Beautiful woman interested in me???

I’ll be with you on Every Step

Comission made by my lovely @marycecilyy

Cove Holden x reader

Word count : 1,611

Theme : we got angst, we got fluff

Special mention to Kit - Kit shall live on forever in your writings Ceci 💙

It was your birthday. You had invited your closest friends to your apartment in a small celebration. You didn't like huge parties, nor had the means to throw one at the moment.

You and Cove were going through tough times. It had been a while since you last published a book, now you were facing a huge creative block, and couldn't even finish the first draft of your next novel.. Cove’s work had been compensating the down of income on your end but his salary wasn’t large enough to keep you from worrying about paying your bills. Not to mention your dog, Kit, was recovering from a surgery (which had taken a huge portion of your savings) and still needed a lot of care.

Because of that. you and your boyfriend hadn’t been able to travel back to your hometown for your birthday, or even plan a bigger party than you had managed to throw.

It had been two hours since the guests started to arrive. You were talking to Lany, one of the closest friends you made since you moved there. They worked with Cove, but you were introduced to them very quickly and were inseparable ever since. Your boyfriend had his hand placed on your thigh, drawing circles on the fabric as you both listened to the story they were telling you.

The doorbell suddenly rang, which startled you since everyone who was invited had already arrived. You got up, but before getting to the door someone put a hand on your shoulder. It was Alex. You met her through the internet, you two were active in the writers niche and, after finding you lived in the same city, you started hanging out.

"It 's Erik. I forgot to tell you beforehand that I invited him. Sorry, I hope you won’t mind.”

In fact you did mind, but you wouldn’t tell her. Alex was sweet when she introduced Erik, her cousin, to you in hopes that he would meet new people. The only thing you knew about his recent divorce was that it devastated him and that he needed to get out of the house he used to live in with his wife. That was the reason Alex introduced him to you, getting him new friends and lifting his spirits. However there was an issue that she couldn’t have predicted (nor did she know of).

You were pretty sure that Erik was into you.

You didn’t mind at all talking to him, it was nice to have a new friend, but your gut told you that he’d rather be more than friends with you. You didn’t welcome his affection, nor did you reject him because he actually never did a proper advance. He was subtle. You didn’t even know if he wanted you to become aware of his crush on you as he knew you had a boyfriend.

That thought made you remember this will be the first time Erik meets Cove. Thank you Alex, you thought. You knew she hadn’t done it with bad intentions as she didn’t even know of what was going on. To her, she was inviting her cousin and your friend. She could have refrained from doing it? Yeah she could, but now it was already done.

With all of that in mind, you smiled politely at Alex and went to get the door. There was Erik. You felt glad when he, after hugging you and wishing you a happy birthday, went straight for the appetizers. At least you wouldn’t have to think about awkward conversation for a while.

An hour passed and you were enjoying yourself a lot. You played some card games with your friends, ate a lot of snacks and stayed close to Cove the entire night. You knew that, even if he wasn’t as close to all of them, he was happy to see you having fun. And he was enjoying the night as well, in his way. You could see it.

A few of the guests had already left when Erik went to talk to you.

“MC, I had a lot of fun tonight. I hope you didn’t mind that Alex invited me.”

You darted your eyes from him and fiddled with your hands. You had to find a change of subject quickly.

“Oh, what a fool I am, I haven’t introduced the two of you!” What a great idea, MC… “Cove, this is Erik, Alex’s cousin. Erik, this is Cove, my boyfriend.

You noticed how his eyes lost a bit of spark. Still, Erik smiled and greeted him. Then, he held between you a package that you didn’t even notice that was with him the whole time.

“Happy birthday, MC”

You weren’t expecting that, it was kind of him. Even if he knew that he was only there because Alex invited him, not you, he bought you a gift. It was very generous of him.

“Erik…! You didn’t have to. Really.”

The gift was a book. Not any book, actually, but a rare edition of your favorite novel. You had no idea how he managed to find it. There were few places who sold it and it was very expensive.

You didn’t know how to feel about that. Of course you were happy, but it was too expensive for a friend’s present.

“After all you’ve done to me, this is the least I can do. You helped me get through a tough time and never complained when I wanted to vent. You are a dear friend.”

Even if the word friend had a bittersweet tone as he said it, you felt he was being sincere. You hugged him tight and said goodbye to him.

After Erik and Alex left, you turned to Cove, who remained silent through most of the conversation. He looked strange, you noticed.

“It’s a really nice gift. Erik’s a good friend.”

He avoided your eyes and tried to walk away, but you stopped him beforehand, asking if he was alright.

“It’s fine, I just need some time alone.” He gave you a fake smile and disappeared into his bedroom. You felt uneasy. What was wrong with him? Your instinct told you to run to him, but you gave him the space he needed.

During the last hour of the party, you kept thinking about your last conversation. The obvious conclusion was: he was jealous. It was so hard to believe, though. You had never seen him jealous before. It was really weird.

But the thought that the last conversation had been, indeed, weird convinced you that that was it. There was no other explanation to his behavior.

As soon as the last guest left, you went to your bedroom. You had given him some time, now it was time to understand exactly what was going on.

Cove was sitting at the edge of the bed, petting Kit’s belly. She was clearly enjoying the caresses on her hairless abdomen (the surgery required no fur on that area). Kit looked at you immediately and left her post at the bed to come greet you. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, didn’t budge. You were becoming more upset each minute.

You sat beside him and took his hand. He didn’t retreat, on the contrary. Cove entwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lips.

“I’m sorry, I overreacted.”

“To what, exactly? What happened?” When he didn’t answer, you continued “Did you get upset because of Erik?”

Cove chuckled.

“No, I’m not jealous if that’s what you’re asking. There’s no reason for that. I trust you. I just-” He made a pause. You stared at his eyes. “The book he gave you. It’s difficult to find. It’s expensive as well. But even so, I got it.”

Cove took a bag that was on his lap and handed you. As soon as you opened it, you saw it. Your favorite novel.

“Oh, dear…”

“I guess I felt bad because all of the effort I had didn’t matter. Erik’s wealthy, I’m sure it was no sacrifice for him to buy that. And I wish I didn’t envy him, but in some sort of way I do. And I feel even worse, because I don’t want that kind of feeling in me.”

You kissed his forehead, his nose, cheek, lips. You told him it was fine, that you understood what he was feeling and that it was valid. It broke your heart seeing him like that, but at least with your reassurance he felt better quickly.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you. Not only for the gift, which I loved, but also for the wonderful day you gave me today. It was special, really. My first birthday without my family around and you managed to fill me with joy during every second of it. Cove Holden, you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He kissed you tenderly, holding your face with his hands. You turned your head, breathing him in. He smelt so good.

After giving you a few pecks to end the kiss, he kissed your neck with affection. “Why don’t you open the book?” He said with his lips still close to your skin.

You took the book and looked at the first page. There was something written but before you could read what it was you felt something drop on your lap.

A ring.

You gasped and looked at Cove, who had the brightest smile on his face. Tears instantly reached your eyes and fell from your face. He took the ring from your lap and held it between you.

“Mc, will you marry me?”

There was only one answer possible.

“Yes!”

Special tags to my lovelies : @dreamtydraw @otomes-and-tears @saladzz

The Nanny – Part Two

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Virgin!Reader

Words: 5798

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Tag List: 

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A Small Surprise

Another week had passed since your encounter with Cillian at the theatre and you missed interacting with him, especially now that you broke up with Darcy once again.

Once again, Darcy had become verbally abusive towards you and you were devastated and upset about his behaviour. You became to realise that, most probably, he won’t ever change. You often thought about Cillian’s words. You were too young to be wasting your time on someone like this.

But, despite your breakup, Darcy called you at least ten times a day, trying to apologise. You ignored his calls, but, unfortunately for you, you still had to interact with him at theatre practice and art school.

At least, Anita was there for you and tried her best to prevent you and Darcy from having arguments while dealing with each other in a professional capacity. But it wasn’t easy.

Since your latest and hopefully final break up, Anita had also tried to hook you up with her brother, but you really weren’t interested in dating anyone after what you have encountered with Darcy.

Despite your disinterest in dating, you struggled to get one man out of your head and this was Cillian.

Since you became to know what he was doing for a living, you could evermore so understand his reluctance to get involved with someone your age. It would almost be cliché for an actor to date someone half his age. The backlash would almost be ridiculous.

In the same vein, you were really not keen on dating an actor. The ridiculous filming schedules, the gossip and the fact that people would look at you differently would certainly upset you and make you uncomfortable.

Yet, you couldn’t forget about him and the kiss you shared. The kiss he initially returned and which felt so amazingly good.

There was something about him that you hadn’t found in any man before. It was almost like you had known him for years and yet, you barely knew him at all. You felt comfortable in his presence and it felt natural to be around him.

With these thoughts on your mind, it was easy for you to let go of Darcy this time around eve though you knew that you could never have Cillian. Or could you?

It was a Sunday afternoon that Craig came home after spending some time at the pub celebrating a friend’s birthday.

He looked somewhat tipsy when he walked inside and Ella became rather frustrated with him. It was almost too funny to watch.

You noticed him carrying a paper back.

‘Y/N, this is for you’ Craig said as he handed the bag to you.

‘Uhm, thank you’ you said, surprised by his gesture.

‘Oh, don’t thank me. Cillian asked me to give this to you so thank him’ Craig said, unsure about what was in the bag. He believed Cillian’s gesture to be odd but didn’t dare to question it.

You walked into your room, curious about what was in the bag.

Unsurprisingly, it was a book entitled ‘The History of Irish Theatre’.

You and Cillian had talked about this book following your little incident at his house.

He thought that it was very educational for anyone who is interested in Irish literature and play writes and he said that, when he goes back to his house, he would get it for you so that you could read it.

You opened the book, very keen to read it.

To your surprise, Cillian had left you a note inside which, amongst other things, contained his mobile phone number and an offer to help you with rehearsing the play if you needed it and wanted an outsider’s opinion.

He also was kind to tag the pages relevant to your play in the 350 page book.

You took out your phone and saved his number before texting him to say thank you.

He responded almost immediately. His response was short but that is what you would have expected from a man in his 40s.

About an hour later, you received another text message from him.

‘I have four tickets to a play at the Abbey which I think you might like. You could go with some friends from your theatre group and your boyfriend. Unfortunately, it’s for a Sunday night though’ he texted.

You responded by thanking Cillian for the offer and telling Cillian that you had broken up with Darcy before taking the courage to ask him whether he would be interested to come with you to see the play.

An hour after your text, you still hadn’t received a response and you regretted asking him. After what happened between you, you thought that you must have taken it too far.

Another twenty minutes later, as you were in the shower, the phone rang.

You quickly jumped out of the shower and answered your phone while the water was still running in the background.

‘Hi, Cillian’ you said shyly as you shivered, still being wet from the shower.

‘Am I calling you at a bad time?’ Cillian asked, observing the background noise through the phone.

‘No no, not at all’ you said.

‘What’s that noise?’ he asked.

‘Uhm, I was just having a shower’ you said and, just after you said this, you realised how inappropriate your comment was once again. There was an awkward silence on Cillian’s end following your comment.

‘Right’ he said before taking a pause.

‘About Sunday, I have seen the play already with some friends but I am happy to take you if you want’ he said before taking another pause. ‘As a friend that is’ he added, qualifying his offer.

‘Of course, yes’ you said shyly.

‘I think that, if we go together, I should probably invite Craig and Ella and suggest that you come with them’ Cillian suggested, being mindful that, otherwise, this might awkward.

‘Yes, sounds good’ you said.

‘Great, I will let you get back to your shower then’ Cillian said with a laugh.

‘Alright…and thanks’ you said.

‘You are welcome’ Cillian responded before hanging up.

To your surprise, a day later, Cillian told you that Craig and Ella weren’t interested in the play but had no problem with you going to see it with Cillian and some other friends.

You felt somewhat awkward about Craig and Ella knowing that you were going to see a play with their mutual friend. But Cillian assured you that they didn’t think anything of it. In Ireland, everyone was friendly and welcoming and interactions like this weren’t suspicious. In fact, Cillian had even told Craig that he had offered to help you with your theatre project and that he believed that the play you were going to see would really help you with your perspective on contemporary Irish theatre. With Cillian being double your age, Craig simply thought that it was a nice gesture and Craig also knew that Cillian could do with some friendly company after yet another fight with his fiancée.

Instead of Craig and Ella, Cillian ended up inviting his youngest sister Janet and her husband John. They both enjoyed theatre and had recently returned to live in Dublin after spending five years together in London.

You met Cillian and his sister and her husband at the theatre and they were very welcoming. You thought it was going to be strange, meeting Cillian’s family, but it wasn’t at all. His sister was in her late twenties and you could relate to her.

You talked about many things before the play started and she was surprised when she learned that you were only 20 years old. According to her, you appeared very mature for your age.

Change of Mind

‘You know she’s nice, smart and very pretty’ Janet said to Cillian about you after you excused yourself to go to the bathroom right before the play started.

‘And she is 20 years old and I am still in a relationship’ Cillian chuckled in response to her comment.

‘And here you are, choosing to attend this play with her instead of your fiancée’ Janet giggled.

‘Because my fiancée and I are taking a break and Y/N is just a friend’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I think you already made up your mind about your fiancée. I know you brother. I am not blind either. I can see the way you look at Y/N. You like her a lot’ Janet said.

‘Janet, she is 20. Now can we change the topic please’ Cillian said firmly.

‘So what if she is 20?...I like her. She seems nice’ Janet said before her husband John had to comment just like a man would.

‘Just count yourself lucky Cillian. Not every man your age has a shot with a young woman like her. Also, you wouldn’t be the first actor who goes there trust me’ John said, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘Enough now, please’ Cillian said just as you returned from the bathroom.

When you returned to the table where Cillian, Janet and John were standing, you finally heard the theatre bell. Cillian seemed somewhat relieved that the play was about to start and you made your way inside, taking your seats.

Just as you sat down, you saw Darcy with his parents and brother. Your heart sunk and you hoped that he would not see you. But he did, almost immediately.

The situation had officially become awkward and, just as Darcy saw you, his father spotted you and Cillian as well.

He came over to greet you and Cillian which, instantly, raised a lot of questions.

Cillian explained to Darcy’s father that you were a friend and, just as he did, the bell rang again, telling everyone to take their seat.

This was lucky, preventing Darcy’s father from asking more questions.

Darcy’s father excused himself and, luckily for you, Darcy was at his best behaviour with his parents being around.

During the interval, Darcy greeted you politely and that was it. He didn’t acknowledge Cillian, Janet and John and there weren’t any further interactions from his side.

After the play had finished, Janet suggested that you all go to Cillian’s house for a drink and some pizza. After all, you hadn’t had dinner yet.

You agreed and picked up some Pizza and a couple of bottles of wine on the way.

To your surprise however, Janet excused herself pretty much straight after dinner and a glass of wine.

‘Well, John and I have to get up very early tomorrow’ Janet said.

‘We do?’ John asked.

‘Yes darling, don’t you remember the thing at your work?’ Janet asked, giving John a nudge.

‘The thing at my work?....Oh right, the thing at my work. I forgot’ John said.

‘Well, we will be going, but you two should really finish this bottle of wine’ Janet said and you observed her winking at Cillian.

Cillian sighed before giving his sister a kiss on the cheek and saying goodbye.

‘Uhm that was strange’ you giggled just as Janet and John left. ‘I just finish this and will call a taxi’ you said, pointing to your full glass of wine.

‘Yes, my sister is strange indeed’ Cillian chuckled, knowing exactly what his sister had in mind.

‘So how did you like the book?’ Cillian went on to ask to change the topic.

‘It’s fantastic. In particular the actor’s notes on the scenes. Although, there is one thing no one really talks about and I have been trying hard to find material on it’ you said.

‘And what is that?’ Cillian asked curiously.

‘How do you act a scene where you have to kiss someone. I mean, do you actually kiss them on stage? How about on screen? I mean, you would have the answer to this wouldn’t you?’ you said.

‘I do’ Cillian laughed.

‘Well then please enlighten me. I am curious’ you said.

‘On screen, depending on the angle of the camara, you most often don’t get around kissing. Your lips touch. It’s as simple as that’ Cillian said.

‘But is it different from a normal kiss?’ you asked.

‘Not really’ Cillian said. ‘But, in saying this, for theatre, no one from the audience will be close enough to see what you are doing so just give the guy a peck if you feel too uncomfortable to kiss him’ Cillian laughed, knowing that the play you were doing included a scene just like this.

‘I am glad you can laugh about it’ you said sheepishly.

‘Well, I know for a fact that you’ve kissed a man before so I think you will be fine. Just don’t think about it as a kiss. Think about it as an act. I guarantee you that, when you are in character with a complex script like yours, it will just come naturally’ Cillian said.

‘I suppose you are right. I mean, at least it’s not Darcy who I have to kiss on stage’ you laughed.

‘Well, there you go’ Cillian said just as an awkward silence erupted between you again.

‘Speaking of which, I have actually been thinking about our kiss more often than I should have’ you said shyly.

‘Y/N, we agreed that we would forget about what happened that morning’ Cillian said.

‘We did. But I can’t’ you said before taking a pause. ‘Can you?’ you asked.

‘I’ve been trying’ he chuckled, causing you to smile.

‘Perhaps you should stop trying and kiss me again. Just once more and I will never mention it again’ you said as you walked over towards him.

‘I am twice your age Y/N. You do realise that, right?’ Cillian said as you took his hands suggestively, indicating that you wanted him to stand up.

‘Yes, I do and I like it’ you giggled before biting your lip. Your comment made Cillian raise his eye brows and laugh.

‘You could be with someone your own age Y/N. I am sure you get plenty of offers. So why me?’ he asked as he stood up in front of you, running his hand over your cheek and moving part of your hair away from your face and behind your ear.

‘Because you are intelligent, kind and not afraid to be yourself. I like that. Despite, I also think that you are incredibly attractive’ you whispered shyly.

‘But, if you don’t like me then just tell me and I accept that’ you added after Cillian didn’t respond to your comment.

‘I like you alright. But I know that it would be a very bad idea if were to get involved with each other’ Cillian said quietly.

‘Maybe. Maybe not’ you said and, just like this, Cillian leaned forward and pressed his lips on to yours.

The kiss was gentle and Cillian caressed your face with his warm hands while his soft lips explored yours. Your lips moved in sync with his for a moment until he pulled away slightly.

‘We should not be doing this’ Cillian said and, just after he did, you decided that, this time, he wouldn’t get away that easily and you crashed your lips back onto his.

He accepted the kiss, giving into you for what felt like an eternity until he pulled away again.

‘Are you sure this is what you want? Because there will be implications if…’ he said and, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted.

‘I know and I am prepared to deal with these implications as they arise’ you said before pressing your lips back onto his. You knew that, most likely, you would have to keep your interactions with Cillian a secret at least for a little while and you knew that, later down the track, this might cause issues with Craig and Ella.

Despite these intrusive thoughts, you managed to switch off and get lost in the moment and kiss between you soon became heated as Cillian gently slipped his tongue in between the opening of your lips.

You gave in and let his tongue dance with yours as if it was the most natural thing to do. He was such a good kisser. Gentle and passionate.

‘Now do you want me to stay for the night or call a taxi?’ you asked as, after at least ten minutes, your lips drifted apart.

‘If you were to stay, what would you be telling Craig and Ella?’ Cillian asked.

‘That I had some drinks after the theatre and ended up staying at a friend’s house’ you said, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I guess you are staying then’ he said as he ran his hand over your cheek again before giving you another kiss.

‘Alright’ you said shyly. ‘I will go and have a shower then’ you said nervously.

It felt different this time around and you didn’t know how far he wanted to go. You had never had sex before and intimacy didn’t come naturally to you.

After you both had showers, separately, you met in bed just like the last time when you stayed at Cillian’s house.

Just this time, neither of you bothered getting dressed for the occasion.

Bed Time

Cillian was lying there, under the doona, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs as you walked into the bedroom.

You, on the other hand, wore even less. A black thong. That was it and you could see the appreciation on Cillian’s face as you walked into the bedroom.

But, in addition to your naked body, your tattoos and piercings, he could also see the nervousness on your face as you climbed into bed next to him.

‘You are beautiful’ he said as you got under the doona.

‘If you say so’ you smiled shyly before giving him a kiss.

It wasn’t long until he gently pulled you closer towards him and began running his masculine hands over your body, including your breasts and all the way down to your naked ass.

His lips never left yours and you enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The little amount of his chest hair brushed against your breasts and, as he held you close, you could feel his erection grow beneath his breaths.

You knew he wanted you, all of you and, whilst you wanted to be with him, you weren’t quite ready to take this step yet.

‘Cillian, I am…I never had…’ you said and, before you could finish your sentence Cillian withdraw his hand from you.

‘You are a virgin?’ he asked somewhat surprised, causing you to nod. Whilst you hinted on this previously when you talked with him about Darcy being pushy when it came to your relationship, you never actually told him that you never had sex. It all made more sense to him now and made him dislike how Darcy had treated you even more.

‘I am sorry. I didn’t realise’ Cillian said.

‘Are you disappointed?’ you asked, noticing Cillian’s reluctance to touch you again the same way he was before you told him.

‘Why would I be disappointed?’ he asked, running his hand over your cheek.

‘Not sure. Perhaps you expected something else tonight?’ you said shyly.

‘Well, the truth is that I didn’t expect anything tonight. Not kissing you, not lying next to you or getting to touch your beautiful body. So, I am getting way more than I had bargained for’ Cillian said.

‘You are so kind Cillian. What I meant was that, once you got a woman into bed, you probably didn’t expect this’ you said somewhat embarrassed.

‘At my age, probably not’ Cillian laughed. ‘But, I am not disappointed Y/N. We will just take things slow, move at your pace, alright? Despite, there are so many things other than sex in the conventional way that are enjoyable and I am just happy to lie here with you and kiss you all night’ Cillian said before pressing his lips back on to yours.

‘Things other than sex in the conventional way?’ you asked curiously after your lips drifted apart.

‘Yeah, you know, like other things’ Cillian chuckled. He clearly was out of your comfort zone having to give you a sex ed lesson.

‘Hmm, like what?’ you said cheekily. ‘Can you show me?’ you asked nervously. Whilst you weren’t quite ready to take things all the way, you felt an overwhelming desire for this man and you trusted him and you certainly wanted him to continue to touch you.

Cillian chuckled at your comment but reluctantly agreed. After all, he just promised you to take things slow and what he was about to do didn’t exactly fall into the category of taking things slow.

‘Alright, but you are in charge. Promise me that you will tell me if you want me to stop, ok?’ Cillian said reassuringly.

‘I promise’ you said before he leaned in and gave you another kiss before guiding your back down on to the mattress.

After you lied down comfortably, Cillian kissed you once again before his lips began trailing down your neck, kissing all over it, while his hands wandered over your naked breasts.

In this moment, you felt somewhat vulnerable. You weren’t exactly blessed with a large bust but Cillian seemed to like what he saw as he kissed down your beautiful body, his lips and tongue exploring and enjoying the sweetness of your flesh.

Eventually, his lips found their way to your perky breasts and lingered at a taut, pierced nipple, the tip of his tongue rolling around it, over the tiny bumps on your areola. He drew it into his mouth, eliciting a soft sigh from you as he sucked.

It felt amazing, much unlike what anyone else had ever done to you before and you could feel an unexpected tension build up in between your legs. The moisture within you was building and you trusted Cillian even once his lips began to trail further down your body.

His lips soon found the swell of your belly, and he showered it with soft kisses. His tongue played a moment in your pierced belly button before he continued his downward journey.

Then, suddenly, his lips touched the top of your lace panties causing you to let out a surprisingly loud moan.

No man had ever been this close to your mound before with anything else but their fingers.

With his fingers, he hooked into the ream of your lace panties before sliding them down all the way past your knees and then down over your feet before letting them drop over the bed.

There you were, completely naked, in front of the man you were so desperate for.

With his head moving back in between your legs, you felt vulnerable and excited at the same time.

The scent of your hot sex was now filling his nostrils, making him crave the taste of you.

His lips first touched the inside of your thighs, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. Again, you couldn’t help it but moan unexpectantly loud at the sensation.

Your reaction made Cillian smile against your thighs and he moved his head slightly inwards.

You could feel his warm breath on your vulva just before his lips touched your naked mound for the first time.

‘Oh god’ you inhaled sharply, making him smile again. He clearly was doing all the right things and took it slow, much slower than he would usually take it.

After kissing your most intimate body part a couple of time, he finally let his tongue lightly trace down the folds of your flesh.

It felt insane and you moaned loudly before you started to squirm when his tongue ran through your folds for the second time.

Cillian soon felt your fingertips caress his hair as he teased you.

He ran his tongue up and down those lips, enjoying the wetness between them.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned just as you gripped his hair tighter as he pushed his tongue inward in between your lips, savouring the sweet taste of you.

By this point you were dripping wet as his tongue went as deep as it could, his face awash with your warm juices.

Then, Cillian pulled back slightly, moving his tongue up and down, side to side, not wanting to leave any part of your sex untouched.

At the top, he found that sensitive nub of flesh, now fully extended. As his tongue flicked against it, he felt you give a little shiver of pleasure. His tongue swirled around and around, and then his lips engulfed it, sucking it gently as you began to moan even louder.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as you let your body take in the fullest extend of this sensation and closed your eyes.

Just as you closed your eyes, you could feel one of Cillian’s fingers run over your wet slit while his tongue continued to swirl around your clit.

You took in a deep breath but tried to relax as much as possible, thinking about what he might be doing next.

And, just like this, he carefully slipped a finger into you, watching your cues closely for any pain.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned again at the sensation. To your surprise, it felt nice, very nice.

After your body relaxed again Cillian began moving his finger in and out in a slow, steady rhythm as his tongue played a staccato on your pulsing clit.

He loved your taste, your scent, your sounds, he was in his happy place, and your pleasure was his goal.

He kept going, making love to you with his lips and tongue and fingers. Your sounds intensified in volume; the grip on his hair tightened; your hips rose as you squirmed beneath his ministrations.

After several minutes of pure extasy, Cillian carefully inserted a second finger while he gentle sucked on your clit.

You tensed up once again at the intrusion but, following some mild discomfort, were able to relax again. The slight amount of pain quickly turned into pleasure and your breathing was becoming heavier.

You felt full, just by his fingers and they moved in and out of you in the perfect rhythm.

With your moans becoming louder and louder and your walls becoming tighter around his fingers, he could tell that you were close. He pushed his fingers into you deeper, hooking them slightly upward and touching that other magical spot you never knew existed.

Your moans turned into screams of pleasure and your hips bucked as he pushed you over the edge.

Cillian lifted his eyes so he could look up at you and see your head thrown back, eyes closed, and mouth open with your moans and screams of pleasure filling the room.

You were totally lost in the ecstasy of the moment. His tongue was still dancing against your pulsing extended clit.

Your hips bucked one more time, and then you grasped his hair and pulled him away. It was too much, too intense.

He would have kept going for as long as you would let him, but your body had reached the point of pleasure saturation, and you needed to catch your breath.

While you were breathing heavily, coming down from your high slowly, Cillian kissed his way up your body until your lips met, and you shared one long deep kiss.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked as he could see small tears building up in your eyes. You looked completely exhausted and somewhat confused.

‘Yes, it’s just… I think I just had an orgasm’ you laughed.

‘Well, that was the idea’ Cillian chuckled. But you didn’t laugh at his joke. You were entirely overwhelmed.

‘Have you not had one before?’ Cillian asked somewhat surprised by your reaction.

‘What, an orgasm? No…But I read it’s normal for women not to have orgasms’ you said shyly.

‘If that was true then that would be pretty disappointing’ Cillian chuckled as he took you into his arms.

‘How about you get some rest alright?’ Cillian said with a smile as you seemed somewhat besides yourself which he thought was cute.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep in his arms. You felt so safe and secure next to him.

But for Cillian, it took a little longer. Whilst he promised you to take it slow and was prepared to stick to his promises, deep down inside, he wanted you, all of you.

Good Morning Mr Murphy

The next morning, your alarm went off at 7am. You had to attend art school which was due to start at 9am.

You would have rather stayed in bed with Cillian, but this wasn’t an option.

When the sound of your alarm ripped you out of your dreams and your eyes shot open, you noticed that Cillian wasn’t lying next to you.

As you got up to look for him, you heard the shower running in the bathroom. He was up early and it surprised you.

‘Can I come in?’ you asked as you knocked on the bathroom door.

‘Uhm, yes sure’ Cillian yelled out. He clearly was still in the shower.

‘Good Morning’ you said as you walked inside, not being able to see Cillian through the steam covering the door of the shower.

‘Good Morning… I will be out in a minute’ Cillian said, his voice sounding somewhat hasty.

‘No need, I just come in’ you said.

Without asking permission, you opened the shower door and stepped inside.

Your lips instantly met Cillian’s lips as you stepped closer towards him. But he seemed somewhat uncomfortable with your quick approach.

As you went to press your body against his soapy chest, you could feel something in between you and, just as you did, you looked downwards.

This was the first time you saw Cillian’s most intimate part and it was quite a sight.

‘Sorry’ Cillian said with some embarrassment as his erection pressed against you. He had struggled with it on and off since the previous night.

‘Now I am no expert, but I think that your reaction down there tells me that you like me, a lot’ you giggled as your hand reached for his hard cock.

Cillian moaned at your touch and you slowly began stroking him.

‘Now, I have never done this before so just tell me if I do something wrong alright?’ you said as your hands moved to either side of his hips.

‘Done what?’ Cillian asked and, just as he did, you dropped down to your knees right there in front of him.

‘This’ you said as you took hold of his cock again and guided it towards your mouth.  

You could hear a soft moan come out of Cillian as your tongue touched his shaft for the first time.  

You first licked the side of his shaft tentatively. Your heart was pounding as you did and you continued licking the sides and worked your way to the top of his cock.

Swirling your tongue around the head of Cillian’s cock and then working your way back down the shaft, you felt like you found yourself in another world, one you had never been in before.

Cillian groaned again and you felt his hands on your head as you continued licking his cock and then finally taking him into your mouth as far as you could go.

You didn't have a clue what you were doing, never having done this before, but you started bobbing up and down his shaft.

As Cillian’s moans became louder and steadier, you started bobbing up and down his cock even faster. You could taste his per cum on your tongue and then felt his hands hold on to the hair on your head even tighter.

You were in control but it was almost like he needed to hold on to something, grab something with his hands.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned and you could tell he was getting close.

Before he could say anything else, you looked up at him.

‘I want you to come in my mouth’ you said before taking him back inside your mouth.

He looked surprised but didn’t dare to argue and, after a few more head bobs, he let go.

You could feel his cock begin to throb in your mouth and, just as you did, his hot sweet cum began to flow steadily from his shaft into your mouth.

You stopped bobbing your head as he came down from his high and let go of his cock before looking up at him and opening your mouth.

He could see his cum in your mouth and the disbelieve on his face made you laugh for a second, causing you to spill some but swallowing the rest.

‘Are you sure you never done this before because I never had a woman do this last bit’ Cillian chuckled as he helped you up.

‘No…never’ you said. ‘But, I’ve watched porn before’ you laughed as you wiped your mouth before giving Cillian a kiss.

After your intimate encounter, you both cleaned yourself off and got dressed before Cillian gave you a lift to art school.

Unpleasant Surprise

Your day at art school was good but you couldn’t get Cillian out of your head that day.

You went as far as to cancel your date with Anita that same afternoon so that you could surprise Cillian at his house later.

It was probably for the better you thought as Anita had many questions for you that day after Darcy had told her that he saw you at the theatre with Cillian.

At 4.30pm, after picking up some food and clothes from at home, you made your way to Cillian’s place.

You knocked on the door and, eventually, Cillian opened.

‘What are you doing here Y/N?’ Cillian asked surprised. You came by unannounced and thought that, maybe, it wasn’t a good idea after all. Perhaps he didn’t like surprises.

‘I am sorry, I should have called. I just wanted to surprise you’ you said before asking Cillian whether you could come inside.

‘It’s not a good time Y/N’ Cillian said and, in this moment, you could hear a female voice from inside his apartment.

Through the crack of the door, you could see a blonde woman. She was pretty, probably in her late thirties, wearing a black dress and heels. It was obvious to you that Cillian and her were close.

‘Can I call you later?’ Cillian asked.

‘Right, sure’ you sighed as you handed him the bag with the food and walked off.

As you walked towards the elevator, tears were building up in your eyes and you felt overwhelmingly anxious and upset. Perhaps he wasn’t different than other actors and you were just another quick fling.

You didn’t pick up his calls that day. You’ve been hurt enough by men in the past.

I love your writings, they’re so good and realistic and not weird and cringe like some others on here, by far the best I’ve seen in a while !! Was just wondering if you’re taking requests and if so if you could do one when your an actress and have always had a crush on him but you meet him at an after party at a premier or something and have flirty banter and maybe more ? Thankyou x

hello my lovely x

this is so unbelievably sweet I've been screaming since this popped into my inbox. I wanted to start this off by saying a massive thank you - this is my first ever requested piece and I am so excited to be able to create something for you! this is a milestone fic: the 10th fic that I've written for tom, and is also one of my longest!! I also want to apologise for how long it has taken me; I started on this a while ago now and you have been so patient and kind! please enjoy and let me know what you think! (also the timing that this is now coming out on his birthday is all the spook!!) 

after party antics || tom holland x reader

word count: 2729 warnings: alcohol use summary: premiere after party meet cute

Circular tables filled the floor as glittering chandeliers hung low from the ceilings above. Pretty foliage and large blooming fresh flowers in pastel pinks, greens and blues, draped through the room, entangling themselves around chairs and across wooden beams. Lace, satin and chiffon brushed along the floors as what felt like the entire film industry conversed with one another; hands clutching at suit jacketed arms, glasses clinking in cheers. 

Music, chatter, camera flashes and laughing filled the room - sounds reverberating all around. You glide through the crowds, smiling and nodding your thanks as people congratulated you from either side.

Taking a detour from your path, you spotted the signs for the bathroom and let out a shaky exhale when it appeared empty. Resting your hands on the wash basin and closing your eyes, you took a couple of deep breaths before your face erupted into a toothy grin, a small squeal of excitement bubbling from your lips.

You were at an after-party.

For your very first film.

Surrounded by some of Hollywood’s finest.

WHAT!

If your best friend woke you up stating that this was all some insane dream, you wouldn’t be surprised. It would make more sense, actually – this just couldn’t be your life.

You could feel yourself spiralling and spritzed a little bit of water onto your face to calm yourself down, making sure not to ruin the amazing make-up look that your team had spent so long perfecting earlier that day.

The premiere had only just finished.

You had walked across the red carpet on wobbly legs – cameras flashing, thousands of fans screaming from behind barriers, photographers and press overpowering each other in order to get the best angles and shots; screaming for you to ‘look over here’, ‘turn to the side.’

The premiere had only just finished up as you sat amongst a drool-worthy cast; some of the biggest names in Hollywood. Joining such a large cast was daunting, especially considering who some of those people were – and more so since it was with Marvel, one of - if not the - biggest film franchises out there.

You took another look in the mirror, tucking your hair behind your ears and smoothing down the front. Giving a twirl in your signature Teuta Matoshi gown, the tulle dress embroidered with tiny little yellow daffodils and white daisies, you took a moment to admire your favourite designer as you adjusted the slightly puffed sleeves before leaving the restroom.

You held the door open behind you to allow for a gaggle of tall women to enter in beautiful flowing gowns, turning abruptly to shift yourself out of the way - smiling at them as they all smiled back.

Up on the tips of your toes, wobbling slightly in your heels, you try to peer over the heads of the masses of people. You were eagerly looking for your team, consisting of your incredible manager and your best friend, who you dragged everywhere with you. But you could barely see past the sea of heads in front of you.

You decided to head for the heavy, wide double-set doors that stood open, leading out into the freshly manicured gardens; alive with luscious trees, plants and flowerbeds. A separate dirt path led into a lowly lit rose garden that was nestled in amongst the grasses.

It was a little quieter outside, but not by much.

There was a large marquee to your immediate left. A bar was situated at one end as bottles were flipped in the air - waiters passing out trays lined with champagne flutes. Pristinely clothed tables were crowded with guests; bodies tumbled past you as they headed into the marquee - parties splitting into different locations now that the main event had concluded, leading into a very alive and wild after party. 

Your cheeks ached as the smile on your face refused to drop. Too amazed by your surroundings to let it relax. You stand out on the patio area, looking out across the gardens towards the glow of the city in the distance, lights twinkling in exchange for stars. Despite the dry warmth of the evening you could feel the lightest of winds raising the tiny hairs on your arms. 

“Room for another?”

You jumped slightly at the interruption, the voice light and questioning. You turn, your dress dancing around you.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Tom, I’ve been meaning to introduce myself all night. Congratulations on the film!”

As you exchange pleasantries, your cheeks gathering up some heat beneath the radiant glow of your make-up, he presses forwards leaning in for a hug as you do the same. You can feel his hands against the bare skin at your back leaving behind tiny little goose-bumps in their place, your skin tingling from his touch. You couldn’t help but breathe in his cologne, the pleasant woodsy scent engulfing you.

“Ah, so you’re the spider guy? I think I’m getting the hang of these superhero names now.”

Your lips twitch, forming a playful smile.

He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, eyeing you up as tiny crinkles appeared around the outside of his eyes. They were looking at you inquisitively with a sweet kind of intensity.

You could feel your heart kick up a notch under his gaze. You scolded yourself internally for your lack of composure. Of course, you knew who Spider-Man was, you’d been such a fan of the Marvel films for years and you’d have to have been blind not to notice the cute, brown haired, quick witted, web-slinger who the world quickly fell in love with. They weren’t the only ones; did he look even better in person? How was that even fair? You shook your head slightly at your thoughts in an attempt to dispel them from your conscious.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m a fan of yours – your work is brilliant.”

You continued on with your bumbling word vomit – a light pink blush evident across your cheekbones and nose.

Tom’s face lights up more as you stumble over your sentences, his eyes glistening in the darkening sky.

“Oh really? Big fan, hm?” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, before calling upon one of the many smartly dressed men and women swooping seamlessly through the crowds with their glossy black trays.

You take a moment to drink him in. His crisp navy suit sat comfortably unbuttoned, the satin shirt hugging the figure beneath. He looked older than you’d seen him portray onscreen; his jaw strong and chiselled. His shoulders and body filled out his suit comfortably, hair beautifully fluffed; although it did seem slightly rumpled, as though he had been running his hands through it.

“Oh yeah,” You paused for a beat before continuing, “Then again, I think you’re about the 30th actor I’ve said that to tonight.”

He nods, laughing, his eyes lighting up at your relaxed, playful energy.

“Oh. Okay, nice. No, I see how it is. New girl keeping us all on our toes with the flattery.”

He holds one of the crystal champagne flutes out to you before picking up his own. Shimmering, golden liquid danced as you accepted the glass, fingertips brushing over open palms.

The cool bubbles gently slid down your throat. You could feel eyes on you as you focussed on the glass in your hand.

“Have you met everyone yet?” Tom gestured towards to the lit-up marquee, “A lot of us were talking about how great you were in your film, they’ll want to meet you.”

“Now who’s full of the flattery,” You tease, nudging his arm slightly as he shakes his head at you, “But honestly, I haven’t, I’m kind of finding it all a little bit intimidating. I’ve also lost my team which is not helpful.”

You took another sweep of the area. Now low-key wishing that you wouldn’t find them for a little while, not if it meant that you could continue to talk with Tom with no interruptions.

“Well hey, I can introduce you? I was so terrified when I did my first Marvel premiere, but everyone is so great. Trust me. It’s like a strange, crazy dysfunctional family. I think you fit in perfectly.”

“Are you calling me strange, crazy and dysfunctional? You have an interesting way of making friends, Holland.” You both laugh, “Only if you’re sure though? I don’t want you to be stuck introducing me all night.”

“Don’t be silly. We’ll make it fun. C’mon.”

Tom led you through the entrance of the marquee, turning on the charm as people fist bumped or pulled him in for a quick hug or handshake. Every time they did he peered through his eyelashes at you, inviting you to introduce yourself.

As you made jokes and conversed with your new peers, Tom couldn’t stop himself from watching you. Your name had been all the buzz recently and he’d been eager to meet you. Not only because you were undoubtedly going to be working with each other on future projects, but because you were also getting thrown into the Marvel spotlight like he had been. Little did he realise just how enamoured he had become with you in such a short space of time. There was something about you, he thought, as your cheeks glowed, a wide grin resting upon your face, eyes dancing wildly as you spoke with your new peers - something that he felt drawn to. You noticed him staring and gave him a little wink, shaking him out of it as he joined back into the conversation.

****

The two shot glasses sloppily thump against the bar top.

“Ha!”

“What! No, I was totally first!” Tom protested loudly, throwing his hands into the air.

“I definitely beat you!”

You smiled politely at the bartender as he collected the row of glasses lined up in front of you before turning wildly to face Tom.

“You just can’t face the fact that I won.”

He gestures to his brother who had pulled up a stool to join you both, “Harry c’mon, I won right?!”

“You can’t ask him that, it’s cheating. He’s your brother, of course he’s going to pick your side.”

“Tom, I hate to say this mate but I think she has you beat…” Harry said regretfully, camera slung around his neck as he nursed his own drink, mouth falling into an upturned grin as he supervised the pair of you.

You looked past Tom, straight at Harry, grinning proudly, “I take it back, Harry’s opinion is very important.”

Tom gives Harry a gentle shove as they mess around. You feel an arm slink around your shoulders, giving a playfully gentle squeeze. Your heart thumps along to the beat of the bass, music pulsing through your very bones as the three of you continued to laugh and joke around. Tom’s hair had gotten far more rumpled as the night had gone on, a long way off the perfectly styled look that he’d started off with.

You decided you preferred it messy.

Tom was sitting close by you on his stool, your knees both knocking together. His foot was tapping the footrest to the beat of the music. He’d discarded his suit jacket, and it now hung from the back of the chair, leaving him in his fitted shirt. You couldn’t help but notice his defined muscles as he ran a hand through his hair before resting it on the back of your seat.

“You look really pretty tonight. I saw you walking the carpet earlier, you completely owned it up there.”

“Tom Holland, are you flirting with me?”

You spun in your seat a little bit, making direct eye contact as your hand rested gently on his knee.

As soon as the pair of you had challenged each other to a drinking competition (involving a lot of shots) the night flew by, and you found yourself becoming more and more comfortable with Tom. He was quickly going from that cute actor who you had a little crush on, to someone you were actually spending time with? The intimidation you were feeling from earlier had dissipated, leaving you feeling slightly fuzzy and very happy.

He shrugs, that cheeky grin appearing again. A twinkle shining within those gorgeous brown eyes.

“I don’t know. Am I?”

He slides off of his seat, holding a hand out to you, palm up.

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” You questioned, as Harry returned with the drinks.

“Dance floor.”

You can feel your face light up as you hopped down from the high stool, gripping onto Tom’s hand as he helped navigate you back down to solid ground. He whispered to his brother who comfortably started up a conversation with the people around him, before giving him a pat on the shoulder as you dragged him over to the dance floor.

The floor was already packed with bodies. A live DJ station was against one wall facing out into the crowd; flashing, swirling lights brightened up the outdoor space. You pointed out a space in amongst the crowd and Tom led you both towards it, far better at making a path through the wayward limbs than you would have been.

The space was small, and the pair of you were in extremely close proximity. This was the most at ease you’d felt all night, allowing yourself to just feel the music and dance with one of the sweetest, most charming and insanely attractive men you’d possibly ever met. The space quickly filled up, growing tighter until you and Tom were practically chest to chest. He was a quick mover; his hips, legs and arms moving in all the right directions.

Your bodies were pressed together tightly, rapid heartbeats beating as one.

He leans in, pressing up against your side, brushing some stray hairs out of your face, “I also meant what I said earlier. You’re really beautiful tonight.”

“Just tonight?” You whisper into his ear, leaving him to flounder slightly on the dance floor. A little colour flushed to his cheeks as he lifted an arm, spinning you under it.

Before he has a chance to answer, you continue.

“You don’t scrub up too badly yourself, Holland.”

As the two of you lock eyes; the heat from the dance floor, the pounding of the music and the dancing, twinkling lights all fade to the background. His eyes dart to your lips, and you can't help but follow his lead, when you can suddenly hear your name being called out in the crowd.

"Oh my god, I got her. We've been looking for you for ages!" You were suddenly no longer face to face with the cute boy but instead looking into the slightly stressed face of your manager, "It's nearly 4am, the car is here and we gotta go!" She took a moment to look between you and Tom, who suddenly now looked a little bit embarrassed and sheepish - nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Oh. Sorry, I've interrupted something here, haven't I?" She awkwardly made her way back through the crowd after whispering a sorry in your direction.

You smile at Tom, and make your way out from the dance floor. He was close behind you, nodding to a group of people back up at the bar.

He pulls you in for a goodbye hug, embracing you similarly to how you'd hugged earlier in the evening. Except this time was full of promise and a strange tension that hadn't been present before. You could feel the goosebumps prickle your skin where he touched it - his hands gentle as he held them tight around your waist, breathing you in before pulling away.

"Thank you for tonight, Tom. I owe you, seriously."

As you hurriedly caught up to your team, dress fluttering behind you as you immediately begin laughing and chatting animatedly to them, you could feel eyes on you. You looked back as you continued to vacate the marquee and head for the cars out front. Tom was stood, staring after you, a bright smile on his lips.

Something told you this wasn't the last you'd hear from him, and your stomach flip-flopped immediately at the very thought of seeing him again after tonight. For now however, the image of the brown haired, glossy eyed young man smiling after you in awe would have to be enough.

I Am Not Starfire, And That's Okay

I recently read I Am Not Starfire and I had lots of thoughts, which are under the cut. It is spoiler-heavy and an analysis of the main character, who I find to be a charming, flawed, and incredibly human character.

Mandy is a fascinating character and a great look at a teenage girl who feels ostracized by the people around her and who feels disconnected from her parent. Mandy is by no means flawless, and that's what makes her very interesting. It also makes her relatable.

Mandy starts by talking about how she's noticeably different from her mom, being the "Anti-Starfire". She's a regular kid, can't fly, and doesn't own a swimsuit, while her mom is a superhero, can fly, and always wears bikinis.

On page 11 she mentions "her mom hasn't liked how I looked since I was twelve. She wears less than a yard of fabric every day, yet somehow, I'm the one who's dressing weird". While I understand people who call this slut-shaming, and I'm inclined to agree, but I think it's a little more nuanced than that. The next page reads, "My friend Lincoln convinced me this is the cultural divide that happens between family generations born in different countries or universes. His parents were born in Vietnam." This tells me that the authors intended to point out the difference in dress more as another difference between Starfire and Mandy, and less as a reason to blatantly slut-shame Starfire. I think there's absolutely a conversation to be had about why the authors decided to use this language instead of conveying the point differently. I also think it speaks to how Starfire has more or less been sexualized from inception, and how people look down upon her character because of that. In the context of this book, though, it's one of Mandy's character flaws that I think fits her both as a character and reflects what I've seen from actual teenage girls. Our society coaches us to view women who dress a certain way as less than women who don't and unlearning that takes time and effort. I don't think this comment about her mom should have been put in there by the authors, but I do think it fits in with the values American society in particular teaches about women.

Page 15, 16, and 17 all point to a far more complicated state of existence than Mandy points out within the first few pages. For one thing, Mandy has to deal with people who love her mother and only want to use her to get information about her mom and the other teen titans. This is shown by the "Titan groupies" who ask her to tell Starfire what they say about her. Another thing she has to deal with is the expectation to be a superhero and have powers like her mom, and the questions about who her dad might be. She gains her first real friend, Lincoln, because he tells the people asking about her parentage that they are assholes.

It is revealed that Mandy has a crush on Claire after she gets assigned a group project with her. Mandy is in denial over the crush. She thinks about the fact she's meeting Mandy at the end of the day throughout the rest of the school day, causing her to explode something in Chemistry Class. I find this to be highly relatable and gives her character a softer side to the edginess she desperately tries to portray herself as.

While talking about the project with Claire, it is revealed that Mandy ran out of her SATs and didn't complete them. While Mandy tries to paint this as a cool badass moment, the way the comic artist portrays the scene makes me think Mandy had an anxiety attack. Mandy didn't run out of her SAT because she's some kind of alternative badass who doesn't need to take them. Mandy ran out because she got overwhelmed by the sounds of people chewing and the pressure of the test. While she frames it differently, it's clear to me that Mandy is avoiding taking the SAT again because she doesn't want that to happen again.

When Claire invites her to hang out with her friends, Mandy gets treated like she isn't there, or as some kind of unwanted outsider. The topics they discuss seem to be specifically made to make Mandy uncomfortable, like mentioning how stretchy jeans are only made for fat people, and asking if aliens don't go to college. Jaded by this, Mandy makes up that aliens actually have to go through this huge blood right and battle to the death, but tells Claire's two friends she was joking before leaving. This tells me that Mandy deflects her pain by using humor to cope and has no issue clowning on people who are trying to belittle her for being an alien.

Starfire tries to bring up going to college after this, and Mandy just flees to her room. She hasn't told her mom she didn't take the SAT yet or that she isn't going to college. She feels distant from her mom, which is explained further through a montage of birthdays where she never got her powers. Her mom expects a lot from her, and Mandy thinks Starfire is disappointed about her lack of powers.

Later, Mandy invites Claire over to her house to complete the project they are working on. The Titans are still there when Claire arrives, but she seems to ignore them, as they leave shortly after. Mandy and Claire bond as they continue the project. Mandy reveals to the reader that she's never had a girlfriend, except for one time at sleep-away camp where she kind of dated a girl for four weeks. She didn't tell her who her mom was because she was tired of living in the shadow of a superhero. But the relationship ended because Mandy had lied about who her mom was, and the girl she was dating didn't understand why she would lie. I think this really shows just how much Mandy actually wants to be a normal girl like everyone else, to the extent that she'd lie about who her mom was. Her edgy demeanor at school and around town where her mom is known to be her mom is a defense mechanism to having lived under the shadow of a superhero her entire life.

When it's revealed that Claire took a photo with the Titans at Mandy's house, Mandy is understandable heartbroken, and furious. She thought she had been making a real connection with Claire, but this photo makes her think she's been used, again. Claire seems genuinely baffled by Mandy's reaction to this, thinking little of it. But to Mandy, it is a breach of trust from someone she thought cared about her. I think her angry reaction to Claire makes sense because of this, even if it might have been disproportionate to the offense.

On top of this, Starfire has discovered that Mandy walked out of the SAT and doesn't plan to go to college. After a heated conversation, she runs away, but her mom finds her. And then Blackfire finds her. Turns out the fake story she told Claire's friends earlier in the story was actually true, even though Mandy didn't know it.

Since Claire actually cares about Mandy, she tracks down Lincoln who explains to her why Mandy reacted badly, and that she should probably apologize for taking the photo. Claire also admits that one of the friends from earlier, Deb, actually dared her to take the photo. Claire is a good person at heart, but this action shows that she can still be influenced to do something that would hurt another person. And while she might not have known it would hurt Mandy, Deb probably did.

Starfire and Blackfire fight since Mandy has no powers, but Starfire gets injured causing Mandy to realize just how much she loves and cares about her mom, even though they don't see eye to eye on most things. This finally unlocks her powers, as she's let go of most of the resentment she's held against her mom. She even gets asked for an autograph by someone in the audience after the battle.

The story ends with Mandy training her powers, studying for the SAT, and reconciling with Claire, sharing a kiss, and becoming girlfriends.

I've seen a lot of discourse that frames Mandy as being "not like other girls". I don't believe this framing actually fits Mandy very well. The only girl Mandy ever says she is not like explicitly is her mom. She is the only woman she compares herself too, and the only person who she seems to have a lot of resentment for, aside from people who use her to get to Starfire. Additionally, Mandy falls for someone who is what a stereotypical, normal popular girl is often portrayed as. She's preppy, wears makeup, gets good grades, has friends, and runs a fairly popular Instagram account. If Mandy was extremely into the "Not like other girls" rhetoric, she would've made fun of Claire for all those things. Instead, she admires her for them. Mandy is fat, has acne/freckles, dresses goth, and wears a nose ring. If this is the reason people are identifying her as a "Not like other girls" girl, then they don't understand that trope. Simply dressing differently from your peers, being fat, and hating your mom does not make her the "not like other girls" trope. It actually makes her like other, real-life girls who dress and act similarly, because that's who they are, not because they somehow think they are better than other women.

I'd also make the argument that, fundamentally, Mandy IS different from other girls on the account of having a superhero mother and potentially a superhero father. Her life is completely altered by Starfire's existence as her mom and is likely only relatable to the children of other superheroes and celebrities. She is not like other girls because of her mom, and that still doesn't make her someone who falls in line with the conception of being "not like other girls".

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and hope others do too. I read Mandy as a flawed character who was trying to figure out how to exist outside the Shadow of her mom- and eventually succeeds, by learning to embrace her mom. I would've preferred if Mandy had a slightly darker skin tone, as her features seem black-coded to me and Starfire is also often black-coded. Otherwise, I do think this was one of the best DC Graphic Novels for Young Adults I've read, alongside Teen Titans: Beast Boy and Teen Titans: Raven.

Spring Birthday

After Sora’s return, Naminé’s friends celebrate her birthday with her. While her early days were lonely, her life is very different now, and she treasures each new memory with the people dear to her heart.

~1650 words. Post-Kingdom Hearts III and Melody of Memory. Gen, Friendship, Fluff. Naminé POV. Written for @naminezine​, and the banner art is by the lovely @somniumars​.

“Naminé, when is your birthday?” Kairi asked over breakfast one day, scones with jam and clotted cream, served with a hot cup of tea for both of them. They liked to visit this cafe together at least once a month. It had outdoor seating, and the weather was finally warm enough again for them to sit outside with light jackets. 

Naminé stopped buttering her scone for a moment and frowned. It was a simple enough question, and yet she found herself unsure of what to say. 

“Well, I suppose it was the day Sora released his heart to save you,” she said at last. “But as glad as I am to be alive, it feels strange to celebrate that day, considering what happened.” 

“I understand,” Kairi said softly. “Are there any other days you can think of?”

Naminé paused once more and thought as Kairi sipped some more of her tea. The only other day she could really think of was… 

“The day of my rebirth. It was spring on Radiant Garden. The sun was shining, the flowers were blooming, and the weather was perfect.” She sighed happily at the memory. “I’ll never forget what it felt like to walk outside for the first time in a body of my own.”

“Then why don’t we make that your birthday? I know we technically missed it last year, when we were all searching for Sora, but it’s coming up here soon.” 

“Sure, that sounds nice.” Naminé put one more cube of sugar in her tea to get it to just the right sweetness, then added a little more cream and stirred. “I’ve never really thought about having a birthday of my own before.”

“Well, you deserve to have one,” Kairi said with a determined glint in her eye. “You’re your own person. Always have been, always will be.”

The two girls chatted some more as they finished their breakfast, and the subject soon slipped away from Naminé’s mind. It wasn’t until she and Xion were gathering shells together on Destiny Islands a few days later when the topic of birthdays came up again.

“See,” Xion said as she picked up a thalassa shell, “I like these ones the most, with the pink centers and yellow edges.” 

“I like them too. Yellow’s one of my favorite colors.”

Yellow was the color of the sun. A hopeful color for a girl that had begun her life in a cage, longing to see the outdoors for herself. For that reason alone it was precious to her. 

“You like blue too, right?” Xion said. She placed another thalassa shell in Naminé’s palm, this one with a blue center and yellow edges.

Naminé nodded. “Yes. Blue is the color of the sky… of the waves… all the things I longed to see when I was imprisoned in Castle Oblivion.” 

“It suits you, and so does yellow,” Xion said with a smile. “Born from the waves, and reborn during the spring.” 

“Xion, when is your birthday?” Naminé suddenly asked. She realized she hadn’t really gotten to celebrate it with her before. 

“Oh, my birthday? I figured it should be during the fall. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been drawn to falling leaves, the seasons changing, that kind of thing.” She smiled ruefully. “I suppose because I felt like my time was limited, just like those leaves. Kairi actually asked me about it recently, I think because she wants to—”  

Her eyes went wide, then she coughed and craned her neck. “Look, I see some more shells over there!”

Naminé found Xion’s startled reaction rather curious, but she didn’t press her friend. It was just nice to spend time together sharing a hobby they both enjoyed. For a girl who had started life with no friends of her own, Naminé was lucky to have so many now. 

The next time she met with her friends, it was for a picnic on Rapunzel’s world, in a clearing in the woods near a small pool. The weather was perfect, sunny with a breeze blowing dandelions and flower petals through the air, and she and Sora and Rapunzel were all cloud gazing after a delicious lunch of sandwiches and cookies and lemonade. 

“See that one right there?” Rapunzel said, pointing up at the sky. “It looks like Maximus.” 

“It sure does!” Sora put his hand behind his neck and grinned. “The sky’s full of all sorts of interesting clouds today.” 

“I wish I had my sketchbook with me,” Naminé said with a sigh. “I’d love to draw all of them.” 

“Take a picture with your Gummiphone then,” Sora suggested. “You can always draw it later based off of that.” 

“I’d like to, but I’ve run out of room in my sketchbook. I could really use some new pencils, too.”

Sora and Rapunzel exchanged glances, and Sora grinned.

“Naminé, you should come to the castle,” Rapunzel said. “I’d love to show you some of my art supplies. Have you ever tried painting before?”

Naminé shook her head. “No, I haven’t, but I’d love to. Thank you for the invitation.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go now!” Sora sat up and sprang to his feet. 

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon trying out Rapunzel’s art supplies. Well, more like Rapunzel showed Naminé her things and let her try them out while Sora kept typing away at his Gummiphone. Naminé giggled at how he still typed with one finger, like a bird pecking at grains of rice. 

“There we go,” he said all of a sudden, then put his phone in his pocket. “What’d I miss?”

Naminé and Rapunzel both giggled and showed him what they’d made: a painting to hang on the walls of Naminé’s room in Twilight Town. It was of the beautiful woods where they’d had the picnic with dandelions flower petals floating through the air. As soon as she got home, she put it up and gave it a satisfied nod.

The days flew by until at last it was the anniversary of her rebirth. There was a knock on the door late in the afternoon, and when she went to get it, she was surprised to see Riku and Roxas waiting there for her.

“Hey Naminé,” Roxas greeted with a grin. His eyes were playful, like he had a big secret he couldn’t wait to share.

“Come with us, there’s something we’d like to show you,” Riku added, and she ducked back inside to grab a few things before following them through the woods and to the Old Mansion. 

“Why are we here?” she asked. 

“You’ll see,” was all Roxas and Riku said, and she followed them inside. She was shocked by how nice the entrance looked, like someone had been in here and cleaned things up—

“Surprise!”

She gasped as she entered the foyer. A huge banner hanging from the stairs read Happy Birthday Naminé, and all her friends were gathered around a large table in the center of the room. The evening light shone through the window behind them, pink and purple and blue, another gorgeous twilight on this world she called home now. 

“Happy Birthday Naminé!” her friends all cheered, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. So this was what they had been plotting and planning all this time. Roxas grinned and grabbed a camera to take a few shots, and Sora and Riku had some of those confetti poppers that they popped with loud crackling noises.  

The seashell decorations were yellow and the star candles were blue on the cake Xion held. Axel lit the candles, and they cast flickering lights and shadows over everyone’s faces.

Kairi leaned close and murmured, “Make a wish, but keep it secret.”

“A secret?” Naminé asked, tilting her head.

“It won’t come true if you tell us,” Ven explained, and Terra nodded. 

As Naminé looked at the faces of her friends, what she should wish for became clear. She knew, deep in her heart, what she wanted more than anything.

With that, she blew out the candles, and everyone cheered loudly. Aqua swept the cake out of Xion’s hands so she could cut it properly, and then everyone sat around the table. The cake was delicious, vanilla and lemon, and after everyone was done eating, it was time for Naminé to open her presents. 

“Here!” Sora said, his eyes shining as he handed her the first one. “It’s from all of us.”

Naminé’s hands shook as she removed the wrapping paper. She wasn’t used to getting gifts, and it took her some time to free the box. But once she did, she couldn’t have stopped the smile on her face even if she’d wanted to.

“They’re like the paints Rapunzel has! And in all the colors I like too.” She hugged the box to her chest. “Oh, thank you so much everyone, I can’t wait to use these.” 

When she was finished unwrapping the rest of her presents, more art supplies and nice jewelry and cute clothes, she thanked her friends for making this such a wonderful birthday night. But there was one last thing that would make it truly perfect.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Naminé said, “let’s make a painting together. So we have something to help us remember tonight.”

Naminé loved drawing on her own, but drawing with her friends was truly wonderful. Everyone brought their own unique spark to the table. And when the painting was finished, it was one huge flowing mosaic of color and life and creativity. Sure, it wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was something truly unique that only they could have made. And that was why it was a work of art. Not because it was perfect or technically skilled, but because it had their hearts poured into it.

Naminé couldn’t have asked for a better way to commemorate her birthday.  

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A/N: Thank you so much to the mods for making this project possible and for being so caring and supportive! And thank you to the other contributors, this zine was such a joy and I enjoyed talking to you all. A big thank you too to Somnium for drawing the banner! I really enjoyed working with you!

And thank you for reading!

This is a very very very late birthday present for the amazing @moonscarsandstars. I love you so so much babe (except for that thing yesterday you little shit) and I hope you enjoy this thing I wrote!

“I’m not doing it.”

“But whyyy?”

“Because it’s creepy as hell, James. That’s why.”

Sirius shoulders open the door to James’ room and flops down onto his bed.

“It’s not creepy!” James protests, flinging his backpack into a corner.

“It’s just unconventional.”

“Read ‘creepy and stalker-ish’,” Sirius mutters.

James plops down on the bed next to Sirius. “You,” he says, poking his friend in the ribs. “Are no fun.”

Sirius snorts. “I’m plenty of fun. I just don’t write random people letters and put them in their mailbox.”

“At least not yet,” James teases.

“Not ever.”

James rolls his eyes, toeing his shoes off. “You’ll cave, eventually.”

“Unlikely,” Sirius says firmly, folding his legs up onto the bed. Only to be shoved roughly off not a moment later.

“Prongs!”

“No shoes on the bed!” James gestures to his own recently departed shoes. “This is the one rule that I have.”

Sirius picks himself up off the floor. “You sound like your mother.”

“Do not.”

Sirius kicks his shoes off but doesn’t return to the bed. Instead, he takes a seat at James’ desk. In favor of silently spinning in the swivel chair.

They’d been having the same back and forth debate for days now. Should Sirius send a letter to that boy who lived down the street? Or no.

James, of course, voted yes. As did many of Sirius’ friends. Sirius, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why.

His friends seemed to be under the impression that this was some sort of young adult novel. It wasn’t.

You couldn’t just send random people letters. What if they called the police? Then what? Not to mention the fact that Sirius didn’t even know his name. That certainly would complicate things.

That’s not to say they were complete strangers though, Sirius and the mystery boy. Quite the contrary, actually.

The two had met before, when Peter’s mother pointed out the fact that that house was the one she grew up in.

The current occupants of Mrs. Pettigrew’s childhood home had insisted on giving her a tour. A sort of them versus now type thing, Sirius supposed.

As it happened, James and Sirius were there the day of the tour. And that was when Sirius had first run into mystery kid.

They’d been briefly introduced, but Sirius was too busy considering how awkward it was to be walking through someone’s house to pay attention to his name.

Now, nearly seven months later, Sirius, James, and Peter had seen the boy again. And for some ridiculous reason, James was under the impression that sticking a letter with his number on it in that boys mailbox was the best idea ever.

Ok technically it was Sirius’ own fault that the idea even came to mind. But he was absolutely joking when he’d said, “what do you want me to do, stick a letter in his mailbox?”

In response to James’ telling him to go socialize. That didn’t mean he was serious (all jokes aside, of course.)

“Yo,” James says, and Sirius stops spinning.

“Mm?”

“Peters asking if we want to come over. His mom's baking cookies.”

Sirius halts his spinning and stands. “Really all you had to say was ‘cookies’ and I would’ve been on board.”

James laughs. “Fair enough.”

James scoops up his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder while Sirius pulls his shoes back on.

“What are you bringing that for,” Sirius asks, curiously.

James shrugs. “You never know.”

Sirius rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else about it, he just leads the way out of James’ room.

The two of them run into Euphemia at the foot of the stairs.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Peter invited us over,” James explains.

“His mom is making cookies,” Sirius adds.

Euphemia nods solemnly. “I don’t blame you, Peggy’s baking is amazing.”

“That it is!” James agrees, starting for the front door. Sirius follows him.

“Sirius,” Euphemia says, voice slightly sing-songy.

Sirius stops in his tracks.

“Those aren’t shoes are they?”

“Nope,” Sirius says. “They absolutely are not.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought,” she says with a laugh. “You boys have fun now.”

“We will,” James calls, opening the door and then shutting it firmly behind them.

“I told you you sound like your mother,” Sirius snickers.

“Oh, fuck off,” James says. “That was a joke and you know it.”

Sirius very much does know it, but he chooses to ignore it.

A little while into their walk, Sirius feels a buzz at his side, buoyed by the familiar Apple ringtone.

“Who is it?” James asks.

“Lemme get the phone out first,” Sirius responds. Then, “Marlene.”

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“I’m getting there.”

A moment later Marlene’s face pops onto the screen. Her blonde hair splayed across the pillows around her.

“What’s up?” Sirius asks.

“Did you do it?” She asks, and Sirius groans.

James plucks the phone out of his hand before he can respond.

“No, he absolutely did not. I’ve been trying for hours!”

“Give Sirius his phone back,” Marlene commands.

Sirius take his phone back, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“Pussy,” Marlene says, and then eats what appears to be a handful of gummy worms.

Sirius throws his hands up, exasperated. “What is it with you all and your stupid letter!”

Marlene shrugs. “Dunno, just need some gay drama in our lives I suppose.”

Sirius glares at her. “Marlene,” he says slowly. “You. Are. A. Lesbian.”

“And you’re gay as a maypole,” Marlene retorts. “Go get the guy, Black.”

“It is not that easy,” Sirius sighs.

“Can you write?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“No, I’m calling from a toaster.”

“That would explain the poor video quality.”

“Bullshit.”

Marlene ignores this. “Seems to me like you’re perfectly capable of writing that letter.”

“Yes, but I’m not social,” Sirius says.

Both Marlene and James laugh at that.

“Sirius Black you are the most social person I know aside from myself and your haired idiot over there.”

“Hey!” James says, indignant.

“You can write that letter,” Marlene continues. “I know you can.”

“The problem isn’t I can’t do it,” Sirius says, handing the phone to Marlene so that he can tie up his hair, which has decided for whatever reason to fall in his eyes and be irritating. “I just don’t want to because it’s stupid,” Sirius finishes.

“I see,” Marlene says.

She’s silent for a bit. Which is slightly alarming to Sirius. Marlene is only this quiet on the phone when she’s thinking or playing Subway Surfers, her designated FaceTime Game.

“Well then,” She says, and Sirius releases a sigh of relief. “I guess I can’t make you.”

“Nope,” Sirius says cheerfully, a girl starting to spread across his face.

“Unless of course I dare you to,” Marlene says, and Sirius’ grin drops.

It’s Marlene’s turn to smile now. “Gotcha.”

“You’re the devil.”

It’s quite the well known fact that Sirius will take basically any dare, so long as it doesn’t hurt someone else. And as far as he can tell, this dare isn’t hurting anyone. Not even himself, save for some minor embarrassment.

“How did you know what my Halloween costume was,” Marlene asks, she’s still grinning at him.

“Well, you certainly aren’t an angel,” Sirius grumbles.

Marlene waves a gummy worm at him. “Ain’t that the truth. Well then, I dare you to write that random guy a letter.”

James whistles. “Gosh why didn’t I think of that?”

“You’re afraid of being murdered, maybe?” Sirius suggests.

“And Marlene isn’t?”

“I’m the devil, remember? Already dead.”

“Right, of course, my bad,” James says.

Marlene turns her attention back towards Sirius. “You’re near Peter’s, right? You should send the letter now.”

“With what?” Sirius asks. “I’m short on paper if you can’t tell.”

Marlene gestures to James who is holding up his backpack triumphantly.

“Told you we’d need it!”

“I hate you both,” Sirius mutters, snatching a pen and paper from James.

“What the hell am I even supposed to write?”

“You number,” Marlene says unhelpfully.

“No shit Sherlock.”

Sirius decides not to ask anymore questions. He just scribbles out a quick note and folds the paper.

“What’d you say?” James asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius retorts.

They’re right in front of the house now, and Sirius is wondering if he should just back out of it.

“Don’t be shy,” Marlene says from her end of the phone. Sirius has the vague idea that she’d be shoving him forward if she were here right now.

As it happens he doesn’t need the shove. He walked up the drive himself, ignoring Marlene’s, “Wait flip the camera James. I wanna see him do it.”

He’s at the front porch now, and he thinks he can hear something in the kitchen. There’s the sound of rushing water, dishes maybe?

Without giving it much more thought, Sirius shoves the letter inside the mailbox, wincing at the slight creak it makes.

Then he jogs back down the drive and continues towards Peter’s house.

James runs after him.

“Don’t you feel liberated now?” Marlene asks.

“If by ‘liberated’ you mean like a fucking fairytale charcater then, yes. Sure.”

“I don’t know of any fairyta—“

“Goodbye Marlene,” Sirius says, he takes the phone from James and promptly hangs up on her.

“Rude,” James says jokingly.

“Oh, please, she’s done worse,” Sirius snorts.

“But don’t you feel excited?” James asks.

“I feel anxiety.”

“You’ll thank us later.”

Even thought Sirius rolls his eyes and shoves James into a nearby plant, he can’t help but wonder if James and Marlene are right. And if this’ll actually go somewhere.

Ah, well, that’s another problem for another day. At present moment he should probably be running right about now before James comes to exact his revenge. And that, is exactly what he does.

Manuel Antonio Guzman

I met Manuel Antonio Guzman when I was 14 years old. I told my grandparents I was going to hang out with my friend, Katie Franks. Katie and I went to our very first backyard show ever. It was in Anaheim across the street from Sycamore Jr. High. For those who know, it was when Riff Raff played (first time I met Zach, he was the naked drummer) and someone ripped the toilet out of the bathroom? Yep! That one. My grandma called me because she had figured out where I really was and I was in trouble. Katie went to school with someone who was senior at Anaheim High School, Pedro Garcia. Pedro drove at the time which meant he could give us a ride. The sooner Katie and I were back at home, the less trouble we would be in. Pedro pulled up to Sycamore Jr. High and I drunkenly opened the backseat door. A face appeared and they said, “Nope!” and pulled the door back closed on me. I was soooo PuNk RoCk and annoyed that I threw my little 32oz. Smirnoff Bottle on the ground and kicked the car. He opened the door and laughed and let me in. That was the first time I met Manny. He was funny, he was cute, he was weird, and he was older. A few short weeks later Pedro invites me to Punk Rock Picnic. I accompany him and Manny joins us. I spent the whole day with Manny. We rode a ferris wheel together, my shoe was falling apart and we went back to the car so he could sew it back together, all that jazz. A week later, Zone 3 was playing at the Riff Haus and my grandparents were nice enough to drop me off. Manny met me there and we snuck off back to his house. I knew Manny was 20 years old, and he knew I was underage. We kissed. We made out. We cuddled. We had sex. When we were done, we did the math of how many years it would take until I was 18. It was 4.5. I did not know what the relationship between me and Manny be, because Katie had told me he was seeing her friend named Taylor. Taylor also went to Anaheim High School. Taylor was 15 years old. The person I broke up with to be with Manny was my high school boyfriend, who I will leave nameless. He was hurt and upset and wanted to talk, but I did not give him the time of day. He came over to the house my grandparents and I had just moved into and climbed through my window. He pinched my pinky toe to wake me up. He was really upset but we decided to talk things out. Unfortunately, my grandmother heard a boy in my bedroom in the middle of the night and tried to come into my room. My ex-boyfriend snuck back out my window as my grandmother came in. I was officially kicked out. I called Pedro Garcia and I lived in his car for 2 weeks. This was far from the first time I had been homeless. When I was 13 years old I tried living with my mom because my grandfather would get really drunk and kick me out of the house. My family struggled with my grandfather’s alcoholism. He was a working class blue collar man who had broken his neck on a job site. For four years my family bounced from motel to motel. My grandmother worked cleaning houses to keep us afloat, and my grandfather spent his mornings drinking. He was violent when he drank and I got into the habit, young, to just leave. Sometimes I would stay with my mother, but she was always in and out of jail or did not have an actual place to stay. She abused drugs, would give me drugs, and have various men around. I really did not have family at the time. So being back on the streets was not anything new for me. I eventually told Manny after a few days that I was living in Pedro’s car, and he insisted that I stayed with him. A warm bed, food, and someone who paid attention to me was what every child needed. I did not get that in my home life, but I got it from him. I put him on a pedestal for taking care of me and we never talked about my age. This however did not last very long at all. A good mutual friend had a recently divorced mother with a three story house. Her name was Ms. Kitty. Ms. Kitty insisted a 20 year old’s bedroom was no place for a 14 year old girl. She took me in and I lived with her for 5 months. A few weeks into me living with Kitty, I caught Manny cheating on me with a girl names Melissa. He had a Myspace blog online that was meant to be private, but it was not. He said specifically, I can have Melissa one day, and Ashley the next. Instead of confronting him about this, I did what every 14 year old girl would do. I made out with my ex boyfriend!!! Childish, huh? Well, that’s because I was a child! Manny found out and to him and I both we call this the “Blog War Era.” Because for the next 2 months or so, Manny publically bashed me for being this self-serving slut. And me? I just dedicated a bunch of bad GG Allin songs to him. We eventually let it go, and I continued my life without talking to him. 5 months into me living with Ms. Kitty, I fell into a deep deep depression. I needed family, I hadn’t talked to my grandmother in months and she missed my 15th birthday. My heart was broken. I had severe abandonment issues. I had emailed my grandmother about how lonely and lost I felt, but she did not respond right away. One night, at 15, I decided I couldn’t go on, and I drank a bottle of sleeping aid, took various pills from Ms. Kitty’s medicine cabinet, wrote a letter, filled the bathtub up with water. Put tape on my mouth, cut my wrist, and waited to fall asleep. I had flashes of people pulling me out of the bathroom, of opening my eyes for small moments to see a different face looking over me each time, and to my grandmother and mother taking me home. No therapy. No medication. That same night, my grandparents went to the bar and did not come home for a very long time. I grew up with a sense of purposelessness. I grew up without self-esteem, and I grew up with severe abandonment issues. I lived with my grandparents off and on for a few more months but I started drinking and doing drugs more and more. April 1st, 2010, I moved out of my grandparents’ house again. I was living in and out of different parks, schools, and churches. A friend, Bailee Wilcox from my high school let me stay with her and her family. I lived there for 8 months. Bailee’s sister, started dating Pedro Garcia… and Pedro Garcia was best friends with Manny. Therefore, I saw Manny around a lot more. It was before my 16th birthday that Manny and I inevitably started dating again. We had a sexual relationship. A very sexual relationship. I would ditch school just to be with him, or he would pick me up from school in his ~cool~ 1999 Ford Mustang. Briefly, I caught him cheating on me again with a girl he had an online relationship with. Her name was Victoria. Victoria had a tumblr called fleeting-m00ns. She was 16 years old. Manny and I broke up briefly, for about a month. And he called me one evening and we met each other at the Airplane Park in Anaheim. He immediately held me, started kissing me, and asked if we could go back to his dad’s house. I was dumb, naïve, impressionable, and agreed. I wanted this dumb man to love me. I did not care about how much older he was than me or what those implications were. We went back to his house and we slept together. I was on my period. I went home to Bailee’s that night with Manny as my boyfriend again. Manny, at this point, was 21ish years old. As time went on, I decided to quit doing drugs, I did not drink as much, and I had a job working at the Brea Mall. The house I lived in was a party house so I spent less and less time there. Eventually that put a strain on the relationship I had with the people I lived with, as I spent less and less time there and would not come home. Manny insisted that it was not a healthy environment for me and that I should just stay with him; where I was not surrounded by people who did still party. I loved feeling protected and cared for. I allowed myself to abide by his wishes. If I chose to stay at my friend’s house, he insisted I was not allowed to go into the living room, I was only allowed to stay in the bedroom. I will provide a screenshot of the facebook message I received from not listening to his wishes. September 20th, 2011; “You stupid fucking bitch you can’t just fucking stay in the bedroom and away from the living room. You know I fucking hate it when you’re in there bt you never fucking listen because you’re always so fucking right and mighty and have to fucking be in the living room when you know what the fuck happens there. STOP IT. And never call me again from there, because when ou do, the first thing I’m going to ask is if you’re there, and if you’re fucking lying to me, I will never talk to you again.”I listened. I was afraid of him not staying with me, meant I truly had no one else in the world. I was very submissive. He preferred me to be submissive in the bedroom and in person. He would, what he liked to call, “fuck my face.” He would shove me up against walls (I will provide screenshots of that evidence as well), and use degrading language. There was no love making, or passion, or sensitivity. I did not know what normal relationships looked like. What I knew was he was my protector, I am safe when I am with him. That is all. I sabotaged the relationship I had with Bailee’s family and for those who have known me for a long time, knows what happened. I was homeless again. I could not go back home, I was 16, and I lived in Pearson Park. I dropped out of high school. Sometimes I would stay with my best friend, Danielle, and sometimes I would stay with my sister. Manny did not like me staying with my sister because he told me she was toxic for me. He did not like my sister and would treat her poorly when she was around. If I was at my sister’s house, Manny would shut me out, ignore, more or once told me to stay out of his life. I learned quickly who I was and was not allowed to talk to. If I had friends from my old high school, I wasn’t allowed to talk to them because they might ~be friends with Bailee.~ I was not allowed to go to backyard shows because he “feared for my safety.” I fed into all of it. I truly believed that no one else cared about  where I was or who I was with. Manny was my only source of family, love, and protection. It was the way he wanted it. If I wanted to take the bus to work, he’d insist on driving me. If my shoes were falling apart, he would yell at me for not telling him so he could get me new ones. If it was raining, and I chose to walk, I would be in trouble for not asking for a ride. My entire relationship with him, I walked on eggshells. A good friend of mine, Joey, almost punched me in the face once because I faked punching him in his balls. It was a hilarious to me and Joey. Manny told me I was not allowed to talk to Joey anymore because he was supposedly abusive. If I wanted to see friends or family, I had to sneak around. (Thankfully he forgot about the Joey thing, and let me still see him, I did NOT remind him). Simultaneously, I would catch Manny cheating on me with various women. Grace, Angie, Janet, Rachael (Mouth, for those of you who know her). Once, Manny broke up with me at his house and was texting Mouth saying I was crazy and he was so happy to get rid of me. He told her he was sick of me and he needed to breathe. The next day was my birthday and he picked me up because we still had plans. He must of have been real horny because he asked for me back, fucked me twice, and I was expected to carry on like we never  broke up. Every time, Manny would tell me that him cheating on me was only because he was under so much pressure of being an adult and taking care of me, a minor. He would say that if I truly loved him, I would never leave him. He would tell me that if I broke up with, I would have to move out of his house. I had to swallow all of it and keep going. Some nights, I couldn’t take it though. It was the first of me starting to “lash out” or what Manny calls, “psycho.” One night I bashed my head against a wall. Some nights, I would just leave and walk around for hours, then wait somewhere that I knew he would find me at. Just to be found. Just to be taken care of and cared about. There was a brief time that Manny went to Mexico for 3 weeks. We broke up online and I took it like a champ. I was so relieved. I used the time to focus on myself. I had already started going to Gilbert Continuation School, so I spent my time catching up on years of not going to school. Manny spent those 3 weeks on tumblr telling his followers that when he got back home from Mexico, he expects me to “respect his space.” And that he won’t, “deal with my bullshit.” People would comment on these posts supporting him because he painted me into looking like I was this obsessive monster. I will be including those screenshots as well. When he broke up with him, I wished him the best. The very hour Manny came home from Mexico, he SOBBED to me about how he was going to be a better boyfriend for me, and how he would never hurt me again and that he didn’t want to lose me. I was so hurt about how he painted me on the internet but I was NEVER EVER EVER EVER allowed to talk about it online or to friends because HE WAS A GROWN ASS MAN AND IF I SAID ANYTHING AT ALL, HE COULD GO TO JAIL. I took him back. Nothing changed. I ended up in Foster Care 6 months before my 18th birthday. Manny and I were still together. I was living in a group home and he was fucking a girl named Nicole. I had no idea. I protected his name from social workers and different foster parents I had. Eventually, Manny’s mother, Ofelia took me in. Bless her heart. She always told me, “I don’t see you as my son’s girlfriend, I see you as my daughter.” Her and I are still close to this day and I love her very much. Time went on, I turned 18, I entered transitional housing, and I got my own apartment. Manny was still cheating on me though. But now he didn’t have any more excuses. I wasn’t a teen anymore, he didn’t have to hide from authorities… This was just who he was. We broke up when I met Zach. I hated Manny. I hated him so much from years of what he put me through. As I got older and started to build a life for myself and build new relationships, I realized how much control I let him have over me. Who I was and was not allowed to see, what family I could or couldn’t talk to, what jobs I was or wasn’t allowed to have.  All while he slept with other women both older and younger than me at times. But I still talked to Manny.One afternoon he brought up that while I was in the group home, he was sleeping with someone else. Manny brought up even proposing to me to marry him that day. He cried, he came clean, he said he took advantage of me and how sickened he was with himself. He said I was just a child and I deserved so much better. I cried… I even considered breaking up with Zach. I was just 18 and I never knew my life without Manny and I was so so so afraid to find out. I had this attachment, and he still had so much control over me. Then his phone lit up, and it was girl named Janet. The messages were dirty and sexual. I lost my absolute shit. I picked up a knife from a plate of cake that was in my room and I cut myself. I held It up to my throat and told him that if I died it would be on his conscious. Manny wrestled to get the knife out of my hands. I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in there. Manny told me that if I did not let myself out of the bathroom he would kill himself. He was sobbing outside of the bathroom door and I wanted him to hurt. I did not care for one fucking minute what he did to himself. But I opened the door anyways. He pulled his phone camera out and started to record me. He started to narrate what was happening. He said, “really you’re going to hurt me? This is who you are, this is who she is…” So that he could have something to show people. So that he could tell people how crazy I was. I retorted by saying on camera, “tell them how old I was Manny, I was 14, tell them that, you’ll never tell the truth.” We did not talk for 4 years. I would occasionally look at his tumblr page and see what he would say about me. I’d occasionally get drunk and call and say something like, “you’re fucking stupiddddd” and hang up. Time healed, Zach and I made up.. We moved on. And I have been living my life ever since.Zach and I broke up, and I started dating someone else. It took me years to heal and I still am not there. I occassionaly still have suicidal tendencies. Or have the horrible habit to try and control the outcomes of situations. I still have abandonment issues.Manny sent me an email a year ago. Essentially wanting to talk things out. I agreed because I wanted a sense of validation. We met at the Continental Room in Fullerton. Manny showed up drunk. He immediately said, “you’re ass still looks just as good as the day I met you.” WHAT MANNY, WHEN I WAS 14??? BECAUSE  THAT’S WHEN YOU FIRST MET ME. He said he learned “new things in the bedroom,” and asked me multiple times to go and get a hotel room with him. He made multiple attempts to kiss me. I politely left the continental room and left Manny alone. That’s all I needed, validation. Yep, Ash, Manny is a creep, it wasn’t all in your head. He had hit me up and asked if he left his ID in my car. He emailed me saying he doesn’t remember what happened that night and that he thinks we’re “cool now.” I will include that email as well. Manny also sent me an email admitting he lied to people about me trying to stab him. So!!! Did I try and stab him? No, I did not. Do I wish now? Hahaha, no. But really…And you know what, I confronted him about all of this. And he agreed, he said, in the end of all of this, he was an adult, and I was a child. I told him it wasn’t right for me to threaten suicide, but to NEVER EVER leave out the part that he was a rapist, and he said he wouldn’t. And a year later, after he tried to sleep with me, he comes to all of you to tell you that I was a psycho crazy ex stalker and that he fears for his life and BLAH BLAH BLAH. It’s fucking boring. Manny, I’m sorry trauma serves you in a way where your memory is fuzzy. But my trauma NEVER lets me forget. Fuck you. Lizz, I’m sorry, you are an apologist. He is a rapist. There is proof, you support him, you’re an apologist. So continue to brag about how many orgasms you gave me and cry about how you’re relationship with a child did not work out the way you wished it did, but when you tell your story, don’t forget to include the part where you fucked a child for 4 years. You’re sick. Eat shit, Die. Seacrest Out.

I’d Rather Rescue Myself - Travis Konecny

a/n: Did I write this based on the Cheetah Girls hit, Cinderella? bc I did. no I didn’t. I don’t think this will surprise anyone but this is kind of angsty and dramatic, but I think it’s cute in the end. Let me know what you think :)

Warnings: Single mom, cursing, drinking, angst, a little bit of anxiety, I think that’s it

——

When I was just a little girl, my momma used to tuck me into bed

She read me a story

It always was about a Princess in distress and how a guy would save her 

End up with the glory

Your mom was a hopeless romantic. She fell hard and fast for the men that came in and out of her life. She wasn’t running around being reckless or anything, she just loved being in love. She loved the honeymoon phase and she loved the idea of finding her prince charming.  

Your dad left when you were just a baby, but your mom didn’t harbor on the loss. That was another thing about your mom— she was an undying optimist. She said that her relationship with your father wasn’t meant to be, and that her real prince charming was somewhere out there waiting to find her.

You actually believed all the elaborate bedtime stories she told you for a while. You thought you too would find your prince charming who would sweep you off your feet and rescue you from the harsh realities of your average Philadelphia life.

Your mom did eventually find Steve, a real-estate broker, that made her very happy. You liked Steve. He was nice and had a good job, and really did care for your mom. They’ve been married almost two years now, and you’ve never seen your mom happier. Maybe she was right, her prince charming was waiting out there for her, except he wasn’t in a castle or riding a horse into the sunset, he was just trying to decide which slice and bake cookies he should get for his open house. That’s how they met. In the freezer section of the grocery. Your mom helped him decide on one pack of sugar and one pack of chocolate chip, they exchanged numbers, and the rest is history.

Then one day I realized the fairy tale life wasn't for me

I don't wanna be like Cinderella

Sittin' in a dark old dusty cellar

Waiting for somebody, to come and set me free

You really tried to be optimistic. You would put yourself out there, go on dates, and even had a couple serious relationships throughout college. There was just one problem— they never worked out. You were always left heartbroken. So your senior year of college you decided that you had had enough. 

You were done feeling sorry for yourself. You were smart and driven and didn’t need a man to rescue you. You had a great internship that would hopefully turn into a job after graduation and you were the top of your class. You weren’t going to let another boy come in and distract you from your goals. So you swore off boys. It’s not that you didn’t want to find someone eventually, you just didn’t have the time or energy to bother with them now. This was time to focus on you.

That year you met Travis Konecny and his band of brothers from the Philadelphia Flyers. Your roommate, Katie, had hooked up with Joel Farabee a couple of times but they ultimately decided they were better off as just fiends. You and Travis became quick friends. You had a similar sense of humor and even though he was the worlds biggest, dumbest redneck, you had a soft spot for the kid. He was busy with hockey and didn’t have time for a relationship, and so he understood why you didn’t want one either. 

Soon started the movie nights and casual hang outs. You even started to teach him how to cook. You would admit that he was very handsome (when he showered and properly groomed himself), but you were just friends. It was never anything else. Neither of you wanted it to be anything else.

You both had had other hookups and occasionally a date, and you would laugh together over how bad they were afterward, saying “see, this is why i don’t need a relationship.”

That was almost two years ago. You did end up graduating at the top of your class, and the internship did turn into an amazing job. You worked hard and were hopefully in line for a big promotion at the end of the month.

You lived on your own now, but Katie just lived a block away. Shortly after her and Joel decided to remain friends she met Chris. He was a great guy and they recently moved in together.  You were really happy for Katie and all of your friends who had found great guys to settle down with. You were only 23 but it seemed like most of your friends had found their match, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t bother you.

It’s not that you wanted to get hitched and have a baby right this second, you were still very young, but the thought of having a caring boyfriend to come home to was something you just couldn’t get out of your head lately.

Someday, I'm gonna find someone who wants my soul, heart and mind

Who's not afraid to show that he loves me

Somebody who will understand I'm happy just the way I am

Don't need nobody taking care of me

Now you found yourself on Travis’ couch ranting about how all of your college friends were taking their boyfriends to Katie’s birthday party this weekend. Again, you were happy for them, you really were! But you didn’t want to be the only single one there. It was one thing to get a sad look from your mom when she asked you if you were seeing anyone, it was another thing to get sad looks from about a dozen of your friends. You knew they just wanted you to find someone who made you happy, but you hadn’t yet, and there wasn’t anything that could change that.

“I just wish I could find someone who wants me for me, you know? Someone who gets that my career is just as important as his, and who understands that when I say I don’t want anything to eat I actually do, I’m just too hard headed to admit it!” You were ranting on about the perfect guy, and all Travis could think was that he was that guy.

He would show up at your door out of the blue because he knew the “work’s been busy, just gonna go home and get some stuff done” reply to his hang out invitation actually meant “I’ve never been as stressed as I am right now, and haven’t eaten in 12 hours, and I could really use a hug.” He was always there for you, and you were always there for him. People didn’t always understand your relationship, and last year when Travis started dating a girl, she became so jealous of your friendship. Eventually, Travis ended it when she asked him to choose between her or you. There really wasn’t any contest. He would choose you every time. That was when he realized he had some serious feelings for you. Travis wasn’t good with feelings, and as much as he wanted to tell you he loved you, he didn’t want to mess with your friendship. It was too important to him, and up until recently you had been pretty dedicated to your no relationship lifestyle.

So instead of telling you how much he loved you and how he was the guy who valued your career and goals just as much as his own, he just offered to go with you to the party in question, “Well I’ll go with you. I like your friends, and then I’ll also get the sad looks because I too am single and lonely, so you won’t be alone.”

You laugh, Travis was right, you would probably have a good time if was there. You always have a good time when he’s around, and your friends like him too. They know you’re just friends but they never hesitate to give you a hard time about how you’ll end up together one day. You know he’s not into you like that, but that doesn’t stop you from wondering what it would be like to one day call him yours.

“Hello???? Is anyone home?” He’s waving his hands in front of you after you zoned out thinking about how great it would be to come home to him after a long day at work,

“Oh yeah, sorry, that would actually be great. You don’t have to, I know I’ve been annoying lately with all the work talk and complaining about relationshi-“

“Don’t worry about it. The party will be fun, we haven’t been out together in forever. And I know you’re stressed, even though you shouldn’t be. There’s no way you’re not getting that promotion. That doucheface, Jack is barely smart enough to do his current job, there’s no way they would give him the promotion over you.”

“His name is Jake, but yes he is a doucheface and even though I may be more qualified, he has been at the company longer than me so there’s a good chance he’ll get it just based on that.”

“You worry too much. You’re gonna get it, and we’re all gonna celebrate when you do.”

I can slay, my own dragon

I can dream, my own dreams

My knight in shining armor is me

So now it was Friday night, and you found yourself next to Travis in a crowded bar that Katie had picked for her birthday celebration. You had had the longest week known to man, and all you really wanted to do was sleep. But alas, you were here and trying to have a good time.

Travis had been great the whole night, socializing with your friends, make his stupid jokes, and getting you drinks. You really did appreciate him coming, but something just felt off. He has always been a touchy guy but it seemed like he had his arm around you more than usual tonight, and when he talked to your friends he would say “we” when referring to the two of you. It felt too domestic, and if felt too claustrophobic.

Even his praises when the group asked about your work annoyed you. You didn’t know if you were just on edge from work or if Travis’ overstepping was really getting to you.

You needed a minute to yourself so excused yourself to get another drink.

“Sit down, I got it,” Travis stands to get you another drink, and that’s when you start to lose it. In the back of your mind you know he’s just being nice, but you’re already seeing red and nothing can stop you now.

“I am perfectly capable of getting my own drink, and I really don’t need a man to babysit me all night, so you can sit down, and I’ll get it for myself.”

You turn and head for the door of the bar, not caring that your friends, and Travis, are all staring at you completely taken aback by what just came flying out of your mouth.  You make it outside, needing a minute in the cold winter air, before Travis catches up to you.

“What the hell is going on? Did I do something?”

“Travis. I really appreciate you trying to ‘take care of me’ of whatever it is you’re trying to do, but I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it a long time, there’s no reason why I can’t continue to do so.”

You’re being mean now. You know it, but it’s not stopping you. You can’t help but push him away because it feels easier to just deny the feelings you know you have. The hurt in Travis’ eyes almost makes you take it all back, but you know that if you push him enough he’ll be just as stubborn and mad as you, and then you can fight it out instead of actually talking about what’s going on. So you continue, knowing that what you’re going to say will just piss him off,

“You’re not my boyfriend, and I didn’t ask you to act like it. If you want a girl to parade around in front of people, go find someone else, because I’m not your girl. You just need to back off, ok?”

“I’m not trying to control you, or ‘parade you around’ I have no clue why you think I’d even want that,” He puts up big air quotes when he throws your words back at you,

“I just know how stressed you are and how you don’t ever see your friends because your whole life is your fucking job. I just wanted to make this night fun and relaxing for you. And I’m sorry if I’m proud of you for being so successful, but did it ever occur to you that maybe I am the guy?  The guy who wants you for you. The guy who respects your career just as much as his own. The guy who knows that even though you’re standing here pissed as hell, it’s only because you  know you have feelings for me too?”

He’s practically yelling and a couple people have definitely taken notice. And maybe he’s right, but your hard head and stubbornness would never let you admit it, so you just decide to walk away.

You leave him standing there outside of a bar that still holds all of your closest friends, and you know that you may have just thrown away your prince charming, but you can’t go back. It would be too much, so you walk home and cry yourself to sleep that night.

I will be there for him just as strong as he, will be there for me

When I give myself then it has got to be, an equal thing

I don't wanna be like Cinderella

Sittin' in a dark old dusty cellar

Waiting for somebody, to come and set me free

You got the promotion. You got it and the only person you wanted to tell was Travis. It’s been weeks since that night you left him outside the bar. He texted and called a few times, eventually he stopped. You thought he might show up at your place but he never did. You tried to be mad at him. You tried to blame him for your friendship falling apart. You also knew that he was right. About everything.

You thought back to all the times you had been there for each other. You thought back to all of the long talks on the phone while he was away for the summers, every time he hyped you up before a big presentation at work, and all the times you waited at his door after what you knew had been a tough game.

You always had each others backs. You didn’t have to ask for it, you just knew that when you fell, the other one would be there to pick you up. You didn’t have to guess. You always knew what he was feeling and you knew how to fix it. He was the same way with you. And yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to just pick up the phone and call. Maybe it was because you knew he would be on the other end waiting to take you back in the blink of an eye. You knew he’d forgive you for everything and you knew he would love you forever, but you were still scared to admit that maybe you did need him. You felt like it would be an admission of failure that you couldn’t do this on your own.

You didn’t need him to take care of you or to slay a dragon to save you, you just needed HIM.  You needed his companionship, his love, and his affection, all of the things that he was so willing to give you, but that you still couldn’t accept.

I don't wanna be like Snow White 

waiting for a handsome prince 

to come and save me on a horse of white

Unless we're riding side by side

It’s been over a month now, and you haven’t so much as spoken a word to Travis. You had filled Katie in the day after her party, apologizing for leaving without saying goodbye. She tried to comfort you, but you didn’t want to talk about it. You were going to be fine without him. He was just a friend after all. But now Katie was getting fed up. She was tired of watching you mope around town acting like everything was fine, when she knew damn well that you were just too stubborn to admit that you loved Travis too.

“Ok. You seriously need to suck it up buttercup.” Katie came full force through the threshold of your apartment with two bottles of wine and a bag of take out. You were all for a girls night, but you were right when you had concerns of it turning into a “lets talk about your feelings night.”

“You’re losing it. Like I love you, but as your friend I can no longer support this moping around.”

“I have told you over and over again, that I am fine. I got my promotion and I’m doing great at work!” You try to convince her that you’re doing ok, and that you don’t read every shitty article written about the flyers as an attempt to satisfy your Travis craves.

“If you’re oh so fine, then why do you still watch every flyers game? Why are you drinking his favorite wine all the time? And why the fuck are you wearing his clothes???”

You didn’t even remember that you had put on an old hoodie of his this morning until just now. He used to let you borrow the old 67’s hoodie when you were at his place, eventually you just took it home with you, and it’s been your favorite ever since. You wore it now more than ever, but would never admit it was because you missed him.

“It’s just comfortable ok?” But you knew she wasn’t buying it, you knew you were going to have to talk about it at some point.

“...I just feel like if I admit that I need him, it would be like admitting that I can’t take care of myself, that I can’t do this on my own.”

“Babe, it’s not about needing someone to take care of you, it’s just about loving someone and letting them love you back. Travis of all people knows that you are perfectly capable of fending for yourself. I think that’s probably something he loves about you. He knows you. And I know for a fact that he’s waiting for you.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because he calls me…”

“Wh-what?” Why would Travis bother to call Katie?

“Because he’s worried about you, but he knows that if he suffocates you, you’ll just keep pushing him away. He’s called me regularly for a few weeks now. He just wants to know how you are... But he didn’t want me to tell you because he didn’t want you to feel like he was going behind your back. He loves you. And he’s just waiting for you to come back to him. He’s an idiot, but somehow he’s managed to figure you out.”

He loves you. Travis loves you.

You love him.

You love each other.

He never wanted to take anything from you. 

He just wanted your love.

He wanted to give you his love.

It’s like you’re discovering words for the first time, and you know you that you can’t just let this go. You know that you don’t want to keep living your life if you’re not sharing it with him, side by side.

You look over at Katie who knows you’re finally coming to terms with all of this,

“I think I have to go”

“Go get him babe!”

You order an uber and grab your shoes before heading out the door.  The ride to Travis’ has never felt longer. You start to question yourself but it’s too late, you know what you have to do. You walk into his building and make your way up to his floor on the elevator. You pace back and forth for a while outside of his apartment, but you tell yourself it’s now or never, and knock on the door. It’s not even 20 seconds later that he’s opening the door,

“Hey, I knew you’d come back.”

For some reason you thought he might still be mad, and he might just slam the door in your face or yell at you, but he’s not. He’s smiling and is reaching out to pull you into his apartment and into a hug. You let him and it’s like you’ve never felt more relief. The weight of the past month is instantly lifted. You feel like you can breathe again. And then the tears start to fall.

“Hey, don’t cry. It’s ok.” He’s consoling you and you’ve never felt worse. He was always right there and you just about threw it all away because you were too stubborn. You both muster out some sorry’s and you’re not even sure how long you’ve been standing there in each others arms. You’re perfectly content just staying there, but eventually he pulls back to look at you.

He wipes away at your tear stained face and looks you right in the eyes,

“I love you. And I never ever want to make you feel like you’re anything less than the amazing, strong, smart, beautiful, independent woman that you are... I just want you to let me love you.”

“Okay... but only on one condition…”

Travis just looks questionably back at you,

“That you let me love you back”

Travis doesn’t even bother with words, because he knows the only thing left to do is kiss you. So he leans into you, and you lean into him, and it’s like everything in the world is right again. Riding into the sunset may have been a fairytale, but true loves kiss was definitely a reality. You were right too, you didn’t need a prince to save you, you needed to save yourself. It just turned out that saving yourself was letting the man of your dreams love you back.

birthday in december

fem!reader x adam cole

it’s reader’s birthday, and Adam plans a surprise party for her but things don't go very smoothly since he's still recovering from that insane Wargames match on Sunday ...

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: fluff, upset!adam, a little angsty, soft smut

— hi hi, it's my birthday so i decided to write a birthday themed imagine with my all time fave ... enjoy —

masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

Adam’s POV

"Fuck this stupid brace," I shout, trying to hang up decorations for Y/N's surprise birthday party. I have limited mobility with it on but my wrist hurts when I take it off.

My whole body is still sore from Wargames on Sunday with the boys. We beat Pat McAfee and his group but it was a grueling match like it has been every year. Bruises are scattered across my body, my wrist is in a brace, and I am still extremely sore.

But I promised myself that I would get through decorating for Y/N's party. I invited her family over, plus the Undisputed Era, their wives, and a few of Y/N's friends from NXT. No one is here to help me so I'm doing this alone.

It sucks. I just wanted to decorate and get through today for Y/N. She's my girlfriend and I wanted to do something nice for her birthday today since she's helped me with everything since Sunday.

Eventually, I do get the "Happy Birthday Y/N" banner up. I almost fall off the small ladder I used to get it up several times.

I scatter balloons all over the place. They all say "happy birthday" on them.

Then I smell something burning in the kitchen. "The cake!" I yell, running into the kitchen.

Smoke is coming from the oven and, like a dumbass, I try to get the cake out with my bare hands. I burn my hand on the metal cake pan. "Shit!" I yell, rushing to put my hand under cold water. I dropped the cake in the process.

My hand is blistering up and Y/N's vanilla cake is on the floor. I lean down and put my head on the counter next to the sink.

Everything is falling apart. I can't even do a simple thing like make a cake or decorate the house.

After a few seconds of running my hand under cold water, I pull it out it the water. I wet a paper towel and wrap it around my blistering hand.

I look down at the cake on the ground. Maybe if it landed on the bottom then I would have been able to serve it. Instead, it landed with the cake down on the floor.

Frustrated, I kick the thing across the room.

"Woah!" I hear come from the doorway.

I immediately look up at who it was and see Y/N standing there.

Shit, I think.

***

Your POV

"Why are you kicking food around?" you ask, curious.

Adam sighs and says, "Because I tried to surprise you with a party and a cake. Then I burnt the cake because I was having issues decorating. Then I burnt my hand trying to get the cake out of the oven."

You look at his hand wrapped in a wet paper towel and walk over to him. Adam doesn't even look at you. You pout and take his burnt hand in yours, checking on the burns.

His hand is blistered and red. "Let me help you get this cleaned and bandaged," you say, smiling at Adam. "Please."

Without looking at you, he nods. You walk off to the upstairs bathroom to get some antibiotic ointment and a bandage wrap. Once you find everything, you walk back downstairs.

You find Adam sitting on the couch in the living room and you sit beside him. He looks upset as he looks down, avoiding eye contact with you.

After unwrapping the wet towel from his hand, you begin to apply the ointment on his burns and blisters. Adam hisses in pain. "Sorry," you quickly say.

He mutters to himself, "I couldn't even bake a simple cake without hurting myself."

You begin to wrap his hand and say, "You're still healing from that match on Sunday. You shouldn't have pushed yourself to do all this just says removed from the Wargames match."

Adam sighs and says, "I just wanted to do something special for your birthday since you've been helping me out since Sunday. That's all I wanted, and I couldn't do it."

Pouting, you finish wrapping his hand and say, "Adam, baby, it's my job to help you. You're hurting and I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you. The only thing I ever wanted for my birthday was to spend the day with you."

Adam finally looks up at you, tears in his pretty blue eyes. You feel your heart break in your chest as he says, "I just wanted to do something simple and special but this stupid brace and my stupid body got in the way."

"Baby, you sprained your wrist and had a long match on Sunday," you say. "I didn't think that you would be able to move by today let alone run around the house trying to make today special for me. I don't need a big party for my birthday. I just need you and me on the couch eating some ice cream and watching some of my favorite movies." You smile at him.

Adam pouts and says, "You've done so much to help me since Wargames. I just wanted to do something special for you, Y/N."

The tears roll down his cheeks and you can see how upset he actually is. You pout and reach out, wiping his tears away.

You cup his face in your hands and say, "Adam, I love you and I appreciate that you want to do something special for me today, but you make today special just by being here with me."

He blinks away some tears and he nods. Adam says, "I'm sorry I'm such a mess. I just wanted to do something simple today."

You carefully hug him and say in his ear, "Baby steps, Adam. You need to stretch out and get your muscles moving again, and not by running around the house."

Adam lets out a little laugh as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close.

The two of you sit like that on the couch for a second before you pull back. You smile at Adam and say, "Thank you for trying to make my birthday special. It means so much to me that you did try to do something for me today."

Adam finally smiles at you and he says, "I love you, Y/N. So much. Thank you for helping me out recently."

"I'd do anything for you," you say. "I mean it."

He says, "I know you would. It's what makes you such an amazing person, and it's what made me fall in love with you in the first place."

Right after you and Adam started dating, he was involved in a two out of three falls match against Johnny Gargano to retain his NXT Championship at Takeover: Toronto in August 2019. The match was brutal, and you took care of him then like you did now. Adam admitted a few weeks later that when you were taking care of him after his match, he knew he was starting to fall for you.

Flustered and happy that Adam isn't as upset anymore, you smile and say, "I love you, Adam. I'm seriously thankful that you tried to make today special even though you're still recovering."

Adam smiles back at you and asks, "Can I at least get a kiss for my troubles?"

Giggling, you say, "Of course you can."

You lean into Adam, kissing him lightly. He kisses you back just as softly.

The soft kiss turns into two and three soft kisses, before the kiss starts to get more passionate as you press your lips harder against Adam's.

Adam slides his hands to your waist and he pulls you closer to him as the originally soft kiss slowly turns intense.

Your hands cup his face as you kiss him.

His sneakily slips his tongue into your mouth, making you giggle against his lips before doing the same to him.

Adam starts to slowly push you onto your back on the couch, crawling so he's laying between your legs on top of you. The kiss is rough and passionate now.

You grip the sides of Adam's Undisputed Era t-shirt as you pull him against you.

His lips leave yours and attach to your neck. You let out soft sighs and close your eyes. "Adam," you say. "Baby, you're not physically well enough to do anything."

"Hm," he mumbles against the sensitive skin on your neck. "Says who?"

You smile and say, "Your body. You can barely do your usual activities without aching or being in pain."

Adam pulls back and looks down at you. "Y/N," he says, almost sternly. "I can have sex if I take it easy."

You almost laugh at how serious he's being before you say, "Come upstairs with me. I know it's my birthday but I have a surprise for you."

Slithering your way out from underneath Adam, you walk up the stairs. Adam follows behind you.

Once in your bedroom, you say, "Wait here." You grab a bag before walking into the master bathroom that's attached to the bedroom.

"What are you planning?" Adam calls as you change out of your t-shirt and leggings into the black lingerie set you bought yesterday.

You giggle and say, "Patience, my love. You'll see."

The black lingerie set is a lacy bralette that's pretty much see through with matching blank panties. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before leaving the bathroom.

Adam's jaw drops before he says, "Oh, damn."

He's sitting on the bed so you walk so you're standing in front of him. You say, "I had a feeling that you would try to overdo yourself today so I decided to buy this and help you feel better."

You stare down at your boyfriend as he bites his lip and says, "Oh, I am already feeling better."

"Good," you say, kneeling down in front of him. You reach up and unbutton his jeans. "I'm helping you feel better so you just lay there and look hot while I help you feel better."

You start to pull Adam's jeans off his body. He lifts his butt up and helps you get them off easier. His boxers come off with his jeans and you lick your bottom lip as you throw the pieces of clothing to the floor.

His eyes are on you as you take his member in you hand, pumping him a few times before licking his tip and taking him in your mouth.

Adam groans and grunts as you slowly begin to suck him off, using your hand to make up for what doesn't fit in your mouth.

You hum a little bit as his fingers find their way into your hair. You know humming a bit while Adam is in your mouth drives him crazy, and you want to make sure he feels good. So you do it several times.

"God," Adam moans slightly. "God, I love you. I love this. So freaking much."

Before he has the chance to release in your mouth, you pull back and stand up. Just to tease Adam, you do a little strip tease for him. He's propped himself up on his shoulders to watch you as you slowly undress in front of him.

He bites his lip as you finish. You push up his shirt so it comes off of him.

Carefully, you crawl onto Adam. You straddle his waist as you trace every bruise and little cut on his body that he got in the Wargames match. You lean down and leave little kisses on his chest as he moves and cups your face in his hands.

Adam's eyes meet yours and he leans up, kissing you. You kiss him back. This kiss is much softer and sweeter than the kisses a few minutes ago were.

His lips moves against yours for a few seconds before he pulls back, meeting your eyes.

"You have no idea how much I love you," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm serious."

You peck his lips and say, "I love you too, Adam. More than you know."

A smile appears on his lips and you sit up, your hands on Adam's chest to keep your balance. You begin to grind slowly against Adam. The tip of his erect member is moving through your soaked folds.

His groans and little noises when you were sucking him off made you wet. You couldn't stand it anymore and you needed him. You still need him.

After a moment of this, you take his member and line him up at the entrance.

Slowly and carefully, you lower yourself onto him. You sigh softly as you begin to move your hips. You're careful not to hurt Adam's already bruised body as you move so your movements are slow but filled with passion.

With every movement, you slide deeper onto him. Soft moans escape your lips as you throw your head back, enjoying this feeling.

Adam reaches up and plays with your breasts, groping them.

Your breathing gets heavier as you move faster. Your moans get louder and you slide your hands down Adam's chest.

The room is filled with your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin as you move.

A knot forms in your stomach and that's when you know you're close to an orgasm. You feel your walls begin to pulsate around Adam.

Your moans get louder as you moan Adam's name and several profanities.

"Baby," Adam groans. "I'm about to come."

Biting your lip, you say, "Me too."

He says, "On three?"

You nod as you speed up your movements.

After a three count, Adam releases his seed into you and you release around him while he's still inside of you. You moan out his name, almost screaming it as you come.

You help yourself and Adam ride out your highs before you collapse onto his chest.

Both of you breathe heavily and you close your eyes, not having any energy to pull yourself off Adam.

It's quiet as Adam begins to play with your hair.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," he says, kissing your forehead. "Now it's time to give you my present."

You smile and look up at Adam, asking, "What's my present?"

Adam smirks and says, "Sex. All day, as many times as you want."

Biting your lip you say, "That's the best birthday present ever."

He doesn't waste any time in starting round two as he attacks your neck with kisses.

As it's Chris' birthday today, what's your Evanstan headcon for how they are spending it? We don't know if Chris is still in LA (as far as I know), do you think he might be back in Boston to be with his family? That would mean Seb could easily visit him now that the lockdown in NYC is over. Or would he fly to LA to celebrate with his bf? (He hasn't been seen in NYC in the last couple of days either, right?) Or will the only hang out virtually? I would love to know what you are imagining 😊

Hello darling!! So yesterday, I said I probably wasn’t going to write any Evanstan for a while, but then I woke up this morning and had a lovely little Evanstan headcanon fantasy about Chris’s birthday - as you do - and then I thought screw it, let’s write this thing. So here’s a little drabble (well, it should’ve been a drabble) about how Chris might have spent his birthday 😘

A/N: This is just a nonsensical little fantasy scenario that doesn’t actually make any sense, but the idea made me happy, so I hope it’ll make you guys happy too! Don’t look too closely, please, there’s some overlap with previous fics and this was all written very quickly and hasn’t been edited properly because it’s late where I am and I need to sleep lmao 🙈 Sorry about that!

Happy birthday, Mr. America 

*********

Chris likes surprises, generally speaking.

Not the nasty kind, like when a part unexpectedly falls through, or someone gets angry at him out of the blue and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. But he likes it when exciting things happen and shake things up a bit, like when he’s having a lazy day alone at home, and a friend suddenly shows up on his doorstep to tell him, change of plans, we’re going bungee jumping. When that happens, Chris will happily drop whatever he’s doing and jump in the car, because that’s the kind of thing that makes him feel alive.

So when he arrives at the Evans’ family house today, on his birthday, and is greeted by a chorus of Surprise! and Happy Birthdays from a bunch of people he hasn’t seen ages - literal years, in some cases - Chris is delighted and touched; excited to see familiar faces and catch up with his friends and family.

That excited feeling lasts for a solid few hours, until his Aunt Melanie corners him and starts telling Chris about her Pilates instructor. This isn’t the first time she’s tried to set Chris up with whichever wonderful girl she’s most recently met and feels would be perfect for Chris, but this time she’s really hammering on about how she just can’t understand why a good-looking, successful young man like him hasn’t found a wife yet. She no doubt means well, but that doesn’t mean Chris is about to go on a blind date with her Pilates instructor.

When he’s finally managed to excuse himself under the pretense of needing a bathroom break, he sneaks off to the back of the house, to his dad’s old study. As soon as the door closes behind him, he lets out a sigh of relief and leans back against it for a moment, catching his breath. He loves his family to bits, but there’s no denying they’re a lot. There’s a sofa in the study, a wide, navy blue one, and Chris lies down on it, stretching himself to his full length. He closes his eyes, hoping to nap for a couple of minutes, but no dice. His aunt’s comments play in his head on a loop, causing something uneasy to stir in his stomach.

The thing is, she’s right. He should already be married and have a couple of cute kids to dote on. He’s wanted to have a family and settle down for a long time, ever since he got done with sowing his wild oats and calmed down a little. He’s the long-term relationship kind, and there had been a few girlfriends with whom he thought he definitely could see a future.

That had been Before, though. Before Sebastian Stan had waltzed into his life and upended everything Chris thought he knew for certain, complicating everything in the best and worst possible way. After the initial shock of developing feelings for another guy wore off, Chris had simply accepted his infatuation as a fact of life, and it had become something he carried with him always, but never acted on or even spoke of. He wouldn’t know where to start. It was clear there was something between them, though. The way Sebastian looked at him sometimes… It had to mean something. For the longest time, they’d danced around each other, always just shy of outright flirting, and there had been a few times when Chris really thought something might finally happen between them. But it never did.

And now it never would. They’ve hardly even seen each other, over the past year, after they stopped working together. Sure, they kept in touch from time to time, but there is only so much keeping in touch two work friends can plausibly do before it gets weird or necessarily has to turn into something else. And Chris thought he’d accepted that, more or less.

But then last week, he and Scott had gotten drunk together – like really, stupidly drunk. At around 3 in the morning, Scott had put on The First Avenger so he could make fun of Chris in his skin tight leggings, and then suddenly Sebastian’s face had been right there on his TV screen: larger than life, young and handsome like he’d been when Chris first felt that tug in his gut when he’d looked at him.

And Chris, whose brain-to-mouth filter unfortunately ceases to exist entirely whenever he’s had too much to drink, had just blurted out, “I think I’m in love with him.”

Initially, Scott had thought Chris meant that Steve was in love with Bucky. 

“Well, clearly,” he’d slurred. “They’re soooo gay, oh my god.”

And instead of using the misunderstanding to cover up for his unfortunate drunken slip-up, Chris had slowly shook his head and corrected, “No, with Sebastian. ‘M in love with Sebastian. Have been for a long time, I think.”

He’d passed out not long after, possibly his subconscious’ way of trying to protect himself against the barrage of questions from Scott that Chris had been in no state to answer in that moment. Inevitably, Scott had tried to talk to him about it the next day, but Chris – hungover, embarrassed and annoyed with himself for opening his big mouth and spilling this secret that he’d managed to keep for close to a decade – had told Scott to leave it and that he didn’t want to talk about it. Nothing was ever going to come of this now anyway, so it was much better if they could all just forget it ever happened.

Scott and he had gone to dinner at their mom’s that night, and of course, Lisa had instantly sensed something was off. Unfortunately, Chris never did stand a chance in hell against his mother, so when she took him to aside after dinner and outright asked him what was wrong, he’d had no choice but to spill the beans. Besides, if he didn’t, Scott would probably have found a way to guilt him into telling Lisa, eventually - they’d always shared everything with her, after all.

Lisa had been so loving and understanding, just like Chris knew she would, and despite the aching in his chest, he was grateful and a little bit relieved to know he wasn’t keeping something this significant from her any longer. But in the end, it didn’t change anything. Of course, Lisa had asked him why he didn’t just go for it, told him to just go for it, call Sebastian and ask him out for dinner, but Chris had dismissed all her suggestions. It just wasn’t going to happen. Certainly not now, not anymore.

She’d dropped it, eventually, but Chris is under no illusions that he’s heard the last of it.

Since then, he’d tried to put the whole fiasco out of his mind, but then Aunt Melanie started badgering him about his marital status and it had all come rushing back again.

Just when Chris about to give up on trying to nap and head outside to get some fresh air instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Chris sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Come in,” he calls, not bothering to get up because it’s probably his mom coming to check on him. “Hey, mom,” he says, when Lisa’s head does appear around the door.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she replies, smiling. She opens the door a little wider. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Oh?” Chris says, sitting up a little straighter for whatever friend or family member his mom wants him to meet so urgently, but then Lisa steps aside to reveal –  

Sebastian.

Sebastian is here. In his mom’s house. Standing right there, looking a little apprehensive and unsure, but still so fucking gorgeous it makes Chris’s heart stop for a moment inside his chest, before it starts up again at double speed.

“Hey, Chris,” Sebastian says, and it’s his voice, he’s really here, in Chris’s dad’s old study, speaking actual words at him.

What the fuck.

Chris gets to his feet so fast he feels a bit lightheaded, lightly swaying on his feet before he manages to get some semblance of a reply. "Hi. What- Sebastian. What are you doing here?"

Sebastian’s eyes flicker to Lisa for a moment, looking at her a little uncertainly. She gives him an encouraging nod.

“Um,” Sebastian starts, turning his eyes back to Chris again. “Lisa, your mom, invited me to your surprise birthday party.” He licks his lips nervously. “So, yeah, happy birthday. And, um. Surprise.” The last word is accompanied by a dorky little wave, and Chris is just. Speechless.

Literally, can’t form any words speechless, which is highly unusual for him. When he just keeps standing there, staring a Sebastian like he’s some kind of fata morgana, Lisa rolls her eyes and nudges Sebastian with her elbow.

“Well, go on, then,” she prompts, nodding in Chris’s direction. “He won’t bite.” Then, the look in her eyes turns mischievous, and Chris has half a second to think oh no, before she adds, “Unless you like that sort of thing, of course, but then he'd ask first. I raised him well.”

Sebastian makes a strangled sound, but starts towards him nonetheless, and before he really knows what’s happening, Chris is holding Sebastian in his arms. Holding him in his arms and burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. Sebastian’s arms go around him, too, a little tentative at first, but growing tighter, more secure, the longer the hug lasts. 

And it lasts, much longer than a casual happy birthday hug between friends is supposed to last, but Chris can’t for the life of him bring himself to let go. He knows he’s clinging, that he’s got his nose pressed to the spot below Sebastian’s ear and that’s probably far too intimate, but Sebastian’s arms around are wound tightly around Chris’s waist and his cheek is presses to the side of Chris’s face, and he’s not letting go either.

Finally, after what feels simultaneously like forever and the blink of an eye, Sebastian inhales shakily, his chest expanding against Chris’s. With Herculean effort, Chris makes himself pull away. But, of course, that brings with it the complication of being able to see Sebastian’s face, flustered and glowing, eyes shining with something unnameable. They’re so close then, their faces only an inch or so apart, and when Sebastian’s eyes flicker down to Chris’s mouth for a split second, Chris’s restraint breaks.

He lunges forward, and Sebastian does the same, and their mouths crash together awkwardly and suddenly, they’re kissing. Really, actually kissing. 

Chris’s hands fly to Sebastian’s face, holding it like it’s something precious, causing Sebastian to make a small, desperate sound that reverberates throughout Chris’s entire body. When he licks at the seam of Sebastian’s lips, Sebastian parts them immediately, letting him in, and Chris is drowning. Drowning in the kiss, in Sebastian’s taste, his smell, the little sighs he’s making against Chris’s lips, like he’s just as overwhelmed and stupefied and happy as Chris is, while they cling to each other like they’re each scared the other’s going to disappear if they dare to let up for just one second.

Eventually, though, they have to break apart for air. Chris presses their foreheads together, unwilling to put any more distance between them than is strictly necessary, still breathing the same air. When Chris eventually opens his eyes, he finds Sebastian looking back at him in a way that makes his knees feel suddenly weak.

"Hi," Seb says, voice low and husky.

"Hey," Chris replies, his hands on either side of Sebastian’s face, thumbs idly caressing his cheekbones.

Sebastian giggles, a light, happy sound that makes his nose do that scrunchy thing it does, and Chris wants to die. He groans, pulling Sebastian back in by the back of his neck –

And then Lisa clears her throat. Sebastian startles; he’d evidently forgotten she was still there, or maybe assumed she’d have left to give them their privacy, but that just goes to show Sebastian doesn’t know Lisa very well – yet.

"Well,” Lisa says, a grin in her voice. “I'll leave you two to it then, let me know if you need anything.” She pauses, before cheekily adding, “Anything at all."

“Yes, thank you, mom,” Chris says quickly, keen to spare Sebastian any further embarrassment. Sebastian’s hiding his face in Chris’s chest as it is, arms still wound around his waist, and Chris is literally about to pass out from how fucking cute that is.

Holding up a placating hand, Lisa finally retreats, closing the door behind her.

Once they’re alone, Chris steers Sebastian towards the couch, sitting down and pulling him into his lap. Sebastian lets himself be guided, straddling Chris’s thighs and giving him a coy look through his eyelashes. Chris blows out a slow breath to center himself a little, bringing up his hands to settle on Sebastian’s waist.

He knows they’ll need to talk about this at some point, but right now he can’t think of a single way to express what he’s feeling, and what this means to him. Right now, all he can do is stare at Sebastian in wonder, relishing finally getting to look at him the way he’s always wanted to: unabashedly, fondly, and very appreciative of exactly how tempting Sebastian’s lips look – especially after having been thoroughly kissed. By him.

“Fuck,” Chris breathes, overwhelmed, leaning in again to catch those pretty pink lips in another kiss.

Sebastian responds beautifully, opening up right away, melting into him. His arms wind around Chris’s shoulders, fingers scratching gently through the hair on the back of Chris’s head, making him shiver.

It’s sweet, at first; lips sliding together lazily, slow and lush, but eventually, the kisses turn a little dirtier, with nipping teeth and teasing tongues. When Sebastian bites Chris’s bottom lip a bit too hard, pulling on it, Chris literally goes cross-eyed for a second. The hand that found its way into Sebastian’s hair tightens instinctively, pulling his head back just a little.

“Oh,” Sebastian breathes, eyelids fluttering, and Chris instantly feels all his blood rushing south.

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe he has Sebastian here, in his lap, looking like innocence and sin wrapped into one, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes like it’s Chris who’s something to be desired. And Chris wants. He wants so bad, with every fiber of his being, to have Sebastian right there and then, but he has just enough presence of mind left to know that they can’t rush this, can’t make any rash decisions they might later regret if they don’t talk about what’s happening first.

Words still seem impossible, however, so instead, Chris takes one of Sebastian’s hands in his and presses a kiss to the center his palm, hoping to convey with that one gesture everything he wants to say but can’t.

When he looks back up, Sebastian blinks at him, his eyes wide and stunned, before he suddenly grabs Chris’s face between his hands and starts planting breathless kisses on his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, and even his nose. Chris lets himself be kissed, basks in it, feeling like his heart might burst, and when Sebastian finally presses his lips to his mouth, Chris seizes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Despite Chris’s best intentions, it turns heated again in no time. Without his permission, his hands slide under Sebastian’s shirt, stroking the smooth, warm skin of his back, while Sebastian mouths at Chris’s jaw, then trails a path of kisses down the column of his neck.

“Seb,” Chris groans, hands tightening convulsively on Sebastian’s waist. “Sebastian, wait.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Sebastian pants, lifting his head to look down at him. He’s disheveled, his hair a mess, pupils blown, his lips red and a little raw from mouthing at Chris’s beard. He looks stunning.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” Chris says honestly, touching Sebastian’s left cheek.

Sebastian ducks his head turning his face into Chris’s palm, but he’s smiling, which makes Chris smile, too, then they’re just smiling at each other like a couple of dorks.

Chris shifts their positions to get more comfortable, tugging at Sebastian until they’re both lying on the couch on their sides, face to face. Pulling him closer, into his chest, Chris swings a leg over both of Sebastian’s, and Sebastian takes the hint immediately, snuggling into Chris and tucking his head under his chin so they’re full on cuddling.

“Best fucking birthday present ever,” Chris mutters into Sebastian’s hair, his hand tracing idle patters on Sebastian’s upper arm. In reply, Sebastian presses a kiss to Chris’s chest, over his heart.

Somehow, they snooze for a little while, just drifting in and out of consciousness, neither of them seeming to want to untangle themselves from the other, until after an indeterminate amount of time, there’s a soft knock at the door.

Chris hums questioningly in reply, not wanting to wake Sebastian, and the door opens cautiously. Lisa pokes her head in again, and the moment she sees them, all wrapped around each other like that, she covers her mouth with her hands, cooing softly.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” she whispers, her eyes shining with affection and pride.

“Thanks, mom,” Chris whispers back, blinking back tears. “Love you.”

From where he’s half asleep on Chris’s chest, Sebastian murmurs, “Love you, too.”

Dangerous Creatures | Chapter 36: Dangerous Friends

Summary: Mackenzie and Elijah go to Marcel’s party

Pairing: Elijah x OC

Words: 3314

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there. I’d like to thank @eywizard for beta reading this chapter for me!

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23: Part 1 | Chapter 23: Part 2 | Chapter 23: Part 3 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 (Part 1) | Chapter 25 (Part 2) | Chapter 25 (Part 3) | Chapter 26 (Part 1) | Chapter 26 (Part 2 & 3) | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32  | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35

On her knees, the seamstress focused on the needle, touching up the pants of her client’s suit as he admired himself in the mirror on his right.

“Damn, I do look good in a suit,” he said, making his friend in the cap laugh.

It wasn’t unusual for the seamstress to answer house calls, no, the only thing unusual about this client was the odd things he said. She felt weird as she focused on her work. She could hear the two men, but not quite comprehend what they were saying to each other, as if the words wouldn’t stick to her brain, turning into an alphabet soup she couldn’t read.

She thought she had heard names, Tina McGreevy and Joshua Rosza. What was the TV saying about them? Perhaps they were missing. No, it wasn’t that. Wait… who were they talking about again? Her mind was foggy and the more she tried to focus, the foggier it got.

“My guy at the docks is gonna come forward as an eyewitness, say he saw those two drunkenly fall into the Mississippi. They’ll be dredging for weeks, no one will come looking around here,” said the man in the cap, whose name she thought started with a ‘T’… Theo? Thibault? No… It was that.

“That’s good, considering one’s dead in a dumpster behind the county morgue and the other one’s a vampire now,” her client said with a chuckle. “Anything else?”

The words danced in her brain, refusing to form a correct sentence, refusing to make sense. As she tried to think back to what had just been said, she inadvertently pricked herself with her needle.

“Ow!”

She sat back on her knees and looked at her bloody finger. The man, whose name she thought might be Mark, crouched before her with a smile.

“Allow me, darling,” he said as he took her hand and brought the injured finger to his mouth.

She let him do it, even though her entire body was screaming at her to get up and go. Her mind was loud with alarms, screaming at her that it wasn’t safe, but she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t do anything but smile. His friend spoke up again.

“I sent four nightwalkers to look into a werewolf sighting in the Quarter. I haven’t heard from them since.”

Mark, or whatever his name was, lost his smile as he let go of her hand and sighed.

“That makes ten dead nightwalkers in the last week. You think the werewolves are back in town trying to start some trouble?”

“Look. I know you and Klaus are friends, but the fact is, since the Originals showed up…”

“Oh, come now, Thierry, you’re not still upset about that little toxic werewolf bite I gave you, are you?”

The seamstress barely registered the stranger who had just come into the fitting room. She felt like she was supposed to ignore him, to ignore them, to silence them out, and so she did.

“I see you’ve given him free rein of your compound now, too,” Thierry said with disappointment and disapproval.

“Yes. Well, seeing as my family and I lived here, built the place, in fact…”

“All right, come on,” Mark, or perhaps his name was Maxwell, interrupted their argument calmly, “you know the drill. Thierry is my guy, inner circle. Klaus is my old-time friend and sire. He’s also a guest here,” he reminded his friend. “Peace, all right?” he asked Thierry who nodded with a grimace. “All right,” he nodded as well. “What do you need, my brother?”

“I don’t need anything, just wanted to let you know Elijah accepted your invitation.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled. “I hope you told him the rules.”

Klaus laughed. “He knows the rules, though I can’t promise he’ll follow them.”

“What about the witch?”

“Mackenzie? She used to love rules, would rather die than break them, actually. Now… not so much. But, no worries,” he added quickly to reassure his friend, “tonight is a party, no one expects a fight.”

“Right,” Marcel smiled unconvinced. “Let’s just have fun, eh?”

 ***

 “So, how’s Matt?” Mackenzie asked, picking up a strawberry from the bowl on the kitchen counter right in front of her.

The cooks were busy cooking food no one asked, or wanted, compelled by Klaus to act like they were serving kings and queens. The kitchen was filled with desserts that Hayley was convinced would make her fatter than her pregnancy.

“Sleeping,” Rebekah’s voice came through the speaker.

“Where are you again?”

“We reached Amsterdam a couple of days ago.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It is actually.”

“So, I guess you’re not gonna be there for my birthday, then…”

“My gift is already in the mail, it should be there in time.”

“I was hoping to see you.”

“Aw, do you miss me?” the Original vampire mocked over the phone.

“Don’t you miss me?”

“Of course, I miss you, but let me tell you, the phone system is definitely one of the best creations in the past century.”

“Yeah, well I was actually hoping to spend my birthday with my friends, you know, but Katherine said she had no intentions of coming anywhere near Klaus ever again, so…”

“So what? I’m your backup friend?”

“I’d have loved to have you both here but since you guys all hate each other, I think it would have just ruined the day.”

“You’re probably right. Just spend the day with Elijah, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to do anything you want. Birthday or not…”

“Fine, don’t come, it’s not like we can actually have a party anyway, in our secret hiding place away from Marcel…”

“Why don’t you just come join me in Europe? Leave Nik alone, he doesn’t deserve your help…”

“Well, that’s true, but I can’t just leave Hayley here alone with him…”

“You’re right, that sounds like a particularly cruel thing to do.”

“Anyway, have fun in Amsterdam then.”

“And you have fun at that party of yours, show Marcel what you’re capable of.”

“And how do you suggest she does that, Rebekah?” Elijah asked as he entered the kitchen.

Mackenzie smiled as she saw him, and leaned into him as he went to place a kiss in her hair.

“Brother, finally, you deign to talk to your poor sister…”

The Original rolled his eyes. “You’re always so dramatic, sister.”

“That bastard little thief stole our city and declared himself King, maybe you should show him he’s nothing but an ingrate little…”

“Alright, alright,” Mackenzie cut her off with a chuckle. “It’s a charity dinner, ‘bekah. We’re expecting champagne, good food, and dancing, nothing more.”

“You’re so boring. No wonder Kol hasn’t come around to visit you.”

“Ouch,” Mackenzie frowned. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“Heard from him recently?”

“He’s somewhere in Brazil, I believe,” Elijah answered.

“What the bloody hell is he doing there?”

“Who knows what our brother’s got in his head.”

“You got that right… Well, Matt is waking up, I have to go.”

They said their goodbyes before hanging up, Mackenzie still eating from the bowl of strawberries that was almost empty now.

“Do you even want to go to this thing?” she asked.

“No. But Marcel must have something in mind, and I’d hate to go against his plans.”

She smirked. “That’s so nice of you,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I am very nice,” he whispered before placing a kiss on her lips. “In fact, I have many nice things I want to do to you right now.”

“Ew, please, stop.”

The couple turned towards the kitchen doorstep to find Hayley standing there with a look of disgust on her face. Mackenzie rolled her eyes playfully as she took a step back from the vampire.

“What can we do for you, Hayley?” Elijah asked the newest member of the Mikaelson family.

“Nothing, I just came to stuff my face with the biggest cake I could find…”

“We’ll leave you to it then,” he nodded before he gently took Mackenzie’s hand and led her out of the room under Hayley’s uncomfortable gaze.

 ***

 So far, everything was going well. Elijah and his witch were behaving remarkably, the Original had already signed a check, and had been dancing with his companion ever since. Klaus was right. They looked unbearably in love. The silver satin dress she was wearing was remarkable as well, no doubt a gift from Elijah, and it complemented her set of diamond jewelry best. A swiss blue topaz gemstone rested above her cleavage, the necklace looked ancient, royal, almost, as if it had belonged to a generation of royalty and had somehow found its way to her. He figured many “lost” jewels had found their way in the Mikaelson collection over the years. He watched them carefully, tried to eavesdrop on them too, but they were smarter than to believe they’d get any privacy in a room full of vampires, and kept their conversation as polite and as normal as possible, as if they knew they had an audience. Eventually, Marcel had better things to do than to spy on the two lovers, and even managed to completely forget about them as Cami had finally joined the party.

“They spend their nights and days with Klaus - you’d think they’d be used to the presence of an Original by now,” Mackenzie complained about the pairs of eyes that hadn’t left them ever since they had entered the compound.

Marcel had gone above and beyond for this party. Dancers, acrobats, the finest chefs and the finest champagne… All the guests were having a great time and were happy to open their wallets to the charity of the night.

“I don’t think they’ll ever get used to us,” Elijah replied. “After all the stories they’ve heard about us, we were a myth to them until we arrived here.”

Mackenzie scoffed, wondering how long it would take for her irritation to turn into something more dangerous.

“If only they knew…” Elijah started.

“If only they knew what?”

“If only they knew they were worrying about the wrong person,” he grinned with pride.

She smirked back and nodded as she looked around at Marcel’s nightwalkers. “Indeed.”

That’s when she saw it, or rather him, a vampire she had come to learn was named Diego, entering the party wearing a shirt and jeans and an unhappy look on his face.

“Looks like something’s wrong,” she said as she watched him approach Marcel, obviously nervous about interrupting his time with Cami.

Diego whispered something into Marcel’s ear, and they could see on his face something was wrong indeed. Marcel started looking around and stopped as he found Elijah and Mackenzie surrounded by dancing couples. He frowned before he made their way to them.

“Something wrong, Marcellus?”

“Yes, actually, Elijah, something is wrong. Where’s Klaus?”

“I’m right here,” the hybrid said as he appeared behind him.

“Good, come with me.”

The three Mikaelsons looked at each other with an amused curiosity. Whatever was wrong, it wasn’t their problem, and if it bothered Marcel that much, it meant it was probably a good thing for them.

They followed him out of the compound, heard him order Diego to find as many nightwalkers as he could and join them at a place he called the Traps, which is where he was taking them.

“For a week now, my guys have been dying,” Marcel started his explanation. “There’s a werewolf in town who’s been killing my nightwalkers, and a witch or two have been helping it, using magic, undetected,” he informed them, barely concealing his anger.

“How is that our problem?” Elijah asked, not bothering to hide his lack of curiosity.

“Rumors are you’re at fault.”

“If we were killing your people we wouldn’t make a secret of it,” Mackenzie said in all honesty.

Marcel stopped in his tracks and turned towards her. Unbothered by his anger, almost bored, and definitely annoyed, she raised an eyebrow at him, defying him to attempt anything.

“Is that so?”

“That is so,” she confirmed, her eyes falling on Thierry standing behind him. “Want me to prove it?”

Marcel stared at her, put all of his anger in his eyes, tried to see something as she stared back, anything on her face, even just a little bit of fear, but he saw nothing. What the hell could she have gone through that had made her so tough? Or maybe it was arrogance? No, it wasn’t just that. She had something, she was someone, someone powerful, who wasn’t afraid of him, because he was no threat to her. Not only did she have Elijah’s protection, but she also didn’t need it, and that was scarier than Klaus himself, and as he finally found fear, it was unfortunately not hers, but his own.

“You were taking us somewhere?” Elijah eventually said after a minute of silence.

Marcel was trying to calm himself down, trying not to let the smirk that had appeared on the girl’s face get to him. He regained his composure, and his usual bright smile came and replaced the angry look on his face.

“But, as you are here, now I know you had nothing to do with the attacks on my men, and I thought we could go and see for ourselves who’s been causing so much trouble in my town,” he said as if he were offering them something.

“Sounds like a party,” Klaus smiled maliciously, encouraging Elijah and Mackenzie to relax.

Diego and a dozen nightwalkers had found them before they had even reached the Traps, and signs of a fight could be heard from down the street. Mackenzie could sense a werewolf and at least two witches inside, and vampires, dying one after the other.

Marcel gave Diego the order to attack, to kill whoever it was that was killing his own men in his own town. Among the screams of rage and fear were laughs - laughs Elijah and Mackenzie thought they recognized. She looked up at him and the look on his face confirmed her doubts. He heard it too, but she also felt it. A smile creeped onto her face.

“Call back your men before they all get killed,” she said, and he heard the amusement in her tone.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s only advice.”

“Advice you should seriously consider,” Elijah added.

But Marcel shook his head no and ordered more of his men to go in with him. They couldn’t even see what was happening inside. The bar had no window, only a door that was now broken. But they could hear everything that was happening and that was enough to give them an idea of the scene. Mackenzie chuckled, seriously debating whether or not to intervene.

“Perhaps we should do something,” Elijah suggested.

“What is going on?” Klaus asked, obviously irritated he was left in the dark.

Mackenzie smiled as she moved to go inside. She snapped the necks of every vampire there with a wave of a hand, and they all fell to the ground. All but Marcel. The bar was completely destroyed. Only a couple of chairs and tables were still standing, but most of them had been used as a stake and were now resting in the hearts of a dozen vampires. She walked past a temporarily dead Diego and took in the scene.

A man, the werewolf, was standing at the end of the room, with blood dripping from his mouth, holding a stake in his right hand, the broken chair he had ripped it off of in his other. He smiled at her as he saw her, the blood on his face made him look funny and she held back a laugh. A blonde witch was near him, waving at her, her free hand magically pinning a vampire to the ceiling. The last witch sat on the bar, her hair, her face, her outfit spotless, as if she hadn’t been part of the fight at all, but Mackenzie knew she had the highest body count.

“Mackenzie!” they all greeted in unison.

Her smile grew bigger and a laugh escaped her. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We came for your birthday, of course,” Olivia said as she jumped off the bar.

God, Mackenzie thought. She looked so much like Margo.

“Mom says hello.”

“Does her Majesty know you’re here?” Elijah asked as he stepped inside the bar with his brother.

“Of course,” Felicity answered as she let go of the vampire she was holding against the ceiling. He fell with a cry, and her boyfriend seized the opportunity to stake him.

Marcel would have stopped him and killed them all, or died trying, if Mackenzie didn’t have him pinned to the wall.

“Lying to Margo is a very bad idea,” Oliver said.

Olivia gave Mackenzie a hug and whispered in her ear: “Heidi says hi.”

Mackenzie’s heart skipped a bit and as she backed away to look at the Princess, the witch winked. Elijah frowned.

“We have so many gifts,” Felicity said as she hugged the elemental.

“You don’t turn twenty-years-old every day,” Oliver continued as he approached them.

“Who are you?” Klaus asked dryly, tired of being left out.

“Klaus, these are my friends from Germany,” she introduced them, “guys, this is Klaus.”

“Well, you definitely picked the more handsome brother,” Oliver winked at her and was rewarded by his girlfriend’s elbow in his ribs.

Elijah chuckled. “You’ve been here for a week?”

“Yeah, we got here early, we wanted to meet the um…” Oliver stopped himself. “You know…”

“How do you know about it?” Mackenzie questioned.

“The oracles told mom. I mean, it’s not something you see every day.”

Of course the oracles would know about Hayley and the baby. It made them wonder who else knew, and if they needed to be more cautious.

“It’s just werewolf curiosity,” Oliver shrugged.

“Are Heidi and Alexander going to be joining us?” Elijah asked.

“And are they going to kill more of my guys?” Marcel worried.

“Not their type,” Mackenzie informed him.

“To be fair we wouldn’t have killed anyone if they had left us alone,” Felicity said.

“But they went on about how werewolves are forbidden in the Quarter, and that really pisses a werewolf off, if you know what I mean,” Oliver growled.

“Werewolves are forbidden in the Quarter,” Marcel snarled.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“And you are?”

“I suggest you stick to giving your own men orders,” Olivia said with royal authority, “you are no match for us, as you can see.”

“We don’t take orders from vampires,” Oliver added salt to injury.

“I heard witches weren’t allowed to do magic in their own town,” Felicity continued, “another one of your rules, I suppose?”

“Shall we kill him?” Olivia wondered.

Klaus laughed. “Please, my friend here has been ruling over the Quarter for decades now, he’s just doing his job.”

“If his job consists of stopping witches from practicing their craft and hunting werewolves, then he is an unfit ruler and a change of leadership is needed,” Olivia said. “A good ruler promotes peace among all, and if you’re unable or too weak to achieve that, then you must be replaced.”

“I think there’s been enough killing for one night,” Elijah tried to defuse the situation. “Why don’t we take you to our place, so you can rest?”

“As you wish,” Olivia nodded. “We could use a home for the remainder of our stay.”

“I’ll let my brother show you to our place,” Klaus showed them out of the bar. “I will stay and help my friend clean up this place.” He gave them an obvious fake smile that neither of the three companions paid any mind to.

Mackenzie and Elijah looked at each other knowingly. Here went Klaus’ good mood.

**********

The Birthday Thing

READ PART ONE HERE

READ PART TWO HERE

PART THREE: The titular “Thing.”

Combeferre had put himself in charge of the cell phone bag, a move that Enjolras heartily objected to.

“You really don’t have to do that.” Enjolras said. “You should be having fun!”

“I will be having fun!” Combeferre promised. “But if we’re gonna enforce a no cell phone policy, someone has to keep an eye on them in case someone’s mom calls or something.”

“If my mom calls, do me a favor and send her to voicemail.” Courfeyrac interrupted. Courfeyrac had managed to simultaneously be the first and last person to arrive, even though the party was being thrown in his apartment. He’d set everything up, welcomed Enjolras and Combeferre, and then left to go pick up his plus-one who, Combeferre noticed, was standing very nervously behind Courfeyrac clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“Uh, hi. Thank you, uh, thanks for having me, I know we don’t know each other too well. We met once, I don’t know if you remember-“

“I remember.” Combeferre said, and Marius made a face that said quite plainly he wished he hadn’t remembered him at all. Enjolras only smiled.

“Oh, it’s you! You’re, yeah, you’re that guy, I remember you! Marius. Okay, yeah! Thank you for coming.” he said. Marius’ shoulders relaxed a bit, and he held out the bouquet.

“These are for you. Or for the house, I guess. I know it said no gifts but I thought, but if you don’t want anything I - sorry, I know that, but, it’s fine I can just-“

“These are very nice, thank you. I appreciate it.” Enjolras said graciously.

Combeferre grabbed the tote bag full of cell phones and held it open. “Well, confiscation time. Cough ‘em up, fellas.” he said. Courfeyrac took it upon himself to discard of Marius’ phone, but before he did, something on Marius’ screen made him giggle.

“I didn’t know you had a sister, Marius.”

Marius frowned. “Sister? What are you - oh!”

His lock screen was a selfie of a teenage girl, who was making a silly face into the camera. Marius’ eyes widened, and he quickly snatched his phone away to change the picture. “This isn’t my sister,” he explained, laughing nervously. “It’s, she’s this kid I know, my neighbor.” He set his screensaver to the first thing in his camera roll, a picture of a dog wearing rain boots, and tossed the phone into the tote bag.

“Okay!” Enjolras said brightly. “Thanks again for coming, and for the flowers. Have you met everyone yet.”

“Uh, yeah.” Marius said. “I know Joly and Bossuet, I already said hi to him. And Bahorel, is he here?”

“Yes, he’s . . . I don’t know, actually. He’s somewhere.”

“And uh, Grantaire, I know him. Is he here too?”

Enjolras’ face fell a bit. As a matter of fact, Grantaire wasn’t there. Not that it was unlike him to be “fashionably” late (Enjolras hadn’t a clue what was so fashionable about lack of punctuality, but you know.) But, still, Enjolras thought . . . seeing as it was his birthday and all . . .

“Not yet,” Combeferre cut in. “But he will be. Soon.”

Courfeyrac squinted at him. “Right.” he said. “Well, we’ll go and join the fray. Come on, Enjolras, you should come join us. Combeferre’s not allowed to hog you in the kitchen all night.”

“Well, alright.” Enjolras said with a pleased sigh. “Combeferre, you don’t have to stand guard by the phones all night.”

“Agreed. I expect you to join us for karaoke!” Courfeyrac said, dragging Enjolras and Marius into the living room to mingle.

Combeferre eyed his tote bag, which was now fairly heavy. Technically, the no cell phone rule applied to him too, but rules were made to be broken, no? He scrolled through his recent contacts and hit the call button, turning away from the kitchen island so as not to be spotted.

“Hello?”

“Uh, yeah, hello?” Combeferre whispered into the phone. “Where are you?”

“Hello??”

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. You’ve reached Grantaire’s voicemail. My phone is either lost or dead or I just don’t want to pick up, so shoot me a text. If it’s an emergency, call literally anyone else. While you’re here, check out this sick beep.”

There was a beep. Fucker.

Combeferre groaned. He should have known this would happen. He looked at Enjolras, who was laughing at something Feuilly was saying. He was a great friend, Enjolras. Maybe the greatest. He didn’t want gifts or even a fancy party. He just wanted all of his friends under one roof for a night. It wasn’t that much to ask for.

He was going to get what he wanted. Combeferre would see to it.

***

Someone was knocking at the door, and Grantaire was pretty sure he knew who it was, but he opened it anyway. Combeferre was standing arms folded, looking angrier than Grantaire had ever seen him (and Grantaire had seen Combeferre argue about politics.)

“Who buzzed you in?” he asked stupidly.

Combeferre didn’t wait for an invitation, he brushed past Grantaire into the apartment. He looked like he was going to throw a punch. Grantaire almost hoped he would. He was usually better with fists than with words.

“What the fuck?” Combeferre asked. It wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Say you got hit in the head and you’re suffering from amnesia, because other than that I can not think of a reason you are in this apartment in pajamas right now.”

Grantaire looked up at Combeferre. “I got hit in the head and I’m suffering from amnesia.” he said.

Combeferre wanted to scream. “Come on.” he said, exercising an impressive amount of restraint. “Get your clothes on. Let’s go.”

“Uh, no, I’m not going. I don’t even know why your here, I already texted Enjolras.”

Combeferre stared at him for a beat, then started rummaging through the tote bag he was carrying. Grantaire blinked in confusion.

“Is that everyone’s phones?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s a screen free party.” Combeferre muttered.

“But you’re here. So nobody at the apartment has a phone. What if there’s an emergency?”

“There won’t be an emergency. Also, Jehan has his phone.” Combeferre had given it to him before he left. He said he was just running out to grab some more drinks, but he was pretty sure Jehan could tell he was lying. He probably should have left the entire bag with Jehan, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. “Also,” Combeferre added, angrily. “I shouldn’t have had to leave anything with anyone, because you should be at Courfeyrac’s right now.”

Grantaire frowned. Combeferre noticed for the first time how very tired he looked. Very tired, and very unhappy. While he was at it, he also noticed an envelope with Enjolras’ name written in pretty cursive on the coffee table. And an outfit laid carefully out across the couch. Grantaire wasn’t acting his usual self. He seemed . . . more withdrawn. Combeferre always thought of Grantaire as bold and utterly shameless. Maybe this is what it looked like when Grantaire was embarrassed. He went back to looking for Enjolras’ phone.

sorry, can’t make it tonight. wish i could be there, not feeling well. have a blast.

Combeferre read the message aloud. “This is bullshit.” he decided. “I’m deleting this.”

“Oh, you know Enjolras’ password,” Grantaire commented, watching Combeferre. “How sweet.”

“It’s literally 1-2-3-4.” Why did he say that? Now Enjolras would have to change it. Goddamn it.

“Look, I’m actually not feeling well.” Grantaire lied. “So, if you could kindly fuck off? I’d super appreciate it.”

Combeferre looked him up and down. “I think you self sabotage, Grantaire.” he said, earning a mean bark of a laugh from the shorter man.

“Gee thanks. How much do I owe you for this session, doc?”

“Stop, I’m being - I’m trying to be real with you.” Grantaire looked amused by the notion. Combeferre carried on, “Everyone is trying to be friends with you. Why do you insist on making that so difficult?”

“Sorry it’s been such a pain in the ass, I truly am.” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes petulantly. “Look, we all know what kind of friend I am. I’m good for carousing and not much else. It’s no trouble, after all, everyone needs a good drinking buddy, and I am happy to oblige. But this shit? Dinner parties - sorry, not party, thing. And, and, folding laundry together and going for picnics in the park and Saturday brunch or whatever the fuck? That’s not me. Sorry. I really wish it was but, you know. ‘To thine own self be true’ and all that.”

Combeferre folded his arms across his chest. He knew what he needed to ask, but he really, really didn’t want to. Combeferre was a polite person, but what good is politeness if you can’t extend it to people that aren’t always easy to be around? Kind and good, that’s what he tried to be. But maybe he’d find out that he wasn’t kind or good, not really. Not when it counted.

“Grantaire, did I do something to you?”

Grantaire seemed taken aback. “What?”

Combeferre really didn’t want to ask again. “Did I, you know. Is there something I did? Or, I don’t know, do? I just . . . why don’t you like me?”

There was a silence. Grantaire looked at Combeferre, his face twisted in anxiety. This could not be happening.

“Combeferre.” he said slowly. “I don’t dislike you.”

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have even - but like. You do hang out with the others. Like I know I’m not always down for whatever, but you’re friends with everyone. You’re friends with fucking Marius Pontmercy, who I literally forgot existed until this week. So I know you like all them, obviously you’re friends with Joly and Bossuet, and you go out with Bahorel and Courfeyrac a lot, and you’re always talking to Feuilly and Jehan about whatever, and obviously you like Enjolras so it’s just me, then. I feel like maybe I did something to you but I don’t know what it was or what it is and I don’t know how to fix it? Or apologize? I don’t know, I know we don’t all have to be friends, like I’m not forcing you to be my friend or anything, but I don’t know. I’d like to be.”

Grantaire frowned. “I hate when you do that.” he said, which is not exactly the response Combeferre was hoping for. His heart sunk.

“Do what?”

“Say stuff about Enjolras like that. Like wink-wink nudge-nudge, obviously you like him and oh my god he totally wanted you here. Like I get it, but you don’t have to make fun.” Grantaire’s eyes were fixed on the ground. His pajama pants didn’t have pockets to shove his hands into, so instead they were sort of nervously pulling at the drawstring.

Combeferre didn’t know what to say. He felt absolutely terrible. “I didn’t - I’m sorry. I never meant to make fun. I just meant that I know you guys have like, you know. You have a different relationship than the rest of us, I guess.”

“Fuck off.” Grantaire said, but it came out quiet and unsure of itself.

“Look, I’m only here because I want Enjolras to have a good birthday. I know my best friend, and I know that he will have a great time and be grateful for everyone who came whether you’re there or not.”

“Okay.” Grantaire said, meeting Combeferre’s eyes at last.

“But I also know that he’s going to be thinking all night about why you didn’t show, and he’s going to bring it up for the next month in the way he does whenever he brings you up as if he’s just casually curious even though he’s a terrible actor. And honestly? Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to have to deal with all that. Which is why I’m here to bring you to the party.”

“I didn’t know you had a selfish bone in your body.” Grantaire laughed, almost sounding impressed.

“Well, I’m only human.”

“It doesn’t seem like that, sometimes.” Grantaire said. “You three. You seem like something else entirely. Demigods, maybe. Something out of a book.”

“Well, we’re not. We’re people. Get your clothes on, please.”

Maybe for the first time in all of their years of acquaintance, Grantaire nodded and quietly obliged.

***

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Bahorel said, more fond than annoyed. Everyone in the apartment greeted Grantaire with a cheer. He gave a sheepish grin in return.

“You know me. I never miss a party.” he said.

Courfeyrac intercepted Combeferre at the door. “I was wondering where you went.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Excellent work.”

“Well, you know. It’s his birthday.”

“Speak of the devil.”

Enjolras had made his way from across the apartment to say hello. He looked more beautiful than Grantaire had ever seen him, his golden hair tucked behind his ears, which were blushing pink. Not that this meant much - every time Grantaire looked at Enjolras he seemed more beautiful than the last.

“Glad you could make it.” he said, and he meant it.

“Better late than never, right?” Grantaire joked, but with much more gentleness and much less bravado than he jokes with any of the others. Enjolras usually had this effect on him. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras smiled, and his teeth were so white it was unfair and his eyes were so bright Grantaire could probably sue for damage to his retinas. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“This is, uh, it’s for you. I know it said no gifts but in my opinion that’s bullshit, so. Here.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras said again. “Can I open it now?”

“It’s your present, so. It’s not much, just a gift card.”

Enjolras tore open the envelope. He looked at the contents curiously. Grantaire felt himself starting to sweat.

“What’s Claire’s?” Enjolras asked.

“The fuck?” Grantaire said, grabbing the gift card. Jesus Christ. “I meant to get a regular one, fuck me. Uh, I’m pretty sure Claire’s is a children’s jewelry store. You could get a phone case. Or pierce your ears, that could be fun! I think I have a receipt at home somewhere, I’ll get it to you and you can get an actual gift card. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Enjolras said, beaming. “Thank you.”

“No, uh, thanks for the invite.”

A phone started ringing from inside of Combeferre’s bag. He fished around for a while before finding the culprit. A familiar looking girl’s contact image lit up the screen.

“Marius, it’s your sister.”

Marius’ eyes went wide, and he rushed to grab his phone. “She’s not my sister. Hello?” he said into the speaker, his face contorting into an indecipherable expression before running into the bathroom to take his call. Combeferre couldn’t help but roll his eyes, which Grantaire noticed with a giggle. Courfeyrac had somehow made his way to the top of a stool, and he was clanging a fork to his glass.

“Everyone! Eyes up here! So, who’s ready for a game?!”

1. Happy Mabon! Every autumn, I forget that the darkness comes clanging down in a great rush in the mornings. One day, I am greeted by a pinking sunrise. 48 hours later, it’s so dark on my run to the river that I have to stop a passing runner and check the time, in case my disturbed sleep sent me dressing and leaving the house at 2am. This summer may not have given us those mornings where it’s so hot I can barely get out of the water, where those early hours feel like full silent days carved out just for me to sit in the light and wait for everyone else to wake up, where the only extra thing I put on to run home is my trainers — I look at my waiting winter gear, neoprene socks and gloves, head torch, two more thickening jumpers, hat, thermal mittens — but every season, every day, is beautiful.

Today we go early for celebrations, and the water is silky, and Orion hangs over us with his phallic sword dangling and Betelgeuse winking on one shoulder. The near-full moon spotlights us and I feel almost ready for the shortening days.

2. Hilary Mantel continues to be a literary god. How does she write with that clarity? How can I ever speak with her calm good sense and wit? 

3. We have two main problems at the moment, as far as I can see. a) What we’re doing (“curating” our lives; twitter spats; purity spirals; division and isolation; wanting ‘debates’ that can only be won or lost; encouraging people to buy more things; trying to buy our happiness; letting marketers tell us how we feel about the world rather than encouraging major moral lessons from throughout the ages to challenge us on our weaknesses; refusing to accept that life is suffering; asking self-care to be a plaster for everything we don’t have) and b) what we’re not doing (joining together to stand against those with more money and power; protecting the people who have even less power and voice than we do as a matter of course; learning from history; protecting nature above all else; prioritising going for walks; learning to repair things and campaigning to make things repairable; having a basic belief in human dignity for all, not just those with whom we agree; accepting that truly, we are all different and no amount of shaming or disgust will change that; working to shape our societies, culture, economies, production, food supplies and communications around improving — not just sustaining — the air, water and land, and fighting to ensure all of those new shapes protect women and children).

Individualism has morphed into something so completely self-destructive that we’ve forgotten we need nature more than anything — literally, more than anything — and we need to unionise and unite and put aside differences and work together even with people we don’t like. 

Because when there are wicked people in power, when it’s genuinely exhausting to think about all the corrupt, venal, toxic, divisive, false, and cruel things they have done since coming to power, those people love to watch everyone below pointing their fingers at one another, saying, You, You’re The Enemy, You’re The Problem, while corrupt populist leaders rub their bellies and chuckle at another promise broken, another mass death on their hands, another building site on a protected forest. Do you understand the stakes here? Do you understand that it’s actual survival? It’s not about being right any more, it’s not about besting someone in the argument. It’s about having decision makers who can not only ensure there is still food to eat and air to breathe, but that relations both within a country and between countries are built on care, and support, and compassion, and believing in human dignity. And while it sounds wishy-washy and hands-clappy it’s the schmaltzy, sentimental truth. It’s the only one, really. 

If we instead continue to believe every single day that my feelings are the most important, that my beliefs are the right ones, that I’ve got to prove those baddies there are evil and awful and wrong, then honestly, what the fuck? If we’re happy to live in a country where hostile architecture is the starting point for all public builds, where we send refugee boats away from our shores, where affiliate links are a career goal, where we haven’t stormed the Daily Mail offices with accounts of all our lovely immigrant friends and family and had a huge feast together and compared our long and tangled family trees, then come on. It’s only a race to the bottom if we all keep running. 

Because, pressingly, whatever the spark of a major global conflict — assassination, fuel shortages, hyperinflation, invasion — the kindling is almost always a populace fed pure hatred for months, for years, until they can’t even taste it anymore but are ready to spew it out again, and are ready to use another populace as the receptacle. And hatred is brewed up in silence and isolation, and in the ashes of bridges burned between disparate groups. 

And on that note, I’m not a conspiracy theorist, mainly because I don’t believe governments are generally competent enough to manage Grand Plans, but it’s annoying that technology and social trends and culture have developed in such a way that no one knocks on anyone’s door for a chat as a matter of course now, that it’s a given that a ringing phone triggers anxiety, that it’s not the norm for cups of tea with your neighbours, that we don’t know each other’s neighbourhoods, that we don’t even talk on the phone, with live words and intonation and synchronised laughter, but in text, in WhatsApp chats, in tapped out words and symbols that we know can be screen-grabbed and misinterpreted, that we know are kept, filtered and sold by the tech companies. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s just a reality that every single one of us can choose to do differently. 

Sometimes exactly the right thing comes along at the right time. All of us here watched About a Boy at the weekend, a film which is so wonkily weighted and oddly rhythmed, but a perfect depiction of everything I’m banging on about here. Hugh Grant’s character likes being alone. He’s happy that way. It suits him. It’s his choice. Then, between one thing and another, he finds himself drawn into a world of a suicidal single mother, a duck-murdering young boy, more single mothers, more tricky teens, plus exes and mothers-in-law and awkward support groups. And it turns out that actually, being with people is better. Being uncomfortable often develops you as a person. Constantly prioritising only yourself produces a waxen, pointless baby. Making shared sacrifices might just be the point of being alive. Remember that to be human is to be flawed. That no one is ever completely right, and no one is ever completely wrong. That the boring stuff makes us feel good, and the glossy stuff, if all we strive for is gloss, doesn’t. 

If you want anything practical, here are the things that have really helped me over the last few years:

Writing a letter or email regularly to my MP, to CEOs of organisations, to anyone I want to communicate my strong feelings and how I’d like things to be done better. Tweeting eats your soul. It’s a horrible myth the media pretends is important. It really, really isn’t.

Inviting people to go in front of me in queues, in traffic, getting on to buses and trains. It lowers my stress levels right down.

Learning the names of my neighbours and people I meet regularly on walks and letting them learn mine. (I definitely haven’t just decided I loathe a neighbour because they cut a bird-hatching tree down in their garden on the last day of the year it was legal to do so. It’s fine.)

Joining a few political parties, and the closest thing I have to a union

Making something, anything — everything can be done with love, and learning to not get sucked into the capitalist conceit of having to make it perfect, sellable, exhibitable is a genuine gift to yourself; making a cake or a film or a coaster and not putting it on social media, letting it be ugly or serviceless and loving it anyway. I felt extremely overwhelmed the other evening, but instead of doom-scrolling I knitted a… I don’t know, something flat and woollen, and it helped to have my hands and eyes working on directionless introspective creation. 

Trying to stop hating. Every time I want to tell a negative story in my head about someone, I attempt to turn it into something positive: how unhappy that person must be, what they must be missing out on. It’s so nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish, and of course it isn’t always successful, and of course every single day brings a hundred thousand examples of cruelty and injustice and wickedness, but the alternative only makes my life feel worse, so why would I indulge that? 

Teaching myself the names of birds, trees, flowers, clouds and constellations. I’m still at the most basic levels on all of these, but the difference one feels in the world when you can name things  — let alone use them and know their stories — is a very real sort of magic. (For that reason I hope to read this book very soon.) This episode of The Cut is also good on the wonder and power of learning the names of the weeds that grow in your nearest pavement crack. 

4. Creating anything is always a gamble, isn’t it, but writing a book you actually like for once and seeing it slowly and beautifully sink to the bottom of a river never to be seen again is ever so slightly crushing. However, it turns out even Thom Yorke feels that way, so I am comforted. 

5. I’m sure I’ve mentioned plenty of these before, but if you want some suggestions of where to find joy, here are my favourites from the last year or so:

I was given Lucy Easthope’s book, When the Dust Settles, for work recently, and I was surprised and delighted to discover the most uplifting, hopeful, human and rightfully angry book I’ve read in a long time. Do yourself a favour and preorder it. I bought this other book for my own birthday, gave it to a housemate to give to me, forgot about it, and was delighted to later unwrap He Used Thought As A Wife. Laughed a lot, cried twice. Marvellous. 

Now even the youngest housemate here can recite John Finnemore sketches and sing the songs. Has also taught them various composers, gods, logical fallacies and gothic story tropes. Also v funny. Oh, Kate Beaton! Her two books (Hark! A Vagrant and Step Aside Pops) are a bit like a comic-book version of Finnemore, but swearier and sexier and utterly unsuitable for all the housemates who have read it and been educated about the Brontes, Katherine Sui Fun Cheung, Tom Longboat, Nancy Drew, Ida B. Wells, Sacagawea, and the Borgias. 

Had to give Inside a restraining order against me for the sake of us all, but Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade is a masterpiece of writing, acting, sound design and optimism. Spy is dumb action comedy polished to perfection, and Yasujirō Ozu’s Good Morning seems like the inspiration for almost all US arthouse films since 1990, and is also beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and good. 

Taylor Swift’s Evermore, like all brilliant albums, isn’t completely perfect. But most of the songs are. And Hole’s classic Live Through This is still just ideal for turning up very, very loud after a tricky day, for the enjoyment of any neighbours who may have hacked down a bird-friendly tree on the last day of February. 

Watched both series of Liam Williams’ Ladhood when I had a week off this summer, and really relished the location, the intention, and the writing. More please. 

Miles Jupp and Justin Edwards continue to be my comforting bedtime listening in In and Out of the Kitchen. Has it ruined Nigel Slater for me? Well, a bit, but no more than any of us deserved. 

I thought this would be a book I’d mumble through the first chapter of, then let get buried in my To Read pile, never to re-open. Instead, I found Whatever Happened to Margo? laugh-out-loud funny, drily written, and full of humanity. Excellent Women has made me want to read everything written by Barbara Pym, a goal I am slowly but surely working towards. 

6. I’ve spent the last few years trying to find hazelnut trees, and finally found a copse between a car park and a play area, full of nuts the squirrels hadn’t noticed. Now I’ve found them, the spell has been cast and I see hazel trees everywhere, on walks and on pavements and running along motorway slip roads. A tray of green and brown frilled hazelnuts now dries with the laundry. They are so beautiful. 

kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor

Calum hums. "I could stay with you."

Again Michael's heart gives a lurch. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

HELLO!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY @jbhmalum​ this is for you i got cute in the ao3 notes and im worried about repeating myself but anyway i really just love and treasure you je t’adore i really wish i could compliment you better in french but i simply do not have the words so suffice it to say that i am so so happy to know you i love reading your fics you are so unbelievably talented not to mention just mad cute and just overall an absolute delight i hope your birthday is super amazing and yeah i love you lots

so here’s a really fluffy domestic malum quarantine getting together fic per the birthday girl’s request i know you’re all thinking fluff???? from bella??? but joke’s on you because i wrote this several weeks ago don’t worry i am still emo inside

title from sunflower vol. 6 by harry styles <3 king shit

read it here on ao3

At risk of sounding overdramatic, Michael is going to die unless he sees Calum in the next week. Possibly less. He's experiencing severe Calum withdrawal, and it shows. Sleeping alone sucks more than Michael can put into words. There's no warm, steady weight against his back anymore, just the flimsy brush of his own duvet. He tucks it as tightly around himself as possible, but it's just not the same as Calum's embrace. 

"I miss you," he whines over FaceTime one evening. 

"You better," Calum replies. Then, immediately, "Sorry, I mean, I miss you too, obviously."

"You're on thin ice here," Michael grumbles. 

"You already know I miss you," Calum tells him.

"I hate being in quarantine. This sucks so bad, Cal."

Calum nods, sighs. "You know…I've been in, like, proper quarantine for two weeks. More than that. Haven't seen anyone or done anything."

Michael makes a face. "Really? No one? Nothing?"

"Yeah, but I mean." Calum tilts his head on the screen. "I could probably come to yours."

For a moment Michael's heart leaps into his throat, and then, just as quickly, it plummets. "You can't," he says. "The travel, and plus then you'd be going back, and I'm pretty sure I've been in some suspicious places recently. I mean I'm being careful, but you know. I don't want you to get it or bring it back with you."

Calum hums. "I could stay with you."

Again Michael's heart gives a lurch. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"That'd be so amazing," Michael breathes. "Beyond awesome. Oh my God. Can — would you? Seriously?"

"Are you kidding me?" Calum gives Michael a look, like, do you even know me?  "Michael. Like, I don't want to overstate things here, but I miss you more than I think I've ever missed anyone, excepting possibly Duke."

"Not as much as I miss you," Michael returns. "I've never missed anyone more. At all. Dogs included." Instantly that feels wrong. "Okay. That's a lie. But —"

"Ha!" Calum crows. "I miss you more. Get destroyed, Cliffo."

"You know what," Michael says petulantly, "maybe you shouldn't come visit."

"Funny," Calum says. "I'll sort my shit out here and then I can probably leave in a few days, is that alright?"

It's more than alright. It's actually the most brilliant thing Michael's ever heard. The prospect of seeing Calum lifts his mood way up into the stratosphere, and he grins, bubbly.

"Yeah, yeah, perfect," he says. "Can't wait."

The look on Calum's face says he can't wait, either.

-

It's been too many weeks to count since Michael's been hugged, but the moment Calum is in his arms, the time melts away. "Oh my God, I missed you so fucking much," he murmurs into Calum's shoulder. Calum chuckles.

"Yeah," he says, all fond. "Missed you too, Mikey."

"Let's never stop hugging," Michael suggests. "Ever."

Calum pats his back. "I think life would get pretty difficult pretty quickly."

"I don't really see how."

"The bathroom, for starters."

"We'd figure it out. I've seen you naked."

"That's not. Really." Calum laughs. "Fuck. I really missed you. Come on. Invite me in."

"No," Michael says, as Calum pulls reluctantly out of his hold. Calum frowns. "You might have corona."

"Oh, fuck off."

Laughing loudly, Michael leads Calum in. Immediately, Southy and Moose are at his heels, yapping excitedly. Calum kneels, grinning. "Hey, guys! Miss me much?"

"They can just smell Duke on you," Michael says in mock-contempt. It's generally accepted that Moose and Southy favor Calum over, well, basically anyone, but Michael refuses to cave. They're his fucking dogs.

"Oh, fuck," Calum remembers, straightening up, to Moose's displeasure. "Duke."

"Go get him," Michael says. "I'll put your shit in your room."

Calum smiles at Michael, the big, bright one, eyes crinkling in the corners so they almost disappear. Michael thinks if he had to pick one thing to wax poetic about forever, it would be this smile, and how it makes him feel gooey and melty inside whenever Calum turns it on him.

"What?" Michael finally demands, when Calum doesn't say anything.

Calum shakes his head. "Does it have to be something, man? I'm just fuckin' happy."

Michael breathes out, feeling lighter than he has in ages. "Me too."

And with that, Calum turns and goes to get Duke from the car. Michael carries Calum's stuff to Calum's room, which is actually a guest room that's been broken in by Calum enough times that they started calling it his. Not that he stays there that often. Borne of habit from both childhood and hotel rooms, Michael and Calum always elect to share the bed. This, among millions of things, has made Michael's life hard in quarantine. Sleeping alone sucks.

Michael gives the room a once-over as he deposits Calum's bags down. It has minimal decorations but the few that are here are very much Calum. A photograph of the sunset off the beach near their childhood homes hangs above the dresser, and there's a comically large poster of Alex Gaskarth above the bed, which, Michael is somewhat sure, had been the result of a lost bet. 

Arms wrap around his middle. "Hey."

"You get Duke set up?" Michael asks, resting his hands against Calum's and tilting his head back.

"On a trial basis, yeah. He's gotten really territorial about his food, though, so if either of your kids tries anything…"

"My kids?"

"Your dogs," Calum says dismissively. "I'm just saying, Duke could kick their asses."

"Um, excuse me?" Michael twists around, prying himself out of Calum's grip. "First of all, it would be two on one, and there's no way your weak-ass mutt could —"

"Weak-ass mutt?"

" — also, Southy can and will scratch, and I know for a fact Moose has never read the Geneva Convention."

"Yeah, but they like me more," Calum says cheekily. Michael makes an offended face, and Calum swoops in and kisses his cheek.

"Hey, don't try that shit. They do not like you more."

“Okay,” Calum says, in a very unconvincing voice. “So. What’s for dinner?”

“Nothing for you if you keep this up,” Michael grumbles, scowling.

Calum chuckles. “I can look through your pantry and make something?”

“I just said I’m not feeding you.”

“Right, that’s why I’m going to be feeding you. ”

Michael huffs. “Don’t cook, we can order something.”

“No, I’m gonna cook. I’ve missed cooking for you.”

“Really? For me? ”

“Yes,” Calum says, looking strangely at Michael. “For you. I’ve missed spending time with you. Doing things for you. Why do you think I sent you the care package?”

“Because you love me?”

“Yeah,” Calum says, which is a little unfair, because Michael had been teasing and had expected Calum to tease in return. But Calum just looks matter-of-fact. “Exactly. So let me cook for you.”

Michael squirms, torn between the desire to make another joke or to let Calum’s love settle over his shoulders like a second skin. “Okay,” he concedes. “I’ll be supervising so I know you won’t poison me, though.”

Calum’s eyes crinkle with his smile. “Oh, no. Hanging out with me in the kitchen while I cook? I can’t think of anything worse.”

“Stop being so fucking sappy,” Michael whines. “You’re making me feel bad for being bitchy.”

“No, by all means,” Calum says airily. “Keep mocking me, your best friend, while I remind you over and over again how much I’ve missed you. I don’t mind at all.”

“You’re a shit,” Michael says, swatting at Calum’s shoulder. “Go make me dinner, peasant.”

“Bossy.”

“You asked to make dinner!”

Calum laughs, and turns to go start dinner. Michael trails after, because whatever he says, however he mocks Calum, he’s missed him far too much to let him out of Michael’s sight for too long. 

(And also, Michael likes to try and distract Calum while he cooks. It’s in his top five favorite sports.)

-

Having Calum here feels so natural it makes Michael wonder if they’d ever actually spent any time apart or if it had been a hallucination. They fall back into routine so easily, routine established from every part of their lives spent together; traditions created back in school, behaviors formed and reinforced through years of sharing hotel rooms, habits only known to the other. Calum slots back into the Calum-shaped gap he’d left when quarantine started, and it’s as if he’d never been gone. 

Michael likes the bubble they’re existing in now, where they speak to no one but each other, go nowhere but the store to replenish depleted groceries, and pretend that time isn’t passing in the outside world. They make a dent in their long list of movies to watch together, and occasionally make fun of. Calum runs in the morning while Michael sleeps, and every morning wakes him for breakfast while Michael bitches. They walk their dogs together. 

(Michael gapes when Calum lets Duke off his leash.

“Since fucking when?” he accuses.

“He’s a grown dog,” Calum says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Michael, he’s like a foot long with attachment issues. He won’t go anywhere.”

Michael stares reproachfully at Moose and South. They stare innocently back. Calum chuckles and pats Michael on the back. “You can let ‘em off as long as I’m here. You know they won’t run away from me.”

“Fuck you,” Michael retorts, looping the leash once more around his wrist. Dream on, he thinks, eyeing his dogs.)

And it’s easy, for a week or two, to think that this is just how people are, or if not, that this is just how they are, how Michael and Calum exist in the world. They’ve been best friends since forever, and there’s no one else in Michael’s life who fills the shoes that Calum does — and why should there be, when he has Calum? It’s not like Michael’s ever needed anyone else, or anything else. Homeless or starving or broke or on a deserted island or stranded in outer space or drowning in an ocean or on death row, Michael’s only wish would be Calum.

Of course it would, though. Calum is everything. Michael’s known that for ages.

They don’t even start under the pretense that Calum will be staying in “his” room; from his very first night at Michael’s he doesn’t even open that door, just follows after Michael when Michael declares he’s going to retire for the night and slips under the blanket with him, wordlessly, a silent agreement that there’s no reason to torture themselves sleeping alone when they don’t need to. This quarantine has given them both a new perspective on solitude; namely, avoid at all costs. So Michael snuggles up to Calum, content even to be the little spoon if it means Calum’s the one whose front is all lined up with Michael’s back, whose arm is slung tightly over Michael’s middle, an unspoken promise that Michael’s not getting away from Calum if Calum has any say. It’s comforting to be held, but not necessary; Michael wouldn’t leave Calum’s arms if the house were on fire.

(Okay, maybe if the house were on fire. But he’d definitely wake Calum for that.)

They do the bare minimum promoting CALM — mostly Michael likes leaving that stuff to Luke anyway, who, as lead singer, gets the bulk of the attention for it. Sometimes Michael decides to be resentful about that, but now it’s nice to know that the world doesn’t expect much from him, from either of them. They FaceTime with Luke and Ashton, who express openly and loudly how envious they are of Calum and Michael spending time together. The world spins on, with Michael purposefully ignoring it. Life is wonderful.

“Right, what’s next on the list?” Calum asks, handing Michael a glass of water and collapsing onto the couch. He kicks his legs up and stretches them across Michael’s lap. Michael gives him a look, and Calum just gives Michael a cheeky grin as he takes a sip of his own water.

“The Umbrella Academy, ” Michael says.

“Isn’t that a show?”

“Yeah, well, it’s next on the list.”

Calum frowns. “Why haven’t we got a separate list for TV shows?”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Because we’re idiots? Or because we probably never anticipated having this much time to actually get through the list. Do you want to watch it or not?”

“Oh, definitely,” Calum says. “Isn’t that, fuckin’…Mikey Way’s, or something? One of the MCR guys?”

“Gerard. Yeah.”

“Dope,” Calum says. Michael reaches for the remote while Calum pulls his legs off of Michael, shuffling around on the couch until his head is on Michael’s lap, legs thrown up over the armrest. Michael settles his free hand onto Calum’s crown, running his fingers along the short hair over his scalp. It’s not that he prefers Calum with more hair — generally speaking, Michael’s favorite version of Calum is always whichever one exists at the moment — but he does miss having more hair to play with. He suspects Calum misses that, too. Calum always liked Michael playing with his hair.

“You might have trouble drinking if you’re laying down like this,” Michael observes wryly, although he hopes Calum doesn’t sit up. It may be stupidly domestic, to be like this with Calum, but that’s always been them, and Michael likes it that way. Prefers it. Friends are stupidly domestic sometimes. Aren’t they?

“Whatever,” Calum says, setting his glass blindly onto the floor in front of the couch. “Don’t, like, kick to the right, and we’ll be fine.”

Michael shakes his head fondly and hits play on the first episode of the show. It’s a good show, and for the first episode he and Calum are both equally taken by it. When it ends, Duke shuffles into the room in search of company, and Calum pats the couch to invite him up. “My son,” he whispers as Duke precariously attempts to climb the couch. “Come here, my son. I can lift you up. I can show you what you want to see and take you where you want to be.”

“Are you,” Michael says, briefly distracted from starting the next episode. “Are you singing Capital Cities to Duke?”

“Shut up,” Calum says, making grabby hands towards Duke until Duke gets the message and comes close enough for Calum to grab. “You’re just jealous ‘cause neither of your dogs want to hang out with you.”

“Because they’re normal dogs who sleep at this hour.” Duke settles himself onto Calum’s chest, collapsing with an adorable whoomph, nose brushing up against Calum’s chin. It’s too cute for words, the pair of them. Michael feels his heart clench inexplicably, and looks away.

“Jealous,” Calum sing-songs. “Go on, start the episode, what’re you waiting for?”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to watch with Duke sitting on top of you.”

Calum makes a dismissive noise. “I’ll be fine.”

And he is fine, right up until he falls asleep about fifteen minutes in. Michael notices straightaway, and wonders when exactly he got so attuned to Calum that he can tell in an instant if he’s awake or asleep. Sure enough, glancing down, Calum is exhaling gently, steadily enough that he’s obviously dropped off. Duke is dozing on Calum’s chest. Once again, Michael’s heart does that squeezing thing that leaves Michael vaguely confused. It’s just Calum. It’s always just Calum; what’s happening now that never used to happen before?

For a moment, Michael entertains the idea of just sitting here forever. It’s a tempting option. Michael’s hand has stalled in Calum’s hair but it still rests there, fingertips grazing the nape of his neck, and Calum’s chest is rising and falling rhythmically, raising and lowering Duke with it. The scene is endearing, charming beyond explanation, the kind of thing that makes Michael wish you could frame moving pictures like they do in Harry Potter, just to watch this moment for the rest of his life. He’d put it up in his bedroom, and look at it whenever he was in need of some sense of peace. 

If Calum is asleep, though, it must mean he’s tired, and they should probably go to bed if that’s the case. Michael gives himself another long moment to just watch his best friend sleep, face restful and all creases smoothed. He clicks off the TV.

“Cal,” he whispers.

There’s no response.

“Calum,” Michael repeats softly, scratching his fingernails over Calum’s scalp. “Calum, babe.”

Calum hums and his eyes open groggily. He lifts an arm to rub a hand over his face, and Duke jerks awake. “Hmm,” Calum manages, staring up into Michael’s face with a vaguely blank look. “Oh. Fuck. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Michael says. “Bedtime, though. I’m kind of tired anyway.”

Calum grabs Duke in his hands and then, with an almighty groan, heaves himself into a sitting position, gently lowering Duke to the ground. Duke leaves the room, possibly to go and harass Moose and South into letting him sleep with them. Michael sees a lot of Calum in Duke.

For a second Calum just sits, elbows braced against his knees, face in his hands. Michael furrows his brow. “You feeling okay?”

Calum breathes out. “Yeah, yeah. Just — more tired than usual, I guess.”

“Sleep in tomorrow,” Michael offers. “Lazy day. I love lazy days.”

“Mike, all your days are lazy days.”

“Fuck you, firstly, and secondly, none of my days are lazy days with you.” Michael pokes at Calum’s shoulder. “Which is obviously completely different, because it means we can cuddle all day, or do whatever. And get takeout! Come on, Cal, lazy day, lazy day, pajama day, lazy day —”

“Okay, okay,” Calum relents. “Yes, fine. Fine.” Michael grins and wraps Calum in a hug from the side, and Calum shakes his head, although Michael knows him well enough to know it’s fond exasperation at worst.

“Lazy day,” Michael sings lightly. Calum huffs a laugh. “Let’s go to bed.”

They go, and Michael’s heart does that squeezing-clenching thing again when Calum burrows into Michael’s chest once they’ve gotten under the duvet. He seems to be tipsy off tiredness, but it’s not anything Michael hasn’t seen before, and he doesn’t know why he’s reacting differently all of a sudden.

Must be the tiredness getting to me too, he thinks dismissively, pretending not to think about the fact that he’s no more tired than usual and he’s been tired before, without weird thoughts about Calum cramming their way into his mind. Best to sleep it off.

(Part of him doesn’t want to sleep it off, though. It’s a lovely fantasy, thinking he and Calum might be something more — not that he wants that, necessarily, but if he were going to want it, he doesn’t think it would be so bad. In the safety of his own mind, in fleeting thoughts, it’s nice to think about. Calum’s Calum, after all. It makes sense that eventually even Michael would start to think things. Just as long as he knows they’re all far-fetched things that are far too delusional to ever be anything but silly, sleepy, inexplicable ideas.)

“G’night,” Calum murmurs, sending a buzz from his words across Michael’s skin. Michael shivers, and hopes Calum doesn’t pick up on it.

“Sleep well,” Michael says quietly, lips brushing Calum’s hair. “And if you get up before ten, I’ll spread rumours about you on Twitter.”

Calum barely breathes out a giggle before he sighs and falls asleep. Michael doesn’t see the point in being awake without Calum, and without ceremony falls asleep as well, warm from Calum’s body lined up against his own.

-

Despite Michael’s threat, he still wakes up to an empty bed, covers thrown back where Calum must have gotten out. Of course he has. Michael starts brainstorming vaguely irritating rumour ideas to put on Twitter.

It’s eleven, though, which means that technically Calum could have woken up after ten but before Michael. Either way, Michael’s waking up alone again, and that’s annoying.

He shuffles out of bed, pulling on Calum’s Youngblood hoodie as he pads into the kitchen, where, predictably, Calum is making breakfast. Michael wraps his arms around Calum’s waist and hooks his chin over Calum’s shoulder. Calum jerks at the touch before apparently realizing who it is, and settling backwards into it.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Calum greets him, turning his head to give Michael a kiss on his temple. It strikes Michael as a strangely romantic thing to do, which isn’t a thought he needs to be having. “I promise I wasn’t up before ten.”

“Hmph,” Michael grumbles, which is morning-Michael-speak for come back to bed, but Calum either doesn’t understand or chooses to ignore it. Eyeing the griddle on the stove, he adds, “Pancakes?” 

Calum nods. “See, when you wake up early, this is the kind of thing you have time for.”

“Worst lazy day partner ever,” Michael sniffs. “I want to cuddle.”

“What if we eat breakfast and then cuddle?”

“What if you come back to bed and then we eat pancakes when we wake up?”

Calum chuckles. “I don’t know how you’re tired right now. It’s eleven.”

“I don’t know how you’re not,” Michael says, horrified. “It’s eleven.”

Calum just laughs. “I love you,” he says, apropos of nothing, and Michael’s heart does a triple backflip.

“I know,” he says. “If this is a ploy to get me to forgive you for getting me out of bed at eleven in the morning, it’s not working.”

“It’s not a ploy,” Calum says. “But it is working.”

It is working. Just for saying that, though, Michael stubbornly wishes it weren’t, but it’s too late; Calum’s already softened his defenses, thawed his prickly morning mood. “Fuck you,” he mumbles. Calum makes another half-laugh noise and even though Michael’s not looking at his face, he can tell — he can almost feel — the way Calum’s eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“You can grab the syrup from the fridge,” he tells Michael. Michael hugs Calum tighter and buries his face in Calum’s neck.

“No,” he says, voice muffled in Calum’s skin. “Shut up.”

“You can’t cuddle me while I’m making pancakes, Mikey.”

“Fucking watch me.”

“Mike.”

“Shh, napping,” Michael mumbles, closing his eyes. He can feel Calum’s racing heartbeat pulsing in his neck, against Michael’s cheek, and distantly wonders why it’s racing. Calum relents, thankfully, and for a moment they just stand there, in the peaceful quiet of the kitchen, Michael’s hands loosely curled into Calum’s shirt. They fit so well it’s almost criminal. “This is perfect,” he sighs, breath hot against his own face where it bounces off Calum’s skin.

Calum settles a hand on Michael’s. “What is?”

Michael hums. “This,” he says again, although he knows that’s mostly meaningless, and it could mean anything. “You. You being here. Just this.”

It’s still kind of nonsensical, but Calum seems to understand anyway. It’s what they do best, understanding each other when nobody else can, when nobody else would bother trying. “I missed you more than I think it’s normal to miss someone,” Calum says quietly. To an outsider listening in, it would sound like a change of subject, but Michael knows it isn’t. It’s perfect to me, too, Calum is saying. It wasn’t any good before. The words hover before them, almost like giving Michael the option to ignore them. 

Michael had known that, of course. Michael had also missed Calum more than it’s normal to miss someone. He’d kind of just figured that was how they operated. Calum is saying it like it should be news, like it should mean something monumental, but it’s all the same to Michael. He missed Calum more than a normal person ought to, but not more than Calum deserves. It’s Calum.

“Your heartbeat’s really fast,” Michael murmurs, also a surface change of subject, trying to say so many things, like I missed you too, an insane amount, and is this new for you, too, or just for me? and have I never noticed that your heart pounds when I hug you, or has it just never before? and it’s okay with me, whatever the answer is. He’s almost afraid to pick his head up, scared that he’s going to see the look on Calum’s face and not like it, scared that it’s going to be what he wants it to be. Scared that something is going to change, but almost more afraid that nothing will.

Calum breathes a laugh. “Of course you would notice that.”

“My face is on your neck,” Michael says. “How could I not notice.”

“I meant it,” Calum says, which Michael had also known, and he knows what Calum means, too; not just that he’d meant what he said, but also what he hadn’t, the unspoken this that Michael had been talking about in the first place.

“So did I,” Michael says, meaning that he meant everything he didn’t say, and he wonders if Calum had understood it, but it’s Calum, and they’re them, so of course Calum has understood it.  He picks his head up off Calum’s shoulder and Calum twists himself around in Michael’s arms, hands fluttering over Michael’s shoulders before landing. Michael is tempted to point out that he probably shouldn’t turn his back on an open flame, and he probably would if he didn’t think it would ruin the moment. They’re definitely in a moment right now, which should probably be weird, but it isn’t. This should feel weird, but it doesn’t, because it’s Calum.

Michael wonders how many exceptions he’s made in his life for Calum, and how many more he’ll make at the drop of a hat. There’s the world, and then there’s Calum, and the rules stop applying somewhere in transit.

Calum rests his forehead against Michael’s. “I thought that maybe it was just me.”

“How could it be just you?” Michael says softly. His own heartbeat is thudding in his chest. “If it’s you, then it’s me. That’s always been true.”

“This is different,” Calum says, except it’s not. “You changed your mind. Recently.”

Michael blinks. “How do you know that?”

“I just,” Calum shrugs, helplessly. “I don’t know. I could just tell. I can tell.”

“I didn’t change my mind,” Michael says, because he doesn’t know what to say to everything else Calum’s just revealed. Like that Calum must have known before Michael knew. And that Calum must have been waiting for Michael to screw his fucking head on right. And that Calum had noticed, the moment it happened. “I just realized, you idiot. You should have fucking told me.”

“This is my fault? ”

“You knew!”

“I thought it was just me,” Calum repeats. 

“Well that was a stupid fucking assumption to make,” Michael tells him. “You were waiting for me to realize.”

“I wasn’t waiting, I was just…” Calum frowns. “Hoping.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m here now,” he says. “I’m all caught up.” They’re dancing around it, he notices, because Michael is just finding his footing and Calum is probably waiting for Michael to say psych!, and neither of them wants to say it. Once they say it, it’s a fact.

It’s a fact already, though. It’s been a part of the MichaelandCalum history since they met, and they’ve both just been idiots about it, basically.

Calum’s eyes crinkle as the ghost of a smile starts to lift at the corners of his lips, and before Michael can even begin to wax poetic about it, they’re kissing. It makes so much sense to be kissing that Michael doesn’t even think, for a moment, that it’s strange. It just feels nice, and feels right, and Calum’s mouth is warm and tastes like chocolate, inexplicably.

Calum exhales sharply when they part. “Fucking finally,” he says, breath hot on Michael’s lips.

“You could have told me we’re in love,” Michael says. “I wish I’d fucking known.”

“Don’t blame this on me. You could have opened your fucking eyes.”

“Pancakes,” Michael remembers. “You’re making pancakes. You should make them.”

“I think, maybe,” Calum says, and then nothing else, just catches Michael in another kiss, sweet like the last, familiar like everything to do with Calum, one of Calum’s hands curling steadily around the back of Michael’s neck. Michael doubts if he’s ever felt more at home than he does right now.

“Okay,” Michael says hoarsely against Calum’s mouth. “More of that. Pancakes later.”

Calum grins. The pancakes sit on the island until they’re cold, vapor dissolving into the cool kitchen air. The world spins on. Life is wonderful.

Learn To Be Lonely, Ch. 2: The Longest Happy Hour

Tom Holland X Reader, Soulmate!AU

In a world where two souls are destined for each other, is it possible to find love when your other half has passed- or are you truly destined to have a lonely heart forever?

Word Count: 2500

Learn To Be Lonely Masterlist

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*gif is not mine*

A/N: Sorry for not posting this sooner, major edits were made...

~~~

Happy Hour- what a lie that was.

Your new coworkers had invited you to join them for Friday’s Happy Hour, and you went with them, thinking it’d be a decent way to make new friends in this new place. While you enjoyed the down-priced drinks and appetizers, your coworkers were much more concerned with themselves than with you, which led to you nursing a drink in the corner of the bar alone.

Your first month in England was finally over. Your apartment was starting to feel more like home. Now with a dresser, a desk, a bookcase, and even a trash can, it felt a lot homier than it had felt before when it was just a bed and nightstand. Your suitcases were tucked away in the closet, and your clothes were all folded into the dresser drawers. You had a few decorations and pictures up hanging from your walls, so that they weren’t so menacingly bare.

You really, really missed New York. You missed your life before your 23rd birthday. You missed Kate, and you missed Leo even though you two were never that close. You missed going to Happy Hour with your old coworkers that, while you weren’t close friends with any of them, would gladly drink away their troubles with you.

It wasn’t like you had no friends in Kingston. You had Daisy and sort of Harrison. You didn’t want to think about how sad it was that your only real friend was your roommate, the person you’re contractually obligated to tolerate on a daily basis, with your second closest friend being more of an acquaintance and he was your roommate’s boyfriend that spent most days of the week at her place. You and Daisy got along well though. You introduced her to your favorite binging series The Bachelor and she introduced you to her go-to series Love Island. You were lucky to have a roommate like her.

Ever since Ikea when you first moved in a month ago, you wondered what Daisy’s former roommate was like. Did they also have Love Island marathons together? How long had she lived there before leaving? There wasn’t a trace of her in your current room. You wanted to ask, to know why Tom was so distraught over you being Daisy’s new roommate, but you couldn’t ask. Harrison and Daisy always got quiet and almost secretive when it came to the subject of her past roommate and the subject of Tom. It was none of your business though, and you knew better than to try to figure it all out, even if you had a strange feeling that somehow Tom and the mysterious ex-roommate were connected.

“Another round?” The bartender asked you with a smile, stopping as he noticed your empty glass. It could have been the alcohol talking, but he was cute and friendly, and he had dimples. Plus, you still weren’t completely used to everyone having British accents, which made it hard not to find every male around your age attractive. So maybe it was the alcohol making him even more attractive than usual.

“Yes, please.” You smiled back as he took your glass and started on your next one. Someone slid into the barstool beside you, tapping their fingers on the bar.

“I’ll have what she’s having.” They said and you looked over, already recognizing the voice that you hadn’t heard in a month. If the lack of burning pain on your wrist was any indication, Tom was beside you. He turned to you with a large smile, “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Does that pickup line actually work over here?” You teased, as the bartender set down your drinks. Tom threw his head back laughing at your minutely funny joke. His brown eyes were a little glazed over, telling you that the drink before him wasn’t his first of the night.

“I don’t believe that line’s ever been successful.” Tom laughed.

“And yet you still tried it on me.” You shook your head, playfully rolling your eyes before taking a sip of your drink.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged with a lop-sided smile, “Besides I’m not a creepy stranger using that pickup line so maybe it would’ve worked.”

“Creepy, no. Stranger, though,” You trailed off a little. This was only the fourth time you had ever talked to him and you knew nothing about him. Just because you had mutual friends didn’t make him not a stranger, even something about him made you feel comfortable, like you could trust him with anything.

“Alright, you got me there, darling. What do you want to know?” He sent you a charming smile, taking another drink of his alcohol.

“How long have you lived in Kingston?” You bit your lip as you waited for his answer, curious to see how this evening would turn out.

“My whole life. Where did you move from?” Tom asked.

“New York.” You replied, feeling a strange weight lift off your shoulders, “Middle name?”

“Stanley.” He said, making you let out a laugh.

“That’s such an old man name.” You teased.

“It’s my middle name, not my actual name.” He rolled his eyes playfully at you, “What’s yours?”

“Y/M/N.” You answered before immediately asking another question, “Got any pets?” Tom’s smile brightened as he got out his phone, showing you his lock screen of the cutest blue Staffordshire terrier you’d ever seen.

“Her name’s Tessa.” Tom explained proudly, putting his phone away after another moment of looking at the photograph.

“She’s adorable.” You smiled softly, taking a moment to appreciate how much love shone in his eyes for his dog.

“Why’d you move out here? To Kingston?” He asked, and you shook your head with a laugh.

“I need to be a little bit more drunk to answer that.” You joked. “Do you have a secret talent?”

“I can dance.” He admitted, laughing, “And I need to be a little bit more drunk to actually dance.”

“How’d you know I was going to ask?” You went to take another sip of the drink you’d been nursing, frowning when you realized it was all gone. Tom’s drink had long been finished. You asked the bartender for another round, who served the two of you happily, sending a small wink your way.

“Are you into him?” Tom asked, nodding his head to the bartender that was currently focusing on serving another group.

“What are you going to do about it?” You quirked an eyebrow flirtatiously at his words.

“Just a question. Two strangers getting to know each other, right?” He played off your flirty comment.

The effortless conversations and somewhat flirty banter went on between the two of you for hours. It was nice, it was what you needed after a rough adjustment to this new life. And it was with Tom, who, though he seemed so open with you, was still a mystery. You didn’t know why, but you felt like you were meant to be around him, and your wrist not burning felt like a reassuring sign.

“We should probably head out.” Tom said to you once he looked at his watch.

“What time is it?” You asked.

“2 AM.” He replied.

“Walk me home?” You asked, standing from your stool as Tom did the same. He took your left hand in his, intertwining your hands, and leading you out of the club. Your apartment wasn’t that far away, and drunk you really wanted to stay out and enjoy the night air- as well as to maximize your time with Tom. There were clouds lining the sky, but the cloud still managed to peek through a little to give you some overhead light, besides just the streetlights.

“‘Course, darling.” He smiled, walking down the street with you. His hand never dropped yours and you leaned in closer to his side. You felt a few drops of rain tickle your face before it started to sprinkle. You felt Tom tense beside you, clutching your hand a little bit tighter.

“Don’t like the rain?” You asked.

“I’ve just had bad experiences with it.” He stated. 

“Have you ever danced in the rain?”

“Now why would I do that?” Tom laughed lightly. You stopped walking and turned to him. The rain shifted from sprinkles to actual rain, making you smile as you teasingly began to dance, pulling Tom’s right hand with your movements.

“Because it’s fun. Come on, dance with me.” You encouraged him. Tom couldn’t hide his smile as he listened to you and started to sway his body with yours. Chest to chest, you were pressed up against each other, enjoying your time together. Your dance session was cut short by none other than Mother Nature herself who made the clouds start to pour rain. Though you and Tom were already soaked, you both dodged for cover at an empty bus stop, laughing from the weather.

“Must be hard to dislike rain when you live here.” You said, once the two of you had calmed your laughter down. Tom nervously played with your fingers.

“I didn’t always dislike the rain. It’s more of a recent thing.” He explained. Sensing his uneasiness, you dropped the topic.

“I wanted a new life.” You spoke up after a few silent moments. “That’s why I moved out here.”

“You didn’t have to tell me.” Tom said, feeling a little guilty that you had remembered to answer his question.

“I saw drunk Tom dance, it’s the least I could do.” You replied with a small shrug.

“Can I ask what was so bad about your old life?” At his words, you silently took off the bracelet on your left wrist, the only thing covering your faded mark.

“I’m a solum now, forever destined to be incomplete.” You quietly admitted, your voice just barely above a whisper. Tom gently ran a finger over your mark before wordlessly grabbing your wrist and placing a small kiss to the faded symbol.

“You’re not incomplete to me.” He spoke softly. Looking into his warm brown eyes as he continued to lightly trace over your mark, you felt yourself getting drawn into him again. You wanted to kiss him, wanted to share that new level of intimacy with him, but you couldn’t. You were the solum, not him; he had someone out there, you didn’t. He wasn’t your soulmate; he most likely hadn’t found his soulmate yet. You weren’t supposed to kiss someone who isn’t your soulmate, and you definitely weren’t supposed to feel this way about someone who isn’t your soulmate.

When the rain had cleared up after the rather short storm, you and Tom started to make your way back to your apartment. Your fingers mindlessly intertwined together, you posed the thoughtful question that had been on your mind ever since you met him, “Do you believe in fate? In being destined to meet someone? Other than your soulmate, I mean.”

“What do you mean then?” He asked, a curious smile on his face.

“Like us. We’re not soulmates, but I don’t know, I feel like I was meant to know you. We had four chance encounters, fate’s got to play a role in all this somehow.”

“I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink tonight.” He laughed lightly at your thought-provoking words, “But if you believe we were destined to meet each other, then I believe that, too.”

“I’m serious. I feel like the universe wants us to know each other, even if it didn’t write us out as soulmates.” You let out a small sigh, before laughing, “I probably have had too much to drink. The night air’s getting to my head.”

Tom just chuckled and the two of you continued on. You made it back to your apartment in the early hours of the morning. Knowing Daisy had stayed at Harrison’s, you weren’t too concerned about being the noisy roommate. Just as Tom was dropping you off at the door, it began to rain heavily again. 

“You can stay if you’d like.” You offered, feeling Tom’s uneasiness with the change of weather. You didn’t even know how close his place was to yours, and you weren’t about to make him walk home alone.

“I’d hate to be a bother.” He shook his head, and you remembered back to the day at Ikea. Something had to have happened between him and Daisy’s old roommate, and you were still left out of the loop. You let out a small sigh.

“I know you were upset about me moving in here, but really, I don’t want you to go home alone, especially in the rain since you don’t like it.” You said, reassuringly squeezing his hand in yours. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. Swallowing down a lump in his throat, he nodded.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Tom caved into your convincing. You smiled softly at him, leading him into your apartment.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” You asked him as you entered your bedroom, shuffling over to your dresser to get out a pair of pajamas for yourself.

“Um, y-yeah, if you don’t mind.” His voice shook, stepping into the room. You watched as his eyes scanned around it. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, what had happened with Daisy’s old roommate, but you could see the sorrow in his face as his chest deflated a little. 

“Here. They’re my best friend’s fiance’s. I know, it’s weird, but she left them here.” You held out a pair of Leo’s sweats and a t-shirt of his to Tom.

“Thank you.” He replied, taking them from you and going to change out of his wet clothes in the bathroom. You quickly changed into your pajamas, enjoying the freedom of having dry clothes again. You went to the kitchen and got out two glasses of water and some pain reliever, knowing you and Tom might need it in the morning because you could still feel the alcohol pulsing through your system.

When you got back to your room, Tom was already in there. He was staring at the dresser, running a finger along it, before looking around the room. He let out a small sigh, rubbing over his heart a little bit.

“Tom?” You spoke up, stepping into the room and he hummed, looking over at you. “I just- you can stay here, if you’d like. If it’s too hard on you-“

“Why would it be too hard?” He asked, putting on his best front of a bright smile. He thought that maybe you couldn’t tell he was aching on the inside. You sat down on your bed.

“I know something happened between you and the girl that used to live here, and this room is bringing back some type of sad memories.”

“Look,” He sat beside you, taking your hands in his, “Her name was Vanessa, and I met her through Daisy. She-“ He paused, searching for the proper words, “She moved out unexpectedly, and it just happened so quickly.”

“Was she close with Daisy, too?” You asked. “If I’m overstepping-“

“No, you’re fine. It’s just hard to talk about, and there isn’t much to talk about. Vanessa was closer to me than she was with Daisy and Harrison.” He explained, and you processed his words for a moment, furrowing your eyebrows in thought.

“So you and Vanessa were-?” You trailed off, unsure  if you wanted to ask if they were somehow soulmates, in a relationship, just friends, or somewhere between all that. Hell, you didn’t even know what you’d consider your current status to be with Tom- were you acquaintances or friends?

“No, just friends.” Tom fiddled with his watch nervously, the watch he wore to cover his mark. He cleared his throat, “I’ll stay here with you, if that’s alright. I kind of have trouble sleeping, especially with the rain.”

“You must be incredibly sleep deprived then.” You laughed, shifting yourself up the bed so that you could climb under your covers. You patted the spot beside you as a way to tell him he could join you.

“You have no idea.” He got into the bed beside you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You’d never shared a bed with a boy in this context before. He was sweet and respectful, and he was really starting to grow on you. Snuggling into his chest, you fell asleep easily, enjoying the comfort of his embrace.

~~~

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