#you know what fuck you *invisible strings your couch theory*

[iphyslitterator]

"Hi!" Buck calls out when he hears the door open from where he's sprawled sideways on Tommy's couch, engrossed in a book on the history of vaccines. He vaguely hears the door closing and the clatter of Tommy's keys in the dish when he throws them across the foyer instead of taking three steps first.

After a moment his boyfriend appears, unceremoniously crawls onto the couch, and faceplants into Buck's chest with a groan.

Buck smiles as he wraps one arm around Tommy's back. He drops his book on the floor and cards his newly free hand through Tommy's hair, resting his chin on Tommy's head. "Long shift?" he murmurs.

"Mmm," Tommy hums. "Just tired."

They lie there quietly for a while. Tommy's worn brown leather couch is actually long enough to hold them comfortably, even in this position, and broad enough that Buck never has to worry about falling off when he fidgets. It's not the biggest reason he loves Tommy's house, but it's one of the little luxuries, like the house plants and the novelty mugs, that make him feel like he fits.

"What are you thinking about?" Tommy asks, muffled.

"How I'm grateful for your stupidly big couch," Buck says. Tommy chuckles and rolls his head to the side.

"Yeah, me too," he says. "Picked it up at an estate sale a few years ago. Belonged to a couple of men. A couple."

"Fit two guys then, fits two guys now?"

"Something like that," Tommy says.

His voice has that strange raw quality it gets sometimes when he talks about his time in the closet. It must have meant something to him to buy a couch where a gay couple spent time together, cuddled, maybe fucked. Buck turns it over in his mind. A few years could mean anything from two to fifteen with Tommy.

"Did you get anything else?" he asks.

"Yeah, actually," Tommy says. "Here, hold on." He levers himself off Buck with a grunt and heads to his bedroom. Buck stretches and sits up.

"I never got around to fixing it," Tommy's saying when he reappears, something small in his hands. "Probably should someday. But it had my name on it," he says with a smile, and the light bulb goes off even before Tommy hands him the watch and Buck turns it over to see the engraving: To Thomas • My love • My partner • My friend

Buck looks up, and Tommy seems taken aback by the shock on his face. "Where did you get this?"

"At an estate-"

"Their names, what were their names?"

"Well, one of them was named Thomas." Buck just keeps looking at him urgently, and Tommy adds more seriously, "Evan, I'm sorry, I don't remember."

"Was it a big house in Hollywood Hills West?" Buck asks. "Nice gate, lots of landscaping, lots of windows?"

"Yeah," Tommy says slowly. "It was."

"I was with them when they died," Buck says, and Tommy's eyes widen. "We were on a call, one of them, Mitchell, was crushed by their car, it was awful. And, and I was talking to the other one, Thomas, before he lay down and just, died, with his husband. They wanted to go together." Buck's eyes are stinging, and Tommy's kneeling with a hand cupped against his cheek. "I told him I hoped I'd find something that good."

Tommy strokes Buck's cheekbone with his thumb, wiping away a tear. Gently, Tommy takes the watch out of his hands and fastens it around Buck's wrist.

"Do you think you will?" he asks quietly, eyes lowered.

The watch is tight, grounding, even with the lump in his throat. "He said you don't find it, you make it."

Tommy looks up and slides his hands to cradle Buck's in both of his. "Do you think you will?" he asks again.

There's a wry smile tucked in the corner of Tommy's mouth but vulnerability in his eyes. His hands are big and warm, his hugs are nearly bruising when Buck wants it, the lines next to his eyes are so deep Buck can run his fingers along them when he's smiling, when he's sleeping. He's Buck's partner. His couch is big enough for both of them.

"Yeah," Buck says. "I do."

[jhilsara]

Tie Me to You / Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: After leaving her parents home Mika finds herself in her grandfathers manor...with five incubus men?

Word Count: 2.2k

<Last | Next>

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of death and grief, nonconsensual kissing

This fanfic will explore heavier emotions and will have eventual smut. Minors DNI

Can also be found on AO3 X

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Were there clues that I didn't see?

invisible strings - Taylor Swift

Chapter 2

Her car is filled with a couple duffle bags and random objects thrown into her back seat haphazardly. She’s gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, staring at the front door of her grandfather’s mansion.

In theory, storming off and out of her parents house seemed like a good idea. But here she was, alone, staring at the front door she’s seen a million times before… but she knows when she opens the door he won’t be there.

No kind words or warm hugs. No silly smiles or awful jokes. No unconditional love. 

His presence will be there, all of his stuff, she’ll have to go through it all.

Alone. 

She stayed unmoving, tears welling up but refusing to fall. Unsure if she was crying from frustration or grief.

She takes a deep and shaky breath before grabbing her bag of clothes and going in. She could grab the rest later. She just needs a change of clothes and to go to sleep.

Once inside the house she turns on the front entrance lights and she looks around the all too familiar home. She can’t find it in herself to do more than navigate to the living room. She can’t go upstairs yet, it’s just too much for her. She drops her duffle bag next to the couch and lays down. She lays there on the couch staring at nothing for hours. Silently sobbing.

She doesn't know when she passed out, but she is shocked awake. A loud slam comes from the entry way and it sends her sitting up straight with enough adrenalin to keep her wide awake.   

She scatters off the couch and grabs the first thing she can, which happens to be the floor lamp. It’s not a stellar choice, but it’ll work.

She sneaks into the entry hall, prepared to swing, and prepared for it to be her father since he probably has a key.

It’s a massive surprise when she sees five men laying out on the floor covered in blood.

She screams and raises the lamp above her head, “Who are you?!”

They all collectively groan but one man looks up at her, his golden eyes pierce right through her.

“Where is Harold?” He gasps out, tone harsh and demanding.

She tightens her grip on the lamp, his eye flash over to it then back to her, “Why do you need to know?” she hisses out.

His glare is something fierce, but maybe it’s just the blood on his face, “We need his help!” he grits through his teeth.

A shiver of fear runs down her back. Her eyes drift to the other men on the floor who look to be in worse shape than the one talking to her. She’s weighing the choices of the truth or lying. The longer she looks at them the more she concludes they aren’t moving to attack anytime soon.

She sighs, keeping her grip tight, “Grandpa's gone…He passed away a few days ago.” She tells him quietly.

One of the men on the ground slams his fist into the floor, “Fuck!”

His voice booms making Mika flinch for a moment, before her eyes return to the golden gaze staring holes into her.

“She tells the truth James.” One of the red headed men whispers as he shifts to face the dark-haired man.

The two stare at each other for a beat before they turn to look at her again.  

“Please, we need help. If you’re like your grandfather please help us.” The one called James finally asks her in a strained, but nicer tone.

She shuffles back a step and places the lamp down, “I-I don’t know what that means. Just let me call you an ambulance.” She turns to go back to the couch where she left her phone.

“No!” her wrist is caught in a tight grip, the brunette from the floor has appeared as if by magic next her, holding her in place with surprising strength.

She opens her mouth to tell him to let go, but as soon as she makes eye contact she loses all her fight.

His eyes are flickering between green and gold and a warmth envelops her. She feels like there’s no one else in the room, it’s just her and him.

He pulls her into him by her wrist and captures her lips. She knows there’s something wrong, but there is no fight in her. She’s melting into this stranger and while she wants to push away, she can’t.

“Sam get off of her!” One of them is shouting, but it all just sounds like she’s underwater.

She’s lost in this man, a stranger, and she knows she shouldn’t like it, but she’s pulled in.

“Sam!” another one shouts.

He pulls away, gently, and she feels herself come back. He’s holding her to him touch light as a feather.

She shakes her head a little, hearing them argue in the background while she comes back to her sense.

“Sam you can’t just enthrall her like that!”

“Seriously what is wrong with you?!”

“She was gonna call an ambulance! What did you want me to do?” His voice is deep and she feels the reverb, and finally she’s back to her senses.

She looks up at the man, a fierce scowl on her face, and open palm smack him across the face.

“Do not fucking touch me again!” Mika shoves him away from her and takes a few, fumbling, steps back.

“Shit!” Sam, she thinks his name is, grabs his face and flinches back away from her. He glares daggers at her.

“What the fuck!” he yells.

“Sam calm down.” One of the red heads is up and trying to hold Sam back, he’s trying to stalk toward her.

“What is your damage?! You can’t just go around breaking and entering into people’s homes and then kiss them!” she shouts, reaching for the lamp behind her.

Sam halts in his path, eyes wide and face flushed. “When you put it like that-yeah it sounds bad! But that’s not what happened!” he stops trying to shove by the other man and crosses his arms in irritation.

“That’s exactly what happened!” she screeches.

“Sam stop it. This argument is going in circles.” James tells him and stands up, slowly.

The four other men are all standing now, looking exhausted and irritated.  

“She doesn’t know who we are Sam. This is scary for a single young woman.” The red head in front of Sam tells him.

Sam’s face falls and he has the sense to look remorseful.

He reaches back to scratch his head, “Uh, I didn’t, fuck.” He sighs and hangs his head in shame before looking her in the eyes, “I’m sorry. I don’t normally use my powers like that.”

She believes his apology but she’s confused about what he said. What does he mean by powers? She hasn't a clue what he's even talking about.

The red head looks over at her and he sighs. He steps forward, and she takes one back. He stops and just puts his hands up, to show no ill will.

“Miss this is going to sound fake and very confusing, but please, listen to us.” He tells her in a calm and soothing voice.

She bristles and anger floods her, “Why should I?! Give me one reason I shouldn’t call the cops right now!”

He keeps his tone even, and calm, “We’re friends, or I guess we were friends, with your grandfather. I’m Damien, and these are my brothers.” He points to each of them, “James, Erik, Sam, and Matthew.” He goes down the line of the golden eyed man she was talking to first, the other red-haired man who she now realizes almost has purple eyes, the brunette who man handled her, and lastly the scrappy looking one with a mess of black hair.

“We’ve been living here. We didn’t break in.” He pulls out a set of keys from his pocket.

She raises her brow, “That makes no sense, I’ve never seen you before. Why,” she scoffs, “Why would he conveniently forget to mention that he had five men living with him?!” she is not staying calm, she’s about to laugh these men out of her home.  She feels exhausted and a little delirious. This all just seems ridiculous.

“We’ve been traveling,” James starts trying to fill in the gaps, “We didn’t think Harold would…” he trails off, looking down to the floor brow furrowed.

She huffs out a scoff and feels her eyes well up. She refuses to cry in front of these strangers. She rubs her face, trying to hide it.

“Yeah well, none of us did…” she mutters, more to herself but they all hear it.

“We owe your grandfather a lot, but it seems this is your home now.” One of them who she hasn’t really heard speaks up, his voice is more leveled and clearer, trying to be sympathetic. His purple eyes look into her, like he sees something she can't. She doesn’t like feeling analyzed.

She shakes off the feeling and takes a deep breath, pulls her hair back and closes her eyes to collect her thoughts.

“I don’t know what’s going on or who you guys are. If you’re serious about living here though, I’m gonna need proof. Right now, this just seems crazy.” She tells them.

Sam lets out his own exasperation, crossing his arms, “Why should we have to prove anything.” He mumbles.

She whips her head around to him, eyes burning with rage, “I could just call the cops!” she barks out.

“We can prove it!” Damien interrupts them, in a small voice calling her attention back. “I know this is very,” he pausing trying to find the right words, “upsetting and confusing. I know my brothers aren’t making it easier, but here.” Damien pulls out his phone and shows it to her.

She snatches it from his hand to see what he’s trying to use as evidence.

There’s a whole album of photos in his phone. Trips with her grandfather, big group dinners, a few silly videos, some with her grandfather happily laughing at whatever is going on.

“There’s this too.” Damien closes out of the photos and pulls up a text thread.

It’s a whole group chat.

She looks at in confusion and scrolls as far up as she can. It’s not new or recent, it goes back for some months. She looks at what was the most recent and it’s a text from her grandfather.

Can’t wait for you boys to get back. I bought something great for dinner and was thinking of inviting my granddaughter soon too.

She reads it again and again. She shuffles back to the couch to grab her own phone to double check the numbers.

It’s his cell number. It perfectly matches.

“I…He just sent you this, a few days ago. I, I’m sorry.” She quietly hands the phone back to Damien; all the adrenalin has left her body.

Sadness and grief fill the void were anger was just present. She’s surrounded by five strangers, who her grandfather trusted enough to live with, and she has just delivered the worst news to them. She's also battling why her grandfather was hiding these men in the first place. Did he not want her to know? She had so many questions and only these men had the answers.

“While this proves you were living here, it doesn’t explain everything. Why are you all covered in blood and look like you’ve gotten your asses handed to you? Why did he kiss me?” she asks, no heat behind her words, just confusion.

They all look at each other, silently asking if they should tell her the truth.

James steps forward, “We’re uh, well, there is no easy way to say this.” He sighs and looks at his brothers for confirmation before locking eyes with her again.

“We’re demons. Incubi to be exact.” He tells her.

Silence is followed. She just blinks at him like he’s grown two heads. A minute passes before she speaks.

“That’s not funny. I’ve had a long day and I don’t really need crazy stories from five strange men in my home.” She says sternly, her fists tightening by her side.

“We are though. That’s why Sam kissed you. He needed energy. Which is why he looks like he could run a marathon right now and we’re all still struggling to even stand.” James tells her, shooting his brother a serious glare.

Sam just shrugs.

“I’m not here for arguments about mythical beings. Prove to me that you’re demons.” She says the words and almost immediately regrets them. She’s too tired and emotionally spent to think straight.

“Fine.” Erik says and steps towards her in two large strides.

“Erik do not!” Damien shouts to him but it doesn’t stop his older brother.

Erik holds her gaze and she sees his, inhuman, purple eyes flicker to gold. Again, a wave of calm envelops her. He reaches out for her face and she lets him, almost melting to his touch.

She wants to pull from him, but she can’t. It’s like before. She’s realizing she’s trapped, a fake sense of want and need falling over her body, making her crave him.

Erik kisses her and she feels the difference this time. She’s trying to not focus on the kiss but herself. She feels the energy draining from her body. She’s growing weaker the longer he kisses her. She manages to pull herself away from him, and gives him a half-hearted shove.

“I didn’t mean like that!” she steps towards him but she falters. The room starts to spin and she feels her legs give out.

Large arms grab for her before her world is blanketed in darkness.

[5hfanfiction]

anobrain // like friends do

a/n: TW for hypoxia (lack of oxygen), just in case someone is triggered! be safe :) 

There’s a slow, dreamy dance taking place somewhere, Lauren’s sure of it; how can there not be when there’s a distant hum coming in from the outside, an autumn buzz outside of the window, and just the right amount of sunlight peeking through the maroon curtains?

Or maybe she’s just romanticising this moment, with the curls of Anobrain floating through her ears. But like, that’s her thing, just give her any Matthew Healy song and the company of a certain bandmate, and she’s already halfway through her own romance novel.

‘You okay, Lo?’

Lauren turns to face the voice, and she can’t help the dopey smile that paints itself on her lips.

'No. I’m Lo.’

Camila rolls her eyes in response, and Lauren finds her smile growing bigger, and she knows she couldn’t contain it even if she tired. She blames that on the brown-eyed goddess next to her. Wait. No. Not a goddess. What the fuck. The brown-eyed girl is what she meant. The weed is obviously getting to her. Obviously.

But Camila may as well be a goddess, with the way the smoke is gravitating towards her, almost like her own haze of heaven, a voice that feels, yes, feels, like you’re walking on rose petals, with violins to guide your every step. And her eyes. God, those eyes. She’s sure Camila’s parents were some sort of jewel thieves in their past lives, clad in black bodysuits and ski-masks, stealing sunshine, diamonds, gold, anything ethereal, just to reach this point where Camila’s eyes are somewhat like a night sky that's reflecting everything good in this world. She’s sure Sinu let out one of those evil laughs they always show in cartoons, one with her fingers forming a pyramid and her lips turning into a devilish triangle when they saw Camila’s eyes for the first time. Lauren feels pride engulf her, after all, she’s just discovered the mystery behind Camila’s eyes. Bing-fucking-o.

But she wouldn’t dare voice it out loud. No fucking way. What if they like, have a lair or something? The Cabeyo Dungeon. She shakes herself out of the idea, instead, addressing the girl next to her.

'You wanna try?’

Camila scrunches her nose up, reflexively pushing away the joint.

'No way.’

'Just being polite,’ she shrugs, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the couch, 'Why didn’t you go with the girls?’

She waits for a reply, and when she doesn’t hear one, she completely forgets that she even asked a question. Instead, she finds herself floating through the music notes ringing through the air, and then there’s a moment.

Man I’m so high, I think I love you

Her eyes shoot up at the words, they hit a little close to home. Okay, maybe a lot. Goddamn. The weed was supposed to pull her away from the edge, not fucking drop her on a tightrope.

She turns her body sideways, discretely, helplessly, stupidly forgetting her manners and staring at Camila like she’s a piece of art. Scratch that. She is a piece of art, Lauren decides.

She bets Camila tastes soft. Maybe like strawberries; just the right balance of sweet and sour. Sour in the sense of sexy, by the way. Camila would never so hurt a fly, let alone hurt a human’s feeling. What if someone isn’t human though? Is Lauren even human?

She shakes her head, putting herself back in the present where her head-shaking has drawn Camila’s attention, her brown-eyes now amused and reflecting mirth.

'Hi.’ Lauren says stupidly.

She gets Camila’s reply in the wave of a laugh, and goddamn, it feels like falling in love. And Lauren really thinks she is. She’s falling in love. Isn’t it meant to be like, a big deal? Fireworks? Earthquakes? An angel descending from heaven just to say, hey motherfucker, you’re in love! Surprise!

It doesn’t feel like that, it’s just… silent. It’s just Camila, sun-kissed and warm-eyed, the softest smile playing on her lips.

It’s just Camila replaying in her mind. Camila’s voice that’s melodic… melodious? Cool, Camila’s voice that’s cool. Camila’s fingers turning pages of her book with the softest touch, like the story would fall frail if Camila showed even the slightest bit of haste. Camila’s laugh that crawls along the length of Lauren’s spine, something both warm and electrifying about it. Camila talking about changing the world, making everyone she meets feel important, feel loved. Camila cuddling Sofia, her protectiveness blatantly there for everyone to see. Camila who watches her parents with pride, dying to feel a love like theirs, even if just for a moment. Camila’s lips curling slightly when she says something so unlike Camila, something like wanting to make out in a bathroom stall in a dizzy party one day. Camila who holds the invisible strings tied to Lauren’s limbs, playing her, unknowingly, to whatever tune she wants.

It’s just… it's just Camila. So why is it Lauren can feel herself falling in love.

'Yeah, you are.’

Lauren blinks. Camila can read minds? Is that, oh my god. What if Sinu and Alejandro aren’t just jewel thieves?! What if they’re jewel thieves with super-fucking- powers?!

Woah.

'I’m what?’

Camila giggles again, her warm hand finding its place on Lauren’s arm, and Lauren can feel the skin there degenerate and turn into something magical. Maybe like the freckles of a fireplace, except it doesn’t hurt.

'You’re high.’

'Oh.’ she looks down at her joint, and she wants to tell Camila she isn’t. Not really. It’s just, Camila looks so fucking gorgeous and it’s making Lauren hazy. That's just what it is.

'Camz.’ there’s this science thing called hypoxia; when you have like, a really damaging loss of oxygen in your brain, and you like… die. Mentally, before physically though. It’s like a high, and you just don’t feel anymore.

Partner that with the good ol’ weed in Lauren’s lungs, and bam. You find this:

'Have you ever wanted to kiss yourself?’

Another laugh.

'Urm no? Have you wanted to kiss yourself?’

'No, how can you even do that?’

'You just ask-’

'I’ve wanted to kiss you. How can you not want to kiss yourself?’

Camila realises Lauren’s reached an oblivion state, because why else would she suddenly credit all those Camren theories and admit to wanting to kiss Camila? And whilst Camila’s eyebrows are drawn together, contemplation playing on her lips, Lauren has, in fact, reached an oblivion, but it’s not just the high. The high is just her crutches, her feelings for the brown-haired girl are her legs, doing the real work. Cut 'em some slack for not being able to coherently confess their feelings.

'Laur, what are you saying?’

There’s like, a zero-point-one part of Lauren that wants to ask the same question, but ninety-nine-point-nine part of her barely realises she’s actually even saying anything. Her words must be numb in her mouth.

'That I want to kiss you. Like, all the fucking time. On stage, in dressing rooms, in the back of this stale tou-’

'You’re so fucking high, stop.’

'No, I told you I’m Lo.’

'Lauren.’

'Lo.’ Lauren mumbles to herself.

'This isn’t funny.’

Lauren looks around at that, not hearing anyone laughing in the first place.

'Who’s laughing?’ she turns back to Camila, her thick eyebrows curled closer in confusion.

'I’m not doing this with you like this, take a fucking nap or something. Fuck.’

If Lauren was a puppy, which contrary to popular belief, she is, you could literally see her ears perk up at the mention of a nap, and you don’t need to tell her twice to catch some sleep.

'Okay, I’ll kiss you later.’

She misses Camila’s mumbled damn right your ass will, too busy falling fast asleep like a child.

***

Fuck. Lauren wakes up under the scrutiny of a streetlamp, her hand slightly clutching her head. She squints her eyes at the offending, barely there, light, silently directing profanities at it.

'Hello?’ she calls out, stumbling a little and taking each step carefully. She hopes there’s at least one person she can dramatize her headache to, hoping to get tons of sympathy in return.

'Anyo- fuck!' she lets out a shriek, not expecting to bump into Camila.

'Ouch! Watch where you’re going!’ Camila seethes from the floor, eyes burning through Lauren.

'I was!’

'You were looking over your shoulder Lauren, that’s not watching where you’re going.’

'I thought Dinah was going to sneak up on me,’ she refutes childishly, lips slightly pouting, 'Where is she anyway?’

'They sent a text saying they’re headed over to visit some of Ally’s friends.’ Camila’s now dusting her pants, and Lauren almost offers to brush her ass for her. Almost.

'Oh.’ is all that gets out from her lips, eyes widely trained on the stubborn butt that’s been taunting her for god knows how long.

'Why do you look like death? I thought being high and having a nap is like heaven or something?’

'I don’t know.’ She moves to get herself some water, the as-, the after-high making her thirsty.

'Do you, er-, do you remember what we were talking about?’

'Something about your parents being thieves?’ the words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, her body stiff. What if it is true and Camila’s taken out her laser gun aiming straight for Lauren’s head?

'What the fuck Lo?!’

'I guess it’s not that. What were we talking about then?’

'Oh.’ Camila’s tone is somewhat disappointed, tugging at Lauren’s heart so she quickly turns around, ready to dissipate whatever disappointment Camila is feeling.

Lauren stares at the timid girl, and she wonders how someone can go from I can rip your head off to I was a puppy in my past life but the cuteness is still here. She raises her eyebrow, urging Camila for an answer.

'We er, you were urm, you said, er y-you wanted to kiss me.’ She mumbles the last part, and it misses Lauren’s ear.

So, she steps closer, moving her ear closer to Camila’s mouth, asking her to repeat herself. Big mistake.

'You wanted to kiss me.’ she exhales against Lauren’s ear after saying that, like it was the longest run she had ever been a part of.

And it’s like a domino effect, the way her exhale steals away Lauren’s breath, Camila’s breath tickling Lauren’s ear.

'W-what?’ Lauren gulps, wishing Camila had shot her with the hidden laser gun instead.

'You said yo-’

'No, I didn’t.’

'You did, yo-’

Lauren was so close to escaping to the safety of the claustrophobic bathroom, but Camila acts quicker, grabbing Lauren’s arm, successfully trapping Lauren against the wall and herself.

'You don’t get to just walk off. You’re 17 Lauren, act like it.’

And that’s exactly what Lauren doesn't do.

'I am acting like it.’ she gestures with air quotation marks, causing Camila to roll her eyes.

Sighing, Camila loosens her hold, gaze now trained on the floor.

’D-did you mean it?’

Yes.

'Camz, I was high.’ Lauren surprises herself with the confidence in her tone because god knows her words are a whole big fat lie. Apparently, Camila is God.

'Don’t fuck around Laur. T-there has to be some -, I like you and I know you feel something too.’

'I-’

Lauren doesn’t finish her sentence, frankly because, there is no sentence. But there’s no better moment than this to get even the slightest taste of Camila.

So she cups the brunette’s cheeks, leaning closer, just enough to let their lips graze and she feels it. The temperature peeking just a little, both their breaths staggering against the tingling skin of their lips. She doesn’t kiss her though, not yet. She takes her time, basking in the way she can feel Camila’s breathing faltering into an irregular symphony. Camila’s fingers clutch tightly on her shirt, and Lauren can feel just how badly Camila wants this too. She can feel the blood breathing loud in her ears, leaving enough room for her heart to echo the same words. Kiss her.

So, she does. She kisses her and loses herself in the high. Again. It’s intoxicating, being able to taste the lips she’s spent forever dreaming of, and she’s more than willing to let herself go.

Flipping the two over, Lauren now has Camila between herself and the wall, and she takes the opportunity to press against Camila completely, moving her lips along the length of Camila’s neck.

God, she’s fucking hungry. She grazes her teeth against the soft skin, and when she feels Camila tilting her neck, she bites, eager for more when she hears Camila inhaling sharply.

'Laur.’ Camila breathes out, her fingers losing themselves in Lauren’s hair.

Fuck. She's starving now.

***

In hindsight, she knows that she knew better; but isn’t that the case always? Who can resist an impulse that’s been culturing for so long? Not Lauren, that's for sure.

It’s been a week since Lauren allowed herself to not care for once, and now, she doesn’t care at all. And that’s how she finds herself being straddled by the brown-haired girl who’s been driving her insane, with the dressing room door locked. Because that’s not suspicious or anything.

Her lips are currently attached to the same neck that she swears she’s not addicted to, hands alternating between squeezing or rubbing the same ass she had only dreamt of touching. She’s pretty sure her ear is about to combust up into flames, with the way Camila is tugging on it with her teeth, letting out profanities and moans and Lauren’s name in between breaths.

Lauren carefully caresses Camila’s hair away from her shoulder, tugging her buttoned shirt away before attaching her lips to the soft skin that’s demanding her attention. God, she’s so soft. Before she can explore any further, a knock pulls them both out of their daze, and whilst Camila buttons her shirt back up, lips swollen and hair messy, Lauren can’t help but kiss her again before moving to get the door.

***

Coffee. That’s all Lauren can think of, walking into the kitchen of their shared apartment. She notices the smell of fresh coffee, her eyebrows furrowing because there’s no way any of her bandmates were up at this ungodly hour. But that thought quickly dissipates when she hears the strumming of a guitar, followed by a voice. A voice that she would definitely trade coffee for. But like, there’s no actual need to sacrifice her coffee, so she pours herself a cup before joining the girl haunting her dreams.

She’s careful not to disturb the brunette, so she opts for leaning against the door frame, hands wrapped around her mug and breath stumbling at the sight of Camila so early in the morning.

She inhales deeply, feeling something perfect about this moment; the fresh coffee, the guitar that hums around the songs of the morning birds, and Camila. Her Camila. Her eyes rake over her bandmate, heart skipping at the sight of her 1975 tank top. She’s dressed casual, her hair haphazardly tossed over to one side, but god is she a sight for sore eyes. So effortless and beautiful.

and i'll stop kissing your mouth like friends do,

Camila ends her song, closing her eyes and it only now registers what she was singing in the first place. Friends? There’s no way she can be just friends with Camila.

Not with the way she just wants to kiss Camila the minute she wakes up, or the way she wants Camila to be the last thing she feels right before she falls asleep. Not with the way her hands have found their home in Camila’s skin, every lamp inside of her lighting up at the way Camila responds to her touch.

Nah. Definitely not just friends.

Determined, she walks over to the bench, coffee long forgotten on the floor.

Resting her hands on both armrests, she leans down, feeling her heart miss a beat at the little constellations on Camila’s nose.

'Whatcha doing Camz?’

'O-oh I was just-’ Camila’s cheeks have turned rosy and Lauren can’t help but smile at how cute she looks.

But she’s in no mood to tease the girl, not right now anyway. Instead, she lifts Camila’s chin up, before pressing her lips against the coffee-flavoured lips she’s grown to love.

'I-I couldn’t sleep.’

'Good.’

Lauren kisses her again, enjoying the way Camila is now leaning up into her, chest out and head tilted up like she can’t get enough of Lauren. And Lauren’s glad for that because Lauren most definitely cannot get enough of the Cuban.

'I can’t look at you quite like friends do.’ Lauren echoes Camila’s song against her lips, and when she gets Camila’s smile on her lips, she knows the brown-eyed goddess gets it.

a/n: i couldn’t figure out whether i wanted this as angst or not but then anobrain made me want to get high so this happened :)) (spoiler alert i didn’t get high x)

my wattpad if you wanna: missing_jauregui