows this is a dream. This is a dream, nothing is real, nothing is real, it must be just a dream.

"I've gone to hell," he sobs aloud, clamping both hands over his mouth as a cry climbs up his throat. "O-oh my god, I've gone to hell."

This is what you get for being a shitty, alcoholic dad and husband, he thinks, and promptly throws up on the floor next to the fresh bloodstains.

The rooms start to blur. Objects to objects, light to light, black walls and coloured glow and sparks, hissing, echoing rumbles, all becoming one in Chase's mind. He's long gone past the stage of a panic attack; he's in a state of utter numb calm, now. In one room he finds a long, black lighter and holds it tightly in his hands for comfort, twisting it round and round in buzzing fingers just to feel something solid against his skin to ground him. Please, he prays softly, wiping sweat from his forehead, struggling to breathe as his chest tightens and the world seems to grow hotter and smaller. Please, let me wake up, let me wake up from this, please.

And then something is standing behind him.

He doesn't know how he knows. It's just a sensation of silent shock in him, of I am not alone, a stabbing feeling as the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something is there. He feels eyes on him. He can't - fuck, he can't move, and all the emotion in him seems to be rising to a painful crescendo. I am not alone in here. I am not alone in here.

"Who's there," he says in a small, cracked voice, not daring to turn. It's barely a question. "What do you want from me."

Nothing but a low hissing, and, most frightening of all, a rumbling growl that nearly sends Chase to the floor in a faint.

He has to look.

He has to look.

He looks.

It's an… an astronaut.

Neither of them move, and Chase's grip on the lighter in his hands tightens, trying to find some form of comfort, anything. "Why am I here?" he manages, swallowing back hot bile that burns his throat and makes him gag softly. "Why, why, what nightmare is this? Am I dead? Did the killer get me and this is my hell?"

The astronaut is silent.

Fury bubbles in Chase's chest, overriding the fear for a moment. "Talk!" he shouts, perhaps stupidly, but he doesn't care. "Please! What is happening?"

Then things get perhaps even stranger, somehow. A glowing 2D box of light appears in front of the astronaut, hovering in the air, too quiet until black text begins to appear on it, cartoonishly video game like blooping noises playing with each letter. Chase watches in awe. He's unable to speak.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are the Player.

Chase reads the words over and over and over.

"My name is Chase Brody," he says, voice wavering with uncertainty, because something here is wrong, wrong, wrong, so ridiculously wrong, and he hates the way things are clicking in his mind. "I shouldn't - be here. I think I'm dreaming and I want to go home."

The text flashes.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are <player_variable_BroAverage>. You are the Player.

Chase feels like he's above his body, like nothing he's seeing is real anymore. "Please let me go home."

<TheAnti.chr_v09> I am <TheAnti.chr_v09>. I am the Anti. You are the player. Player objective: escape. Anti objective: kill the Player. Initialization - Upon game startup, play <soundtrack_opening2>, set spawn and character sprites -

Chase can't take this. "Stop it!" he cries, and he shouldn't step forwards so confidently, but he does, slashing his hand through the air in front of him. "Tell me what you -"

The astronaut explodes.

No. No, it doesn't explode; Chase's mind is taking a moment to make sense of it, to rationalize the way the helmet has shattered and there is nothing but sheer white and glowing green eyes, hundreds of them, underneath, the largest one on the being's neck, splitting open with disgustingly inhuman squelching sounds, and the way the suit has torn and a mouth has opened up on the stomach, a gaping maw with knives for teeth and a slimy crimson tongue, and the way rips open along the material and more eyes open, burning red skin like charred meat, black veins rising under its skin. It hisses and cracks and growls and hums and it isn't like anything Chase has ever seen before, or maybe it is, because he knows this monster. He's seen this monster. And fuck, now he knows why this world is familiar, because he's been here, he's played this game. This can't be real. This can't be real.

"Posttraumatic nightmares," he can hear Henrik saying to him, the man's voice comforting. "Nightmares that occur after a traumatic event and can contain, what is the word… recurring themes that make you experience intense negative emotions. Maybe that is why you are having such strange dreams, my friend. You have been through a lot in these past few weeks."

That had been months ago. I thought I got over those dreams. I thought I got over those dreams.

He's running. His legs are already burning, chest already tight, why did he have to have used all his energy on his panic attack? Is the monster still following him? Chase can't turn to check, and the blood in his veins is racing through his body faster than he's used to, his heart in his ears as he flies round a corner, barely able to catch a breath. This isn't real, he thinks. It's another nightmare. Please, this isn't real, this isn't -

And then something wet is snaking round his chest, pulsing in a way that makes Chase gag, and something sharp presses into the skin on his back and a burst of numbness runs over him like cold water, causing his body to go limp against the alien - because it is an alien, isn't it, he knew this already - behind him. Cold heaviness seeps through his veins, combatting the light weightlessness that the adrenaline was giving him. He tries to cough again, to speak as his lungs empty of air, but the alien only grips his arms tight enough to piece his skin with sharp claw-like fingers. A glance down at his chest, and he sees the tip of the bloodstained rod jutting through his skin. It doesn't really register. A light laugh escapes his lips, because it's funny, really, how he's about to die at the hands of a video game antagonist.

No, he's not about to die. This isn't real. It can't be, it's another bad dream, of course it is. But if it's not real, then what happened to Jack Mcloughlin and the others, all of those… all of…

The world spins.

And the world lights up in flames.

Chase had briefly forgotten about the lighter he'd picked up for support, and now he's putting it to good use; one flick of the switch and the alien is alight as though it had been soaked in gasoline, burning orange spreading across its suit, the crackling drowning out the monster's screeches. Its grip loosens on Chase's arms, and he pulls free, and the universe spins as the rod in his chest slips out like it's nothing, leaving a gaping emptiness in him. Please, he screams, in his mind or out loud, he doesn't know. Please. Please.

Please, wake me up.

-

White light. It floods the whole world, for just a moment, and then Chase's eyes are open and he is gasping for air, hands flying to his chest and feeling nothing but the soft material of his shirt, no pain except for the squeeze of his lungs as he coughs desperately into his sleeve. There are people surrounding him now; the police officers and armed guards from before, helping him sit up, holding a sick bucket in front of him as he throws up the little that's left in his stomach weakly, too much noise but nowhere near as bad as the silence of the Dawn Station. Nowhere near as bad as the hissing creaks of the Anti. Nowhere near as bad as his nightmare, because it was a nightmare, of course that wasn't real - nowhere near as bad as the nightmare that he'd thought was going to kill him.

I lived. I survived the night.

He's had this thought before, but this time, it's met with relief.

-

"You dreamed about the setting of a video game."

"Not just any video game. The, uh… the new Jack Mcloughlin game, Dawn Station. All the people who played the demo… died. I didn't die. The night I was supposed to, after all the others, I - I dreamed about the game. And the antagonist of the game. It's this, uh, this alien thing, in an astronaut suit. Tried to kill me. Apparently it's weak to fire, although I don't remember that from the actual game, maybe it was a secret that wasn't in the demo we were all sent, but I burned it, and it stabbed me, and I got away, not - not in that order. Does that… does that make sense, doctor?"

Dr. Ross scrutinizes Chase for a moment before turning his chair back to face his computer. The sound of his mouse clicking fills the room, off beat from the eternal clicking of the plain white clock on the plain white walls, decorated only with bookshelves and trays of medicines. Chase has never been in a more boring doctor's office. Usually his therapy sessions have more to look at, but this is a different therapist than he normally goes to, and all he can do is fidget with his hands on his lap and stare out the window at the

earth, the stars, the black abyss of emptiness that Chase could get lost in and never be found

setting sun through the trees just outside the building. The doctor's pen clicks, clicks, clicks. It sounds like the Anti's teeth, chattering against each other as it yawns, its maw opening wide enough for a head to be torn right off. Click, click, click. Chase closes his eyes, the repeating sounds like a mantra. He focuses on that instead. It grounds him.

"You have a history of nightmares."

Chase nods without looking. "I was prescribed triazolam by my first therapist. I took them for a year or so without changes except the lowering of doses a couple of times, because I was getting weaned off them. They helped. Nightmares didn't continue after that."

The other man nods slowly. "Hm. I can imagine the trauma of this recent event that you've been through was enough to bring these nightmares back to the forefront of your mind, especially given the contents of this dream in particular. We may have to ease you back onto medication over the course of your next few sessions here, which should be easier, given that it'll be a couple weeks before we send you home. Is that alright, Mr Brody?"

Click, click, click. Chase nods. Sunlight warms his face, and he sighs softly. "Sounds good, Dr. Ross. When will I be able to see my family?"

The man frowns, his forehead creasing. "Hopefully soon, although it will be slightly complicated, given the circumstances." A breath leaves him, and he tilts his head to the side slightly. His white collar digs into the fold of his neck. Chase keeps his eyes trained on that. "And these are strange circumstances, are they not?"

"They are," Chase mutters. He clenches his fists in his lap. "They are, yeah."

He should have died. He doesn't know why he didn't die. He doesn't even know what it was that killed the others. Really, the nightmare he'd had makes sense. It was easily written off as a traumatic event that had brought back old nightmares. Of course there was no way any of it had been real. That's ridiculous. Just ridiculous. He doesn't know why he's thinking that.

His hand trails down his shirt. Underneath, on the skin of his stomach, is a thick scar that hadn't been there before the nightmare he'd had. Right where the rod had pierced his stomach.

Coincidence. Coincidence.

"Do you have any other concerns, Mr Brody?"

"I don't believe so."

"Good."

Click. Click. Click.

[writseo]

Love Victor Preferences | Soulmate AUs

Characters Included: Victor Salazar, Pilar Salazar, Felix Weston, Mia Brooks, Lake Meriwether, Andrew Spencer

AU: The first sentence that your soulmate says to you is tattooed on your wrist

Victor Salazar

Victor’s tattoo: “I am so sorry”

Your tattoo: “It’s okay, it happens a lot more than you would think.”

    After every bump, every accident, every mistake someone else made, Victor would always be hopeful that he would hear the words written on his skin come to life. And more than often, they did. The disappointment that followed after the first incident would start to become a familiar feeling for him. His hope began to break and the tattoo began to prove itself worthless. He’d turn his attention away from it and put it to whatever was happening around him. The words, “I am so sorry,” no longer phased him anymore.

    One day, you decided to visit a specific coffee shop for the first time. You were just supposed to grab a quick bite before walking the rest of the long way to home from school. Your phone was pressed against your ear. The only thing that you heard was the scolding voice of your father’s from the small, electronic rectangle. Before you even realized it, you had bumped into another walking person, hard. It was a boy, close to your age. He had a tray in one hand and (almost empty) cups of coffee, spilled onto the floor. You didn’t even realize the small pinch of liquid that had landed on your shirt.

     “I am so sorry,” you said as you began to panic. You hung up the phone and tried to help pick up the mess that you had caused. Victor felt a small glimpse of hope as he heard your words. But as he recalled his past experiences, he tossed it aside.

       “It’s okay, it happens a lot more than you think it would.”

    As your eyes began to widen, Victor noticed. Only then, his faith began to return to him. He sighed with a smile. You two began talking with each other with disbelief hidden in your voices. You then began to wait in one of the booths, waiting for his shift to finish just so you two can have a real conversation.

Pilar Salazar

~Picture Source~

Pilar’s tattoo: “Your parents actually let you get one?”

Your tattoo: “Something like that.”

       Pilar would constantly be making conversation with people. She would often start off a story about something that she managed to get away with. However, none of them had ever responded with the exact words that were on her skin. After speaking to every person she knew that was in her school, she would get frustrated and start to feel lonely. Pilar grew more irritable and would close herself in her room. Her mother, concerned and worried, would go inside her room and give her a talk that she once had to constantly remember as a younger girl.

     “Look, few kids are able to meet their soulmates at your age. They are out there, somewhere. You will meet them but right now, they might not even be in the state or even in school anymore,” She said as she held her daughter’s hand. Pilar sighed in defeat and had to accept it. She didn’t like it but she knew that it was most likely the reason why you weren’t with her at the moment.

    5 weeks later, you had joined the school. It was your second day of class and the bell hadn’t rung. You were reading a book, slowly tuning in and out of a conversation that was coming from the girls next to you. There were three girls speaking about how one of them had gotten a cartilage piercing.

     “I got one too, but on my tongue,” you heard a new voice chime in. You lifted your head to a girl sitting in a desk in front of them. You couldn’t help but admire how she looked so beautiful, even when all she wore was a T-shirt with some jeans. She stuck her tongue out, showing a small, silver stud placed in the middle of it.

      “Your parent’s actually let you get one?” You asked, amazed by her freedom. She turned her eyes to meet yours.  

       “Something like that,” She responded in a sly manner. You chuckled lightly before the bell rung, earning a small smile from Pilar. However, when she turned her body to face the very front, she began to realize what had just happened. After looking at the space under her hand, she turned around to see you. A clump was lodged in her throat and her heart skipped a beat when you finally took notice. Seeing her wrist being lowered from her sight with her eyes staring at yours, you understood what she was thinking. You looked at your tattoo, butterflies forming in your stomach. Pilar turned back around when she saw your expression, which was a form of shock and excitement, similar to hers.

     The whole time during class, your minds would both wander off. When you should have been thinking about the Revolutionary War, you and Pilar were too busy thinking of what to say to each other after the class would end. As her thoughts were running marathons, you went up to her in the hallway just to say a small “hi” which lead to a small chat. You two walked to your next classes, giggling and blushing like small dorks.

Felix Weston

~Picture Source~

His tattoo: “You look like a pineapple.”

Your tattoo: “How do I look?”

      Felix was always heavily confused when he was staring at his tattoo. He was relieved that it was specific, unlike Victor’s or Mia’s. Even though it would have to call for special circumstances, he couldn’t help but constantly be on alert for the words to come out in that very specific order.

As his feelings for Lake began to grow, so did a certain wish of his. A certain wish that maybe she would have something similar to what he would say. He was careful when they would cross paths, worrying that she might say her first words to him and it would be something completely different. As he would walk past her, he'd try to get a glimpse of her wrist. But it never worked. It was always covered with bracelets. His hope diminished when they were paired with each other during a project. Her first sentence was, “Hello.”

      Felix secretly knew that it wasn’t her yet never wanted to admitted it to himself. But knowing how likely it was that he wouldn't meet you until very later on in life, he still made the best of it. To say that he still pursued after her would be nothing but the truth. Because being with her temporarily was better than not at all, at least in his mind.

    It went smoothly up until the Stoplight party. Felix was dressed from head to toe in yellow attire. As Victor was being taken by the basketball team, Felix was finally left alone. He sighed before slightly looking to the left and seeing Lake. He started to prep himself, running his hand over his hair while smoothing down any wrinkles in his clothing. He turned around and saw you, sipping on a red cup. You stood out as you were the only person who wasn't carried away in an already active conversation.

     "How do I look?" Felix asked you, quickly gaining your attention. He seemed nervous and you couldn't help but notice how adorable his hair was as it was ruffled.

    "You look like a pineapple," you commented before taking another sip. He lightly smiled and looked down at his clothing, seeing if you were right. But then your words suddenly hit him like a train. He looked at his wrist and slowly looked up. You were staring at him, but turned away when you realized. A light blush covered his cheeks. Should he talk to you or let you wait? Felix glanced to where Lake was, only to see her missing.

    So he stayed, and continued a conversation with you. You noticed the strange behavior at the start, wondering if it was really him. As the party grew longer, your suspicions were finally confirmed.  

      It didn’t take long for him to forget about the other girl. You both had instant chemistry and were taken away by the sounds coming out of your mouths. The party had dialed down and there were less people than there was at first. Felix decided to ask you out on a small date, to which you happily obliged to.

Mia Brooks

Mia’s Tattoo: "Hey, are you okay?”

Your Tattoo: “I’m-I’m fine.”

       With a common phrase, Mia was constantly on the lookout whenever she got hurt. When she was shoved to the ground by the other kids or fell because she tripped on her own feet, she would always look around. A part of her had hoped that you would come out, and her life would be changed forever. She had heard the phrase being said a couple of times. But when she would look closer to see their wrist as they would help her up, she would instantly brush off the thought. After it happening several times, she would begin to be extra cautious. Every step on the stairs would be carefully examined. Her shoe laces were always tied so tightly. She was careful of what her foot would land on. A part of her wanted to fall or get hurt, so that maybe, just maybe, she would finally be able to meet you. But a bigger part of her was scared and thought that it wouldn’t matter. That if she somehow bruised herself, you still wouldn’t appear to her. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. So instead of waiting around, Mia let herself invest in relationships, no matter how unsettling it felt.

       However, her reluctance to begin new relationships was mutual.

     You were at school dance with the same person that you had been dating for months. You genuinely believed that they were your soulmate. That every major difference they had with you when it came to your beliefs was just there so you two can grow and mature into better people. But instead, you had found that they faked it. They would apply makeup to their wrist and use the soulmate concept, that was given to them by whoever was in charge, just to manipulate you to be with them. The smudge on their wrist that night was too noticeable, and you were glad that you had investigated before continuing it all.

     You were roaming the dark, empty school halls. Your head was on the verge of exploding that night and you just wanted to clear it up. Your feet would step ahead of another until you spotted the entrance. However, there was a crying girl with her back to the door. You could hear her sniffles grow louder as you walked towards her.

    “Hey, are you okay?” You asked, hoping that she wouldn’t ignore you and walk off.

    “I’m-I’m fine,” Mia let out. You knew it was a lie. Otherwise, why would she be crying? Your eyes turned to your wrist one last time. But instead of paying attention to it, you let it go. Your reasoning being that if it really was your soulmate, it wouldn’t matter where you knew or not. You walked up to her and tried your very best to comfort her.

    Soon, you would find yourself in her bed, her head laying on your shoulder while your hand rubbed her arched back. When she accidentally saw her words on your wrist, she was shocked. Mia sat herself back up, confused as to why you wouldn’t tell her. When you confided in her what had happened that night, she understood. The tables had turned and soon, she was holding you. As both of your trust had been broken by others, the idea to take it slow came up. In fact, it was what the both of you needed the most.

Lake Meriwether

~Picture Source~

Lake’s tattoo: “Come back here!”

Your tattoo: “What did you just say?”

     Lake had always been suspicious of people who would repeat those words. She never really thought it would be a common saying. However, as she began to pay more attention, she started noticing it practically everywhere. She also noticed that the tones would always vary from angry to comforting. The first person that said, she thought they were her soulmate. Before she knew it, Lake was rambling about how nervous and excited she was to finally meet them, only for them to give their own tattoo reveal. She scurried off and closed her mouth instantly.  She could only imagine what circumstances would have to play out so you can say them out loud.

      Lake had already heard around school about a girl who supposedly found her soulmate. But knowing the man already and hearing how they first met, she knew it was all a lie. With how convinced she was that she already had people chasing her, she took a bracelet and ritually used it to cover her skin. Until one day, she and Felix were at the bakery. You were helping bag bread for another customer as they were occupied with the lady that you knew as your boss. Felix suddenly grabbed a box of cake and ran off, telling the blonde to hurry. Before she could even leave the door, you yelled out her magic words.

     “Come back here!” Lake was startled and began to trip on her own feet. Her head instantly turned to face you with furrowed eyebrows.

      “What did you just say?” She asked, before Felix plopped a hand onto her, reminding her of the situation. Lake ran out of the store, leaving you absolutely flabbergasted.

        Reminiscing what had just happened, it was now almost 10. You were 20 minutes away from the end of your shift and you were wiping down the counters. You heard a bell ring, signaling that someone had just entered the store. As you were the only one working that night, you went up to the register, waiting to take their order. Once you looked at the person, you recognized the girl from earlier. It was Lake and you couldn’t help but notice a wad of cash in her hand. She paid you for the cake that they have stolen earlier and then brought up the soulmate tattoos. When you looked back on it, you were shocked. You didn’t know what to say next until she barged in with another sentence.

      “Would you like to, I don’t know, go out sometime?” Her voice picked up towards the end as her eyes wandered elsewhere. You nodded, and said yes.

Andrew Spencer

Andrew’s tattoo: I swear, you are like a lost puppy 

Your tattoo: At least I am not a grape.

    Andrew was confused at first. He had no idea what it could have possibly been referring to. Some nights, he would stay up late just so he can try to piece together what situation he would hear those words in. Would he speak to you first or would you start it? When his friends saw his wrist in the locker room, it would become an inside joke among them. Whenever they wanted to taunt or tease him, they would call him the little lost puppy. Andrew, however, was fine with it. In fact, he even considered changing his Instagram handle to a variation of it. However, once he met Mia, that would soon change. He’d find himself starting to fall for her. Self loathing would soon take over as he already was well aware that their first words didn’t correlate at all. Instead, he used her as reason to forget about his wrist. If he was ever able to, he would try his best to cover up to the best of his abilities.

    You were both at the school dance. Of course, you two weren’t together. At least not yet. In fact, you had decided to go alone with some friends. After looking around the room for a small bit, you noticed a certain tall jock that you had only seen in the halls. As he was staring at Mia from afar, you went up to him.

  �� “I swear, you are like a lost puppy,” you said, chuckling to yourself. Andrew looked at you and quickly scanned your purple dress.

     “At least I am not a grape,” He quickly turned back to see Mia. You started teasing him on how doped up he was. It didn’t take much for you to get lost in each other’s presence, mocking each other in your clothes, style, anything you two could find about each other. Andrew took a small glance to your wrist, noticing the same words that he had repeated earlier. Then, it hit him. It him like a semi-truck hitting a speedbump placed on the freeway. You didn’t notice but he felt embarrassed. He had been taunted his whole life, spent hours over this, hated himself for it, yet couldn’t even recognize the saying when he heard it from the one person who he needed to hear it from the most. Only when he went silent did you take full notice.

      “What’s wrong?” you asked, which was met with a point to your wrist. You looked at it and noticed his words. You started laughing, seeing the humour in the situation. You didn’t realize it all, no matter how peculiar you always found it. He began to laugh over it as well. Soon, he was holding your phone and typing in his number to your contacts.

[sweeethinny]

some time ago I wrote this fic, and today, after listening to some good 100 times this song, I had to write something about it, so I put these stories together and showed Harry's vision, how they ended up meeting (and I know, I say that Harry was a nurse, but I only noticed this after writing almost 2000 thousand words, which means that I am not going to change this new story and just deleted the paragraph that referred to it, thank you very much.)

I do not agree with any act of vandalism

It was a normal Friday at the bar, the same guys from the executive building had come over after the office spoke badly about the boss, the women from the accounting department went to get the portion of shrimp, chips and salad, along with the usual beers, and almost everyone who was there, Harry knew. It was supposed to be a normal Friday.

But then, the door opened and a redhead came in, not the one who worked at the makeup shop on the corner, nor the teacher of the elementary who would marry next week, no, this was a new. She was short, but she wore black high-heeled boots that stuck to her knee, a black pantyhose, a matching skirt and a gray turtleneck sweater, which made her look like she was coming from a funeral. The redhead was one, if not, the most beautiful woman who had ever entered there, with her hair at the height of her breasts, loose and messy from the wind, big brown eyes, and freckles that painted all over her skin.

''Good night'' Her voice reached him, sweet and melodious, she sat at the bar in front of Harry and that alerted her that she could be coming from a funeral, because if it was a date, she wouldn't sit down there. There were deep dark circles that matched the whole sad scene he had created - a habit he had created since opening the place, always trying to guess what each person was doing there - and Harry almost wanted to hug her and offer his condolences. ''The strongest you have''

''Good night’' He tried hard to say, not wanting to look too shocked by her beauty, serving her properly with the strongest whiskey on the shelf ''Some say it makes fire come out of your ears'' He joked, trying to pull it out least a glare from the most listless brown eyes he had ever seen

‘’Is he good at setting someone on fire too?’’ Harry had met some people during his six years working there, and whenever someone started with these chats, he knew that some tragic love story would reach his ears.

‘’I’ve never tested it, but we’ve already used it to flambe one of our desserts and burned the ceiling’’ Even with that, the story that always made someone at least smile a little terrified, the woman remained listless. Harry beckoned Andrew to take his place by attending Andy, the painter who worked on the fifth floor of the building. "Is everything okay?" The redhead drank the entire dose, tapping the glass on the counter and wiping the drop that ran down the corner of her mouth before crossing her arms and looking at all the people around, as if she were envious of every smile that appeared on unknown faces

‘’Have you ever been betrayed?’’ Harry looked at her, picking up the ice and lemons as he continued to work on the drink from table five, trying to buy time to answer it.

‘’Hm ... Not that I know’’ At least none of his ex’s had said anything about it in the end.

''You should be thankful'' He poured another shot when she pushed the glass towards him, and she took it in a few seconds, her cheeks turning as red as her hair ''It sucks'' Her brown eyes shone for a second and Harry prepared to pick up the handkerchiefs he kept nearby, but then they dried up and were so lifeless they looked ashes

‘‘I’m sorry’’ He smiled when Tom took the glass with the freshly brewed drink, and went back to paying attention to her ‘’What is your name? I never saw you around here’’

‘‘Ginny ’’

‘’Harry’’ The pretty redhead stretched out her hand in greeting, forcing a smile

‘’Do you know everyone who shows up here?’’ He shook her cold hand

''Good part, usually people talk about their lives and we end up remembering them'' Ginny nodded, focusing her eyes on the empty glass in front of her and seeming to think about several things at the same time, and if it weren't for Rihana's music playing, Harry thought he could hear the gears working

‘’My boyfriend ... well, ex boyfriend, he came here. Do you know him?'' She opened the photo on her cell phone, showing her next to Michael, smiling from ear to ear as they drank ice cream, and Harry did his best to contain the shock when he saw the man who worked in the tattoo parlor and never left the bar alone. How could anyone betray someone like her?

‘’Huh… Yes. I think we talked at one time or another’’ He omitted, not wanting to delve into the fact that he had introduced Jones to Michael yesterday.

'’It seems that everyone knew that he was cheating on me but they didn't want to tell me. They preferred to make me a clown! My own friends!’’ This time there were tears, and Ginny made no effort to contain them ‘‘I am an idiot’’

''Of course not, they are'' Harry sat on the bench across from her, still on his side of the bar ''Michael didn't deserve you'' Not after going out with more than a year with several girls ( and he didn't think it was a short relationship, due to her sadness) ''You are too beautiful for him'' Ginny finally laughed, a little bitterly, but still a laugh

‘’And who would I be pretty to?’’ Harry shrugged

‘’I don’t know,I don't think there is a guy for work. But if you like women, maybe you’re more lucky’’ She laughed again, sniffling and wiping tears from her sweater sleeve. This time he took the handkerchiefs.

‘’We were together for five years ... Five years and God knows how many betrayals’’ His heart ached, wanting to go back in time and hit that filthy guy in the face ‘’I arrived on a trip and .. surprise! There he was with the barmaid on our sofa’’ Ginny forced a smile, taking the rest of the whiskey and hiding her face with her hands, seeming to cry even more

‘’He’s an idiot, you know that, don’t you?’’

‘’No more than me’’ Harry denied, taking the hands off her pretty face, trying his hardest not to wipe her tears-wet cheeks, or putting the red strands behind her ear, just taking another handkerchief and handing it over

‘‘It is forbidden to self-sabotage in this bar’’ Ginny laughed softly, wiping her wet face and giving little sobs ‘’I won’t let you think shit about you, when he was the one who missed. There was no way for you to know, there are no signs or any indications to let us know that the person is complete shit.’’

‘‘Well, there should be, I’d avoid a few years of being an idiot’’ Harry swallowed, not sure what to say, but then remembering something. He opened the drawer next to it, pulling out a box he had gotten from his mother and was saving for later

‘‘Take one’’ Harry pointed to the untouched chocolates, pulling the lid off and placing it close to her face ‘‘My uncle always says they improve any mood’’

‘’How can I know they’re not poisoned?’’ It was a valid question

‘’Pick one, and I’m going to eat’’ She looked at him, her brown eyes looking more like melted sugar and less like the ash at the bottom of the fireplace. Harry preferred that look, even if smudged with mascara. Ginny pulled out one of the truffles and handed it over, which he ate with common devotion, feeling the incredible taste of cherry liqueur mixed with dark chocolate, all melting in his mouth in the most perfect way. ‘’The best in all of London’’ He smiled ‘’Now, take one’’ And the redhead did it.

‘’Thank you’’ She smiled a little sheepishly, chewing on the truffle that should have been chocolate and pepper, and looking a little calmer than a few minutes ago. At least the hiccups were almost gone. ''I wanted to get back at him'' Maybe it was her beauty, maybe it was the fact that Harry thought he owed her something because he never noticed Michael dating - even if it was impossible, as he said, there were no signs or indicators - but it didn't take long for him to respond;

‘’Do you want help?’’ And so it was that after work, he ended up taking Ginny to a nearby neighborhood to break Michael’s car

‘’Don’t worry, my brother works at the police station and can cover up a case of vandalism. If, Michael has the courage to report, which I doubt’’ She reassured him, sitting in the passenger seat and finishing eating the last chocolate from the box, which he willingly gave her

‘’So, is this it?’’ He parked on the corner, happy that there were no security cameras on the street or the buildings around. The gray car was parked not far away, looking brand new.

‘‘Yep’’ Ginny got out of the car, looking much more angry than when she arrived at the bar, putting on the hoodie that Harry had borrowed and going steadily towards her final destination.

As promised, he followed her, taking care of her back while the redhead did all the destruction with a golf club he kept in the trunk, scratching the shiny paint and murmuring swear words and slightly incoherent phrases

''I once found panties in the back seat'' She said while explaining why the car ''And he told me I was going crazy, that that was my panties'' Ginny rolled her eyes, her cheeks purple "And when I once complained that he spent more time taking care of the car than going out with me, he said, 'it's just that the car doesn't complain so much'".

Harry looked over his shoulder, seeing that she was spilling a jar of old oil, which he had taken out to put in the trash, on the seats and steering wheel, while angry tears fell from her eyes, leaving her much more mascara painted than before.

As soon as she finished, falling in the middle of the street and sobbing in a loud cry, Harry knew he needed to get them out of there before some curious neighbor wanted to know what that noise was, or was going to take out the trash, so he picked her up as if it were the most precious thing in the world, letting Ginny soak his shirt with tears and shaking hands to grab him as if it were the only thing that would protect her at that moment

‘’Why does it still hurt, Harry?’’ Her tone made his chest ache and tighten, placing it inside the car and then leaving the crime scene - could it be called that?.

‘‘I don’t know, Ginny’’ he say sincerely ‘‘Revenge never really comforts, it doesn’t bring anything back’’

‘’He had no right to play with me like that!’’ 

''No''

''I hate him so much'' The sobs echoed back in the car ''I don't think I'll ever be able to love anyone again'' Harry looked at her, her hair totally messed up, her face dirty with makeup and red from drink, her eyes swollen crying, and red lips trembling, looking just as vulnerable as Teddy on waking from a nightmare or going 5 minutes without Tonks or Remus around. Harry sighed, saddened that a woman like her was suffering like that for someone so ridiculous and filthy, that he didn't deserve even a hair of her stress. Ginny definitely deserved to be happy and to be loved, and it was a shame that they met at a time like this, because Harry can imagine himself - even if for a second - by her side.

‘’It’s never too long ... There must be someone’’.

[middleofnowhere92]

@imnotginnyweasly requested Ty Luko for my ATLA Valentine’s Day one shots I got so excited to write my fav OTP my hand slipped and it’s gonna be a two shot. Chapter two will be up soon. 

The Worst Morning After (Chapter 1)

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ty Lee/Zuko (Avatar), Ty Lee & Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: Morning After, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era Summary: Ty Lee and Zuko wake up together. It goes downhill from there.

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Notes: It might seem implied that they had sex, but we'll find out if anything happened in chapter 2.

Ty Lee blinked awake as the sun starting to filter in through the blinds. Well, she tried to blink awake. Her mascara had effectively glued her eye shut. She sniffed the air. This didn't smell like her Bath and Body Works air freshener. This place smelled like mahogany, maybe? She rubbed at her eyes and was finally able to get them open. She glanced around. Yeah, she definitely hadn't made it home last night. The bedroom was sparse. A few traditional Fire Nation art works hung on the walls. At least this guy had a clean room, or was it a girl? Geez, she must have had a few last night. Well, either way, it didn’t really matter. It was time to go. She scanned the bedroom one more time. Her dress was on the floor by the door, but where in the Spirits were her shoes...

The person shifted next to her in bed. Shit! She had missed her window to escape. Ty Lee was pretty good with people, but sometimes she just wanted to hit and run. She wasn’t in the mood to tell her life story. She should just leave now before they fully woke up. The only problem was her dress was all the way over there… She chewed at her lip trying to figure a way out of this.

Suddenly, the other person got up and out of bed. She screwed her eyes shut to feign sleep. She heard their footsteps walk away, followed by a door shutting and the shower turning on. Perfect! This is the opportunity she needed.

She bounced up and out of bed, the cool air making her very awake. She scurried over to her dress. She picked up the pink glittery number and started to wiggle in. She forgot how tight this stupid thing was. She bounced up and down, the floor boards creaking, as she pulled the dress over her thighs. The fabric finally bent to her will and she was able to pull it all the way up. She bit her lip as she twisted her arm in an inhumane way to pull the zipper up.

She pulled and pulled, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. She sucked in as much as she could and it finally pulled up. She spun around looking for her pink glittery heels. They had to be in here somewhere. She glanced to the other person’s side of the bed, but nope. There was just a pair of black jeans crumpled on the floor.

Okay, it was time for her to go further into this person’s living place in her quest. She pressed her ear to the door for any sign of roommates. She heard nothing, so she took a deep breath and opened the door as slowly and quietly as she could. She poked her head out, looking each way before opening the door fully.

She tip toed out into the apartment, scanning for the pink glittery shoes. They were six inch heels for Spirits’ sake. They shouldn’t be that hard to find, especially in this neutral decor situation. This apartment was actually really nice and modern. A little too blah for her taste, but definitely nice. She slunk through the kitchen and hurriedly crossed to the living room, when she spotted them next to the couch. She grinned gleefully as she hopped on one foot as she shoved the other in her heel.

Once both heels were on, she decided this was the perfect opportunity for escape. She stepped on the balls of her feet to avoid her heels hitting the floor. She made a plan to call an Uber as soon as she got in the hallway, except… She huffed her bangs out of her face. Where in the spirits was her phone?

Okay, she just had to be quick. Get it and get out. She hurriedly teetered in her heels across the apartment looking for her phone case covered in pink rhinestones. It had to be around here somewhere. She crammed her small hands in the couch, not feeling anything. She groaned, but scampered through the kitchen, looking over the counter top. She was about to head back to the bedroom, when she turned back to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of fireflakes and then continued with her mission. She could never pass on fireflakes.

She stepped in the bedroom and narrowed her eyes in search of her phone. She shook out the comforter, but no luck. She picked up the pillows, but couldn’t find anything. She looked on the desk, side of the bed, but came up empty. Finally she decided to look under the bed.

She wiggled under the bed. At least it was clean under here too. She saw the glimmer of her bedazzled phone even in the darkness under the bed. She reached her arm out and she hit her phone, sending it sliding across the hardwood floor. She wiggled further under the bed stretching her arm out, if she just had longer fingers. She made grabby hands, but the phone stayed just out of her reach. She was so focused on getting her phone, she was startled when someone cleared their throat and in a raspy voice asked, “Uh, do you need help?” She let out a light scream at the fright, her head bouncing up and hitting the bed frame.

“Oww!” She groaned. This person had the audacity to snort at her predicament. She glowered, “Are you laughing at me?” They answered breathily, “No…” as they failed to keep their laughter out of their voice. She glared up at them through the mattress. They offered, “Uh, do you need me to pull you out?” She rolled her eyes, “Absolutely not! I can-” As she shimmied out from her under the bed, her extremely tight dress chose that exact moment to rip from the bottom to the middle of her back.

As she heard the loud tear of the fabric, she realized what happened and wanted to burst into tears. This by far was the worst, most awkward, humiliating morning after she had ever endured. She let her head thunk against the hardwood floor,  wishing it would swallow her up. It’s not like she had any dignity left anyway. She sniffled and Raspy Voice interjected, “Oh, um don’t cry. It’s okay. We’ll get you out.” Couldn’t they just be quiet? She didn’t need to be reminded that there was a witness to the least graceful moment of her life.

She shoved herself out of the bed. When she got out she huffed and sat on the floor, her back against the bed. She glanced around, but the other person wasn’t there. They stepped back into the room and Ty Lee tried her best not to stare. He gave her a small smile and handed her a red towel, “Uh, here you can, uh, shower if you want.” He went to the dresser, “You can wear some of my stuff, it might be a little big, but, um-” “It’ll be better than this right?” She asked as she wrapped the towel around her waist to cover the giant rip in her dress.

He gave her the same tight lipped smile, “Uh, yeah.” He gestured to the door off his bedroom, “Bathroom’s over there.” She thanked him and then slunk into the bathroom to escape the awkwardness. Well, he by far was the prettiest person she had ever gone home with. Sure he had a large scar over the left side of his face, but he was really really good looking. In the brief glimpse that she had gotten, she had noticed how tall and built he was. His wet black hair had been thrown up in a top knot,  a few pieces hanging down in his face. He had just been wearing sweats and a v-neck, but you could still see the muscular build underneath and the tattoos that crawled down his arms.

She cleared her head of the thoughts and cranked the shower on, turning the water as hot as possible. She looked in the steamy mirror to see her gray eyes surrounded in smudged glitter and eyeshadow, giving her the appearance of a raccoon in drag. Her braid was frizzy and her baby hairs were a mess. She looked like shit. Guess she wouldn’t be seeing this guy again. She dropped the towel, then her dress and undid her braid.

She stepped in the hot water, letting it scald her. She closed her eyes, feeling the hot water wash away her sins from the night before. She leaned her head back letting her thick hair become absorbed and heavy with water. She turned, scrubbing the mess of makeup off her face. She stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out, attempting to avoid the inevitable.

She reluctantly stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around herself. She put some tooth paste on her finger and got rid of the taste of last night. She poked her head out and found the bedroom empty, but a black pair of boxer briefs, a worn Blink 182 t-shirt, a black Thrasher hoodie and a pair of black sweats were laid out on the bed. At least he was kind of nice, she thought to herself. She dried herself and hung the towel up. She heard voices on the other side of the door, one being the hot guy from earlier and the other sounded like a woman on speaker phone.

The girl asked, “So how’d it go last night Sparky? Finally get some?” The guy snorted, “Can we not talk about this?” His friend brushed it off, “Give me something juicy! It’s literally the only reason I called you.”  The guy sounded like he was shuffling around in the kitchen as he responded, “I thought you were gonna let me know whose place we were doing your Anti-Valentine's day at later.” The other person answered, “Well duh, your place obviously.” Raspy Voice answered, “Spirits no! There’s pink glitter all over the place.” The other voice answered, “Glitter! What in the Spirits did you take home with you last night?” The guy awkwardly cleared his throat and said, “The line’s breaking up! I can’t hear you. Gotta go. Bye!”

Ty Lee bit her lip to keep her laugh in. He seemed like a nice enough guy. His words reminded her that right, today was Valentine's Day. The sun had barely risen, but this day was even worse than the Valentine's day that Haru had broken up with her. Last night, she had gone out for a fun night with Aang and Suki to forget that they were single, but it had somehow spiraled into the disaster of a situation she was currently in. She shook her head and put on his borrowed clothes. She finger combed her thick, impossibly long hair, but she didn’t have the energy to attempt to braid it right this minute. She braced herself and opened his bedroom door.  His back was turned to her as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets.

Even though she hadn’t made any noise, he seemed to sense her. He called over his shoulder, “I got your phone out from under the bed. It’s on the charger.” He pointed to it with an empty cereal box, that he then tossed in the recycling. She bounced over and saw the many, many missed calls and text messages from Suki and Aang. She groaned thinking about all the questions she would have to deal with the next time she saw them. And she spotted her bag of fireflakes from earlier, perched right next to her phone. She snuck the little bag into the hoodie pocket.

The guy looked over at her and asked, “Wanna come get breakfast with me?” She looked at him wide eyed like a deer startled by a hunter, “Oh, I don’t want to intrude.” She couldn’t possibly go out in public like this . She was already horrified that he had seen her without make up, looking like a half dead zombie. She couldn’t have anyone else witness how utterly disgusting she looked. He just shrugged, “I was gonna go anyway, since I have nothing to eat here.”

Oh. So he didn’t really want her to come. That was fine. She couldn't blame him. She tried to answer in a nonchalant tone, “I ordered my Uber. I should really head home.” He turned to finally look at her. She had never felt so self conscious, his golden eyes seemed to be able to see every flaw in her appearance, as he took in her disheveled form. She became weirdly embarrassed as he glanced down at her pink glitter painted toes. He walked away and answered, “My half sister left some crocs here. They’ll probably fit you.” He came back holding a pair of white crocs that did actually look like they would fit.

She slipped into them and his oversized long sweatpants cascaded over them. She looked up at him sheepishly, feeling a pink blush tint her cheeks, “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She unplugged her phone and scooped up her heels while he grabbed a burgundy hoodie. She followed him out of the apartment and down the stairs. The cold February air gave Ty Lee a chill. She tucked her long damp hair into the hood and pulled it up.  He glanced at her, “Oh, fuck. Sorry. I should have given you a hat or something.”

The two stood there in awkward silence. Ty Lee turned staring off into the distance praying this Uber would get here soon. Couldn’t this guy just walk wherever he was going and leave her to sulk in her walk/ride of shame?

Thankfully, the Spirits took pity on her and her ride pulled up. She gave Hot Guy a small nod, not wanting to really acknowledge him and her embarrassment,  and then got in. As the driver pulled away, he began chattering about his cabbage farming business. Ty Lee stared out the window, trying to forget this terrible morning. She opened the bag of fireflakes for comfort as they got further and further away from the scene of her horrifying morning.

[hemmingswaybabe-blog]

Welcome Home***

THIS IS SMUT! NOBODY UNDER 18 INTERACT PLEASE.

Plot: Calum is coming home from tour but after flight cancellations and delays, he makes it home once you are already asleep. When you wake up in his arms, you want to make sure he gets the greeting you anticipated for him ;) Warnings: Smut, face fucking. 

We got the redeye to L.A. tonight. Should land at around 4 a.m. I’ll Uber home. Love you.

A disappointed sigh left your lips as you read Calum’s text. He was originally supposed to get home at 8 p.m. but after a fiasco of flight cancellations, he missed his connecting flight home from the U.K. It was now midnight and the hair and makeup you had put on to look nice for him was not looking so hot anymore. 

It had been almost 3 weeks since you had seen each other and Your texts back and forth got even dirtier and dirtier as time passed. You both agreed to abstain from touching yourselves so the sex would be even better when you reunited. However, when making that agreement you didn’t take into consideration that the two of you are the horniest people on the planet. Not masturbating was one of the hardest things you have ever had to do in your life, and Calum did not help. He would send teasing messages that only made you even hornier. Luckily, you were just as cruel and would send Calum nude selfies describing all the things you would want to do to him. 

-

Although you were determined to stay up, your internal clock got the best of you and by 2 a.m. you were completely out and probably snoring in the bed you and Calum shared. When Calum finally stumbled in the bedroom at about 5 a.m., he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter when he saw you fast asleep in the lingerie you had bought to wear especially for that night. He set his suitcase by the door and slowly climbed into bed beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder and entangling his limbs around you. With a soft smile on his face, Calum soon drifted to sleep as well, feeling your warmth against his chest. 

-

At about 10 a.m. you slowly started to wake up and immediately smiled when you felt Calum’s toned arms wrapped around your waist. His breath was light on your ear, on the verge of being annoying, but you were so happy to see him that you didn’t care. Careful not to wake him, you slowly turned to face him so you were face to face. Even though you had been together for over a year, after not seeing him for 3 weeks, you were still in awe of how beautiful he was. You were kind of jealous of his tan skin and full lips, but more importantly, you wanted to kiss them. As you stared at him, which made you feel like a creepy stalker, you remembered one of the texts he sent you last week when he was missing you:

I can’t wait to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my dick. You look so hot when you suck me off and let me fuck your beautiful face.

To your advantage, Calum naturally turned over so he was laying on his back. Your first instinct was to lay your head on his chest and snuggle up to him even closer. But that text ignited a fire in your belly, as you remembered all the dirty texts and long nights without him there to please you. You sat up in the bed and looked at the mirror on the wall across from you. Quickly, you brushed out your messy hair with your fingers and wiped the mascara that smudged under your eyes while you were sleeping. You slowly climbed over him, straddling his legs. Calum was wearing basketball shorts, which gave you way easier access than if he had been in skinny jeans. Slowly, you pulled his shorts and underwear down to reveal his cock. You took a quick moment to admire the beautiful specimen you got to call your boyfriend. His tattooed chest was shiny with a thin layer of sweat and his face looked like that of an angel when he slept peacefully like that. 

You knew you had to hurry before the breeze from the ceiling fan woke up Calum as it blew cold air across his now exposed cock. You took him in your hand and slowly began stroking the base of his cock. You used your other hand to gently squeeze his balls as you began to get him hard. A small moan left his lips and you could tell he was bound to wake up soon. You quickly took action and licked the underside of his cock before placing a soft kiss on the tip.

As you anticipated, your actions woke Calum up in a hurry, but before he could open his eyes and look down at you, your mouth was already taking him as you slowly bobbed your head around him, taking the rest of him in your hand.

“Good morning gorgeous.” He said, but it came out more like a moan than a greeting. 

You didn’t stop, just lightly moaned around his cock, sending vibrations through him that made his hips buck up. That action made you look up and nod at him, permitting him to fully fuck your face.

He didn’t waste any time as he grabbed the back of your head and pushed you down onto him, making his cock hit the back of your throat. His thrusts grew faster and faster as he chased his high. A few tears streamed down your face as you tried your best not to gag around him. You were ready to swallow his heavy load when he forcefully dragged your mouth away from him. You gave him a look of confusion before he grabbed your waist and flipped you so that you were lying on your back looking up at him. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m missing out on tasting you, baby girl.” He grinned before he pressed his lips onto you for a hard kiss. 

When he pulled away you moaned, “God, I missed your lips.”

“Where did you miss them on you, baby,” He teased as he touched all over your body, “Where do you want me? What do you want from me, baby?”

“Please make me cum with your mouth and your fingers. I’ve missed it so much. I just want you on me.” you whined as you squirmed beneath his hands running all over your body, but skipping over your most sensitive areas. 

Calum took his sweet time leaving hickeys on your neck that made you moan and groped your breasts as he played with your nipples so nonchalantly, but he still had you moaning and squirming beneath him. After what seemed like hours of his bittersweet teasing, he finally made his way down in between your thighs as he tugged your underwear down your legs and down to your ankles where you kicked them off. 

“You’re so fucking pretty. God, I could look at you all day.” He groaned before he ravished your core with his mouth. 

He licked a long stripe down from my entrance up to your sensitive clit before he began to suck, lick, and nibble on the sensitive bud. Your fingers interlaced in his hair trying to gain as much friction as possible. As you arched your back in pleasure from his mouth, he dipped two fingers into you and began working them into you, slowly opening you up. After a few strokes, his fingers had found an all too familiar spot in your core as he penetrated your G-spot with his magnificent fingers.

“Mmmm,” He hummed against your pussy. “You taste even better than I remember. So sweet and wet for me.”

You almost lost it as the vibrations on your clit shook throughout your entire body. He began to pick up the pace as you were completely a moaning mess. After not being touched for three weeks, the smallest movement had you whimpering and shaking. 

“Calum. I-” You yelped before a strung of incoherent words fell through my lips. 

His fingers stroked against your G-spot and sucked harshly on your clit, leaving you seeing white and the fire in your belly erupting. Your legs shook intensely around him as they instinctively began to close around his head. He used his arms to hold them open as he continued to softly lick around your pussy, cleaning up your mess, making you whimper at how sensitive you were. He delved two fingers into you once more, making you groan at the feeling of fullness again, before he took them out and held them against your lips. You opened your mouth and sucked his fingers dry, tasting yourself on him, until he was satisfied.

As you looked back down at his cock, it was red and throbbing for you, begging to be inside you. Although your first orgasm almost completely ruined you, you knew you would never be satisfied unless Calum’s cock had made you cum too. He retrieved a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on his cock, tossing the foil wrapper behind him. You would probably find it next week and laugh about it. He took another second to look at you, all of you.

“I love you so much. God, I missed you.” He said as he looked directly into your eyes before he pressed his lips against yours and enveloping you in a deep kiss.

As the kiss grew more intense, he ran one hand down your body before grabbing his cock, stroking it a few times, and using his hand to guide himself into your entrance. Before he could even get halfway in you arched your back off the bed and gasped into his kiss. He held your hips down with his hand as he continued to slowly press into you until he was completely inside of you. You felt so full and complete like his cock was made to be inside of you, like it was made to make you feel good.  He finally broke the kiss to look at you and wait for a sign that you were ready for him to move. You bucked your hips up and grabbed the back of his head to bring his lips back onto yours. 

He immediately set a moderate pace, giving you both enough pleasure, but still allowing you both to savor this sweet moment together, after so long apart. The veins of his cock brushed places so deep inside of you it made you shiver and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth with each thrust. You didn’t need words, or praise, or anything from him. You were so deep in the moment and the kiss. He took over all five of your senses: the feeling of his cock deep inside of you, the taste of his lips, the smell of his hair conditioner, the sight of his beautiful body on top yours, and the sound of your skin meeting his with each thrust. He sent you into complete euphoria as you felt an intense heat rise inside you once again. 

As he sensed you getting closer he used the hand that was on your hip and snaked it in between your bodies to once again find your throbbing clit, sensitive to the touch. Without any mercy, he rubbed harsh circles onto your nub to help you find your release. Everything around you went away as you saw stars around you and your cunt clenched around him rapidly, triggering his release. Both of you strung incoherent grunts and moans together as he slowly thrusted through your orgasms. 

After a while, he pulled out, discarded his condom, and looked back at you laying limply on the bed, catching your breath. 

“Well, that was a great welcome home present.” He laughed before he enveloped you in his arms once again. 

“Tell me everything about your tour.” You said softly as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift back asleep to the sound of his voice. 

[talkfastromance4]

For Your Eyes Only--bodyguard!Ashton [Chapter Two]

Summary: Ashton Irwin is the head of security for Princess Alouette who is a kind, gentle young woman. Secretly pining for one another, those feelings will soon come to light as an occurrence will change Alouette’s life forever, and Ashton’s.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: a guy hitting on Alouette

Author’s note: This story is near and dear to  my heart, please give it a chance!❤❤❤❤❤

Masterlist

Chap. 1

If you’d like to chat with me, please do so here. I’d love feedback!

____________________________

The next day is spent of them shopping along the streets of Barcelona and Ashton had his three best confidants, Michael, Calum and Luke to follow the Princess and Neva around while they did their shopping. It was a warm day with the sun beating down on them and at one point Ashton pulled out a tube of sunscreen striding up to Alouette who just put her hair in a ponytail.

“Here my lady, for your neck and nose,” he hands her the tube which she takes, her bracelet sparkles in the Spanish sun.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she sighs popping the tab and applies it right away.

“Security man,” Neva pipes up looking to Ashton.

“Yes, Neva?”

“Since it’s so warm, how about we go to the beach? There’s a private one not too far from my home.”

“Neve,” Alouette shoots her best friend a warning look as she applies the sunscreen to her nose and cheeks. Neva knows how Ashton is about her safety and now she’s spewing out a random beach trip?

“How many people frequent there?” Ashton immediately goes into security detail mode.

“A handful, maybe ten. It’s mainly just me and a neighbor or two but usually it’s just me. I promise it’s safe otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Neva smiles radiantly.

Alouette sighs, Ashton glances at her then at Neva.

“I’ll make a call. This is the only spontaneous thing we’ll be doing this weekend,” he warns taking back the sunscreen that Alouette hands him when she’s finished.

“Wait, really?” Alouette’s eyebrows raise in shock that he actually agreed to the plan.

“Really,” he answers her softly, “I know how much you love the beach, my lady. Let me make a few calls while you finish shopping then we can head back to the villa.”

 •••

Ashton’s breath hitches when he sees Alouette yanking off her sundress to reveal a peach colored swimsuit. It fits her perfectly with small gems adorning the breasts that shimmer and sparkle in the sunlight. He tries—and fails—to keep his eyes from lowering to her ass as she runs to the edge of the water but it’s toned and tan and—

“Put your shades on if you’re going to check her out, mate,” Calum snickers standing next to him in the sand.

“What are you on about?” Ashton clears his throat.

“You were totally checking the Princess out while she was running just now. Are you ever going to act on your feelings for her?”

“I don’t have feelings for her,” Ashton slips his shades down anyway though. “I’m her head security guard, nothing can ever happen.”

“It’s been three years, Ash. Three years that you’ve been in love with her and I think she feels the same way.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“She never takes off that bracelet you got her and Luke says she always gets antsy when you’re not around.”

“First of all, that was a gift and second of all it’s because she trusts me to protect her, not because she’s in love with me.”

“Look, I get the risks that could come with it but you know her like the back of your hand and she knows you, too.”

“It’s my job, Calum. Drop it and keep an eye out,” Ashton commands and turns his gaze back to Alouette who is splashing in the water with Neva. He clasps his hands together in front of him and tries not to think about what Calum has said.

•••

Later that night after everyone sang ‘Feliz cumpleaños’ to Neva, Alouette is at the dessert table trying to find a sweet treat to eat. Ashton is nearby and tenses when he notices a young man approaching her.

The man’s white linen shirt is completely open revealing tattoos on his chest and gold chains hang around his neck accompanied by a confident smirk as he approaches her. He sidles up next to her saying something in her ear;  Ashton isn’t close enough to hear what he’s saying but Alouette smiles brightly and turns to him.

Ashton keeps watch as the interaction unfolds in front of him. The guy rests his hand on Alouette’s lower back, a little too low for Ashton’s liking and he clenches his jaw. Then the guy runs his finger over Alouette’s lips as he drunkenly sings

“Alouette, gentile alouette,

Alouette, je te plumerai…”

Alouette’s body language sets Ashton into action as the guy’s hand lowers onto her bum and his face inches closer to hers. She’s trying to get out of his grasp and Ashton can hear her protests but the guy persists with his slurred singing. Ashton is in between them instantly, pushing the guy forcefully back.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Ashton warns, his voice icy.

“Ah c’mon, chico! It’s a party! She needs to loosen up, let’s go querida.”

“I don’t think you heard me,” Ashton’s voice turns severe as he steps closer towering over him. “You don’t touch her, you don’t approach her. Leave or I’ll make you.”

Ashton turns around to ask Alouette if she’s all right when the guy darts around Ashton and tries to grab her. Alouette screams and Ashton elbows the man in the jaw making him stumble away from her but Ashton is quick and grabs him by his collar throwing a punch to his nose. Blood flows instantly and Luke is in front of Ashton.

“Get him out of here,” Ashton mumbles shoving him away into Luke’s strong arms.

The guy is slurring curses in Spanish but Ashton couldn’t care less because he turns to Alouette who is visibly shaken after the altercation. He approaches her slowly with his hand out as if he’s offering his trust to a frightened dog, her eyes are downcast to the cobbled stone of the balcony.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he asks her gently making sure to keep a safe distance from her in case she was scared of him.

Her eyes slide up to meet his as another shiver courses through her body. Tears are pooling in her big blue eyes and Ashton’s heart aches.

“I’m fine,” she whispers folding her arms across her chest.

That’s a telltale sign she’s withdrawing within herself and Ashton knows she needs to be somewhere quiet. With the loud music and even louder party guests, he knows it won’t be happening here.

“Let’s head inside, yeah?” he motions his arm forward while his other hand hovers behind her as she takes tentative steps to the doors leading inside.

He figured they’d go to the kitchen so he could get her a glass of water but when she walks past the kitchen he’s curious to see where she’s headed. They walk past the living room and the dining room, her heels clacking on the tiled floor until she turns left into the large bathroom. Ashton stops at the doorway wanting to respect her privacy but she keeps the door open and he purses his lips watching her.

She washes her hands quickly-- it’s as if she’s trying to find something to do-- and dries them before moving to the toilet. She sits down with her head in her hands as she cries silently into them.

Without a second thought Ashton rushes into the room closing the door so no one disturbs her and kneels in front of her.

“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Where’s the pain?” he asks frantically, eyes scanning over her body but he doesn’t see blood or any mark of concern. She continues to cry in her hands and Ashton starts to get even more worried. “My lady, talk to me please so I can help.”

She takes a shuddering breath before removing her shaking hands from her face. Her cheeks and eyelashes are wet but her makeup isn’t smudged because Ashton knows she wears high quality stuff. He looks into her sad eyes trying to figure out what’s going on in her head.

“I’m so tired,” she sighs finally and rubs under her eyes with her palms.

“Let’s get you to bed then. We can—“

“No, Ashton,” she sniffs, “Not that kind of tired. I’m tired of . . . being me, sometimes. It’s so hard to keep this face on all the time, where nothing appears to bother me but so many things do. I’m tired of being wary. I’m tired of always thinking someone is out to get me and I’m. . . I’m tired of waking up scared. Every day.”

“I can promise you that you don’t have to worry about getting hurt, it’s my job to protect you and I will never let anything happen to you,” he says with conviction and grabs her a tissue.

 He desperately wants to hold her so he can console her better, but he can’t.

“I know,” she sighs, “that’s another thing I’m tired of.”

“My protection?”

“I appreciate your protection, more than you’ll know but I hate how it’s your whole life. Have you slept at all since we got here?” she asks.

To his surprise her thumb touches the dark circles he knows he has under his eyes. He jumps at her delicate touch as her other thumb moves to his other eye.

“An hour here and there,” he says swallowing thickly. He feels his skin warm where her gentle touch continues to linger.

“You need to sleep, Ashton,” she reprimands gently.

“I’ll get around to it,” he shrugs. “I’m sorry you’re feeling this way, my lady, I wish I could take it all away for you.”

Her thumbs stop rubbing under his eyes and her fingers move up to his forehead probing along his hairline. Ashton watches her, heart pounding in his ears as she admires his face and trails her fingers along his cheeks.

“Why don’t you call me by my name?” she asks stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers while her other hand brushes his hair away from his forehead.

“Because it’d be crossing the line of my profession,” he says. 

He regrettably grabs hold of her wrists to pull her soft touches off him. This is the first time he’s touched her this way and he can feel the cool of her bracelet beneath his fingertips.

“It’s been three years Ashton, I think we’re past the professionalism of our relationship.”

He closes his eyes at the word relationship and takes a deep breath. He pushes his desires down, he can’t give in to them, he simply can’t because it would complicate things. He doesn’t realize he’s stroking the inside of her wrists until he opens his eyes to look into hers. Her face is dangerously close to his.

“I can’t,” he whispers pulling away.

“Why not? It’s just my name.”

He sighs then releases her wrists and stands up, she gazes up at him with a saddened look.

“It’s a beautiful name, my lady, for a beautiful woman. But I can’t, it will change things. I’ll be outside if you want to return to the party.” 

Each step away from her pangs his heart and when he opens the door, he has to force himself not to look at her. He hears her sniff and curses himself because now he’s the reason for her tears.