#wow another trash fucking article

[corporatefrog]

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 15; red string of CONSPIRACY

✧.* featuring yn opening up to Kyle about their recent theories : ̗̀➛ notes - I always get nervous when I post written out parts (esp when it's a smau) but I felt like this needed to be in person for the effect. The next part will be mainly written too so get ready! tags - college au, superhero au, smau

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It’s got to make sense. It HAS to make sense. If it doesn’t make sense I’ve spent the past week thinking about it and that’s a week wasted that I could’ve used to do something else or literally anything. 

My vision blurred as I stared at the cork board, eyes tracing the same track of red yarn from picture to news article to picture to news article to picture-

It was a vicious cycle that had trapped me for what felt like hours but could’ve been minutes. Or days. Time came and went in no consistent interval. I woke up, went to class, came home and stared at this board until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. 

I hadn’t made a video in a few weeks and I’d postponed the interview I had scheduled with Fast Pass with no new date set. Another lost opportunity because I couldn’t get my shit together. This is all I had right now. So I had to be right. Even if the theory made me sound like I’d never had a critical thought in my life. 

Which it does. Kyle didn’t even respond after you told him. That means no one believes you. It means your theory doesn’t make sense. This is BUTTERS we’re talking about.

Yeah but if it’s wrong, that means those people are right. Even if they’re just spreading hate on the internet to make themselves feel better, they have lives nonetheless. If I assisted someone who’s actively ruining people’s lives, does that make me just as bad as him? 

I shake the thoughts away. I’m not a bad person. I may make questionable choices but what college student doesn’t? It’s a part of growing up. So I have to be right about this. But what does that mean moving forward? What do I do knowing one of my best friends is a super villain? 

A stinging feeling begins behind my eyes as I feel the familiar pressure across the bridge of my nose that always happens before I start crying. 

Why can’t I figure this out? Why can’t I let this go? Why am I stuck-

A knock at the door startles me from my concentration. My head whips to the door as though it would open on its own to reveal who interrupted my time of focus. 

“Yn? Hello?” Kyle’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. 

Oh fuck. 

I looked back to the cork board which took up the majority of my living room. 

Why did I buy this again? I wondered, realizing how much space the board actually took up. The once tidy living room had become cluttered with empty coffee cups and takeout containers littered over the coffee table, end tables, and ground. Bits of red yarn sat on the ground from cut up scraps. Other lengths that had connected discarded evidence sat in a pile on a stool, waiting for the chance to be connected to the ever expanding web once again. 

“Are you in there?” Kyle’s voice rang through the apartment again.

I can’t let him in here! He’s going to think I’m some hermit conspiracy theorist!

…Well I kind of am a conspiracy theorist.

Deciding to ignore that realization, I lunged for the nearest piece of trash (a 3 day old Chipotle bowl that I just kept forgetting to walk the 3 feet to the kitchen trash) and tossed it into the garbage can. Speed cleaning the apartment lifted a weight from my shoulders, making the small living room feel less claustrophobic. 

Wow, I feel better already. Maybe I should open the blind and run a vacuum through real quick- KYLE!

I spun and walked toward the door, fixing my appearance in the 10 second walk to the door to the best of my ability. Even if I’ve been stuck in my apartment for a week and a half, I didn’t want to look like it. 

Unlocking the door, I put on my best “I’m totally fine and mentally stable!” face.

“Hey, kyle!” 

If I looked bad, Kyle somehow looked worse. The usually maintained curls frizzed into a blur atop his head and his shirt was clearly on backwards with a Fruit of the Loom logo showing proudly at the base of his neck. His eyes darted around the hallway and into my apartment through the sliver he could see through the cracked door. 

The fuck is up with him?

I think while also wearing a shirt backwards after throwing away a week’s worth of take out food and diluted iced coffee as though I was any better off. 

That’s not what we’re focusing on right now. I’m perfectly stable, duh. 

“You good?” I asked, leaning against the door frame to keep him from seeing my conspiracy board. 

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one that texted me an essay about your theories then called yourself an asshole.”

“Oh those?” I forced out a laugh, waving a hand to brush off the concerns, “Those were just joke, duh! You took those seriously?” 

“They sounded pretty serious to me.” Kyle sighed, running a hand through his ragged hair in a way that somehow didn’t catch his fingers in the mess of curls, “Can I come in? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

My eyes darted back into the apartment. The giant cork board stuck out like a neon sign saying “A MENTALLY ILL PERSON LIVES HERE!” I couldn’t let someone see me like this. Texting Kyle in the first place was a mistake. He’ll think I’m not thinking clearly, that I’m not someone to be trusted. The work I put into being reliable yn who’s always there to be a person you can lean on will be ruined. No one will ever trust me again. 

But don’t you want someone else to know? Just knowing that someone else sees your stress instead of shoving it down until it spills over?

The thought alone of telling someone about these thoughts, of sharing the burden I’d created for myself, cleared the clouds fogging my mind. He can be someone who will listen. He can be a witness so I’m not the only one who knows that I’m struggling. 

I stepped back, pulling the door open so Kyle could step through. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” I started, hoping to mediate the embarrassment of letting someone into my stress lair. 

Kyle shook his head as a small smile tugged at his lips, “It’s no problem, if you’ve ever seen stan’s room-” His sentence died out as he noticed the cork board. You know, the giant one covering my living room wall filled with pictures and newspaper clipping connected by red yarn. 

“Oh.” Was all he said. 

I shut the door behind him. Kyle jumped slightly at the sound, turning his gaze to follow me as I walked. He doesn’t say a word. Only staring at the cork board, the remains of trash I’d missed on my quick clean, and my own disheveled appearance. 

Might as well address the elephant in the room.

“Do you want to talk about the cork board?” I asked, continuing before he had a chance to reply, “Let's talk about the cork board because I’ve been dying to talk about this cork board all day.” Walking up to the board, I pointed to the center where two photos sat: one of the supervillain Professor Chaos and the other of elementary education major Butters Stotch. 

“Professor Chaos. His name keeps coming up over and over again. Everyday Call Girl is sending out alerts about this guy,” I move my hand to point at different tweets I’d printed out and pinned to the board, “Professor Chaos takes hostages in a McDonalds Play Place for a birthday party. Professor Chaos attempts to sign himself as the mayor of South Park using a fake charity petition. Professor Chaos hijacks the news station to declare the weather today ‘a 100% chance of Chaos’. This entire corner is just tweets about Professor Chaos!” 

Kyle sits down on the couch without a word, eyes still following my every move. I start pacing across the living room. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? Is it because he doesn’t believe me? 

“So I start to look closer at his actions, his way of speaking, everything that makes Professor Chaos who he is. But it’s around this same time that I start to text a certain person more because we have a philosophy class together.” I return to the board and point to screenshots of text messages. 

“Here Butters talks about getting grounded for eating two cookies and here Professor Chaos talks about being grounded for wearing his villain outfit then got grounded for trying to get ungrounded.” I look between the cork board and Kyle, trying to justify my hypothesis with the urgency in my voice, “No one gets grounded as much as Butters. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that!”

“But that’s not even the smoking gun!” I exclaimed, pointing to another corner of the board, “Last week, Butters missed our philosophy class- which he has never done- and when I texted him, he said he was at a showing of Frozen on Ice with his mom in Denver. But when you look at the schedule for Frozen on Ice,” I pause for effect, “they don’t start shows for this season in Denver until next month. Right day, wrong month.” 

“But guess what was going on last week? Professor Chaos attacks main street and is tackled by Super Craig. Landing him with another defeat and some pretty gnarly bruises to boot. The kind of bruises you’d need to miss class to cover up.” I finished with a sigh, glad to finally tell someone the monologue that had been racing through my head for the past week. 

I brace myself for Kyle’s response. His eyes are locked onto the cork board and my scribbled sticky notes shouting various exclamations of discovery and panic. With a deep breath, he levels his gaze on me. 

What is he thinking? Is he trying to find a nice way to say I’ve lost it? Have I lost it?

“Yn-”  He begins but I cut him off. 

“I know it sounds crazy, okay? I know it sounds like I’m reaching by claiming the only truly nice person I know is the town’s resident fucking super villain-” 

“You’re right.” 

Kyle’s response blasts through my clouded mind. I physically take a step back as my face morphs from frantic stress to confusion. 

“What did you just say?” I ask, shoulders remaining tense as a hand twists into the fabric of my shirt. Kyle sighs, looking away and muttering something to himself. He raises a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes before looking back at me. 

“You’re right about Professor Chaos.”

The words I hoped to hear, the words I thought would finally take the weight off my shoulders and release the stress that had gripped my nerves, only intensified the panic in my mind. 

“You mean you believe me, right?” I started slowly, trying to clarify the simple language mistake Kyle made. 

“No, I mean you’re right.”

Before my mind could begin to wrap around the first revelation, Kyle continued speaking. 

“I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed to. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. But I know someone who can, or at least someone who has permission.”

I began shifting my weight from foot to foot, holding back the urge to begin pacing again as I ran a hand through my hair. 

“You know how cryptic you’re being right now, right?” I said. 

“Yeah I know.” Kyle's leg began to bounce as his own nerves began to peak through, “I’m walking a very thin line and I’m trying not to get us both into major trouble.” He looked up to me, trying to communicate a message I couldn’t understand. 

“With who?” 

“Someone with a lot more authority than me. Someone who can explain things more if you come with me.” Kyle urged. 

What does that even mean? Let’s not forget that he said we were right. How does he know that? Why does he know that?

My thoughts fought against each other to be the one addressed first but with so many questions, it felt impossible to single out one from the mass. Everything was happening so fast. Everything changed so fast. When did the mood of the room become so urgent? Did it always feel like this? 

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to pause the thoughts. Nothing is going to get done at this rate. So I need to take the first step forward. 

“Okay… yeah.”I started slowly. Kyle nodded and began to stand but I held up a hand for him to wait, “But only if you promise we can get ice cream afterwards.”

Kyle looked at me with an exasperated expression, “Are you seriously using this to get free ice cream?”

This is what he’s surprised by? 

I raised my eyebrow at him and pointed to the chaotic corkboard, “You just told me my batshit conspiracy theory was right and now you want me to follow you to an unknown location to talk to an unknown person. Fuck yes I want free ice cream.” 

Kyle considered the cork board for a moment before sighing. 

“Fine. We’ll get ice cream.”

I muttered a quick “Fuck yeah.” to myself in celebration before looking back at Kyle, 

“Okay I’ll get my coat.” 

I grabbed my jacket and followed Kyle out the door, not nervous about where I’d be going, but scared that I wouldn’t like what I found.

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia  @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc

[oh-my-damn]

Mandy, wow! 👏🏼

You truly summed up perfectly how many of us feel. I just want to add that is Chris & CO are online and aware of the backlash then they are also aware of the reason for the backlash. It’s not hard to figure out, the racist hashtags follow them to every post/article.

Some fans will always take it to new extremes, but most of us had just said on our own platforms that we no longer wish to support him because of this association and all the isms attached with it.

They are the ones who pointed us to a loose thread and were upset when the fandom pulled at it too hard that everything unraveled.

No one asked for them to confirm this “relationship,” no one asked to see the awkward staged pics in Central Park. No one ask to see her shower video as a form of avoidance for her past catching up to her. No one asked for 7 different scare videos in multiple locations or a BJ POV accompanied by 25 pictures and another video making jokes at her expense because their life experiences are just so different.

They can’t claim the backlash is too much when everyone made it very clear in November that we are not fucking with her or this relationship. You can’t bite the hand that feeds you. (Looking at you Scottie, because we all know your brother paid for your rent when you’ve been unemployed for years.)

If this is just some grand scheme to lay the groundwork for a BUA then why isolate the quarter of the fandom that is remaining? Just use the excuse that they were at different points in their lives and wanted different things. Like why trash the fans on your way out when we help built your career?

Anyway… Topher, Scooter and her can live in their mediocre acting career seeing that they have all peaked and will never be this famous again. Godspeed losers.

A lot of stuff was so well said in this, thank you!!

[msclaritea]

Wow tea, how do you manage to connect everything with everything. I'm pretty sure that you must have randomly met or spoken to a possible murderer,thief or a rapist in your lifetime, on the street, on the bus... That doesn't mean you are bad.

And if even that person at the atlantic is bad,doesn't invalidate the article. Even if the article is retracted, it doesn't mean what Gator says is credible. Have you ever seen her theories proven?

Benedict is always seen with his ring, he's happy. He just threw an incredible birthday party for Sophie in Venice! They had another trip recently! They seem to be happy enough.

And Sophie looked happy and well in the recent pictures we've seen of her.

Now, how does this align with anything gator has been saying? Anyone can see that she's wrong and spiteful.

Some of us in the fandom feel bad for the people that Gator has managed to convince of her lies. Which are very few. But still, its horrible.

Do you fucking idiots have any kind of a life, outside of vainly trying, for the 2000th time, to pass off that loser, multigenerational, spying TRASH as a normal wife, instead of perennially rejected? Do you ever? Because the rest of us are over IT. A complete nut job billionaire, just tried to threaten the man, for God knows what all reasons, a dude connected to another ripe piece of shit, Amber Heard, Zero's Spirit Animal. Get a clue and wise up. Nobody believes you and you sound like a very thirsty, desperate bitch, to keep trying this tired line.

[tearsofsaudade]

bacon @silvermining

you’d be hard pressed to find a straight comedian who isn’t a massive homophobe

trashstan @polter

responding to @silvermining

you’d be surprised to know trashmouth is actually an ally! he’s got a reputation for being a sweetheart to his queer fans and reportedly donates to a lot of LGBTQ+ charities!

bacon @silvermining

responding to @polter

oh nice! i didn’t know that!

trash @trashmouthtozier✅

responding to @silvermining

keep looking lmao

take the trash out :( @polter

i don’t think i’ve ever been so fucking upset with a celebrity in my life. no one talk to me :(

TRASHMOUTH TOZIER ANNOUNCES

HOMOPHOBIA TO DISAPPOINTED

FANS

bev <3 @beverlymarsh✅

@trashmouthtozier @benjaminhanscom @williamdenbrough @mikehanlon @edwardkaspbrak @urissquared this is the funniest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life [attached: article]

trash @trashmouthtozier✅

responding to @beverlymarsh

ARE YOU SHITTING ME RN???

eddie @edwardkaspbrak

responding to @trashmouthtozier

you fucking idiot

ben @benjaminhanscom✅

responding to @beverlymarsh

wow rich… incredibly disappointing

stan and pat @urissquared

responding to @beverlymarsh

brb framing this on the fridge

mickey mike @mikehanlon

responding to @beverlymarsh

a) who gave richie my password again b) this is upsetting for all of us… we expected more from someone we called a friend

bill @williamdenbrough✅

responding to @beverlymarsh

i think i speak for all of us when i say we truly never saw this coming :( in response i’ve decided to donate the next months worth of proceeds for all of my books to several LGBTQ+ charities. let it be known that we stand with pride for all of you.

trash @trashmouthtozier✅

responding to @williamdenbrough

I HATE ALL OF YOU SO FUCKING MUCH

trash @trashmouthtozier

FOR THE RECORD I WAS *TRYING* TO COME OUT AS NOT A STRAIGHT MAN

[attachment: a picture of richie in bed with another man. the man is curled into richies chest and therefore his face is not visible to the camera, but a pout is visible on richie’s face as well as a middle finger from the hand under the waist of the man he is, for lack of a better word, snuggling]

bev <3 @beverlymarsh✅

responding to @trashmouthtozier

this proves nothing

bacon @silvermining

responding to @trashmouthtozier

i don’t know what timeline we’re living in but i think someone dropped it

trashstan @polter

responding to @silvermining

i don’t give two shits this is the best day of my fucking life

[alltheselights]

LOUIS Tomlinson is one of the five One Direction lads now forging a solo career.

And out of all the band, Louis’ personal life has been the most turbulent in recent years. Here’s what we know about the boy band star…

Who is Louis Tomlinson, how old is he and what is his background?

Louis Tomlinson is a 25-year-old singer and member of the boy band phenomenon One Direction, formed on The X Factor.

The Robbie Williams fan was born in Doncaster and used to work as a waiter and a cinema assistant while re-taking his A-levels.

After performing in Sixth Form shows, Louis turned to acting and had roles in James Corden drama Fat Friends and school-set soap Waterloo Road, as well as ITV movie If I Had You.

In 2009 he auditioned for The X Factor but did not make it past the off-screen audition for producers, though he vowed to return.

Then during his 2010 his appearance on the show, stardom beckoned.

Though he failed to reach the Boys category, guest judge Nicole Scherzinger suggested putting him into a band with four other lads – Niall Horan, Harry Styles, Zayn Malik and Liam Payne.

Styles came up with the name One Direction and they practised as a group for two weeks before the live shows, and ultimately they came third in the contest.

Since then the group has had huge success, mainly down to their popularity in the States, and are currently on hiatus, with Malik having left the group in March 2015.

Louis released his first solo single – dance track Just Hold On – in December 2016, the same month he lost his mum Johannah Deakin to leukaemia.

Now he’s preparing to release his second solo track Back To You.

Louis is estranged from his biological father Troy Austin, who split from his mother when Louis was five.

He has four half-sisters from his mother’s second marriage to Mark Tomlinson, though he divorced Jo while Louis was on The X Factor.

Does Louis have children and what is his net worth?

A huge media and fan storm surrounded the news Louis was to become a father in 2015.

Briana Jungwirth, an LA stylist who Louis had a brief fling with in May 2015, was the expectant mother.

She gave birth to Freddie in January 2016.

Louis and Briana have not been on the most friendly terms since the baby arrived but reports claim they “keep things amicable” for Freddie’s sake.

Freddie is now 18 months old and Louis occasionally posts online updates from their time together.

As of 2017 it is estimated that Louis is worth £40m.

Is Louis single?

In February 2017 Louis got back with his ex-girlfriend Eleanor Calder after briefly dating US actress Danielle Campbell.

Prior to having a baby with Briana Jungwirth he was dating Londoner Eleanor for three years.

Louis has also had to contend with an ever-mutating creation known as “Larry” – an imaginary romance between him and Harry Styles, which has spawned thousands of fan-written stories.

What else do we know about Louis?

Louis has said many humble things about his role in One Direction, praising the other members’ qualities while playing down his own.

He recently told The Observer he felt he was the most “forgettable” one in the band and contributed the least.

In 2013 he was signed as a footballer by Doncaster Rovers, where he used to work as a waiter, on a non-contract basis.

He served as a guest X Factor judge in 2015 and has expressed an interest in doing this for a whole series.

Louis was involved in an altercation with a paparazzi snapper at an airport in 2017 but it was later decided that he would not be charged.

[221bshrlocked]

That Southern Hospitality

Pairing: Clark Kent X Reader

Words: 8056 (wow this got out of hand)

Warnings: Awkward encounters. Flannel. Forearms. Smut. Dirty talk. Some kinks that might not apply to you including but not limited to hickies, size difference, age gap, flannel shirts, and finally, cum play (if that’s what it’s called). I’m on my period and I’m horny so leave me alone. 

A/N: Listen I’m not sure what happened here. I was minding my own business one minute and the next thing I know, I’m writing this hella long fic because men in plaid shirts are the death of me (Adam Driver in Blackkklansman) but Clark Kent in a plaid shirt/flannel can rip me to pieces and I’d ask him if he could do it again. I know I have other stories to get to and finish, but I got the inspiration and motivation to write this and I decided it was better than not writing any fics at all. Enjoy this hell that is Henry Cavill inspired. This will be up on AO3 with gifs :) Let me know if my smut is still any good.

Two exams, three research papers, and a shit ton of unnecessary assignments, and here you were doing the laundry because how else would you deal with the stress of this hellish semester. You angrily shoved your second batch of clothes into the washer, occasionally looking at the laptop not too far from you in an attempt to memorize any details of the human chest anatomy. As you measured the bleach and poured it in the washer, you forgot what it was you were reciting in your head, turning to the diagram again and repeating the function of the thymus gland for god knows what time that day. 

So busy with the laundry and making sure you don’t push your laptop over the table by accident, you didn’t notice when someone walked into the room until you stood up and grabbed your orange juice. As you were about to take a sip, you heard someone shuffle behind you before speaking.

“Do you mind if I-” The man didn’t get to finish his question, stepping back when he saw you jump in distress.

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, turning around and not watching where you were stepping as you tried to put space between the two of you. You fell to the floor, your heart hammering in fear before it beat against your chest in anger once you felt the sweet liquid spill all over your shirt. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t-” The man stepped forward and held out his hand to pull you up, his eyes unintentionally descending to your soaking shirt.

“Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with you? Trying to give me a heart attack or something?” You took his hand and let him pull you up, grabbing the bottle and its cap before throwing it in the trash. Wiping your face, you were about to say something when you looked up and saw who it was standing with you. Your eyes widened in horror because of course it was the quiet hottie two floors down that had to see you in this rather horrendous circumstance. 

“Believe me I thought you heard me when I walked in but I realized you were probably too invested in that diagram to notice me.” He pointed to your laptop, trying his hardest to avoid looking anywhere below your neck because he really didn’t want to get a boner in these sweatpants. 

“S-sorry about the mess, I’ll clean it up and give you some space.” You smiled nervously at him and were about to move towards the sink when he beat you to it and pulled out some paper towels before placing them on the floor. “Please, let me.” He looked up, his jaws clenching tightly when his eyes saw two hardened peaks teasing him through your wet shirt. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the floor, knowing very well you caught him staring at your chest. When you did finally follow his gaze and looked down, embarrassment washed over you and you quickly crossed your arms to hide yourself. 

He stood up a moment later and reluctantly turned towards you before looking over to see if his laundry was done. When he saw the timer was down to zero, he blinked at your obvious nervousness, immediately unbuttoning his flannel and taking it off before stepping towards you. He could hear your elevated heart rate and felt bad for causing you so much discomfort. Whatever courage you had left was spent when you looked up at him, and boy did you wish you didn’t because you weren’t sure what was going to cause you to faint first, his cologne, the way his blue eyes dilated at seeing you, or how his chest expanded with each breath he took. 

“I am sorry miss. Here, take this so you could finish your laundry.” He held out his flannel to you and watched as you thought it over before reluctantly grabbing it. Who even looked that good in just a wife beater and some old sweatpants?

“W-what about your laundry?” You questioned him, walking towards one of the corners and hoping he wouldn’t turn around as you changed out of your shirt. You could hear him walk away, the sound of the washer unlocking letting you know he was thankfully a few feet away and couldn’t possibly hear your heartbeat. 

“It’s fine, you can keep that until you’re done.” He quickly took his clothes out of the washer and shoved them in his basket, deciding to fold them back in his place because he really didn’t know what he could do should he stay in the same room with you for another moment. By the time you turned around and grabbed your shirt to put it in the washer, he was just about done grabbing his clothes. And when he didn finally look at you, he lost whatever self control he had left, the handle of the basket breaking under his hold and causing you to blink at him. 

You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. He looked inconvenienced with his tense jaw and the harsh grasp he had on his basket. But he also had this aura of kindness around him, like a gentle giant kind of vibe. “Wow that’s one hell of a flannel collection you got there.” You cringed at the words as soon as they left your lips but he surprisingly didn’t laugh at you. On the contrary, his shoulders relaxed before he smiled at you.

“I grew up on a farm,” he said nothing else and you weren’t sure why his answer made your stomach churn. So he was a lumberjack basically. A sweet, muscular, introverted lumberjack who for some odd reason, lives in the city. 

“Thank you for this, it saved me going up four floors only to come back down again.” The flannel was long enough to be a dress and you nervously played with the long sleeves, not realizing that the more you touched the fabric, the harder he became in his sweatpants. 

“It’s no trouble, miss.” He was about to walk away when you stepped to him and grabbed his arm to stop him, goosebumps erupting on your skin when you realized just how muscular he is. You immediately took your hand away and waited until he met your eyes before speaking again.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N.” 

“I’m Clark.” He smiled and you watched as his incredibly fine, round ass walked away from you. When you were sure he went up the stairs, you swore quiet loudly as you pulled your phone out to call a friend. You couldn’t care less about school work or how you were standing in a stranger’s flannel that smelled way too fucking good. All you cared about was squealing like a teenage girl about the cute neighbor who didn’t miss a beat and offered his clothes because you had to make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him.

Unbeknownst to you, Clark could hear every single word you were saying about him, smiling at the prospect of someone your age gushing about him of all people, an average man who didn’t scream “friendly” to total strangers. Well, he wasn’t average but that didn’t matter. He folded his laundry and continued to eavesdrop on your call, not feeling an ounce of shame because you had so far called him “a greek god,” “a sexy farm boy,” and “a big softie.” Clark honestly wasn’t sure which of these was responsible for the raging hard-on he was suffering from and he didn’t really care because he could hear you compliment his scent to whoever you were on the phone with and he hated how vocal you were about your so-called “attraction” to him. 

By the time you were finished with the phone call, you’d lost all hope of retaining any new information about the human body. Then again, if it were up to you, you could have studied his body. For science of course. All the time you were switching out your clothes and absent-mindedly scrolling through your notes, you couldn’t help but bring the flannel up to your nose, taking in deep breaths and relaxing as his musky scent hit your nostrils.

“Fucking hell he smells good.” You whispered to yourself, feeling the sudden urge to reach down and scratch that itch that’s been bothering you ever since he walked in. And you really were about to do it, had it not been for the drier letting you know your clothes are clean.

So much for wanting to get some studying done. 

You collected your things and made your way up the stairs, halting at the second floor and looking at Clark’s door. It wasn’t that you were a stalker or anything. You just saw him a couple of times returning from work. Granted you’d stare at his ass for a few seconds but you didn’t purposely seek him out. You looked at your clothes and thought to just give him his flannel back but you immediately shook your head, ascending the stairs quickly before you changed your mind. 

Clark was writing a new article when he heard your steps slow down and stop at the top of the stairs. He slowly stood up and approached the door, looking past the wood and watching as you silently debated on something before you thought against it and ran up the stairs. He smiled to himself, knowing he was right and that you wouldn’t return his plaid shirt just yet. 

As soon as you got back to your apartment, you folded your clothes and paced around the empty living room. A heavy sigh made its way past your throat and you looked down at the shirt, wanting very much to relieve your stress but knowing there wasn’t time for that self-care session. You put the kettle on and decided to force yourself to get something done before the sun set. If you weren’t going to memorize that shit then you were certainly going to finish some of the other assignments. 

Surprisingly, you managed to finish one of the research papers by eight and you lounged on your couch and listened to some jazz music as you wrote the discussion responses and questions for your other classes. You were happy that you’d only had the two research papers and the exams to study for. Rubbing your eyes, you managed to shut your laptop before rolling on the couch, staring out your curtains before taking a deep breath. 

And that’s when it hit you.

It was such a stupid thought but for some reason, you genuinely believed you managed to finish all of this studying because of what you were wearing. You looked down at the shirt and pulled it to your nose for god knows what time that day, taking a deep breath before letting your mind wander to the little encounter from earlier. 

You’ve had several crushes before but never like this. Not ones that made you feel peaceful at least. Maybe after this semester was over, you’d muster up the courage to ask him out. But what if he had someone already? How awkward would that be? Surely someone with his manners and looks had a girlfriend, a boyfriend even. 

You didn’t dwell on that for too long, not wanting to grow sad at the prospect of missing your chances with a guy like him. You let your thoughts run over until you fell asleep, not realizing that Clark was also having a hard time riding his mind of you. 

You hoped you could run into him again to avoid the awkward encounter of knocking on his door and giving him his shirt but that never happened. Somehow, you couldn’t get a sight of him for the rest of the week, which was strange considering how often you managed to get a glimpse of the man. And you noticed you’d started to stress out again when you realized his scent grew incredibly weak, the flannel no longer bringing you peace of mind as it has for the past few days. 

There were only five days left and even though you had turned in all your research papers and taken one exam (and miraculously passed it), you still felt like shit. Five days to study for an exam should have been a Christmas gift compared to some of the schedules you had to deal with for the past two years, but you didn’t feel like studying and you hated that you knew what was keeping you from focusing. 

You distracted yourself with numerous things, buying unnecessary clothes and accessories online and even calling your friend and asking her what show you could binge watch next.

“Fuck this shit,” you threw your pillow across the room and grabbed your phone, ordering some take out before pulling up all of your human anatomy notes in an attempt to study again. You looked around your apartment and saw the plaid shirt on the other end of the couch, rolling your eyes at the sudden need to wear it because if that meant you could focus even for a few minutes, you were definitely going to put it on. 

A few minutes passed and you were still on the same diagram, swearing out loud when you heard the doorbell ring. 

“Well that was quick,” you grabbed a five dollar bill to tip the driver, unlocking the door and pulling it harder than intended. 

And then you forgot how to breathe for a second because shit shit shit Clark was standing in front of you and you were wearing his shirt and he was looking you up and down and fuck this was not okay. You silently cursed yourself because he was definitely going to think you were weird for wearing it when you had your own damn clothes. 

“Hey,” was the only thing Clark managed to say because his neurons decided to misfire and not form a proper sentence. Goddamn his clothes looked so much better on you.

“H-hi.” 

Clark cleared his throat and pretended he wasn’t gawking at you, holding out a few letters and waiting until you took them before he said anything else. 

“These were in my box by accident. Sorry about that. I think a few of them might be late, I haven’t been here all week.” You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he pushed up his glasses and finally looked at you. 

“Oh, thank you. Was it vacation week or something?” Of all the things you could have asked to not sound pathetically desperate, that should have been the last of them. 

“Far from it, I was on an assignment and I had to go to Gotham to interview some businessman for the Daily Planet. Just got back.” He fixed the strap of his bag before shoving his hands in his pockets and such a simple gesture shouldn’t have made you drool but here you were. 

“You’re a reporter?” Somehow, that made sense but it was weird to see someone who grew up on a farm come to the city and take the oddest job. 

“Yeah.”

“That sounds nice.” You didn’t know what else to say, awkwardly shifting on your feet and hoping he’d continue the conversation for your sake. 

“It is most of the time, but then you have to sit down with eccentric billionaires and then it’s not so fun anymore.” Clark remarked and he was struck with a soft chuckle that almost made him lose his balance. 

“Let me guess, the infamous Bruce Wayne wasn’t as charming as everyone says he is.” You took a step forward and leaned against the door frame, noticing the way Clark stepped closer to you as well. 

“How did you know?” Clark said with a hint of sarcasm and you shook your head before looking past him and silently cursing when you saw the delivery guy approaching you.

“I’ve got an order for Y/N.” The young man took one look at Clark before he knew it was best for him to just deliver the food and leave. 

“Here, thank you so much.” You handed him the tip and smiled when he waved back at you.

“I’ll leave you to eat then,” Clark was about to walk away when you reached out and stopped him.

“Or you could come in? I ordered way too much food anyway.” You hoped you weren’t being too forward with him and let out a breath when he turned around and faced you.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.” 

“You’re not.” You said way too quickly to your liking but knew it was worth it when he sent you that dashing smile again. He walked in and set his bag down before following you to the living room. 

“Make yourself at home,” you set down the food on the table in front of the couch before walking to the kitchen to grab a few plates and some drinks. When you walked back and handed him the beer to open until you brought out all the food, he raised an eyebrow at you and asked the question he’d been wanting to ask ever since he saw you.

“Are you old enough to be drinking this?” He asked jokingly and hoped you didn’t find his question too weird.

“Hey hey I’ll have you know I am not as young as I look.” You playfully raised your voice and watched as he held his hands up in defeat.

“Just want to make sure I’m not breaking the law or anything.” 

“I’m about to turn 23 so relax.” You sat down next to him, shoving the laptop to the side and grabbing the beer from his hand before rolling your eyes at him.

“So you are as young as you look then!” Clark hoped his tone still held some playfulness because he didn’t want you to know how turned on he was because of the age gap. Not that he expected anything. 

“I’m old enough…” You let the words hang in the air, pretending you were focusing on splitting the food evenly between the two of you. Clark narrowed his eyes at you before shifting them towards the bit of skin peaking through the buttons of his shirt. 

Fuck, his shirt. 

“Thanks for this, I definitely wouldn’t have bothered to cook for myself tonight.” He broke the silence, trying to think of anything but you wearing that shirt around the apartment. And he really didn’t want to picture you going to sleep in it. 

“Of course, I gotta return a bit of that southern hospitality after all.” You took a bite of the food and were about to say something when he beat you to it.

“And here I was thinking you could have just returned the shirt.” Of all the things you thought he was going to say, that was definitely not one of them because as far as you knew, he was not a confrontational man.

“I- uhhh, I was going t-”

“Relax sweetheart, I’m just teasing.” You almost choked on the food when he winked at you and you hoped to the almighty he wasn’t just pulling your leg. If your friend was here, she would have probably told you to play hard to get. But you were tired, and you didn’t think Clark was the kind of guy to enjoy that. He was older than you after all and he probably didn’t enjoy that childish behavior.

“Honestly, your shirt managed to help me with my stress.” When he said nothing and continued to stare at you, you decided you should probably apologize. “Sorry that sounded weird. Here I am being super creepy when you were just being nice. Probably don’t need this drama anyway.” You moved to get up and were about to head toward your room when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and pull you back down. 

“Don’t. You’re being honest. It’s a breath of fresh air actually.” You weren’t sure what made your heart race, the way he was looking at you or the warm fingers he had still wrapped around your wrist. You smiled all the same, nodding awkwardly before reaching for your laptop. You touched the mouse bar so the screen didn’t sleep and turned your attention to Clark again.

“Still studying the anatomy?” Clark pointed to the screen, finishing up his food and thanking you for it before standing up to throw away the empty boxes.

“I actually stopped studying for it this past week. Had other more important assignments and exams to finish. You sure you don’t want any more?” You closed the two other boxes and followed him to the kitchen, placing the boxes in the fridge before grabbing the plates and forks to place in the sink.

“I’m good thank you. When is this exam then?” He stood at the sink and folded his sleeves, the action not going unnoticed by you. When you looked up and saw that he was staring at you, you cleared your throat and went to the table to clean the rest of the things. 

“It’s in five days and I really couldn’t care less because if I have to memorize one more fucking muscle, I’m going to lose my shit.” Clearing away everything, you washed your hands as well and followed him back to the couch, pretending you weren’t checking out his thighs that were currently spread out across his seat. Fuck he looked good.

“Maybe I can help with that.” Clark said before he could think twice about the bizarre idea

“How? Do you secretly know Professor Stevens and could talk to him for me so I don’t have to take the exam?” You jokingly asked, scrolling through the powerpoint to try and see which group you had to study next. When you didn’t hear a response and looked up, you saw Clark staring at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite understand. 

“I sadly don’t know Professor Stevens, but I’ve heard that it’s easier to study these things when you have a real life example to map out.” There wasn’t an inch of hesitance in his words and Clark was finding it very hard to keep a straight face when you looked so flustered. 

“Is this where you tell me you’re secretly a serial killer and I’m about to become one of your cadevers?” You tried to diffuse the sudden tension growing between you two but Clark never once dropped his gaze, setting his beer down on the table before standing up and rolling down his sleeves.

“No, but I am a willing participant and I will gladly be your example.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond, pulling his blue and green plaid shirt out of his jeans before unbuttoning the front, all the while making sure you never looked away. 

By the time he was finished, you could feel how soaked your panties were and you hoped he didn’t notice you shift in your seat. When he smiled, you knew he did.

“Oh,” you whispered when he opened his shirt and took it off, leaving him in the wife beater and tight, dark jeans. You took a deep breath to try and relax your mind but then he pulled the white material out of his jeans in one swift move and you were left staring at his incredibly muscular, slightly hairy chest that had you wanting to jump his bones right away. 

He sat down again, this time much closer to you. You cleared your throat before turning to your laptop and scrolling to the diagram about the bones, looking it over before facing Clark again and silently asking him if you could move closer. When he raised an eyebrow and nodded at you, you cleared your throat before taking his arm and pulling it on your lap. 

You should’ve known it would be heavy considering how muscular he was but nothing prepared you for how soft his arm would be, even with all the hair. This was not the time to be horny and yet here you were, wanting to do something else with his fingers. 

Softly, you took his hand and rested it on your lap, tracing his fingers as you called out the different bones on the limb. “Phalanges…metacarpals…c-carpals.” You spent a little bit longer on his wrist, turning it up before softly passing over the veins of his arms. When you realized you weren’t actually moving over the bones, you blinked rapidly before continuing to his arm. His arm was now rating completely on your lap and although his hand was facing the ceiling, you couldn’t help but feel like he was purposely making sure he was touching the skin of your thighs. 

Dismissing the wild thought, you applied pressure with one hand on his ulna while the other passed over the hair of his arm and mirrored your actions but on his radius. When you looked up, you saw Clark’s piercing blue eyes staring into yours, not bothering to hide his obvious fascination with your lips before looking down to where you were touching him. You swallowed the lump in your throat before moving your hand to the humerus, not bothering to linger on his arm because you knew very well which bones that was. 

Before you could convince yourself not to, you decided the hell with being appropriate, hands continuing their journey up to his shoulders before lingering over the clavicle, finding it incredibly sexy because it was protruding. And when your other hand moved to his chest and splayed across the center, you made sure to never look away from his suddenly dilated pupils, pushing on the hard center and whispering “sternum.”

“You’re doing pretty well darling…don’t know why you’re worried about this exam.” Clark’s jaw was tense and you knew he was as affected by you as you were by him. 

“I’m more worried about muscle groups if I’m being honest.” You replied breathlessly, not expecting him to reach over and pull you on his lap. You gasped before settling down on him, not bothering to be sly when you moved your hips and found him hard beneath you.

“Get up close and personal Y/N, I don’t mind.” Clark smiled when you grabbed his arm and brought it close to you again, tracing the forearm and whispering the muscles as you touched each of them. “Flexor carpi ulnaris…E-extensor carpi radialis longus…ah fuck.” You couldn’t take it anymore, swearing when you felt his other hand grasp your thighs and squeeze them. 

“Focus,” he dared to warn you, chuckling when you narrowed your eyes at him in warning. 

You continued to move your fingers on his arm, no longer shying away from feeling him up a bit more. As soon as you reached his biceps and named the muscle, Clark was flexing beneath you, the small reflex turning you on way more than it should have. You lingered on his biceps a bit more than you should have and Clark noticed, the fingers of the arm you were studying wrapping around your upper arm before jerking you in his arms.

“I said focus.” His tone was dangerous and you couldn’t help the little drag you took across his thighs. Clark looked down at you before raising his eyebrows, his chest expanding with pride because your self-control was slipping just as his.

“D-deltoid,” you passed over his shoulders before finally reaching where you’ve wanted to touch him for so long. As soon as you placed both of your hands over his chest and whispered “pectoralis,” Clark was wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him, lips crashing against yours so aggressively you almost thought you broke your teeth. He was hungry to touch you, his arms not letting up once as he devoured your mouth. When you tried to pull away to breathe, Clark moaned against you, fingers pushing the back of your head towards him so he could suck on your tongue. 

A few seconds later, he finally realized the two of you needed to breathe, letting go before continuing his attack down your neck. You found yourself pushing your body to him, sighing and moaning when you felt his teeth nip and suck on whatever skin he had access to.

“Jesus fucking Christ, do you have…any idea, how sexy you look in my shirt?” He paused in between words to kiss your neck before deciding he wanted your mouth again. You didn’t have much choice, giving yourself over to him and not bothering to attempt to have any control of the man beneath you. To say you were surprised by how needy and bold he suddenly was would have been the understatement of the century. 

“God damn baby, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you last week. Not when you looked so embarrassed with these pretty tits begging me to get an eyeful of’em.” He leaned down and bit you through the shirt, not caring how ridiculous he probably looked. 

“Ohh Clark…please.” You weren’t sure what it was you were begging him for and you couldn’t care less.

“What do you want darling? I’ll give you anything you want. You’ve been such a good little sweetheart, wearin’ my shirt all week long. Were you Y/N?” You didn’t realize he was asking a question until he pulled away and lightly smacked your ass, begging you to answer him.

“Wh-what?”

“I asked, were you wearin’ my shirt all week?” 

“Oh god fuck, yes. Yes I was.” You tried to get out of his grasp to touch him but he didn’t let you, teh vice grip he had around your waist letting you know he wasn’t planning on letting up anytime soon.

“Such a pretty darling. Tell me Y/N, why didn’t you give it to me when you were done?” Before you could answer him, Clark was maneuvering you around, and for some reason, you were still surprised by the sheer power this man had because he handled you as if you weighed nothing. You found yourself buried under the hunk of flesh, and although you should have felt somewhat claustrophobic, you didn’t. On the contrary, you felt safe surrounded by him.

“I- it’s going to sound stupid.” You tried to distract him because you were afraid he’d think you were weird. 

“Please, baby. Tell me.” The man cooed in your ears and you were amazed by how soft he was being when a moment ago, he was just about ready to devour you.

“Y-you smell nice…your cologne, it helped me get work done. A-and I slept better when I wore it. Made me feel safe.” You couldn’t look at him, not wanting to drive him away by your obsession. You did only meet a week ago. 

You took his silence for disgust and were about to push him away when he crushed you with his weight, stopping all thoughts of wanting to get away from him.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re going to be the death of me.” As soon as you looked into his eyes, Clark was pushing you further into the couch, his lips savoring every inch of your own, biting and engulfing them like a madman.

“Shouldn’t have gone to Gotham. Should’ve stayed here and tried to ask you out.” He was babbling nonsense, taking both of your hands in his and raising him high above your head. 

“Oh god Clark…”

“Have dinner with me baby?”

“Yes anything. I’ll do anything you want me to do…j-just don’t stop. Please don’t stah-ahh,” you screamed in surprise when you heard buttons clattering across the floor, looking down at the ruined shirt before attempting to focus on Clark.

He was smiling devilishly at you, maintaining eye contact as he ripped the rest of the shirt before giving your newly exposed skin some attention. The man somehow was becoming sexier by the second and you had a feeling tonight would be a night you’d never forget.

He kissed up your stomach, licking the valley between your breasts before winking at you. Before you could beg him to not do the same with your bra, he was already ripping it in half, not bothering with your little whines as he attacked your nipples. You were a moaning mess beneath him, his name like a prayer on your lips as he sucked and bit and pinched your hardened peaks. 

Clark continued his assault on you, not caring that you were shaking in his arms at this point. You were torn between looking down at him and throwing your head back to enjoy the sensations coursing through you. He moaned and growled as he sucked and pinched your nipples harder, occasionally jutting his hips and showing you just how much he wanted to have you.

It was so little, crept up on you without you noticing. Almost as if it was forced out of you. At a particular thrust of his hips, you were arching your back and pushing your breasts into his face, swearing and screaming his name until he slowly eased you down from your little high.

“Did…did you just-” Clark didn’t move a muscle, his cock finally catching up with his brain because did he just make you come without even touching your pussy?

“C-clark.” You sighed his name, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes when you suddenly realized what just happened. 

Before you could attempt an apology at how pathetic your body was, Clark was sitting up and trying to take his pants off. When you saw him fumbling through the simplest of tasks, you felt heated and proud to have made this man a mess, unbuckling his belt and throwing it away before pushing down the zipper and trying to kick his pants down. He barely managed to take off his shoes and socks, marveling at how soft and warm your hands were against his skin as you dragged his jeans down his legs. 

“I need you, please. I need you inside me Clark. Now.” You begged insistently, no longer bothered by how needy this man made you. He nodded frantically and was about to pull down his boxer briefs when he remembered something. You watched him look around for something, furrowing your eyebrows at him before you realized what it was he wanted. “On the pill.” You half-yelled at him, not wanting to waste anymore time because you were so close to finally having him. He nodded at you and quickly got rid of his boxers, standing up and watching as your facial expression hardened and fear washed over your skin. 

“Oh fuck,” you swore louder than you intended, eyes shifting from his leaking cock to his face. How the hell were you going to fit that in you?

“Shit, baby don’t look at me like that. W-we can stop. I could just-” Clark tried to slow down, not wanting to hurt or even scare you in any way. 

“You kidding me? I’ve only been thinking about you fucking me senseless ever since I saw you. You’ll fit, it’ll be tight but y-you’ll fit. Just- just be gentle…go slow.” Your words slowed down as you became less and less positive that he was, in fact, going to fit his cock inside you and you watched as it twitched between his legs with every comment you said. 

“Fuck, don’t say things like that darling.” Clark was slowly losing himself in you, but he really didn’t want to let that affect him in any other way. He leaned down slowly, pulling you up until you were standing on one foot before turning you around in his arms and laying back on the couch with you on top of him. 

“Come here Y/N.” He whispered in your ears, wanting to feel your weight on top of him to remind him of how fragile you were in his arms. 

“Clark, I-” You turned your head to try and look at him, shutting your eyes when you felt his hands roaming your body. 

“Shhh sweetheart I got you. I’ll go slow, won’t even hurt you. But you have to promise that, ah fuck, i-if you do feel like you can’t do this, tell me. Don’t wanna lose you Y/N.” You weren’t sure what made you shudder, how kind he was even when he was painfully hard, or how he was making sure to let you know this wasn't just sex for him.

You nodded against him, spreading your legs across his thighs and looking down to see where his hands stopped. He made small circles around the outer lips of your pussy, groaning in your ears when he felt how wet and hot you were for him.

“Ready for me?” Clark reluctantly asked, waiting until you hummed your approval before grabbing his cock and inching the leaking tip into your pussy. He stopped moving when he felt you throw your head back against him, about to ask you if it was too much when you grabbed his hand and moved it towards your center, where you were joined. 

“F-fuck ahh Clark, y-you can keep going.” You barely managed to say to him, focusing on your lower muscles and trying to loosen up a bit to get used to him. Clark on the other hand was having a hard time, in more ways than one, trying to not shove his dick all the way inside of you. But when he heard your little plea, he couldn’t deny you anything, thrusting up into you and waiting until you adjusted to him stretching you out before moving again.

Within minutes, you were a mess above him, repeating his name over and over as you felt his cock reach so deep inside you while his hand circled around your clit.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re so tight. So warm and tight…such a good darling aren’t you?” He whispered words of encouragement in your ears, continuing to slowly buck his hips up into you as his hands touched your skin. 

“Clark, you feel so good…stretching me out like no one else. I- oh god ohh my god yes right there, I’ve never had big cock like you before.” You were sure he was going to split you in half and the thought of him destroying you made you even wetter. You could hear him pushing in and out of you, your juices letting him slide in easier than a few minutes before.

“Yeah baby just like that, keep taking my cock. You’re so good to me darling…made for me. Could spend hours inside you Y/N, if you only let me.” Clark kissed your shoulders before biting and sucking red marks across your neck, wanting to touch you anywhere he could reach. 

You finally managed to turn your head around enough to look at him, forcing your eyes to open and gasping when you could barely make out the blue of his orbs. You leaned down and kissed him, holding onto the hand snaked around your thighs and pleasuring you before you felt a different kind of heat spread inside you. 

Clark came with a growl, holding you down to him as he continued to fuck you. You fisted your hands around the couch, shaking in his arms when you felt him harden even more inside you. 

“Clark, you…did you-”

“Please baby, can I keep fucking you? Please, you feel like heaven.” You were sure you died and went to a different reality because this man did not have a refractory period and was probably going to be the death of you.

“Yes, fuck, yes okay just- I need to look at you, touch you, move with you.”

“Shit yeah alright I can do that, let me.” Clark slowly sat up, pulling you off of him and wincing when the cold air hit his skin. He didn’t give you a chance to get used to being empty, immediately pulling you onto his lap and lowering you down on his still hard cock before leaning up to kiss you. You hissed at the stretch again, distracting yourself with his lips and the flexing muscles beneath your hands to not think of how deep he was reaching inside of you.

Supporting your weight on him, you started riding him at a slightly quicker pace, wanting to come on his cock just once before he continued to use you to get off. 

“Come on Y/N, want to feel this pretty little cunt come ‘round me. Please darling, will you give me that? Will you come around me? So..f-fucking good,” Clark reached around and grabbed your ass, finding it incredibly sexy that you were scratching his chest to release some of that tension you felt from having him stretch you out.

Hearing him begging you to come around him was probably what had done it.. Or perhaps it was the way his muscles rippled beneath you each time you sought out his skin for support. It didn’t matter in the end because Clark fucked you through your orgasm, whispering nonsensical things in your ears and waiting until you returned to your senses before he asked you a question.

He remained motionless to not distract you, pulling you to his chest to kiss you again before nuding you to answer him.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom?” Clark asked, perhaps the third or fourth time, chuckling against you when you just nodded and wrapped your limbs around him. He carefully stood up, refusing to pull out while trying to not hurt you and push in any further. You didn’t show any sign of discomfort when he stood to his full height, slowly walking around the table towards the only hallway in the apartment. 

When he did get to your room, he wrapped his arms around your back and made sure to lay down on the bed without breaking the hazy spell you were under. When he was sure you were comfortable, he supported his weight on his arms and pulled away from your neck to get a better look at you. 

He found you smiling and staring back at him, hands moving his sweaty hair away from his handsome face while the other one still held onto his arms. 

“Clark.” The way you said his name twisted something in his stomach and he knew that he couldn’t possibly go on without telling you his secret. He didn’t want to risk putting your life in danger, but something told him you’d be willing to take that chance for him. At least he hoped he was worth it to you.

“Y/N, I-”

“Please, move…let me make you feel good baby.” You cut him off, knowing he was probably trying to say something that didn’t need to be addressed anytime soon.

And my god, when he did start thrusting into you again, it was like you found the answer to a question you never knew you had. He was so gentle, kissing you everywhere and smiling when he saw the dazed expression aimed at him. He continued to whisper sweet things in your ear, occasionally pinching your nipples or rubbing your clit with his navel. 

You arched your back against him, feeling the familiar tug in your lower stomach but wanting to wait until he came with you. You could tell Clark was chasing after his orgasm because his grunts grew louder and his rhythm faltered. His arms moved from caging you in to grabbing your neck and pushing you up to him so he could kiss you. In the end, it was his neediness that pushed you over the edge, crying out his name as you felt him thrust into you one, two, three times before you felt the familiar heat fill your insides.

Had you had one functioning neuron, you would have marveled at how much more he came the second time around. But you didn’t.

The both of you stayed wrapped around each other until Clark realized that should he stay inside you any longer, he would probably go for round three, and the last thing he wanted was to freak you out by how long he could go. 

When he finally forced himself to pull out, he swore under his breath at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and before he could stop himself, he was pushing his cum back into your cunt, smirking with pride when your legs shook and you winced at the thick fingers pushing in and out of you.

Clark, however, was surprised when he didn pull his fingers out and watched as you grabbed his wrist and pulled the two digits into your mouth, never losing eye contact as you licked and sucked his fingers till they were clean.

“You’re going to be the death of me Y/N.” Clark smiled before falling to the side and wrapping his arms around you. You sighed happily, looking up at him as you traced shapes around his chest. 

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Clark asked to make sure you weren’t feeling any discomfort. 

“Pretty sure I won’t be able to walk for the next few days but fuck me it was worth it.”

“Careful what you wish for Y/N.” Clark warned and you laughed against him before you snuggled into his embrace. 

A few minutes passed in silence before you realized you needed to ask him what’s been on your mind ever since he walked into your apartment.

“You aren’t put off by my age are you?” Clark looked quizzically at you before pushing up to his elbows, making sure you knew he was giving you his undivided attention. You continued to play with his chest hair, refusing to look at him when you elaborated. “I just know that…well, sometimes, older guys don’t take younger girls too seriously and..what I wanted to tell you was-”

“This wasn’t just sex to me Y/N. I want to go on dates with you. I want to take you out to galas we have at work. I want to help you out when you’re too stressed or when you need to vent about something. I want to be here with you. If anything, I feel like you deserve someone your age.” Clark combed back your hair, taking the hand on his chest and bringing it to his lips before kissing it over and over again.

“I don’t think I can find anyone my age that’ll make me feel as safe as you make me.” Clark would never get used to hearing you admit you feel safe with him. It did something to him knowing you weren’t one to shy away from vocalizing your thoughts and emotions. 

“You mean you won’t find a guy who’ll let you steal his shirts and walk around with them.” You punched his chest and allowed yourself to breathe again because now that you got this off your chest, you could be sort of normal again. 

Clark was about to say something when he felt you trace his skin again, the hairs on his arms feeling standing up at your obvious attraction to him. He wasn’t a vain man, far from it, but he felt happy that you were pleased with him. 

“Don’t tempt me sweetheart.”

“What? I’m just reviewing for the exam. You don’t want me to fail do you?” You asked playfully, hoping to god he didn’t feel weird by how much you wanted to touch him.

“By all means, review.” Clark laid his head over his arms, flexing the muscles you were currently “studying” before looking down and raising an eyebrow at you. “But I’m not responsible for what’s to follow.”

“Is that a promise or a warning?”

In the blink of an eye, Clark was shoving himself between your legs, shamelessly rolling his hips against your wet core and not caring that you probably needed some rest before you went for it again.

“It’s just my southern hospitality darling.”

[beauty-and-passion]

Silly fun challenge prompt: what languages do you associate with the Sides/what would be the 2nd language each Side learn?

For example I am a big fan of Hispanic (Spanish speaking) Creativitwins fanon. And c! Thomas too could've learnt Spanish in high school and the fact his love interest is hispanic too just makes perfect sense-

And in contrast to Hispanic twins I headcanon Janus as a francophone (French speaking) for two reasons: 1) it was still lingua franca around Victorian era, his aesthetic inspiration and 2) dividing American high school by Spanish class vs. French class is like causing Civil War (I was and still am a language nerd, so I learnt both languages, which was a mistake but the kind of mistake that was worth it when you think about it later)

German suites Logan since lots of famous philosophers are German. I associate Japanese or Korean with Virgil since those two are really dominant in the current subculture world (and maybe our emo could've been inspired and turn into E-boy - wow that sounds terrifying)

I don't have strong preference on Patton's but Italian sounds nice, since all those music and dessert and anything sweet are often from Italy. And maybe 'Orange' can be some language that sounds harsh like Russian, so he can murmur in that in sleep and scares everyone else

I know you're in Europe: 1) you use GMT and 2) Americans wouldn't care about Eurovision. So I wonder how you would think based on your European experience!

Oooh, I like this! As European Who Studied Languages, I definitely approve this and I'll gladly add my two cents about which languages the sides should learn.

_________

Roman: He canonically knows Spanish and that's perfect like that. Spanish is a romantic language, someone speaks Spanish and you can't help but swoon. It’s a great choice for the Side responsible for romance and passion.

_________

Remus: Remus isn't just intrusive thoughts, but there’s a very high chance he’s also responsible for Thomas' sexual urges. So, what is the language made for sex? You’re right, it’s French. French is sexy. You can say anything in French and bam, ✨sexy ✨.

"Je sors la poubelle." Sexy, isn't it? Well, I just said "I'm taking out the trash". See? Very sexy.

(French people, please confirm my words. We all know it’s true)

_________

Janus: Your points are incredibly valid and I love them. But if we should choose among all languages, I would love Janus to be one of the very few (extremely few) people in the world who can speak Latin.

I know Latin is a dead language, but it would be great - and not just because of the connection with his name.

Let’s consider that the other Romance languages, despite evolving from Latin, cannot entirely understand it, because they all changed a lot through the centuries after mixing with the Germanic ones. On the other hand, the Germanic languages (English, German, Swedish and so on) are part of a completely different group, only slightly influenced by Latin, so they cannot understand it.

In other words, Janus would speak a language that only sounds familiar - and maybe you can grasp a couple words here and there if you know a romance language, but the true meaning is hidden. What is he actually saying? Who knows. Is he actually cursing someone? Who knows. After all, do you understand Latin? Yeah, me neither.

If I have to pick a language that is still spoken today instead, I think I'll join you with French. Your points are valid and French is a very elegant language, fitting for Janus’ whole aesthetic. So yes, French could work.

_________

Logan: German is a great choice and you are absolutely right with your point about the philosophers. Also German is a language of harsh sounds and strict grammar rules - for example:

declensions that should be used accordingly for articles, adjectives and nouns

specific verbs for specific meanings

words made by putting together shorter words (like Haustürschlüssel.  Haustür means “front door”, Schlüssel means “key” -> this word means “front door’s key”)

sentences that should follow a specific construction, with parts of the compound verb after the noun and part at the end of the sentence. And secondary phrases also have a specific syntax and should always be introduced by a comma

In other words, it's a very organized language and I think it would fit Logan.

But also, considering that almost all words related to science and philosophy come from Greek, I think Logan should at least understand some Greek. As a treat.

(Also because Greek is another incredibly complicated language, so if someone has the patience to learn it, it’s definitely Logan.)

_________

Virgil: oh my gosh, I never thought about an eastern language for Virgil. In a way, it would be a very peculiar choice and I kinda like it. Japanese and Korean are extremely complicated languages, they have a very specific alphabet (I'm especially thinking about the Japanese one, that even asks for a specific direction to write words) and require a lot of work (and memory) to learn them.

But Virgil is also a poet and when I think of poets and sonnets my first connection is with the french ennui, le mal du vivre and especially Baudelaire and his works. Virgil would appreciate Baudelaire a lot. So French, again.

But hey, there’s too much French now. So I’ll pick the other european literature full of sadness: the russian one.

Russian is supposed to be a big scary language and its alphabet is weird and omg what if they're cursing us? But if you learn it a little bit, you’ll find out that Russian has a lot of soft/open sounds (due to a good use of vowels) and it's very poetic.

So the language itself is a bit like Virgil: he seems scary and evil at a first glance, but if you learn about him, he's actually kinder than he looks.

But never underestimate Russian, because just like Anxiety, fear is just behind the corner: you start learning it and wow, there is just one present tense, one past tense and one future tense? This is great, what a wonderful language!

And then, before you’ll realize it, you will find out that each verb has a “doppelganger” used for entirely different purposes AND there a gazillion verbs of motion and you will end up crying on the floor, because there are just too many verbs - and look, there are also one trillion particles you can put before these verbs and they give them EVEN MORE MEANINGS.

No, this isn't entirely based on my personal experience, what makes you think that.

_________

Patton: I have never thought about Patton learning another language, because English just fits him too well.

But when you proposed Italian... well, my heart just wiped out everything else. There is nothing here, only Patton speaking Italian.

So yes, Patton's second language should be Italian. No, it must be Italian. Because French is the language of sex, Spanish is the language of love, but if you want to declare your eternal love to someone, you use Italian. Do you want to marry someone? Italian. Do you want to tell your significant other how much you adore them? Italian. Italian has one million ways to express love and Patton should use them all with his kiddos.

And yes, Italian is also associated with warm people, warm places and good food, all things Patton deserves and should enjoy. So Italian is a big yes.

_________

Orange: since Orange is a mystery, I am a bit torn between these two languages:

1) Esperanto: This language is amazing, because it isn’t a natural language, born like all others, but it has been built by a man, who wanted to create an universal language in order to foster world peace and international understanding.

So this language has been created to be as simple as possible, with a very regular grammar (unlike all other natural languages) and its words all have references to other language groups (romance, germanic, slavic, indo-europeans, finno-ugric languages and so on).

And if you actually listen to it (especially if you know some latin languages) you will find it weirdly understandable. I found this video in particular and I was impressed by how strangely familiar esperanto sounds.

And... that’s it, I just think it would be kinda poetic that the last side knows a language that all others can use and understand.

2) A Greenlandic language. Why? Because they are insanely polysynthetic.

What does that mean? If in German you can make words by putting together other two/three words (like in the example I used before), in the Greenlandic languages you can build an entire sentence by putting together nouns, verbs, articles and everything else. All together in one single word, whose meaning can be translated with an entire sentence in another language.

Do you want an example? Here is an example from Wikipedia: tuntussuqatarniksaitengqiggtuq.

Yes, this is a word.

This word is from the Yupik language and means "He had not yet said again that he was going to hunt reindeer.". And this word is made of:

tuntu- (= reindeer)

ssur-  (= hunt)

qatar- (future tense)

ni- (= say)

ksaite- (negative)

ngqiggte- (= again)

uq  (3rd.sing.IND)

Is this insane? This is fucking insane. Do you want to be scared? This is real fear. What the heck. How. Why.

You know what? This is perfect for Orange, I’ll leave Esperanto to Thomas. Orange deserves to be this scary. I can already see the other sides quiver before him.

_________

And so, here are my guesses! If someone has other ideas, feel free to add yours and tell us why, so we can all have a nice discussion :D

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[itsthestutterforme]

I Reject You (Ransom Drysdale)

Summary: Ransom has a friends with benefits relationship with Y/N recently learned that she is pregnant with Ransom's pup but rejects him as the father because of how he treated her when they were together.

Notes: GIF is not mine, slight smut, fluff, A/B/O dynamics, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of depression, implied sexual assault (if any of these trigger you, please do not read. Take care of yourselves.)

--

Here you are exactly where you promised yourself you weren't going. As soon as you saw Ransom sitting in your office chair, you knew where this was headed. He picked you up from your job and drove straight to his house.

Your body shakes when he lazily thrusts into your soaked cunt as you both are laying down on your side. Leaning your head against his collarbone, your mouth falls open when he rubs your clit when his thumb.

You follow his hips when he pulls out of you, leaving just the tip in before drilling into you hard and fast. "You are such a slut for my dick aren't you? No matter how many times you say you never want to see me again. You. Are. Mine. Omega." He whispers into you ear and you were starting to see stars.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as you cum for the fifth time today. His knot pops open and his seed decorated your walls. He pulls out of you and you lay on your back, mustering up the strength to get up but he grabs your chin roughly so you could look at him.

"No one can make you cum like I can. No one." You pull away from his grip and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You curse at your body for trembling. You needed to get out of there and quick before he notices something is off.

You noticed a different abouf a week ago and went to the doctor. Only to find out that you were pregnant by no other than Ransom Drysdale. The trust fund playboy. There's no way you were going to tell him the baby was his. You needed to end whatever this is and you needed to end it now.

"You smell different," he says, trailing his nose along the curve of your neck. "Is your heat starting?" He asks and you choose not to say anything. What is there to say to a man that calls you a cumslut one second and is worried about your well being, the next?

You stand on wobbly legs and slide on your underwear while in search for the rest of your clothing. "When I talk to you, I expect you to speak." He says, standing from the bed and you jump into your dress pants. When you reach for you blouse, he rips from the your hand and tosses it across the room.

Attempting to get the blouse, a growl emits deep in his chest and you still your movements. You don't meet his eyes but you could feel the anger blossoming in his gaze. He grabs your throat sharply and lowered his head until his blue eyes met yours.

"Speak, Omega." Chills rolls down your spine at his command. "There's nothing to talk to you about." "You could have just said that. You didn't have to ignore me." "I didn't peg you as the sensitive type, Drysdale." You snark, and he allows you to pull his hand away from your throat.

"You're not going to shower before you go like you normally do? What, am I that bad of a person?" "There's nothing normal about this, Ransom. And to answer your question, yes, you are." You walk across the room and button up your blouse.

"What's up with you? You've been acting bitchy all day." "Wow, you talk like you're a ray of sunshine." "You know what, you want me to speak. Fine, I'll speak. Don't talk like you give a shit about me because you and I both know you don't. The only thing you care about is getting your rocks off like a horny little bitch."

Oh your hormones are going to get you in trouble. The omega in you was trembling with fear of what Ransom was going to do to you. He snarls and before you could even think about running, he turns you around and shoves into the nearest wall. His eyes glowing a dreadful crimson as he growled in your face.

"You got a death wish, omega? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to." He snarls and you instinctively expose you neck to him. Your arm maternally drapes over your stomach protectively and he noticed. His eyes lost their glow and he stares down at your stomach with wide eyes.

He takes a few steps back and you could hear his anxious heart pattering in his chest. "Is it mine?" "No," you answer a little too quickly and he raises his eyebrow questionigly. "You're lying," he says, taking a step toward you with his eyes glazing over your mating gland.

"Absolutely not," you snap and he takes another step towards you. "Stop, Ransom. Please don't," you whimper as he blew warm air over your sensitive gland. Something else stirred inside of you that wasn't your omega part of you. It was something more dominant and heavy.

Your hand comes up and in between your neck and his face. Your gripped his face and shoved him as hard as you could with surprising strength. You sent him flying across the room. He initially landed on the bed and bounced off to land in the corner.

A deep, protective roar erupted from your chest and something happened that you dreaded for most of your life. Your eyes were glowing. Your eyes didn't shine a normal golden color. They glowed like a broken mixture between crimson and ogate from an unspeakable past trauma.

"What the hell are you?" He asks as your eyes restore to normal. "Baby," he adds, his features softened. "Stay away from me. And stay away from my pup." You threaten, before sliding on your shoes and walking out the door. You wave down a taxi who drives you back to your house.

"Hey, I stopped by your job and saw you- Y/N, are you okay?" Your mom asks as her eyes settle on your trembling frame. "He found out." You croak, she motions you to sit on the couch and you comply. "He found out about the baby?" She asks. "He found out," you repeat, watching as she realizes what you really meant.

"He saw your eyes?" She asks with disbelief. "He tried to forcefully claim me and I bellowed at him to protect my pup." "What are you going to do? Do you want to leave?" She asks, running a comforting hand down your arm. "I have no idea, Mom. I don't get it. I thought I wasn't able to get pregnant."

"This is a blessing, honey." She says and you shake your head. "It would have been a blessing if the father was a decent human being, but he's not, Mom. He treats me.." you trail off and your mother purrs sadly, resting your face on the sides of hers. "He's a terrible person, Mom. But I need him and I fucking hate it."

"I know, honey. We don't need to figure everything out right now. Take a deep breath." You take a deep breath and a series of sobs escape your lips. You're screwed and everyone knows it.

**

Ransom bounces his leg nervously in his Beemer as he parks outside of Y/N's house. He could smell her, she's in deress and she's feeling an immense amount of sadness. He doesn't even know what he's doing there. It's not like his presence would help anything. She hated him and he doesn't blame her.

He would always call you names and insult your intelligence to keep you rilde up so he wouldn't know how it was to be loved by you. He started to fall for you when you would talk back against his misogynistic tendencies. He loved how your nose crinkled just before you were about to snap on him.

You have guts and you stood your ground, regardless if you were an omega or not. He respected that about you. But now he wanted to show you that he was willing to change for you and that he treated you like shit because he was scared of what your love could to him.

But he knew you. You would tell him to fuck off and leave because that is what he was good at. He had a plan to get you to trust him, but if that doesn't work. He has no idea what to do with himself. With a deep breath, he hops out of his Beemer and stalks towards the front door.

He knocks firmly and he heard footsteps ascending to the door. His heart races in his chest but he swallows it down. The door opens and he meets the gaze of a very angry mother. "How dare you come here?" "I need to see her," "I think you've done enough."

"She's carrying my pup, I can't just leave her." Ransom's explains, desperate to be given the benefit of the doubt. "I've heard terrible stories about you. You trust fund, prick. My daughter made a mistake and I'm sure she'll learn from it without your help." She snaps.

"Did she say that?" "She did," "You're a terrible liar. Just like your daughter." He sighs when she growls defensively at him. "What happened to her? To her eyes?" He asks. "Please, I want to be in her life. She makes my heart tingle and that scares the hell out of me, so I tried to push her away by.."

"By treating her like trash. You have no idea how to deal with women, do you?" She asks and he shakes his with defeat.

"Come in," she says with a sigh. Ransom walks into the house much smaller than he's used to. That's what a family house looks like. The entire living room is the size of his walk in closet. But he understands why Y/N would call it home. "Stay here, I'll be right back." Y/N's mom says before disappearing down the hall.

He sits down on the side of the couch where your scent is the strongest. His eyes fall to the shut door closest to the kitchen. Your scent dripped from the room and it took everything in him not to burst in there and pull you into his arms.

Y/N's mom returns with a thin stack of newspapers. The looked to be a few years old by the font and the faded lettering in some places. The newspaper crinkles in his hands as he read the headline on the first page.

HUMAN TRAFFICKING VICTIM FOUND AFTER 7 YEARS. Below the headline was a picture of a young girl with bruises litering her face as she pulled the blanket close to her.

The most heart wrenching part about the picture was how hollow her eyes looked. It was like looking into a dark tunnel with no light at the end of it. Whatever she experienced ruined whatever childhood she had left. Ransom's eyes scan over the article and flipped through the rest of the pages, growing angrier the more he read.

"How long ago was this?" Ransom asks. "Five years ago. She was twelve when she was taken." Ransom shakes his head with disbelief and sets the newspaper on the table in front of him. "Can I see her, please?" He asks desperately.

"She hasn't moved since she came back from your house a week ago. She barely talks and eats. Hopefully you have better luck than I do." She says, motioning for the door.

Ransom stands up and opens the door within a few strides. Goosebumps littered his skin when he inhales Y/N's miserable musk. Tears threatened his eyes but he wiped them away quickly. She already been through hell and Ransom made it worse by treating her the way he was. She deserved better than him.

"Y/N?" Ransom starts but Y/N doesn't move a muscle. Her bed covers were draped over her entire body, leaving a small opening above her head so she could breathe. Her breathing was barely audible, she could easily be mistaken as dead. The room was dim from the closed curtain and lack of light.

Not knowing what to say, he decides he was going to stay there with her. Maybe.. hopefully.. his prescence is enough to comfort her because he has no idea how to do that as he was never comforted as a child. He was just told to suck it up and stop being a baby. He's a Drysdale. And Drysdale's aren't weak.

He shrugs off his peacoat and pulled off his cable knit sweater. He stepped a little closer to admire her nest but notice the lack of his scent. He drapes his cable knit over the headboard of her bed. Not wanting to push his luck, he walked away from the bed and slid down the wall a distance away from you.

He smiles when he hears you purr softly in your sleep as you notice his scent. "Baby, I'm going to stay here with you, if that's okay." Ransom says and you continued to purr. Guess that wasn't a terrible sign.

Later that night, Ransom left your house to grab a week's worth of clothes plus an assortment of clothes you could add to her you. You still haven't said anything but your vile scent of shame and sadness has lessened.

When Ransom came back, Y/N's mom offered him the guest room but Ransom claimed it was too far from her. So she pumped up an air mattress for him. He's spent every day in the room with Y/N without saying a word. One day, Ransom came back with sushi for lunch to see you out of bed.

You froze when you saw him down the hallway after closing the door to the bathroom. "You came back earlier than I expected," you say and a sigh of relief leaves his lips. You both stay in your spots and stare at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

"I'm not good at comforting people. But I am good at telling people what I know. And I know that I feel like absolutely shit for how I treated you. And I know what happened to you when you were younger. Why your eyes are the way they are." He starts. "The fact that you can stand up for other people despite your past makes you strong. A strong mate and a strong mother." He adds.

He sets the sushi on the counter and you shove your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants. "We're not meant to be parents, Ransom. This could be the worst thing that could happen to us." She explains. "Or the best thing. I don't know about you, but I've been looking for a change. And then I met you and that was the change I was looking for." He explains.

You eye him suspiciously, unsure of where this verbal affection came from. "Why are you saying these things? Did my mom put you up to this? I told her I would be fine." You say, walking down the hall and into your room. "She didn't put me up to this. And no, you're not fine." He says, leaning against your door frame.

"Baby, we're in this together." "I don't trust it. I don't trust you. I've seen what you're capable of and the way you treat people. And I will be damned if I let you treat my pup like that."

"Your pup?" "My pup," you repeat, placing a hand on your stomach. His gaze falls on your stomach and he nods to himself like he's making a decision in his mind.

"Mark me," he says, taking off his pea coat, cable knit sweater and tank top underneath that. He sets on the air mattress and nears you slowly. "What? No." "I'll honor the bond. I'll be yours and only yours. I won't mark you unless you want me to. Just please, mark me."

"This is insane," you start and takes your hand to place on his cheek. He inhales the scent of your pulse point on your wrist before placing your hand on his mating gland. You shake your head no and he sits down, pulling you into his lap and burying your face into his neck.

Your inner omega takes over and you wrap your arms around his neck. "Alpha," you whimper. "Oh, omega. I'm so sorry, baby." He whispers. He stares up at the ceiling as he tries to hold back his tears but it was no use. He always thought that he was fucked up because Linda never showed him any affection as a kid.

But to hear about what you experienced as a kid. The fact that you had nothing and you had your will and autonomy stripped from you. Ransom's autonomy was the only thing he felt like he truly had. He rubbed circles on your neck and you sigh into his. He learned that from a Google search he did but you didn't know that.

You pull away from his neck and cupped his cheeks, pressing a warm kiss on his soft lips. You were desperate for each other's touch, but it wasn't in a sexual way.

It was more like a tending to an internal scratch. Your eyes fluttered closed and he lifted your chin to deepen the kiss. Your tear stained cheeks rubbed against his and his tongue swiped against your lip, begging for access.

You glady give him the access he needed and his happy hummed vibrated your chest. He pulled away slowly and held you gaze before exposing his neck to you. You couldn't believe your eyes. The Ransom Drysdale was exposing his neck to you. Submitting to you. Maybe he wasn't bluffing after all.

You ghost your fingers over his mating gland and he sighs at the touch. You look to him and he nods, encouraging you to continue. Your tongue darted out to moisturize your dry lips and press a kiss to the sensitive skin. You purr as you inhale his musk of honey and crackers, his favorite childhood snack.

."Y/N, please." Giving him one last look before sinking your teeth into his neck, his mouth falls open and you bite down harder until you could taste the metallic drops of his blood.

You lick away the droplets of blood escaping the wound before pulling away. You lick away the blood from your lips and expose your neck to him but he gripped your chin and shook his head.

"You have to want it." He says sincerely. You barely recognize the Ransom in front of you. His ogate eyes dilate as they met your Y/E/C eyes. And in that moment you realize that Ransom was just as broken as you were. He truly was yours.

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Headlines

A fun cubs come out fic!

Characters and their world by @lumosinlove

@im-oknutzy-trash - here you go!

(Just one last note - there is one scene with a little spicy quip but it doesn’t get in any way explicit :))

“I’m home!” Finn called as he came through the door to their apartment, duffle bag falling off his shoulder and crashing into the door.

“Wow.” Logan commented, coming over to help him. “Home for less than a minute and you’re already trying to wreck the place.”

“Oh hush.” Finn said, dropping his bags and pulling Logan in by the waist. “Hello to you too.”

Logan grinned and went soft, leaning into Finn’s kiss. “How was Alex?”

They moved away from the door to the couch, Logan setting Finn’s bag aside to be dealt with later. 

“Good, Kase and Nat are going out to see him in a few days so he was all excited.” 

Logan laughed, kicking off his shoes to curl his feet under him. “Now that I get.”

Finn smiled and glanced around. “Where’s Leo?”

“He just had to pop out to the shop. We’re out of milk. He should be back soon though.”

Finn nodded, looking down at his hands, fiddling with his fingernails. “Hey Lo?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking about… well what if… So like, you know Cap and Loops, right?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Our teammates? Yeah I think I’m vaguely familiar with them.”

Finn huffed, rolling his eyes. “Wow sassy. You know that’s not what I meant.”

Logan tilted his head to the side in acquiescence, letting Finn continue. 

“I want to be like them.” Finn said quickly. “Can we be like them?”

He watched Logan frown for a moment, trying to figure out the difference between Remus and Cap and them. “Wait,” He murmured, eyes meeting Finn’s. “Do you mean?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah. I think maybe we’re ready?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Leo coming in. 

“Hey Lo!” He said, without even looking around yet. “I got milk and that bread you like. Did Finn message you yet, he definitely should have landed by now.”

Leo reached the counter, putting the milk in the fridge before turning around and finally noticing the two boys in the room.

“I think his flight landed.” Logan said dryly, watching Leo take in Finn’s presence. 

“Hi baby.” Finn said, with a smile, truly grinning when Leo left the shopping bag half-empty and came over to kiss him hello instead. 

“Hi.” Leo said, slipping into the gap between his two boys. “I missed you.” 

Finn heard himself make a pleased noise as he leaned in to kiss Leo again. “Missed you too.”

“So,” Leo said as he pulled away, pulling Logan’s feet onto his lap. “What’re we talking about?”

Finn met Logan’s green eyes, pausing for a moment. “Um, I uh…”

Logan kicked his foot forward to nudge it against Finn’s thigh. “I got it Harzy.” He then turned to Leo. “We were thinking, maybe it’s time for us to come out? It’d be nice I think, not having to hide.”

Finn watched Leo carefully as the younger boy blinked in surprise before a small smile took over his face. 

“Yeah,” He breathed, looking between Logan and Finn. “Yeah that would be nice.” He bit his lip, looking smug and mischievous and Finn thought he might be falling in love all over again. “But I think we should have some fun first.”

****

Logan stumbled off the bus wearily - that four hour bus ride had just seemed to go on forever. Reporters stood outside the door to the hotel, despite the cold and the late hour but Logan leaned into Leo’s side anyways, Leo’s arm around his shoulder, Logan’s hand beneath his jacket. Photographers went wild, cameras shuttering quickly and Logan hid his smile in Leo’s jacket. This was going to be a whole lot of fun. 

****

Leo looked up as Marlene entered the locker room, glancing around to see who might be ready and available for an interview. Leo caught her eye and waved her over. 

“Hey Leo, how about a quick video for social media? I won’t keep you longer than five minutes.”

Leo smiled, he didn’t mind, this was all a part of their plan, the team and the rest of the staff had been made somewhat aware. Plus, he liked Marlene so he never had a problem with the interviews. “Sure.”

“Okay great!” She gave him a thumbs up as she started recording. “So, just last night, pictures of you and Logan Tremblay were released as you got off the bus - have you anything to say about them?”

Leo nodded, grinning. “Don’t forget James photobombing in the background. I think he was going for a ‘bunny ears’ effect but it ended up looking like he was doing it to Kasey instead. I think I need to get a copy framed.”

Marlene laughed, moving on. “So you and Logan are close then?”

Leo looked around the room comically. “What? You mean right now? Cause He’s in the PT room so a lot of the guys are closer.”

Marlene bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. “How do you feel about this game then?”

Leo sat back, finally going to answer a question honestly. “I’m feeling good. We’ve had a great start this season and I’m pretty confident.”

Marlene gave him another thumbs up and headed off to go chat to some of the other guys. A few stalls over, Finn met Leo’s eyes and blew him a kiss. 

*******

“The media seems to have calmed down a bit.” Logan commented as they all sat at home watching a movie. “Think it’s time for our next one?”

“Ooh, yes!” Finn enthused. “I call being in this one.”

Logan laughed and pulled out of the way so he could take a picture of Finn kissing Leo’s cheek, Leo’s face all scrunched up in a smile. 

“There you go, post it.”

Finn grinned, going to Instagram and putting up the picture with the caption ‘Days like this’ before tagging Leo for good measure. 

“That should entertain them for a couple of days.” He said, satisfied as he tossed his phone to another chair and leaned back into Logan’s warmth, kissing the spot just below his ear. 

“You and me next baby,”

****

Leo Knut and Finn O’Hara?

More than one couple in the Lion’s Den?

Knut cheating on Tremblay?

Logan laughed as he scrolled through the headlines and posts from fan accounts, taking screenshots of some of the art of them that had already begun to bubble up. Thomas was on the other side of him, watching a video of a fan analysing the teams interactions, trying to figure out who was actually in a relationship, laughing every few minutes. 

“Knutty,” Logan called, summoning Leo. “Look at this one.”

Leo took his phone and read the caption out loud. “Knut’s betrayal making Tremblay tremble?” He looked up and met Logan’s eyes, his face blank. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

“I do!” Finn interrupted, coming up behind Logan and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “Okay Lo, you hold up the article, now someone take our picture please!”

Logan ginned and relaxed into Finn as James snapped them together before posting it to his own account. ‘Doesn’t seem to be trembling to me.”

****

“I’m gonna go get some coffee, do you guys wanna come?” Leo said, the three of them still lying in bed. Finn shook his head, still mostly asleep, but Logan perked up.

“From the café down the street?”

Leo nodded, laughing when Logan was up like a shot, pulling on his clothes. 

“We’ll bring you back some, okay sweetheart?” Leo said as he leaned over the bed once more to kiss Finn goodbye. Finn just nodded and burrowed deeper into the duvet. 

“Love you.” He mumbled and the two boys left him to his dreams, slipping out of the room quietly. 

They walked down the street, hand in hand, going mostly unnoticed by the public. It was still early and a Sunday, so there weren’t too many people up and about, but even those that were paid them very little attention. It was easy to forget, in moments like this, that they had entire fan pages dedicated to them and many days they weren’t even recognised on the street. 

They got their coffee and drank it there, holding hands over the table outside the front door, watching the people passing by and chatting idly. Leo thought he spotted someone taking a not-so-discreet picture of them, but they didn’t care. Logan went inside to grab Finn’s cup to go and Leo lounged in the sunshine for a moment, breathing in the cool, sharp air. 

He opened his eyes to find Logan standing over him, looking down amusedly. “D’accord, mon choupinet?"

Leo smiled and stood up, stretching lazily. “Oui.”

They came back home to Finn still in bed, and joined him under the covers while he sipped his coffee.

“Oh, look we’re back in the headlines.” Leo commented as he angled his phone for them both to see. A photo of Leo and Logan from just a half hour ago stared back at them, Logan laughing at something Leo had said. 

“That’s such a cute picture,” Finn noted, putting on his glasses to take a closer look. “You should save that.”

Knut and Tremblay reunited? No news yet on how O’Hara is taking this latest blow.

“O’Hara would be doing fantastic if he had another kind of blow.” Finn grumbled, then blushed when he realised he had spoken out loud. “I mean-”

“Oh, we know what you meant.” Logan said, taking the nearly empty coffee cup from Finn and setting it on the nightstand as Leo eased Finn back, slipping under the covers as Logan captured his lips. “And that can be arranged.”

****

“So when do you guys think you’ll let them know what’s actually happening?” Remus asked Leo as he helped the blond boy with his stretching. 

Leo bit his lip as he thought. “I don't know? Soon maybe though, because this is fun and all but I’m tired of being analysed all the time now. At least if we tell them the truth, they’ll be chasing after us for a couple of weeks but then it’ll all settle down and be nice and quiet again, you know?”

Remus nodded, smirking when Leo took a sharp intake of breath as he pushed his legs a little further apart. “Yeah for sure. It’ll be pure chaos for a bit, but then they’ll quickly move onto the next big thing, I promise.”

Leo nodded, a little lost in thought. “Yeah, I’m ready to have a bit of privacy again. I think I’ll say it to the boys tonight.”

Remus nodded and pushed Leo a little further, laughing when Leo cursed under his breath.

“Fuck, if I’m alive after all this that is.”

****

“Alright, we’re doing this so?” Logan confirmed, making sure everyone was in agreement. 

“Yup.” Leo said, popping the ‘p’.

“It’s time.” Finn confirmed as they all pulled up the same picture they had chosen to post - a photo of the three of them taken at a party at Dumo’s. Logan sitting in Leo’s lap, head tilted up as he kissed Finn who was handing them their drinks. 

“Captions ready?” Finn asked and the other two nodded.  “Okay. Three,”

“Two,” Leo said.

“One.” Logan breathed and they all clicked ‘post’ at the same time. 

The next day, all the headlines were their Instagram captions-

Leo and Logan.

Finn and Leo.

Logan and Finn.

(Three’s not a crowd).

[aajjks]

Yandere!BTS: You get into a dating scandal. (Idol verse)

Disclaimer: This is a yandere reaction, it’ll contain obsessive behaviours, stalking, possessive behaviours, delusional thoughts and overall creepy behaviours! Mentions of saseang behaviours! Please keep in mind that this is purely fictional and I don’t think that any Bts member would ever act like like this.

A/N: HI HELLO!!! I hope you are all well because of the covid-19 situation going on!!! I’m good too, but I’m always bored but then my mum is here to scold me and keeping me busy!! ALSO I WROTE FOR HYUNG LINE YAAAY! Another thing, I have another reaction coming for Maknae line too! ;) please share your thoughts! ENJOY!💖

Masterlist:

***trope: you’re a famous idol and they are your obsessive fanboys. Since you’re so popular, you get into a dating rumour. And they can’t accept that.***

_____________

Jin:

Kim SeokJin is a very classic man, who just happens to admire Y/N, you, a little too much.

You are the worldwide famous idol. And SeokJins a rich CEO, who obsesses over his idol too much.

You are just perfect.

Obviously, that’s why he idolises you.

You make him turn into a teenage boy who has a huge crush.

He cherishes you! Because, you’re just so perfect!

You don’t have any flaws! Your voice is his serenity!

So, now to the point, SeokJin wouldn’t think of the rumour that much seriously.

Because it’s dispatch! And you’re such a famous idol and perfect that they are trying to taint your perfect image.

But of course, as your admirer he’ll protect you.

At any coast.

Since he’s so rich he can easily bribe the network.

But it’s not good at all for the idol you’ve been rumoured with.

Oh, not at all.

The idol would get into another big controversy.

All thanks to the one and only.

No one can ever taint his angels' perfection.

No one.

Yoongi:

No! Yoongi wouldn’t be able to tolerate the scandal well.

Yoongi loves you so much, you are his soulmate.

You’re supposed to love him! And your music.

You’re not supposed to get into dating scandals! You should be focusing on making music for him!

Call him selfish! But you belong to Yoongi.

He has been loving you for so long!

You can’t love someone else!

He’d cry for days whole staring at your pictures and posters.

He’d write you countless love letters!

With blood on them.

Yes. His blood. You have to deny the rumours.

Because if you do not. Yoongi would kill himself..

But not before staining his hands with your boyfriend’s blood though.

Hoseok:

Oh wow, damn, this is like Hoseoks worst nightmare. And yours too.

Hoseok is pretty sensitive to stuff like this. You can imagine his phone with a broken screen and him crying and screaming like a lunatic.

He wouldn’t be able to wait too much and will decide to come to your agency.

He’d trash around the building requesting to see you ASAP. He’s fucking crazy.

And when they won’t let him see you, he can end up murdering some of the people, he’s going to first kill the person who dared to publish such utter bullshut about you.

And then that idol of yours. The idol is going to be finished.

And then you’ll be Kidnapped and held hostage in Hoseoks house, his house is filled with your pictures and stuff.

In conclusion, your career is finished.

Oh! And your freedom too Because now you belong to the psycho.

Namjoon:

Now Namjoon is an optimistic person when it comes to things like these. He knows you like the back of his hand.

He’d try to keep calm. He’d try not to let his paranoia get to him.

He’ll end up stalking you. Taking some pictures as well. And then when he’d be satisfied that there is really nothing but bullshit on the internet.

He’ll really calm down and relax.

He’ll write down a few articles about the rumours. Degrading the poor idol and highly praising you like a diety.

Namjoon has a lot of contacts around the news industry. It’s too easy for him to make it all stop.

And after a few days, you’ll find yourself involved with the famous journalist, Kim Namjoon.

Well, according to some newspapers and tv.

Scandals couldn’t ever leave the poor you alone? Could they?

As long as Namjoon loved you, they couldn’t, ever.

Because there is no one else that could have his name attached to you except for him.

[of-house-atreides]

This article is breaking my brain

Have you read this article ?

TW: mentions of suicide and also I’m an angry petty bitch

Yes I know this article is from like three weeks ago but I just found it... and I have things to say.

I swear I can’t handle this anymore...

“But today, Loki steps out of his brother’s shadow”... to step in another one. It be the TVA or Sylvie, just... take your pick.

“resuming his role as the God of Mischief” um where? when?

The comedy part is debatable but fine, whatever... I must have missed the noir crime-thriller bit maybe it was between two scenes of Loki getting his ass kicked by literally everyone in this show.

Yeah you forgot that end-credit scene showing Loki alive and well in IW/Endgame.

And no, alternate/variant Loki doesn’t count, he’s not the same person/character.

Because of course when you think of Loki you instantly think his story should take place in a “bureaucratic nightmare” -

And why not hire competent experienced people for Multiverse of Madness and Loki? Is this Marvel’s way of telling us they don’t really care about these projects?

Kevin really said “no experienced writers on this project, let’s just hire whoever” - or maybe it’s a budget thing? Less experience means less zeros on the pay checks?

Wow, ok.

So not a fan of the movies nor a fan of the character, just a fan of the genre, that explains a lot...

“what was really important to me was stripping away all the fantastical elements” ... ?? I’m sorry?? What?? So removing all the fantastical elements from a show titled after who is supposed to be the main character who is a GOD and a prince from another realm/planet was what was important?? The Trickster God of Mischief, magic wielder, master of illusions NEEDED to be stripped from his FANTASTICAL ELEMENTS???

ffs

“find the heart of this story” - is the heart of this story Loki becoming best friends with his (mental and physical) torturer after what? 2 days? Was it falling in love with the ‘superior’ version of himself after only 13 hours together? I’m still looking for the heart of this story.

“what is the relatable message at the center?” - well apparently it’s ‘you can be a God and a warrior with magical powers but still get your ass kicked by literally everyone all the time and never use your strength and skills to fight back’. Or it’s the power of love, idk -

Oh wait, is it falling in love with the female version of himself? For a weird ‘love yourself’ metaphor? That must be it.

Or maybe it’s jet skis.

Ah yes, the ‘you can be good, actually’ message of this series that is so subtly presented to us...

They really missed the whole fucking point of Loki.

They missed it so bad they made him call himself a narcissist (which he isn’t btw).

For the record, Loki is a prince of Asgard who learnt one day he was adopted and in fact taken from one of Asgard’s worst enemies, the King of the Jotuns, aka Frost Giants “the monsters parents tell their children about at night”. He found out he was not only adopted but also abducted and not out of love. He feels not only betrayed but he thinks he understands now why Odin always favoured Thor and why he’d never have the same love from Odin that Thor has had his whole life. He thinks of himself as a monster and wants to be worthy of Odin’s love. So he tries to get it. And sure, he doesn’t do it in the best way, and yes, he is the villain of that story. But Loki isn’t a villain. He doesn’t like to make people suffer, he did it out of pain, out of hurt. The events in Avengers was after he was thoroughly tortured and coerced by Thanos to invade Earth. There is even a moment in the end when Thor asks him if he thinks this ‘madness would stop under his rule’ (or something along those lines) and he looks unsure and regretful. But due to the fear of Thanos and insecurity about himself (love is weakness or whatever) he keeps going. He redeems himself in Dark World, again in Ragnarok and yet again in IW and he was thrown in the trash for it.

Yes, Loki’s story is complex, but it really isn’t that complex... So maybe Loki is a “scared little boy” but his way of acting out makes sense and there’s a legitimate reason for it that was not explored in the show. And his backstory is probably what she called the “bells and the whistles”... 

“we literally delete his universe” - and apparently you deleted his personality too

“it’s a story of reinvention ... can Loki find goodness in himself?” - again, you’re missing the point. Loki is insecure, but not about his ability to do what’s right, but about whether or not he is worthy of love! Finding goodness within himself comes AFTER!

“Loki’s journey, to me, is really about acceptance of himself” - several questions here, um, first, what about himself does he need to accept? That he’s a Jotun? The show never mentions it. That he’s done bad shit and should forgive himself for it? Give him a reason to. Self-love doesn’t come after being mentally and physically tortured by some guy who acts like he’s your best friend after 2 days of working together and being yelled out that “he can be anyone he wants, even something good”.

Show, don’t tell, isn’t that the point of your job?? The job you begged for??

Loki’s journey should have been about self-love and no, falling in love with the female version of yourself (who keeps saying they have nothing in common (because they don’t!)) doesn’t count!

“a more mature and darker path” ...

well this is interesting... was making Loki a clown and the butt of every joke part of making the show mature and dark? Were the terrible attempts at humour? Him being beaten up every two seconds? Having him say lines he’d never say in a million years just to be funny but since it’s out of character for him it fails completely? Was making him incompetent and a complete idiot part of that attempt of making the show mature and dark?

Is that why there’s no magic? You cut off the magician so your show would be more “mature and dark”?

Having him cry every episode doesn’t make your show mature and dark.

Loki from Thor, Avengers, the Dark World and even IW is mature and dark. Your Loki from your series is just a pathetic clown.

“don’t give viewers the story they are expecting” - I personally wasn’t expecting any story, I just wanted Loki, you know, in this Loki series, supposedly all about Loki, and you guys couldn’t even do that.

So this is the author of the article speaking here, I’m guessing, and I think they’re giving a summary of the show so far, so let’s break this down:

“This is Loki as we’ve never seen him before” - I 100% agree -

“Stripped of his self-proclaimed majesty” - ok, first of all, Loki is a prince, that’s a fact, he didn’t make that up, and for the few years he was King of Asgard disguised as Odin, he seemingly did a great job, so...

“but with his ego still intact” - ah, yes, his ego, you know, because he’s such a narcissist... oh wait -

yes he has an ego, but he has a regal one, not misplaced entirely either - his ego in the show is basically him underestimating the TVA and Mobius (as well as the Time Keepers) - his ego is him getting offended by the variant: the ‘superior Loki’ - his ego in the show is used as a weapon to humiliate and belittle him.

“he faces consequences he never thought could happen to such a supreme being as himself” - he literally tried to k*ll himself in the first Thor - literally a result of his own actions - when he returned to Asgard in Dark World, he didn’t try to pretend he hadn’t fucked up. He didn’t try to hide what he had done (he tries to deny to Mobius in episode 2 that he was manipulating them at the fair) - he sacrifices himself in IW... but sure, Loki from the series is indeed surprised that he is powerless (even when he doesn’t need to/shouldn’t be)

“there is a lot of humour ... he is taken down a few pegs by the TVA” ... he is humiliated by the TVA - definitely not what we were expecting, I’ll give you that.

“sentenced to a lifetime of bureaucracy” - definitely did not expect that either

and here comes my favorite quote: “it’s a sad Loki without any mischief”

yes - yes - yes

that is a good summary of this goddamn show, a sad, pathetic, powerless Loki without any personality 

“fallen God” - yeah that’s definitely not what I was expecting either from the Loki series so good job on subverting expectations I guess...

“who is going to win out in this match between them?”

there is no match - Loki is powerless - he’s been turned into a pathetic docile harmless wet dog - Mobius literally mentally (episode 1 and 4) and physically (episode 4) tortures him, both time in an attempt to have Loki do his bidding - Loki is the dog and Mobius is the master - even when Loki ‘tries’ to manipulate him it fails because he’s underestimating them (by overestimating himself) - he uses obvious techniques to manipulate the TVA (episode 2) and nobody buys it because it’s not subtle at all! Loki is smarter than that, he is a TRICKSTER GOD FFS!

“there is an interesting dynamic between them that maybe you haven’t seen with Loki in the Marvel movies” - yeah, maybe there’s a reason for that... like... he wouldn’t... submit so easily... he’d be wary, cautious, cunning... he’d be... himself...

Sans déconner ?

It’s like whoever wrote the series didn’t actually know shit about Loki... like that wasn’t fucking obvious...

And those lectures were apparently done after the script was written so... again, no surprise there... we can see that

Well...

“we wanted the show to be imbued with mischief” vs “sad Loki without any mischief” choose your fighter

“Loki has this very sensitive, damaged, broken heart with an enormous capacity to feel emotion on the biggest scale.”

Are surprised that only Tom so far has portrayed and talked about Loki accurately?

“loneliness, sadness, anger and grief and loss”

I love this man.

I do wonder what Mr. Branagh thinks of the show...

I’m of the people who see a vulnerability beneath those layers of charm and playfulness. I love Loki because he’s smart and cunning and regal, and elegant and sophisticated. I love him cause at the end of the day, he just wants to be loved, and he deserves to be loved.

And in the end, the only Loki I can’t stand is the one from the series.

[lonelyreputation]

Trouble in Canada • TWO

A/N: Thanks for your patience & thanks for all your support 🥰 Only 3 months late with this 🥴 Can’t believe I’m posting TiC2 AGAIN wow I’ll forever love this series bc of you all 🤧🤧

THANKS A MILLION A MILLION FOR ALL YOUR KIND WORDS!! I love you all with all my heart 🥺🤧

TROUBLE IN CANADA PT. 1 | MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: Arguing, angst, few swear words here and there

WC: 10.1K // Angst

“We need to talk.”

The cup of tea you held slipped through your hands and shattered.

Normally when a glass shattered in your apartment, Shawn would always rush forward.  He would always push you back, no walking around without shoes, he would say out of care as he kneeled down to pick up the minuscule shards of glass, don’t want you getting glass stuck in your foot.

But the two of you just stood there, looking at each other with different emotions swimming in your eyes, as the ceramic mug lay destroyed at your feet.

You had never seen your husband lack emotion in his eyes.  His eyes were always your favorite aspect of him, they were one of the first things about him that you fell in love with.  His eyes that normally held love, care, and compassion were now dark, empty, and held a hint of anger.

While his eyes held negativity, you felt the back of your eyes prick with tears, throat tight with sadness.  But you were looking at him with eyes wide of desperation––full of questioning and heartbreak–––because why on earth wasn’t he wearing his wedding ring.

You knelt to the ground, getting to work on picking up the broken mug, because you didn’t want him getting glass stuck in his foot.  It felt as if you were getting a glimpse into how this conversation with your husband was going to go; you trying to pick up the remnants of your heart that you could already feel breaking.

Once you got the small pieces together, you walked over to the trash can with Shawn’s eyes following you with every move.  You brushed the pieces in the bin and took the broom from the closet to dispose of the larger breaks.  You held eye contact with him as you walked back out into the entry area of your apartment.

His eyes trailed your every movement with skepticism, like he didn’t trust you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your emotions at bay, as the broken pieces of the mug made a clanking noise when you swept them together.  You looked up at Shawn through your eyelashes and saw his eyebrows pulled together as if he was thinking of what to say.  

Frankly, you didn’t think you were able to say anything.  He was the one who said that the two of you needed to talk, you had no idea what you wanted to talk about. You figured that you would be listening to more of his side of the conversation than talking.

When did he take off his wedding ring?

“That was the mug I got for you on our second Valentine’s Day together,” his words were only slightly louder than the broken pieces falling into the bin, his voice cracked, “And you––you’re throwing it away?”

You stopped dumping the glass pieces into the trash, and looked up at him with sad, questioning eyes, “It’s…broken?”

Placing the dustpan on the counter, you walked out from the kitchen and stood in front of Shawn, and for the first time since before you started dating all those years ago, you didn’t know what to say.

“Are you not even going to try and fix it?!”

The pain behind his voice sounded like he was talking about so much more than a broken mug.

Cautiously, you took a step forward, eyes glancing down at his bare hand, then stared into his fuming eyes, “Why…” You gulped, eyes returning down to where his wedding ring should be.

Why was he not wearing his wedding ring?

In theory, the question shouldn’t be a hard one to ask him.  He was your husband, there were no secrets between the two of you in the decade you’ve known each other.  There were no secrets between the two of you as you slept next to each other at night, his arm thrown around you to keep you safe; there were never any secrets.

But now? Now you didn’t know.  You didn’t know the words to string together in order to ask him why he took off the ring you slid on his finger the day you promised to love each other for eternity.  

The nausea built up in your stomach slowly, bile churning with each thought that passed through your mind.    

What made him not want to wake up with you every morning?

Nothing was settling right in your stomach.  Nothing about this was a case of, oh, sorry I forgot to return your calls I was too busy.  He had dodged your calls, purposefully avoided you––his wife––and now he was standing in the middle of your home not wearing his ring.

Your house didn’t feel like much of a home anymore.

For a moment you pushed your doubts aside.  You tried not to focus on the pain in your heart as you shifted your focus on something else you needed to discuss with Shawn; your cooking instructor.  

The thought of Ethan had been weighing down on your mind ever since your last lesson.  You lightly touched your wrist, remembering the way his hand tightly circled around your wrist that day.  The glower of possessiveness he held in his eyes when he looked at you caused you to shudder at the memory.  The feeling of embarrassment flooded your entire body as the phantom pain of hot oils dripping down your back as the whole class stood and watched.

You wished you had confided in Shawn about the uncomfortable actions Ethan demonstrated during each lesson.  

Pushing your crumbling heart to the back of your mind you took a deep breath, anxiety crawling up your throat, “I need to––um––I want to tell you something.”

Feeling nervous in front of your husband wasn’t uncommon. Everyday you had spent with him felt like the day of your first date; on your toes, giddy about what the rest of the day would bring––excited to spend the day with him.  It’s what made you fall in love with him at a rapid pace.  But while you were accustomed to the affect of your heart skipping a beat whenever you were around him, this was a different kind of nervousness.

This nervousness felt more like knowingly walking into a trap instead of a blissful evening with your husband.

With another deep breath, you looked down at your sock clad feet, not wanting to see his reaction, “There was um––Something happened when you were on tour–––”

“Can’t even look me in the fucking eyes when you say it?”

You whipped your head up, eyes wide, and for the first time you were frightened of your husband.  His tone was lethal, words sharp, as his jaw was set, “I would’ve thought you could at least do that when you tell me––”

You took a step backward, “Tell you what?”

For a second the animosity he held in his eyes fell and was replaced with desperation, “Don’t,” his voice cracked for the second time as he sniffled, “Don’t make me say it.”

While you felt your heartbreak at the hopelessness in his tone, he sounded exactly how you felt on the inside.

“Shawn,” you said his name carefully, afraid that if you said one wrong word he would explode like a time bomb, “I––I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let out a scoff, “Okay, then,” he crossed his arms over his chest and sent you a glare so strong it felt like you were slammed into the wall behind you, “Go on.”

You knew this was something important you had to share with him.  He’s your husband, you thought to yourself, he’s here to protect you––to keep you safe––you should tell him.  But everything about him seemed off.  His stance was guarded, arms stiffly crossed over his chest, as he coldly stared at you.  

“Um, well,” you nervously twisted your sweaty hands together in front of you, “When you were on tour there was this…guy,” you shuddered at the thought of Ethan, ‘And he––There was a situation––”

“Just fucking say it,” He sounded tired, but his words were still powerful, “Fucking say it and then we can be done.”

His words felt like a dagger piercing your chest.  All of the oxygen left your lungs as you were left breathless, hand pressed against your chest to shield you in any way from his dismissive tone, “What?” You gasped out, “Be done with what?”

“You know.”

“I don’t––”

“You,” his hand reached into his over the shoulder travel bag and pulled out a magazine, “Know.” His voice was laced with venom as he threw the magazine at the floor in front of you, “You fucking know.”

Gently, you bent down and picked up the edgeworn magazine, and it automatically opened up to an article.  The pages looked crinkled as if someone had read these pages until they had the words memorized. The top right edge of the glossy paper looked like it had been folded over repeatedly. And you didn’t miss the tear stains that smudged some of the inked words.

You read the bold headline––Trouble In Canada–-over a few times before your eyes darted around the two page spread that contained an article and blurry pictures of you with Ethan; specifically on the last day of class where you were pressed up against him.  The angle of the picture made you look guilty of an act that you never thought of committing against your husband.  Your breath, along with your heart, stopped beating as you glanced up at Shawn before skimming the article.

He misses Y/n––Below, pictures of Y/n and a mystery man have appeared––Everyone around him knows how much he loves his wife––Noticable changed––It’s not going to end well.

It’s not going to end well.

You clenched the magazine in your hand, “Who’s the source?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?!” Shawn let out a laugh, “Not that I had to find out through my mother texting me a link to an article about how my wife was having an affair?!”

Your eyes widened as the magazine dropped to the ground.  

An affair.  He thought you had an affair.

Your eyes darted back to Shawn’s hands.  He nervously rubbed his thumb along the underside of the finger where his wedding band used to take up space.  He thought you were having an affair with a person who made your skin crawl.

“Who––”

“Does it matter?!” He threw his hands up as he yelled before his voice quieted down, repeating the question under his breath, “Does it matter?”

You shook your head rapidly as you walked forward, wanting to reassure him that the article had it all wrong, “Shawn, that’s not––It’s a shitty tabloid, Ethan isn’t––”

“Don’t,” You stopped walking forward and started walking backward as Shawn angrily pointed a finger at you, words laced with malice, “Say his name.”

You felt your eyes begin to water, chest heaving up and down as your worst nightmare was slowly starting to become a reality, “He’s not––That isn’t––Those pictures are not what it looks like.”

“They seem pretty self-explanatory,” His voice fell in sadness, “I would wait hours to call you––”

“Shawn, listen––”

“Hours,” he cut you off, bottom lip quivering, “to hear about your day.  I would wait hours to hear your voice calm me down because touring is stressful and you were the only person who was capable of calming me down––”

“Were?”

“––Only to find out that you’ve been running around with someone else!”

“You stopped picking up my calls!” Your voice was pleading with him, “I stayed up for hours at night wondering what I did––”

“You were having an affair!” He matched the volume of your yells, “Why would I want to talk to you?!”

He wasn’t listening to you.  It seemed as if he was so caught up in the narrative he created in his head that he didn’t want to listen to you.  He thought it was better to believe the heartbreak of you running into another person’s arms while he was the one who was left in the dust.

“Were you that lonely,” Shawn narrowed his eyes, voice gravelly low, “That you went to someone else? Christ––We have the money that you could’ve used to come out and see me! Or have you had enough of me?”

“Do you even hear yourself––”

“Was being married to me too much?” He let out a sarcastic laugh, “After years together, you can’t even handle a single year of marriage. What ever happened to for better or for worse––”

“I didn’t have an affair!”

You stomped your foot on the ground as if you were a little girl throwing a tantrum.  Your voice was high, throat scratchy from trying to hold back your tears as Shawn threw countless accusations your way.  But when Shawn accused you of making a mockery of your wedding vows to him, that’s when he crossed the line.

The room was silent, your words ringing through the apartment just as loud as the ringing in your ears.  Shawn looked shocked, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide at your outburst.  Never once had you screamed about something so desperately.  But this was your marriage.  This was your marriage to the person you thought would love and trust you until the end of your life.  And you thought he would love and trust you until the end of his life.

“I didn’t,” your bottom lip trembled as you sucked in a breath, a few tears leaking from your eyes, “I would never,” you hastily wiped away the falling tears on your cheek with the heel of your palm, “Do you honestly think that little of me?”

Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  His cruel words still floated around in the air.  After all the love songs he wrote about you not once did you think he was capable of saying words as degrading as the ones he yelled at your face.

“That guy,” you closed your eyes and brought your hands up to your forehead, trying to subdue the raging pain in your forehead from all the yelling, “Was the cooking instructor Jessie and I had for our cooking lessons.”

“I don’t want to know––”

“He,” you cut Shawn off before he could find another way to belittle your feelings, “Wasn’t very…helpful as a teacher.” You bit the inside of your cheek, mirroring Shawn’s position and crossing your arms across your chest as you bounced your leg, “Sometimes he would––”

“God,” the pain in Shawn’s voice struck a chord with you, “Do you really think I want to know what you two did together?!”

You stood there frozen, not being able to wrap your head around the situation you found yourself in with Shawn, as the two of you looked into each other’s eyes with opposite emotions.  

Your eyes were wide as they overflowed with desperation, terrified that your marriage was about to come to an end; they poured over with hurt from the devastating allegations Shawn proposed.

Shawn’s eyes were narrowed at you as they seethed with aggression, on the edge of becoming unhinged at the thought of someone stealing the love of his life right under his nose; they overflowed with untrust.  

But both of your eyes were both filled to the brim with love, not understanding how the person they vowed to love and to treasure for the rest of their lives, could hurt the other so viciously and carelessly.

“He––I’m your wife, Shawn,” you choked on a sob, “I’m your wife and you’re not listening to me!”

“You haven’t said anything!” His eyes were red as he cried right back at you.

“How am I supposed to tell my husband that another man made me feel uncomfortable when he’s accusing me of sleeping with them?!”

Shawn looked like he had more hatred to spew planned out in his head, but once the truth to your story came out, he was at a loss for words.  His shoulders dropped as fast as his face and an audible noise escaped his throat.  

A new wave of tears threatened to spill over as he looked at you, “That’s––What did––What?”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding your head as your eyes refocused on the lack of his wedding band on his finger.  You toyed with the diamond of your engagement ring, “But apparently I had an affair.”

Since the first time he had come back, Shawn was silent.  He was as silent as the moment he walked through the door and said words that shattered your world; we need to talk.  

He was as silent as the day of your wedding, speechless as you walked down the aisle more than ready to spend the rest of your life with him; I love you, he had said through tears, I’ll love you with all my heart until my last breath.

And as you stood in front of him, at a loss of words for yourself, you still wanted him to love you even after accusing you of the most heinous act in a marriage.

Another pregnant pause; your teeth clattered together as you failed to hold back your cries while Shawn’s fists shook at his sides.

Wordlessly, you brushed past him and picked your phone off the counter rushing to the door.  You threw on your converse, only having time to tuck the laces under the tongue, not wanting to spend anymore time in Shawn’s presence.  It felt as if the walls of your marriage was collapsing -––Your lungs were collapsing as you felt sobs blocking your airway––And with each step you took further away from Shawn, you felt your world crumble a little bit more.

You plucked a random jacket from the coat rack and before you even registered Shawn trying to call out your name, you slammed the door shut.  You dug your hands deep in the pockets as the brisk Toronto air hit your face.

Your rings were burning a hole into your skin.

A twenty minute walk on the streets of Toronto would normally relax you, but normally your hand would be hooked around Shawn’s arm as the two of you laughed on your way to a restaurant.  The streets were tainted with memories of him as you rounded the corner of a familiar street.

“Y/n?”

You sniffled as you spoke into the callbox, “Hey–Jessie? Can––Could you buzz me–me–In?”

The sound of the door unlocking brought more comfort to you than your husband had in the past month.

Not being able to stand still in an elevator by yourself, you opted to walk up six flights of stairs.  You had spent countless days at Jessie’s apartment whenever Shawn was away on tour; from when you first started seeing each other, toward the end of his Illuminate Tour, you had spent countless nights sleeping over at her cozy Toronto apartment.  The two of you would stay up late with ice-cream as you scoured every update account to get a glimpse of the boy who would text you after every show saying how he wished you were with him.

You knocked once on the door before it swung open to show a confused Jessie in a bathrobe and facemask, she tilted her head, “Lover’s quarrel?”

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, but no amount of muffling could cover up the sound of your uncontrollable cries of grief.  Jessie’s eyes widened as she ushered you into her apartment and quickly shut the door as you fell into her arms before she turned the lock of the deadbolt with a soft click.

You stood in the entryway of her apartment, staining your best friend’s shirt with tears, as you gripped onto the back of her shirt for dear life.  Because the lifeline you normally had in your husband was thrown overboard.

Forming a coherent sentence was impossible with the sobs that tore through your chest.  You tried your hardest to say that; no, this wasn’t just a lover’s quarrel, it was something bigger.  It was something bigger than Jessie realized until she was able to decode a sentence that you kept repeating out loud until it became as familiar to you as a prayer.

He doesn’t want to be married to me anymore.

///

A few days had passed since you hastily made an exit from your apartment.  You thought the sinking feeling would leave once you were away from your husband’s presence, but instead, your heart only ached more.

Shawn didn’t have much time left in Canada before he had to head back on the road, and it caused your chest to tighten up every time you thought of him leaving you again.

But why did it matter; you thought to yourself as you were wrapped up in a blanket, knees tucked up to your chest as you leaned on the far side on Jessie’s couch.  Your hands cradled the lukewarm tea, it being the only thing that gave you warmth, he doesn’t want to be married to me anymore.

You’ve only moved from your position on the couch to go walk to the bathroom, your socks gliding on the hardwood floor because you didn’t have the energy to pick up your feet.  

It was lunch time, and just like all other three meals throughout the day, Jessie brought over the meal she prepared you and softly placed it on the coffee table with a meek smile and somber eyes, “Tomato soup.”

You nodded your head and glanced at the soup in the yellow bowl.  You took another sip of your tea.

“Y/n,” Jessie breathed out your name, trying to get your attention, as she knelt down in front of you.  But you continued to stare past her shoulder, eyes focusing on the window as the pitter patter of rain softly hit the glass

She repeated your name once more, a comforting hand on your knee, but you slowly shook your head with a wobble of your chin.  The only time you had spoken to Jessie was when you first arrived at her place and fell into her arms as you sobbed about your ruined marriage.

You were silent, just like Shawn’s communication with you since you fled your home.  

He came home without wearing his wedding ring.

Your hands tighten around your mug, tea now cold, as you bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted something metallic.  You had no verbal answer for her, just a shake of your head as you held your breath, trying to rid yourself of the lump in your throat.

The all too familiar sting behind your eyes crept back like an old friend.  You shut your eyes tight as you gasped out for a breath.

“He’s going to divorce me, Jess.”

Her hand on your knee fell limp as you brought a hand up to cover the choked sob that escaped past your lips, “I love him so much and he’s gonna divorce––”

“He would never do that to you,” Jessie’s voice was confident, something you hadn’t felt about yourself, or your marriage, in months, “He wouldn’t even dream of that.”

You removed your hand from your mouth, a gut wrenching sob shattering through your chest as you tried to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “You didn’t see him––The––The things he said to me,” Jessie took the mug form your hands as you wrapped your arms around your bent legs, tucking your head into your knees, “I’m so scared.”

It was a whisper, but the despair in your voice was not lost on your best friend.  

“I––” Jessie didn’t know how she felt.  She knew she felt her own heart breaking for her best friend––for Shawn as well––because she had been there with them since the start of their relationship.  She was the one who introduced you two. But she also felt anger, a betrayal, deep within her bones that made her blood boil, “––I need to pick up groceries.”

Jessie didn’t want to leave her best friend, but she wanted to pay a visit to the man who broke his promise––to cherish you forever––to her best friend.

She reluctantly stood up, staring down at you with tears in her own eyes, as you kept your head buried between your knees and the blanket.  She knelt down to press a featherlight kiss to the top of your head, whispering, “get some rest.”

She didn’t know if you would listen to her, but she noticed the exhaustion behind the heartbreak in your eyes.  And with a slight nod, you agreed that you needed sleep, readjusted your position on the couch and tried to keep your eyes shut tight so as to not let any more tears stain the blanket.

Once Jessie was positive you were asleep, she slipped on her sneakers and left her place without a jacket.  She needed the cold Canadian air to cool down the heat she felt in her body for being so angry.

The twenty minutes it would normally take her to walk to your apartment took her only thirteen minutes.  Jessie breezed through the lobby, impatiently tapped her foot as she rode the elevator up, and harshly knocked on the door until it was opened by a wide eye Shawn.

“Y/n?” Shawn asked desperately before he even registered who was at the door.

Jessie rolled her eyes and pushed past him, “Do you think she would knock on her own door?”  She scoffed as she looked around the apartment; pillows thrown astray, dishes piled up in the sink, and ruffled blankets on the couch telling her that he hasn’t been sleeping in their bed, “What the hell is your problem?!”

Shawn didn’t register her question as he continued to stare out the door, looking up and down the hallway.  Jessie knew exactly who he was waiting for, and with a sigh, she softened her voice, “She’s not with me.”

His head whipped back to Jessie as if he forgot she was there, “She––Are you––Has she been staying with you?”

All the anger came flooding back into her system as she narrowed her eyes at his question, “You would know if you tried calling her.”

He slowly closed the door and leaned up against it with a defeated sigh, “I knew she didn’t want to hear from me––”

“Are you kidding?” Jessie clenched her fists at her sides in anger, “You were the only person she wanted to hear from.”  

Shawn closed his eyes and rubbed the corners of them, not knowing what to say in response.  Jessie knew she didn’t have to tell him how terrible he acted toward his wife, she could see it with every defeated slump of his shoulders, the way their usually neat apartment was a mess, and his bloodshot eyes.

“How is she?”

Jessie rolled her eyes again, ignoring his question because she knew that he already knew the answer to it, “You have some nerve coming home to her without your ring.”

Shawn’s melancholy composure dropped and she saw his eyes narrow in irritation, “How else was I supposed to react?”  He let out a bitter laugh, “A whole magazine spread came out showing my wife with another man––”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Jessie walked up to him and poked his chest hard, “What happened to you always telling her not to believe everything she read in the papers about you? Every time you were seen with a different girl, every rumor of ‘sparks flying’ after you sang a duet with a different girl––What about everything she had to put up with with you?””

“That’s different because she knew those weren’t true––”

“So what about this?!” Jessie blew up and threw her hands in the air, “This is no different.  This is the first time she’s been caught up in something like this.”

“She was jumpy the last time I spoke to her on the phone!” Shawn defended himself, “She sounded like she didn’t want me to come home and after I saw those pictures,” Shawn swallowed as he looked down at the floor.  He felt his stomach drop as if he remembered the moment his mother texted him a link to the article.

“Everything just made sense,” Shawn whispered as he shook his head.

There was silence between the two of them for a moment before Jessie spat out, “That’s a weak excuse,” and Shawn raised his head up, eyebrows pulled together, “Did you forget what’s written on the inside of your ring?”

Shawn looked down in shame and shook his head.  He knew exactly what was written on the inside of his ring––with your handwriting––and the same thing was written on the inside of your ring; with his handwriting.

With all my heart.

Out of habit, Shawn brought his fingers to touch his ring finger.  But unlike all the other times the tips of his fingers would softly brush against the ring finger on his left hand in remembrance to you, he didn’t feel the cool metal of his ring.  Just his bare finger.

“How could you?” Jessie’s voice was barely above a whisper.  Shawn wasn’t her husband, so she couldn’t even comprehend the amount of betrayal you felt, but with being his friend since he was thirteen, she was at a loss of words, “For as long as I’ve known you…I’ve never been more disappointed in you in my life.”

Shawn ran a hand through his hair, “Jess––“

Jessie shook her head, “She always let you explain yourself––Most times she didn’t even think twice if you were out with someone else––Because she trusted you.”  Shawn nodded solemnly, “But you didn’t give her the same respect.”

“I know.”

Without sparing his feelings, because Jessie didn’t think he deserved any sympathy, she said words that knew would cut Shawn to his core, “She thinks you’re going to divorce her.”

His mouth dropped, all expressions of guilt left his face, as he stared at his friend.  He didn’t even know what he was feeling.  All he knew was that he swore his heart stopped beating and that the ringing in his ears was becoming relentless.

“She––Why would––That never––“ his hands started shaking, as he felt his eyes well up with tears, because he never wanted to picture his life without you.  His voice cracked, “Divorce?”

With a sharp nod, Jessie crossed her arms over her chest, “Well, when your husband comes home without his wedding ring on, what other conclusion is she going to come to?”

Shawn shook his head, “That wasn’t my––“

“You took your ring off,” Jessie’s eyes looked at his ring finger, noticing a sliver of his finger a share lighter than the rest of his skin tone, “I’m not married, but I know you’re not supposed to do that if you love your spouse.”

“I do love her,” Shawn spoke angrily.

Jessie tapped her foot, “I’m not leaving until you put your ring back on.”  She watched as he dug his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and pulled out a golden band.  She smiled as Shawn slipped it back into place, “You two need to talk,” she said as if it was the easiest thing in the world, “You need to listen to her because there’s more to those pictures.”

Shawn nodded his head, like he was a kid listening to his mom telling him to clean his room.  He knew they needed to talk, he knew that he messed up, but he was also terrified of what you were going to say to him.  He had never thought of divorcing you, but if the thought was swirling around in your mind…Would you want to divorce him?

“I have to run some errands,” Jessie smiled at the ring that was back in its place on his finger, “I’ll be gone for about an hour–––“

Before Jessie could finish her sentence, Shawn turned around on his heel, running to the front door to fling it open.  She heard his footsteps race down the hall and smiled to herself even more.  

Shawn was lucky that she knew where their spare key was hidden so she could lock up behind her.

///

You knew Jessie waited until she thought you were asleep to leave to pick up groceries.  So you tried your hardest to fake your rest, and when you heard the door softly close behind her, you opened your eyes and continued to stare out the window.  You didn’t have a lot of motivation, sometimes just thinking was too much energy, so you only tried to focus on the sounds of rain hitting the window and the low rumble of thunder you heard.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that for, but you started to get thirsty, and without Jessie here to refill your tea, you had no choice but to make yourself a cup.  Begrudgingly, you sat up, keeping the blanket wrapped around you like a cape, and made your way into the kitchen.  Filling the tea kettle up with water, you placed it on the stove.  Picking at the hangnails on your fingers, you lifted your head up when heard the door abruptly open.

Even if it had been Jessie returning with groceries, you still would have stayed mute upon her re-entry, and when your eyes landed on the person you least expected to see, you still stayed quiet.

He was out of breath, cheeks flushed red as his chest heaved, but you didn’t say a word to him.  You only listened to the low rumble of water boiling in the tea kettle.

He didn’t say anything either.  He was trying to communicate with his eyes; wide and hopeful that you would forgive him for being an idiot.  But you stared at him with a blank expression.

“Did you run here?”

Shawn nodded as he exhaled, “I––Jessie said you were here.”

You quirked an eyebrow, and pulled the blanket tighter around your body.  Not saying anything in response, you diverted your eyes down to the white kettle.

As you stood in the kitchen with your husband, you had never felt more uncomfortable in your life.  You never thought there would be a time you didn’t feel comfortable in his presence, just seeing him through FaceTime would be enough to make you smile; but as you stood in front of him for the first time since you saw him without his ring, you didn’t want to see him.

Your eyes were focused hard on the kettle, channeling all of your anger to the boiling water, “Thought the next time I would hear from you was going to be with Brian serving me divorce papers.”

It was a low blow, and you heard the sharp intake of breath from him, but you didn’t care.  He made you feel like hell for the past month of him ignoring you and then blowing up in your face, not giving yourself a chance to explain your situation to him.

“I would never––You know I would never do that.”

“Do I?” You bit your bottom lip, “I never thought you’d take off your ring.”

That cut Shawn off from saying whatever he planned because you had a point.  He never thought he would take off his ring, but he did.  He took it off, and at the time, he didn’t understand the consequences that would come with it when he returned to you.  He thought he knew everything by just looking at those pictures.  He thought the marriage was over before he stepped foot back into your home.

Hastily, Shawn lifted his left hand, the gold ring was dull under the kitchen lights, “I put–––“ he stopped talking when he saw you lightly touch the kettle with your left hand.  You only brought your hand out of the blanket for half a second, but that half a second was more than enough time for him to realize what the worst sight in the world was, “Your––You took off your rings.”

You retracted your hand back into the blanket and glared at him, “I wasn’t the first.”

“That’s not fair,” Shawn’s words were cold, “There was proof that you could’ve been––”

“Could’ve been what?” You reached up into the cabinet to grab a tea bag, “Cheating on you? Unfaithful? In a relationship with another man––”

“Stop!” He yelled as he pressed his palms against his head, eyes shut tight.  He’d been tortured with the thought of you being with someone else while he was away, he didn’t want to imagine it even more, “Jessie told me that it wasn’t fair to not let you––”

“Oh, so you listened to her and not me?” You shot back at him, forgetting about your tea. “Should I be worried about that?  Hm?  You and Jessie––”

“Now you’re just being over dramatic,” Shawn rolled his eyes.

You felt the anger bubble up in the pit of your stomach like the tea that started to lowly whistle, “No,” you raised your voice to match his, “being over dramatic was taking off your fucking ring––”

“I put it back on!” Shawn yelled as he held up his hand again, pointing to the ring on his finger, “I put it back on for you––”

“That’s rich,” you laughed out, “Because if you hadn’t dodged my calls you wouldn’t have taken it off in the first place.”

He clenched his jaw, “Well, if you didn’t sound like you didn’t want me to come home we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“If I…” Your voice cracked as you thought back to all the times Ethan made advances on you, where he made you feel uncomfortable, and it was as if you were transported to your last lesson.

With a deep breath, all anger you felt towards your husband disappeared.  You were now more sad than anything else.  Sad that he wasn’t taking time to listen about how those pictures came about.

You repeated yourself with a sniffle, “If I…” you had to pause again, feeling your throat close up because if he wasn’t taking the time to listen for the second time around, would he ever listen to anything?  

“I didn’t know how to tell you about him––How––How uncomfortable he made me feel––”

The rigidness behind his voice cut you off, “I’m your husband, you can come to me with anything, and if he made you uncomfortable, why didn’t you just change instructors?”

“Why didn’t I––What?” The shakiness of your voice was covered up by the tea kettle that was now whistling out of control, “Change instructors––He––Do you even care what he did?”

“That’s not the––”

You brought your left hand up to cover your mouth, you had cried too many times in front of him and you were tired of him not listening to you, “Leave.”

Shawn shook his head, “Y/n, I’m not leaving––”

You felt your chin wobble as you shook your head, vision starting to cloud from the build up of tears in your eyes, “Go––I––I want you to leave.”

He took a step forward, reaching a hand out to comfort you, but the last thing you wanted was for him to comfort you.  

Noticing you recoiling from his touch, he reached over to turn the stove off and poured the hot water into the mug, “I don’t––I’m not home for much longer,” his voice was desperate as he set the kettle back down on the stove top, “I’m home for three more days––Don’t––Please come home.”

You shook your head, “I don’t––You––Leave.”

He stood firmly in place, “Not without you––”

“Go!” You shouted through your tears as you pointed at the door, “I can’t be around you-–you.”  Shawn continued to shake his head, his eyes filling up with tears as you pleaded with him to leave you alone.  

Your next words were cruel, you were taking advantage of how scared he was to lose you, but that didn’t matter to you.  All you wanted was to be alone.

“If you don’t leave now,” your voice had softened but the edge was still there as tears continued to run down your face, “I don’t know what that’ll mean for our marriage.”

He didn’t move an inch, challenging your words, but you kept eye contact with him.  You wanted him to know that you were serious––serious about how him not leaving would be detrimental to your marriage––But in all honesty, you were bluffing.  You didn’t want your marriage to end as much as he didn’t.  But right now…You couldn’t be in the same room as the man you married.

His eyes were wide, not believing the ultimatum you gave him, but he didn’t want to lose you forever.  He took a step toward you, but when you shut your eyes at his movement, his heart broke and he knew the best thing to do was give you what you wanted.  And that was space.  

Your eyes stayed shut as you heard his footsteps grow further away.  You finally opened your eyes when you heard the door close.  Even with how you continuously cried for days, your eyes were not out of tears.

 You felt a new wave of sobs take over your body as you sat on the kitchen floor crying your eyes out with your tea abandoned on the counter.

///

You didn’t go back home and Shawn left for tour again.  

He would be gone for two months until he got the chance to return home to Canada.  It might’ve been selfish of you to ignore his plea for you to return home to him, it would no doubt cause him more stress than usual on tour, but for your sanity you knew returning home would only cause another argument.

You stayed with Jessie for a week longer before coming to the conclusion that you needed to return home.  While your home wouldn’t be complete until Shawn returned, you needed to be back in that space.

Walking into the home for the first time in a few weeks was strange.  It was eerily quiet, but everything looked in place, if not more clean than what you were used to.  Jessie told you that she had seen dishes stacked up in the sink among other things thrown around, so you were glad Shawn had the decency to clean up before he left.

Standing in the doorway, you looked at the bay window you sat in when Shawn returned home that afternoon.  And like a movie, it was as if you could see the whole fight play out; Shawn throwing the tabloid at your feet and then screaming at one another.  The vile words he said to you still hurt to think about, so you looked away from the window that made you fall in love with the apartment.

You slowly walked further into the apartment and everything you saw held a memory.  In the kitchen you saw Shawn trying to distract you from cooking as he did a terrible dance.  In the living room, you saw the couch and thought about the countless times you’d fallen asleep on each other in the middle of a movie.  And in the corner, where there was a little bookshelf and chairs to relax in, you saw yourself reading a book as Shawn sat in the chair opposite of you, trying to perfect a song’s chorus.

Everything coming back in waves was too much, but only a few tears leaked from your eyes.  Most of the memories that came back to you were happy.  They were full of laughter and smiles––Just like how your marriage had been.  They always say how the first fight is the worst, but you didn’t think it could get any worse than this.

Finding yourself in your bedroom, you flicked the lights on, and immediately changed into sweatpants and one of Shawn's shirts.  Part of you wished you returned home before he left, but you knew you weren’t emotionally ready for that.  So you opted for one of his t-shirts to bring you his comfort as he was halfway across the world from you.

You peeled back the covers on his side of the bed, slowly getting under, and bringing the sheets up to your chin.  You buried your head into his pillow and that’s when you lost it.  What if by being selfish and not coming home you had wrecked your marriage? You were both angry, but Shawn took a lot of things to heart, and there was no doubt you knew he felt absolutely crushed that you didn’t return home.

As if he knew you were thinking of him, your phone rang, and you saw the ridiculous selfie he took on your phone when he was nineteen.  You wanted to swipe and answer the call.  You wanted to hear his voice.  But you were scared that he would actually confirm your worst fears and say that your marriage was over.

You screened the call, and right when you were about to put your phone down and cry into his pillow more, his contact picture lit up your screen again.

With a shaky breath, you tried your best to push all your fears down as you answered the call, “Sh––Shawn?”

“Y/n,” he breathed out your name with a sigh of relief, “I––I’m so glad you picked up.”

You nodded your head against the pillow and whimpered, “I––Yeah––I––Sh––Shawn––I––”

“Please don’t leave me,” he shakily breathed out the sentence in one breath, “I don’t know––I––” You could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m such an asshole and this––You––I love you and I can’t––” You heard an ugly sob from the other end of the phone as he whispered out the best he could, “Please––please don’t leave me.”

You felt all of your fears disappear as you let out a little cry of relief, “I love you too.”

“We––We can talk––You can talk,” he corrected himself and it caused you to laugh a little, “When I get home?”

You nodded your head and for the first time, in a long time, you smiled, “I’ll be waiting.”

///

Nearly two months later, you were making yourself a cup of tea as you awaited Shawn’s arrival.  Even though the two of you talked almost every night, conversation was still strained with how you last saw each other; you shouting at him to leave threatening that your marriage could be over if he didn’t.  It was a heavy note to leave off on, but the two of you brushed it under the rug as you would recount what you did during your day and he told you about the show he had performed.

You were nervous––more nervous than you were on your first date with him––but you tried to push those feelings away.  He was your husband.  You both loved each other endlessly.  And it did ease your anxiety a bit knowing that your marriage wasn’t going to end after this conversation.

The sound of a key unlocking your door caused your heart rate to spike as you threw away your tea bag.  He was home and it was time to really talk.

Much like the ill fated day he came home without his ring, he rolled in a small carry-on suitcase and had a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.  The first thing your eyes went to was his left hand, and even though you had seen it in every picture of him performing on stage, it still brought a smile to your face seeing it on his hand.  While his left sock was raised higher than the right sock, and his t-shirt was still wrinkled, you noticed his hair was a little shorter.

“Did you get a haircut?”

Shawn dropped his duffle bag with a smile as he rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen, “Do you like it?”  

You nodded your head with a smile as you passed him a freshly made cup of tea as your hands circled your own cup, “Your curls look more tame.”

Shawn laughed into his tea before he took a sip and placed the mug down.  He exhaled a deep breath, tapping his fingers on the sides of the mug like he was playing piano, and gave you a worrisome look, “Can I––Can I hug you?”

Your shoulders dropped at how uncertain he sounded.  But then again, it had been months since you last touched him.  The last time you touched him was before he left for tour the first time; before he took off his ring.

“Yeah,” you croaked out with a nod.

Within a matter of seconds, Shawn’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, hugging you like it was one of his last moments on Earth.  You circled your arms around his waist and your body was immediately flooded with the warmth of his chest.  It had been so long since you had any form of physical contact with him that you almost forgot what a simple hug felt like.

And it was something you never wanted to go months without again.

Shawn pressed a kiss to the top of your head, which made you feel giddy on the inside, before he slightly pulled away, “I––I won’t say a thing,” he whispered as he rubbed his hands up and down your back, “But I think we need to talk.”

The giddiness you felt dissipated and your insides now felt queasy.  You wanted to forget that the past few months had happened.  You tried your best to block it from your memory, but Shawn was right, you needed to talk in order to move forward in your marriage.

So you talked and Shawn didn’t utter a single word.  You explained how Jessie thought cooking lessons would be a good idea to distract you from missing Shawn, how the advances Ethan first made were a joke here and there, but then he started paying more attention to you.  He became hyperfixtated on the way you cut vegetables and how––If you change this and follow me, he would say before lightly touching you and directing your hand movements, you’ll have what you need––trying to add a double meaning to his words.

You could see Shawn’s jaw clench a few times as his knuckles would turn white from how tight he was holding the mug.  While you knew he didn’t like what he was hearing, you were appreciative that he was listening instead of arguing with you like the last time.

“And um––Yeah––So That’s––Yeah.”  You rambled off as you went to touch your wrist that Ethan harshly grabbed a few months ago.  And even though the grease burns on your back were healed, you still felt the itch of them as if they happened yesterday.

After a brief moment of silence, Shawn closed his eyes and let an aggravated breath out through his nostrils, “He…He touched you.”

You nodded your head as you took a sip of your tea, wanting to delay any sort of response for as long as you could, “Yeah,” But with his eyes staring into yours, you knew he wasn’t going to let you skip over any detail, “Those, um––That picture in the magazine…That’s when the grease spilled on my back.”

Shawn rubbed his hands over his eyes, he was no doubt exhausted from traveling, and it probably didn’t do him any good hearing this story, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

What was different than before the times you tried to talk to him about this, his voice wasn’t accusatory;  It was careful.  Careful in the sense that he didn’t want you to think he was upset with you.  Because the situation wasn’t your fault and he knew that.  

“You’re already so stressed with your job,” you looked down into your empty mug, “I didn’t want to add any stress.”

Shawn reached his hand across the counter and unwrapped one of your hands from your mug.  He laced your fingers together and held your hand tightly, “I’m your husband,” he weakly smiled at you, “The music, touring, writing––None of that is a real job––My my job to worry about you.”

While he sounded a bit defeated, you knew that he meant well.  You knew that he was only upset with himself because you were scared to go to him with something that made you uncomfortable.  He always wanted to be your person to go to whenever you felt yourself in a weird situation, and in this instance, he thought that he failed at that part of being your husband.

So you squeezed his hand back in reassurance, “I know you’re not going to forget about this,” he raised an eyebrow at you because you knew he was never going to forget this disastrous fight or forget about what Ethan did to you, “But for now, can we forget about it and take a nap?”

With a shake of his head, he let out a chuckle, “You’re right that I’m not going to forget about this,” he said as he lifted your connected hands over your mug as he pulled you out of the kitchen and down to your bedroom, “But a nap sounds fantastic.”

And for the first time in months, you walked to your bedroom with a lovesick smile on your face, trailing behind the man you fell in love with more every day you shared together.

///

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” You laughed as you tightened your hold around Shawn’s arm, “This isn’t fair!”

“It’s a surprise,” he smirked as he continued to lead the way down the streets of Toronto.  

It was a peaceful day in the capital city of Ontario.  The sun was shining, birds chirping, and you were arm-in-arm with your husband.  He had just finished the last leg of his world tour and you couldn’t be more proud of everything he accomplished.  Luckily enough, you were able to join him on tour for the last two months, and spent your first wedding anniversary in Napa, California the day before his show in Sacramento.

It was definitely an ideal way to spend your first year married to Shawn––drinking wine––And everyone congratulated you on getting through what was dubbed to be the “hardest” year of marriage.  That was the understatement of the century. And both you and Shawn would always brush off everyone joking about it because they didn’t know how hard of a year it really was.  

The whole debacle with the tabloid magazine was mostly swept under the rug, and you just told your families and the people on Shawn’s team he was closest to, that it was just a misunderstanding; A tabloid that took things way out of proportion. The only people who really knew how devastating the year had been was you, Shawn, and Jessie.

Sometimes there would be a thought in the back of your head about how detrimental another fight like that could be to your marriage.  But you always tried to shut those thoughts down as soon as possible and just focus on the good things in your life.  And right now, that was Shawn leading you to a surprise location, because he thought the two of you needed another anniversary celebration.  

“I––I’ll…” Your voice trailed off as you walked down the familiar strip of shops, “After you’ve fallen asleep, I’ll take your socks off.”

Shawn threw his head back in laughter at your poor attempt to get him to spill the surprise, “Impossible because you always fall asleep before me.”

“Fair,” you let out a sigh, “I still think it’s weird you sleep with socks on.”

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that.”

“It’s just,” you squeezed his bicep, at a loss of words, “infuriating.”

Shawn smiled brightly down at you before quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek, “But you still married me.”

With a roll of your eyes you softly hit him in the stomach, “Yeah, yeah…” But when you turned a corner, you knew why these shops were so familiar, and you almost stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, “What are we––Shawn?”

He looked back at you with a sheepish smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

“Shawn,” you hesitantly said his name again, “What're you planning?”

Again, he shrugged his shoulders, “You know how terrible I am in the kitchen,” he glanced back at the place where you took your cooking lessons when he was away on tour.  And for a moment, the playfulness dropped from his face as he seriously looked into your eyes, “If you’re not comfortable going back in there, we can always get coffee across the street.”

You mentally made a pros and cons list in your mind.  You hadn’t been in the place you received your cooking lessons since you stormed out of there.  And as far as you knew, Ethan still worked there, which made your skin crawl.  But you were with Shawn.  Shawn would be by your side the whole time.  And you were curious to see what he had up his sleeve.

“I mean…I’m fine with it,” your voice wavered.  He raised his eyebrows, silently asking you if you were actually fine to go back in there, because he didn’t want to push you with something you weren’t 100-percent on.  So you cleared your throat and repeated yourself, “I’m fine going in, but…I think he’s supposed to be teaching today?”

A wicked smile spread across Shawn’s face, “Three o’clock couple’s cooking class with Ethan Anguis.”

Your mouth dropped and you couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh, “You did not.”

Shawn smirked, “I do believe we have to check-in in ten minutes before we lose my deposit.”

You shook your head because you could not believe how ridiculous your husband was, “Lead the way.”

With a gleam of mischief in his eyes, he smiled as he bent over with his arm stretched out as he opened the door for you.  You let out another laugh as he followed you into the familiar classroom.  You were standing behind a few other couple’s but once you heard his voice, your hand instinctively gripped onto Shawn’s tighter.

He looked down at you, again, silently asking you if you were comfortable with this.  You nodded, and before you knew it, you were face-to-face with the man who had caused your marriage to be hell for a few months.  

Ethan was looking down at the check-in book, not realizing you were in front of him, before Shawn cleared his throat, “Mr. and Mrs. Mendes.”

His head shot up as he ignored Shawn’s presence entirely and only had eyes for you.  You shifted closer into Shawn’s side as Ethan sent a smile your way, “Y/n, it’s nice to see you––”

“Do you always refer to your student’s by their first name?” Shawn didn’t hide the malice in his voice, he wanted Ethan to know that you were just a student. 

Ethan’s eyes darted to Shawn for a brief second, before his eyes flickered down to your hands clasped together, and you swore you saw him glaring at your hands before he tried to compose himself before answering Shawn’s question, “She––I’ve had her in class before.”

“Then you should be used to calling her Mrs. Mendes.”

Ethan’s eyes hardened at the protectiveness of Shawn’s words as he nodded his head once, “We’ll be at table six––”

Shawn stepped forward until his lower stomach was basically toppling over the weak wooden podium, “If you do anything to make her feel uncomfortable again,” his low and threatening voice sent a shiver down your spine as he insinuated what he had done in the past, “I swear you’ll never work in a restaurant in Toronto again.”

You noticed how Ethan’s jaw clenched as his face began to turn red.  You didn’t know if it was red out of embarrassment or anger, but you didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“We’ll be at table six,” you said as you dragged Shawn by the hand.

You made it to your table and you couldn’t help but smile up at Shawn who had a proud smirk on his face, “What are you doing?”

The two of you sat down on the barstools as you waited for everyone else to get checked in.  Shawn moved his stool closer to yours so that you could sit side-by-side, thighs touching, as he threw an arm over your shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, “Just tryna cause a little trouble.”

You rolled your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder, “I love you.”

Shawn smiled brightly down, “And I love you,” his attention was briefly pulled away when Ethan called out that the lesson would be beginning shortly.  When he returned his gaze back down to you, he smiled softly, noticing that your eyes had never left him, “With all my heart.”

taglist: @fallinallincurls @alina--jpeg @adelaidestreets @5-seconds-of-mendes @particularnarry @now-that-i-saw-u @turtoix​ @shawnsmutal @vinylmendes @mendesficsxbombay @lights-on-mendes @illuminatepotter @shawnmendez @thatkidwhodreams 

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 23*

WHOO, y'all. I don't know what it is about this story but I am just...rolling it all out with the tragic backstory. No angst, I promise-- It ends happy chill out. But damn. Maybe I'm working out my own issues in here...lulz.

This gif will make so much sense you have no idea.

PART 22

Part 24

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

------

“....And how did that make you feel?”

You tried not to laugh out loud as the question left Dr. Crestview’s mouth. Did she really just ask you that?

“...I mean it makes me ‘feel’ bad,” You rolled your eyes with a laugh while looking out the window. When you turned back to the doctor she was not laughing, and she was writing something down.

“...That was a joke,” You clarified.

“Oh yes, I get it,” She nodded as she continued writing.

“Do you?” You asked her frankly. The question caused her to stop writing and look at you.

“Mrs. Barba--”

“Ms. YLN,” You corrected. “I’m not married yet,”

“...Hmm, interesting,” She wrote something down. Seriously? She even had an insight on what-- technicalities?

“I’m sorry, was that some sort of test?” You asked sarcastically.

“Actually, it was,” She said to your surprise.

“Excuse me?” You looked at her, baffled.

“You know when most women get engaged, they start imagining their last names as their husbands. You know such as changing their signature, gathering documents, and the like,”

“...Are you serious?” You laughed again. “This is 2021 lady, half the women I know didn’t even take their husband’s last name at all,”

“And is that what you’re going to do?” She asked. “Keep your last name?”

“...If I say yes are you going to psychoanalyze that too?” You crossed your arms.

“In my experience Ms. Y/L/N, women who don’t want to change their last names tend to do so because they want to keep their independence, their…’identity’. They think taking a man’s last name is ‘giving up’ something. Giving up their identity,” She explained.

“...And?” You gestured with your hand as if waiting for her to continue.

“And in my educated opinion, it also signifies a woman going into a marriage with one foot out of the door already,” She simply stated.

“Wow,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Did I come here to resolve my trauma, or for marriage advice?”

“I think they’re one and the same, Ms. Y/L/N,” She stayed completely calm and emotionless.

“Are they?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Given what you’ve told me in our last few sessions, you’ve given off a tone that you don’t think you deserve good things. Maybe you’re keeping on foot out of your relationship so that when it falls apart, you’ll be ready,”

“Wow....wow,” You started to stand up and storm out of the office, but she stopped you with a question.

“I’m sorry if I offended you with my observation Y/N, but be honest. Am I wrong?”

You thought about all the talks you had with Rafael about ‘not being good enough’ for him, or ‘stealing his love’. And on the one hand you felt that you were ‘connected’, you felt safe and secure. After everything you’d been through, it was almost impossible not to be, right? Right?

“....And what is your magic solution to this feeling, doctor?” You crossed your arms.

“You need to forgive yourself,”

“...Jesus Christ,” You rolled your eyes with another laugh as you paced the room. “Really? That’s your solution? Telling me something I already know?”

“No, my solution is this: You need to apologize to your parents,”

“EXCUSE ME?” You practically screamed.

“You blame yourself for their death, correct? You think that because of their desire to make you happy they risked their lives driving into the city and therefore got into their accident,” She looked over her notes from past sessions with you.

“...Right,” You looked down at the floor.

“And I don’t think that you have ever forgiven yourself for that. And in not doing so, you haven’t forgiven yourself for anything you’ve done since then. All these things you say you’ve ‘done’ to Mr. Barba that you should be ‘punished’ for-- he doesn’t see it that way. Other people don’t see it that way. Your parents' accident wasn’t your own doing, getting kidnapped wasn’t your fault. I think that you need to find closure with your parent’s death before you can even begin to ‘forgive’ yourself for whatever transpired between you and Nevada Ramirez,”

“....So you want me to apologize to my parents? How are they going to ‘forgive’ me?” You asked her.

“I think you’ll find Ms. Y/L/N that just the act of apologizing will bring about its own form of forgiveness,” She smiled.

“.....Right…” You tried not to sound condescending, but for a shrink she sure sounded crazy.

“Or don’t listen to me, I can’t force you to do anything. But that is my advice,” She shrugged.

“Noted. Thank you, doctor,” You nodded and walked out the door.

----

You walked out into the streets of the city from your doctor’s office and thinking about just how or when you’d have a chance to go to your hometown where your parents were, when you were stopped by a young girl on the street.

“Oh my god...you’re Y/N!” She gasped.

“...Yes?” You stared at her blankly.

“You’re that girl who killed Nevada Ramirez!” She squealed, causing a few people to stare and take pictures of you as they walked past.

“Oh good lord…” You muttered nervously. “Yeah well um--”

“Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Um--” You looked around, not sure of what to do. You wanted to run down the street screaming, but you thought better of it. You turned back to her with the fakest smile you could form.

“Sure!” You threw an arm around her and smiled as big as you could as she snapped a selfie with her phone.

“Thanks!” She beamed at you. “ And by the way, your fiancé is REALLY sexy,”

“Oh girl I know,” You faked a laugh and a toss of your hair as she walked away with a laugh.

It really creeped you out that girls were ‘fangirling’ over your fiancé. As if you weren’t worried about keeping a hold of him all on your own. Also how did she even know what he looked like?

The article.

You grabbed your phone and did something you told yourself you’d never do: You googled yourself.

The first thing that popped up was an article on the NYTimes.com front page:

“Fairy Tale Romance Or Horror Movie?”

...What the fuck?

The article contained your video as the main focus. Then under it the article basically dictated the video, with Tasha’s opinions thrown in here and there. Then most of the photos from the photoshoot of you and Rafael were at the bottom of the page. They were gorgeous, you had to admit. Granted you were both airbrushed to hell, but Rafael in a suit drove you nuts. Even if it was just on a screen. You dialed his number as you continued walking down the street.

“....Hola, mi amor. How is my pinguino feeling?”

“Well she’s currently feeling like she’s got the sexiest man in New York City,” You grinned.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” He asked you curiously.

“Check out the picture I’m texting you,” You grinned as you texted him one of the photos from the spread.

“Oh Christ…” You heard him mutter through the phone, causing you to giggle.

“Oh yes, you even have your own fangirls now,” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No I do NOT,” He argued in disbelief.

“Yeah I’d be careful leaving your office there counselor, a group of tweens might be waiting outside,”

“Oh my god...they’re breaching the doors!” He acted terrified, making you laugh harder.

“Oh I think I see one,” You whispered as if you were sneaking up on someone. “She’s holding a ‘Barba 4Eva’ poster board,”

“You better be kidding,” He warned.

“No, in fact I think she’s right outside your door,” You bit your tongue with a smile.

“Oh well I’d better call security then,” He chuckled as he sauntered over to his office door and swung it open.

“Oh my Gooodddddddd it’s Rafael Barba!!! The sexiest ADA in New York City!!” You giggled wildly, jumping into his arms like a crazed fan.

“I should definitely look into some armed guards at my door,” He laughed as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Oh most definitely, wouldn’t want to let the crazies in,” You nodded as you kissed him again.

“Well I think it’s too late for that…” He teased you while tousling your hair.

“Shut up,” You playfully hit his hands away.

“Speaking of crazy, how was therapy today mi amor?” He asked cheekily.

Wowwwww, sexy AND sensitive, how did I get so lucky?” You rolled your eyes. “Actually, she gave me homework,”

“Did she?” He inquired.

“Yes,” You suddenly got very serious. “She um, she told me I need to go see my parents,”

“...Your parents?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, something about needing to ‘apologize’ to them or some weird shrink thing like that,”

“....Do you think it will help?”

“I mean...” You sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. But I’d like to try,”

“Bueno,” He nodded walking closer to you and kissing the top of your head. “So are you going to go now or--?”

“Well I was kind of hoping you’d come with me,” You bit your lip. You didn’t know if asking him to come along on your shrink homework assignment was allowed, but you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Maybe that was the point.

“Really?”

“I mean, I met your family,” You half laughed, trying to make light.

“Right,” He nodded his head with a chuckle. “Well then, let’s go,”

“...Now?”

“Why not?” He started to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you have a job?” You pointed to his desk.

“Oh they just like to pay me to sit in here so nobody robs the place,” He joked as he grabbed his coat. “I have nothing going on today baby, they won’t miss me.”

“Okay then,” You shrugged uneasily. “Guess we’re going to Jersey,”

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

After a train ride and a taxi later, you arrived in your small town of Shallow Meadow.

“Christ Almighty, I knew Jersey was in the dark ages, but not even having Uber??” Rafael grumbled. He hadn’t been in the back of a dirty cab in such a long time, and now he remembered why.

“Alright Daddy Warbucks, chill,” You laughed as you started walking with him through town.

It was a quaint little town; one stop light, one grocery store, two bars, something out of an old movie really You know the movies where the car breaks down in the tiny shitty town and all the townspeople are flesh eating zombies or something. The people of Shallow Meadow were pretty much like that. Well, to you anyway.

“So why didn’t we just have the Mayberry Express drop us at the cemetery?”

“...Because we don’t have roads you can drive on up there,” You answered with a nervous smile.

“...Right,” He shook his head as he noticed people coming out of shops to stare at the two of you. “...Do I have some kind of weird sign on my back that says NEW YORKER or what?”

“No, but that thousand dollar suit screams “moneybags” out here,” You smirked. “Besides, they’re not staring at you they’re staring at me,”

“...What? How do you know that?”

As if it was answering his question, a girl with bright red hair dressed in farm clothing and holding a baby on her hip came sauntering up to the two of you.

“Well lookie here,” She smirked. “Miss Prissy Pants brought back herself a Prissy Papa,”

“Excuse you?” Rafael was taken aback by such rudeness by such a poorly dressed person.

“Marla back off,” You scowled at her. “Just because you’re upset I found treasure and you’re stuck with trash--”

“OH, is that what we are now? Trash?” Marla spat. “You have a lot of nerve coming back here and saying that, murderer,”

“WHOA,” Rafael stepped in front of you. “I’m sorry, what-- what did you just call her?”

“Did she not tell you the story? Oh no wait I bet she did, her version. The version where she’s the victim and we’re all just the villains. Isn’t that right, Prissy?” She glared at you.

“...I never said you were--” You tried defending yourself.

“Really?” She scoffed. “Then why did you not even bother to show up to your folks’ funeral? Their ONLY daughter, the ones they DIED for. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave her high rise in the city to pay respects to the parents she KILLED,”

“It wasn’t like that and you KNOW it, Marla! And why was I going to come back? The only two people left in this town that tolerated me were gone--” You got up in her face.

“AND WHY IS THAT, Y/N?” She got back in yours, her baby almost falling out of her arms.

“Alright lady I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to back the hell off my fiancée--”

“Oh good God, your fiancé?” Marla laughed. “You would find yourself a sugar daddy, since you killed yours,”

“Alright you know what we’re leaving--” You grabbed Rafael’s hand and stomped away towards a huge hill that had a sign reading “CEMETERY” at the top.

“I hope you’re heading up there to beg their forgiveness Y/N, ‘cuz you sure as hell ain’t getting any down here!” Marla yelled angrily after you.

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

“...Well I think we just figured out where your forgiveness issues came from,” Rafael tried making light of the situation.

“Ya think?” You nodded.

“This whole time,” Rafael shook his head. “This whole time I thought you just had it in your mind that you were responsible for their death. But-- but you had an entire town telling you that,”

“...Yeah,” You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, baby?” Rafael took your hand as the hill got steeper.

“Because I thought they were right, Rafael!” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I tell you that an entire town thought that I was a murderer? That’s not really a selling point on a partner,”

“...You thought they were right?”

“...Well, yeah,” You nodded softly with a small smile.

“And now…?”

Before you could answer, you reached the entrance of the cemetery. Luckily it wasn’t that big; you were ashamed to admit you didn’t even know where they were buried. But you found them in a small corner under a shade tree. You walked up to their mutual headstone:

“Y/M/N AND Y/D/N: Beloved Husband And Wife, Mayor and First Lady.”

“...Mayor?” Rafael looked at you in surprise.

“Yeah, well--” You shrugged. “You see why they were so beloved, and I was the hellish daughter that killed them?”

“Y/N…” Rafael put a hand on your shoulder.

“I was supposed to want to ‘take over the city’, like I would ever want to be in charge of anything in this stupid backwards hick ass town,” You scoffed angrily, tears stinging your eyes.

“...But didn’t you say that your parents wanted you to go to Juliard? Pursue your dreams?” Rafael asked in confusion.

“They did! My grandparents-- they had a different view,” You shook your head. “The...the hierarchy here it’s-- well it’s not really a democracy,”

“...How so…?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Because everyone just loved and accepted my family as, I don’t know, the ‘royal’ family?” You felt so stupid comparing your family to the Royal Family, but you didn’t know how else to explain it.

“The Mayor and First Lady titles were just...passed down, in my family. And not because they were dictators or something,” You quickly added the last part, you didn’t want Rafael to think any less of your family than he probably already did.

“People here are just...simple,” You sighed. “They accept things the way they are, they hate change. So it was just assumed that my family would always be... "the family’,”

“But you didn’t want that,” Rafael said again.

“Of course I didn’t want that!” You scoffed. “I didn’t want to just get a high school degree and then marry some ‘Cletus’ redneck man from here and have ‘heirs’ just to keep the family going!”

“But your parents understood that,” Rafael reiterated.

“It didn’t matter what my parents did or didn’t understand. My grandfather had more clout with the townspeople here,” You rolled your eyes. “My dad was the ‘mayor’, but his dad controlled everything. His father had been the mayor for over thirty years before he passed it onto my dad, who didn’t really want it either” You walked up to the headstone and ran your fingers over your father’s name.

“....So when he tried to ‘save’ me from that life, my grandpa wouldn’t hear it. He blamed me for...for manipulating them into giving me anything I wanted, like I was a spoiled little child. He blamed me for them giving me their life savings to go to Julliard instead of putting it back into the town treasury. Then he blamed me when they got killed, and he just reinstated himself as mayor! Which, I haven’t checked but I’ll be damned if he isn’t still rattling around his old ass bones in our house! He’ll just haunt this place forever!” You threw your hands up and looked down angrily at the town down below.

“Carino…” Rafael came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You took his hands in yours and kissed them before turning to face him. You looked into his sparkling green understanding eyes for a moment, before directing your attention back at the headstone.

“....This is Rafael Barba, mama and daddy,” You pulled him gently forward. “We’re getting married soon,”

“...Nice to meet you folks,” Rafael said awkwardly.

“...Raffi they’re dead,” You smiled jokingly.

“Right, right,” He shook his head with a small laugh.

“...He’s a very good man, daddy. I know you always wanted that. And he’s very handsome, so you’ll have beautiful grandchildren mama, just like you wanted,” You smiled while Rafael softly chuckled.

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” You finally said with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I should have been here sooner,”

“But you’re here now,” Rafael softly rubbed your back.

“Yeah…” You nodded softly. This was the hard part.

“...I’m---I’m sorry, that I made you feel like horrible parents that night,” You tried not to cry, but the memories of that night flooded your memory the more you spoke.

“I’m sorry that you thought you needed to come see me, that you weren’t good parents if you didn’t,” Your lip trembled, you fell to your knees.

“...I’m sorry the last words you heard from me were ‘I hate you’,” You finally broke down sobbing.

“Y/N…” Rafael knelt down next to you and held you in his arms as you cried.

“Do you get now why...why I don’t think I deserve you? Why don't I think I deserve anything? Why I think I have to take everything? Fake everything? Because I am such a terrible person my own parents died thinking I hated them because I was that horrible to them!”

“They didn’t think you hated them, carino,” Rafael rocked you back and forth. “They knew you loved them, I know they did,”

“You know you’re probably right, Rafael. But it--I needed them to hear it,” You nodded at the gravestone.

“And?”

“...And I feel a lot better,” You smiled as Rafael wiped tears from your face.

“Really?”

“Yeah…Really,” You chuckled. “I guess that therapist really knows what she’s doing,”

“She should for the amount of money I pay her,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh as he helped you stand up.

“...Thank you for doing this with me, amor,” You sniffled, pressing your forehead against his.

“Of course, penguino,” He kissed you softly. “And, for what it’s worth--” He added as you two walked back down the hill towards town.

“I think that if your parents were alive, they would be proud of you,”

“Oh, I know my mother would take one look at you and be DAMN proud,” You both laughed at that.

“And I also think they would be appalled to see how their townspeople treat their daughter,” He glared at the town.

“Yeah well,” You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He took your hands as the sun started to go down in your sleepy little town. “Now can we please get back to the city before I catch something out here?”

“Yes,” You giggled, staring at him lovingly.

“Let’s go home,”

[whynotwinnie]

Timida part 3: Roger Taylor x OC

sorry it took so long college is kicking my ass rn but thank you for all the support y’all have given me i’m going to start writing the next part rn thank y’all - bennie <3

T/w: body dysmorphia, talks of anxiety and depression, cussing

MICKEY

Throughout the night you woke up a total of 4 times getting frustrated you sat up and stared at the clock 4:13 in the afternoon. You flopped back on the bed, you should’ve gone to bed earlier.

You swung your legs to the edge of your bed and hopped down popping your back as you made your way to your shower. You turned on the hot water and let it run while you stripped yourself of your clothes. You turned yourself toward the mirror staring at your body, oh it was going to be one of those days. You turned from side to side checking your figure and felt the tears start to form in your eyes. 

You stepped into your shower and started to cry while the hot water hit your back. You always got these weird mood swings where you felt like shit and wanted to hide from the world, you would say these mood swings happened at least once a week. You know you probably needed some type of help for it but as of right now you didn’t have the time or the funds to deal with that. 

You spent a little extra time in the shower resulting in the hot water running out and turning freezing cold. You groaned and turned it off grabbing a towel to dry your body, when you were leaving the restroom you made sure to avoid looking in the mirror. 

You grabbed a different big t-shirt to use as pajamas and threw on a random pair of house shorts and headed to your work area to finish whatever orders you didn’t start on last night.

Making quick work with the simple alterations you sat bored after folding the last article of clothing nicely. You got up from your desk and walked around your small apartment trying to find something to keep you occupied until it was time to call Roger.

Deciding you should make an early dinner you went to your kitchen area in your flat. The flat itself was small and the only way you could describe it was tolerable. It was one bed, one bathroom flat the only reason why you ended up signing your lease was that it was cheap and had an open living room area so you can set up all your work stuff there. But that also meant that your living room was always a mess with scrap fabric on the floor, 2 working mannequins plus the broken one being propped up by the wall, your huge old sewing machine that was way too loud, and a wardrobe that you found on the street that you cleaned and kept some spare fabric and clothes in.

You decided that you were going to make chicken and rice, you would’ve had beans but you ran out a week ago and never got the time to go get groceries. As you seasoned your chicken you made a promise to yourself that you would go get groceries tomorrow. 

Then your phone rang.

“Shit,” you said while you left your chicken on the stove, quickly checking the time before you answered 6:05 it seemed too early for it to be Roger.

“Hello?” you said to the phone wondering who it could be.

“Mickey?”

“Oh hey Roger, I wasn’t expecting you to call this early,” 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” he signed into the receiver “Remember when I told you yesterday how we had a really good practice, well today was shit.”

“I’m sorry about that Roger, what happened?”

“Well, Brian and I couldn’t get on the same page to save our lives he kept insisting that there needed to be a guitar solo in every fucking song when there really shouldn’t.” 

He kept his rant going for a few minutes talking about solos and songs you just tried to keep up with the names and strange vocabulary he was using. It wasn’t until you started to smell burning when you remembered your chicken on the stove.

“Fucking shit hold on Roger.” you dropped the phone and ran to the chicken taking the pan off the burner. The chicken was black on the bottom and stuck to the pan.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you did your best to scrape the chicken in the trash but some stayed stuck you would have to deal with that later. You turned your rice off before that could burn too, you guess rice for dinner would do.

You threw the pan in the sink and turned on the water and watched the steam come off the pan, you never had this happen before you were a pretty good cook it came naturally after your mother made you help her cook for your whole family. But burning something if she could see you now she would be so disappointed, well she’s always disappointed in you nothing you could do to change that.

You turned off the water and went back to the phone.

“Hey sorry about that.” you sighed into the phone

“Is everything okay Mickey? You really had me worried.”

“Everything is fine now I had started making chicken right before you called and I didn’t keep an eye on it but now it’s burnt.” 

“This is all my fault, I bored you with all my stupid problems.”

“No, you didn’t! I should’ve known better.”

“You have to let me make it up to you.” 

You paused for a second. “Don’t be silly it’s just chicken.”

“Let me take you for dinner.”

“I- When?” you said softly

“Right now.”

You didn’t say anything, you weren’t ready or anything like that.

“Unless you don’t want to go that’s okay too.”

You panicked “No, I would love to it’s just that I look like a mess right now.”

“I bet you’re lying, I want to see you Mickey please let me take you for dinner. If not for me then for the poor chicken you just burned.”

You laughed. “Okay then.”

“Great, what’s your address I’ll pick you up.”

You stopped, was it smart to give him your address? No. 

“Or we can meet there Mickey. I’m fine with either.” 

You didn’t have a car, you knew how to drive and all that but after one time where your mom yelled at you for making too sharp of a turn you always got nervous when you got behind the wheel. So you walked or biked everywhere now. 

You decided to give him your address and in the worst-case scenario maybe Dayla would tell the police it was Roger who murdered you. But you doubt that would happen. He said he’ll be there in fifteen and that you didn’t live far from each other.

You rushed to get ready putting on black jeans and another t-shirt much like the same outfit you first saw him in except this time you decided to put on a little mascara and to fill in your eyebrows.

While you were tying your shoes you heard the buzzer “Hey Mick it’s Roger can you buzz me in?”

Your heart fluttered at the new nickname he had for you “Yeah Roger, I’ll meet you down there.” as you buzzed him in.

You practically ran to the elevator cursing it for taking so long and once it opened at the lobby you saw him there looking extremely good and with flowers in hand.

“Roger!” You called him over.

“Hey Mick, these are for you,” he said as he handed you a bouquet of carnation flowers.

“Thank you so much!” you said as you grabbed them he looked down at you and you leaned into him for a short embrace. 

“Would you like to come up for a bit so I can put these in water,” you asked hoping he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

“Yeah of course.”

You both took the elevator back to your floor in comfortable silence and then you walked him to your door.

“It’s a bit of mess right now and it still smells burnt.” You said as you opened the door.

He took a look around as he walked in “I like it.”

“You don’t have to lie Roger.” you laughed as you filled a vase with water.

“I’m not I like it, it’s cozy even with the burnt smell,” he said as he grinned at you.

“Please don’t remind me.” You groaned as you set the flower vase on the small dining table you had.

He laughed and walked toward your living room “Oh wow.”

“Yeah, that was the mess I was talking about.” you cringed at how it must look.

“This is where you work?” 

You shook your head yes.

He walked to the dress you made last night hanging on the mannequin.

“Did you do this?” he asked eyes wide. 

“Yeah.”

“Like you made it made it, not like hemmed it or anything,” he said not believing you.

“Yeah, look.” you flipped the back of the dress to show the custom made tags your aunt had made for you when you lived with her. The tag said “Luci’s Attire” it was the best idea you had at the time.

“Wow, this is really good Mickey like for real.”

You grinned at him it felt good being seen. 

“Thank you, Roger.” You smiled at him.

“Hey, before we go is it okay if I use your bathroom before we go?”

“Yeah of course.” You led him to the bathroom and told him you would be in the living room.

You decided to crack open a window to help get rid of the burnt smell feeling less nervous about hanging out with Roger. 

You both left your apartment building shoulders touching feeling the cool September air blow through your hair. He opened the door to his car with a huge smile on his face. You gave a soft thanks and sat in his car. 

The car itself was really nice probably the nicest car you have ever been in. The outside was painted in a sleek black and the inside leather was all red. You were honestly scared to touch anything so you kept your hands on your lap. Roger got in the driver’s seat and turned to you.

“Is it okay if we go to this place I know they serve the best Italian food.”

“The best?” you said with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, the best I had, actually maybe we should go somewhere else.” He said while reversing.

“No, I would like to go actually.” You said laughing

“I don’t think it’s a good idea now Mick-”

“Please Roger.” You said with a pleading voice.

He did a quick double-take at you and gave a small smile.

He turned the dial of his radio to change the channel.

“What kind of music do you like listening to?” he asked

“Can I be honest?” you said low

“Yes please.”

“I like American music.” You said laughing.

“AMERICAN MUSIC! Mickey you have got to be kidding me!”

“I’m sorry Roger I don’t know why I’m just obsessed with America for some reason.”

“Mickey we are probably living in the best era of music in Great Britain and you choose America. It’s simply not patriotic of you.” 

“Well, I’m not from the UK Roger! Also, I could’ve sworn you put on more of an accent than you really have on ” you said laughing

“I did not! Don’t change the subject either!”

“Yes, you did you said ‘Amerikah’ like you were the Queen herself.”

“Ok maybe but come on Mickey!”

“I like music from here too, the first song I heard that was in English was the Beatles.”

“And you think American music is better?!”

“Just purely because I have this fascination with America. And I do like music from here and Spain and Italy it has nothing to do with-”

“Alright alright alright, but I’ll show you some real music.”

He pulled into the Italian restaurant and of course, it was named “Giovanni’s Italian Restaurant” You almost rolled your eyes. 

“Let’s go,” he said with a smile as he opened your door for you.

Taglist <3: @johnricharddeacy

[toomanyfandoms02]

The Photographer // Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

So I made a one-shot based off of the picture down here!

Word count ~ 3.1k

Summary - y/n is a celebrity photographer, and Matthew's birthday is coming up. This calls for a birthday shoot.

Ever since I was in sixth grade, I dreamed of being a photographer. But back then, I was just taking candid pictures of my cat (Peanut Butter), and random flowers that my mom had graciously planted for me. I really never planned on taking nice, professional pictures of people.

But here I was.

I went to 'California College of Arts' in San Francisco for 4 years. After that, I had a bit of trouble getting myself out there. I had a decent following on my instagram. People liked the pictures of my dog, and the pictures of nature that I took on my many travels. But likes and follows don't get you money, at least not enough. So I switched my focus onto more interesting things.

Advertising yourself as a photographer wasn't an easy task. You had to be ruthless, and be willing to get rejected and not back down. So I did what any semi-sane person would do.

I messaged over 50 celebrities asking of they wanted to do a shoot with me. I sent them my prices, and what kinds of shoots I was willing to do. I didn't have much hope for it, but it was worth a try.

And that's where it began.

Out of all of the messages, Andrew Lincoln, AKA Rick from The Walking Dead messaged me back.

*Hello Miss y/l/n! I've actually seen quite a few of your nature shots and I have always wondered how your photos would turn out with people. I would love to be your Guinea Pig.*

He sent me days he was available and I did his shoot. After posting his pictures, my popularity shot from there.

That was a few years ago, I was now taking photos for multiple celebrities. I was ultimately known for my black and white shoots. I had, in fact, just gotten done with a shoot of A.J. Cook. She had requested *me* to take her pictures for an up and coming article that was being written about her. I, of course, gratefully said yes, being a huge fan of hers, along with the whole Criminal Minds cast.

I emailed her all of the pictures I had taken, edited and all, while simultaneously posting them on my instagram.

It was mere hours later before a notification popped up on my phone of an email that I could not believe. Theres no way that he was emailing me, right?

*You have an Email from Matthew Gray Gubler*

*Hi there! I saw your shoot on AJ's instagram and my birthday is coming up. My manager wants me to do a birthday shoot, and we both like your black and white style. I know it's not usually the kind of thing you, birthdays, do but I figured it was worth a shot, and I think you have some real talent. Let me know when you are free next. I am on a break so my schedule is relatively flexible.*

I could safely say that it was a good thing that I lived alone because I don't think I have ever screamed louder into a pillow. Matthew has been one of my favorite celebrities for the longest time. If we were going to be completely honest, once I started watching Criminal Minds, I immediately had a crush on him. This wasn't exactly the profession to be in if you were going to have a celebrity crush. I was often invited to red carpets and movie premiers, so I met quite a few stars. I never thought I would have to worry about slipping up on my professionalism.

Because I never thought I would even meet him.

My obvious answer to his request was yes. I would never *ever* miss an opportunity to have a photoshoot with someone so inspiring and meaningful to me. So I started writing an email back.

*Hi Matthew!*

Should I address him like that? Is that unprofessional?

*Hi Mr. Gubler*

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

*Hi Matthew!* We are gonna stick with that. *I don't know if this is too short of a notice, but I actually have a free spot tomorrow. (Of course if that doesn't work for you, I can figure something out for later, and try to fit it in before your birthday). I have a few ideas for props that I can send you? Let me know how I can help.*

I sent it and ran my hands through my hair, tossing my phone back onto my comforter. I had taken pictures of so many awesome celebrities:

• Selena Gomez

• Robert Downey Jr.

• Dylan O'Brien

• Grant Gustin

• Holland Roden

• Danai Gurira

But this was by far the coolest one, in my mind at least.

While waiting a little to anxiously for a reply, I decided I was going to make myself some lunch, Ramen. I set my phone on the counter as I boiled my noodles, peering over at the blank screen every few seconds (but really they felt like **minutes**).

Just as I was adding the flavour packet to the bowl my phone buzzed. I jumped slightly, spilling part of the packet out of the bowl.

"Damnit." I quickly wiped the salt into the trash can and snatched my phone, seeing another email.

*Tomorrow is actually perfect, and I would love to hear your recommendations on props, clothes, anything really. I'm going to leave my number on this email so we can have easier contact of that's okay with you.*

Wow, alright. I will now have Matthew Gray Gublers number in my phone. I made a contact for him.

**It's y/n, soooo for props. I figured I could bake you a cake! I took a few baking electives in college so I could make a really nice one and we can do something with it. I recommend you bring clothes you like to wear that are black and white. (Other colors work too, but it just looks and flows better if it's black and white). I will set the rest of the stuff up. I will be ready for you by 1 pm if that's okay.**

*You would bake me a cake?! That would be super cool thank you! I would love that. I will bring a few black and white outfits. Would it be weird if I brought a black and white Kimono?*

A chance to see Matthew in a kimono? Please yes.

**Oh my gosh please do. I would love to take pictures of you in an infamous kimono of yours.**

*Awesome! I will see you tomorrow at 1. Heres my managers info for you to sell the billing to.*

He attatched his managers email. I just sat at my kitchens island, smiling like a true dork at my phone.

**And here is my address, I run the studio at my house. What is your favorite cake and icing by the way? :)**

Was a smiley face unprofessional?

I need to chill out.

*Vanilla cake and chocolate frosting possibly? I will eat anything though probably. :)*

Now I was really smiling at my phone like a psycho idiot.

**Alrighty, see you tomorrow**

Since I didn't want to wake up too early tomorrow, I decided I was going to start the cake tonight. I had quite a few recipes held in my cabinets. I located my vanilla cake recipe and put my pre-made chocolate frosting on the counter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After about an hour of preparing, making a cake from scratch, and putting it in the oven. The cake was finally done and cooled. I added black cocoa to the frosting to make it completely black and got out my white gel.

*You made it 3 decades :)*

Was scrawled in calligraphy on the top of the cylindrical cake. I added white drips down the sides and white multi shaped sprinkles to the bottom part.

I set it in my fridge and got ready for bed. I know it's going to be hard to sleep just thinking about tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My alarm woke me up at 10 am, never before this had I woke up with a smile on my face before 12.

I took a quick shower and dressed in a white and blue floral romper with my hair in a high ponytail. Now it was time to set up backgrounds for the shoot.

I had two stations downstairs where I took all my photos. I set the first one up very normal with a white background and a rustic black stool. The second one was set up with another white background but littered with black streamers and big *30* black and white speckled balloons strung at the top.

Once I was done with all that. It was nearing 1. I slipped the cake out of the fridge and slid it onto my island. I glanced up at the clock above my stove.

*12:49*

Since I just had a little bit of time, I went a put some simple makeup on. I usually don't wear makeup when taking pictures of people, but for obvious reasons, I was making an exception.

Just as I was leaving my bathroom I heard a knock at my door. I walked swiftly to my door and opened it shakily.

"Hi!" He held up the clothes that were hung lazily over his arm. He smiled that million dollar smile and I could have sworn he looked me up and down.

Wishful thinking I guess.

"Welcome!" I stepped out of the doorway, silently inviting him in. "If you wanna set your stuff down, those stairs to the right lead you down the the studio."

"Thanks." He scurried down the stairs as I grabbed the cake and followed him down. I set it on a table that I had down there, he peered over at it and immediately burst into fits of laughter.

"I knew you had a sense of humor, so why put something normal and boring on the cake." I laughed with him as he tried to catch his breath.

"This is so perfect." He laughed a little more. "Thank you, so much." I shrugged with a smile. I posed him in front of the streamers with the cake.

He made some silly faces and smiled like there was no tomorrow. Next I brought him to the more plain station, sitting him on the stool. I looked through the lenses of the camera and glared a bit.

"Hey can you put your left leg up on the second peg of the stool?" I asked, pointing to his leg.

"This one?" He put it on the third. I shook my head. "This one?" He moved it down the the fourth. He was smiling a sly smile, seemingly challenging me.

"Let me do it for you." I had to pose people often, but posing him was going to be a little harder for me, considering I found him painfully attractive.

I moved his leg up to the second one and patted it.

"Now leave it there, so I don't have to help you again." I giggled, walking back to my camera. Taking a picture of him leaning forward on the stool and smiling. I then made him laugh and got a good genuine one of him leaning back and laughing. After all that, I proposed that we eat some cake and took a break.

I cut him a slice and handed it to him with a smile.

"So, tell me about yourself." He said, eating a bite of his cake.

"Well, I have always enjoyed photography. I love all types of art, so I also draw and paint often. And I have a black cat upstairs. His name is-" and I stopped, blood rushing to my cheeks. He is most certainly going to ask me the name, and I do not want to tell him.

He stared at me expectantly. "What is his name?" He motioned me to go on.

"Uh," I laughed a little awkwardly, setting my hands in my lap and staring at them. "His name is Spencer. As in Spencer Reid..." I glanced up at him and saw a huge grin break out on his face.

"So you like Criminal Minds? I never would have guessed. You just don't seem the type."

"Well all my memorabilia is in my room, just so people don't think I'm weird for having quite a few framed and signed posters." I smiled up at him, pushing around the remaining cake crumbs on my plate.

"One, That's not weird, that's awesome. Two, can I please meet Spencer and take pictures with him in my kimono."

I don't think I have ever heard a better sentence in my entire life.

"Yes, absolutely! I'll go get him." I clunked up the stairs on my search to find Spencer. I went to his usual spot first, my bed. Luckily he was sitting there, licking his outstretched foot. "Hi baby! You are about to take pictures with the guy you are named after. He almost as cute as you!" I grabbed him from the bed an headed back downstairs. I walked in with the accidental impeccable timing to see Matthew in his barely tied kimono, showing off his chest. My eyes widened a bit and he tied it off fully.

"Is this the famous Spencer?! He is so cute!" He reached his arms out at Spencer. My little fluff ball curled up into him instantly, cuddling into his silky kimono.

We took many many pictures of Spencer and Matthew together. I think maybe my cat likes him more than he likes me now.

"Okay, last idea. How about we just take some more up close pictures of me feeding you some cake?" It came put as a question because I didn't know how comfortable he would be with it.

"Perfect!" I cut another slice of the cake and brought it over to him. We were both sitting on the floor.

"This might be a little awkward, okay?" I giggled as I leaned back to get his whole face in the shot. This proved to be very difficult as I was using my left hand to take the picture. I fed him the cake with the right as he looked at the camera with a more seductive look. I could have melted into the floor.

I decided to switch hands so I could take the photos better, but now my very uncoordinated hand was the one picking up the cake. As I went down to get another section of the cake for another angle of feeding this sculpture of a man, I instead dipped my thumb right into the deep black frosting.

"Shit, I'm so sorry hold on." As I went to stand up and grab a napkin to wipe my thumb off, Matthew grabbed my wrist lightly.

"Hold on, uh, I have an idea, before you do anything." I sat down with a confused look. "I saw someone do this in another shoot. But we totally don't have to do it. I just thought it would be a different idea." His words were more rushed than usual.

"I'm sure I've done weirder things for other shoots, don't worry. It's *your* shoot." I reassured him, though my head was swimming wondering what he was going to do.

"Ok. So. What I'm going to do is put your thumb in my mouth, and I'm basically gonna, uh, suck on it while kinda smiling?" He could barely get through the whole thing without laughing.

"Alright, weird request but I like it!" I giggled for what seemed like the 30th time today. "And to make you feel better, yes, I have done weirder."

"Thank God."

"So I am guessing you want me to do something like this with the rest of my hand, ya know, the part that's not in your mouth." I stated as I placed my hand on his cheek. He let a slow breath out, staring into my eyes.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Okay." I said with a shrug, grabbing my camera from the ground. He opened his mouth with an all too familiar wide grin as I placed my thumb in. His mouth closed around it and he smiled, just a little. I brought my camera to my face, capturing the moment that I would have forever in my mind and in a small frame on my bedroom wall, for sure.

I slipped my thumb from his mouth and watched as his face turned extremely red. To save him embarrassment, I immediately stood up and grabbed a napkin to wipe the rest of the frosting off.

"Can I see it?" He motioned to the camera. I nodded, sitting down right beside him, showing him the picture. It showed off a closer look at the rose tattoos I had near my wrists and the shiny watch that was gifted to me by my mom. "It turned out good! I really hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"Oh no! Of course not. Total opposite." As soon as I said that I regretted it.

"So that made you extremely comfortable?" A sly smile was making it's way onto his face.

"That's, that's not- You know what? Sure, yes." I chuckled. "You don't really make me uncomfortable at all to be honest. So no, you didn't make me uncomfortable."

"Well I'm glad." He smiled and we sat in silence for a moment.

"Well I guess that's it yeah?" He nodded. "Well this was fun. Thanks for being an excellent subject to take pictures of."

He gathered his stuff as we went back upstairs. Once at the door, Spencer came up to him, rubbing on his leg. He bent over to pet him.

"So, I'm not sure if you are single or not." I could feel the blood draining from my face. Was this really happening right now? "But I wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date?"

Yes, this was happening right now.

"Really?" I could tell I sounded extremely excited, but at this point, I didn't even care.

"Yeah, you are super laid back, funny, talented, and you aren't scared away by how weird I am." He laughed, "So yes?"

"I would absolutely love to."

"Great. I'll text you." He winked and waved as he closed the door, leaving.

My back went against the door. I couldn't keep in the squeal so I just embraced it and squealed my heart out, doing a little dance.

Which was quickly ended when I heard a knock at the door.

"I'm sorry, I want to get to know you better immediately." He let out a nervous chuckle. "Are you free for the rest of the day?" I was sure that my face was red as a tomato.

"Yes I am." He grabbed my hand, dragging me outside.

"Then let's go."