#i think if i tried tinder again with the knowledge i have now i could find someone it's just all guys wanna do is fuck around nobody wants
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(I can't get no) satisfaction
rated t | 3.6k words
He glances briefly at the guy still asleep on the bed, flashbacks of his black complexion glistening with sweat and his full lips smiling blissfully. From where he's standing, he can barely see the tribal tattoo on his chest, but he remembers what the inked skin tasted like on his tongue. He shudders as images of different tattoos and olive skin fill his mind.
He closes the door behind him and doesn't look back as he goes down the stairs as quickly as possible.
(He doesn't tell anyone about it.)
———
Or, when Buck's dad passes away, he downloads Tinder as a coping mechanism. A story of grief, guilt and gentleness.
When his dad passes, he downloads Tinder. It’s more of a reflex than a conscious decision, due to a feeling he can’t shake off—the knowledge he should have done something, he should have done more. He’s a trained firefighter with a basis in first aid: he should have seen the signs. His parents visited no more than a week ago; they wanted to see their grandkid, obviously, not him specifically, although he did have lunch at Maddie’s on his day off to spend some time with them. Something about trying to make up for lost time, being the better man, something Eddie was trying to do with his parents, too.
He should have noticed something then: how his dad complained about his digestive system, how he kept rubbing at his chest, like he could feel something coming. Buck should have known.
At first, he was angry at his father: angry for not taking care of himself, for not taking care of him when he was a kid. Then, guilt started gnawing at him, never leaving him alone: on the job, at night, he could always feel that heavy weight on his chest, like a huge worm was eating his heart piece by piece.
He wanted to talk to Maddie about it; after all, she lost a parent, too. She’s lost a brother, she’s lost grandparents—she knows how it feels, the grief, the hopelessness. But he never did. He didn’t call Dr. Copeland, either; too much time had passed since their last session together and he didn’t want to feel like he failed her, too, like he failed all of the women in his life: his mother, for not being able to save Daniel; Maddie, for not protecting her from Doug. His ex-girlfriends, for never being enough, never enough, not even now, for the blood of his blood.
So, he downloads Tinder. He tries to be there for someone else, he needs to feel like he’s still good for something, anything, be it sex or small talk, showing off his charisma and broad shoulders— anything.
The profile he hasn’t opened in over six years is still up, untouched, with a dozen of unread notifications staring at him from the message section he doesn’t have the guts to click on.
He cringes as he reads his bio and looks at his old pics, nothing but cocky smirks and muscles on display. He updates his account then, thinking about that time years ago when he helped Bobby write something catchy and interesting on his dating profile; how Bobby didn’t even need it, because Athena was there all along, he just needed to widen his horizons, see the bigger picture, and all those cliché sayings people tell you to make you feel like there is still a chance for you out there.
The worm in his chest laughs at him, and it sounds a lot like loneliness and vulnerability, abandonment issues and defencelessness he can’t remember how to fight off.
He briefly wonders whether he should add a pic with Christopher, just so that people know he has a kid. The worm quiets at that, the ever-present loneliness subsiding at the thought of the family he chose. But then again, it’s not really his kid, is it? Besides, Eddie is dating. He has a girlfriend now, one he seems to truly like, and he looks carefree and happy, a sight to see that makes Buck’s chest swell with pride every time he sees his best friend’s rosy cheeks and fresh smile.
He doesn’t dwell on the underlying jealousy that beats against his ribcage like a ticking bomb.
(He hooks up with a stranger that same night.)
[continue on ao3]
#i swear it's not as silly as it looks i actually poured my heart out into this one#there are some of my fears and feelings in it so. give it a chance if you want?#buddie#buddie fanfic#911 abc#sometimes I write#evan buckley#eddie diaz#maddie buckley#fanfiction
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Ok the first issue was actually decent enough. Good mix of plot and action. (Spoilers for Action #1064)
I'm not so sure about this though. At this point Clark ought to have fought Brainiac as many if not more times than her.
She was apparently in a date though and my maybe or maybe not crackpot theory is that that's Brainiac in some way. Which one remains to be seen. She hasn't spoken to a single other person in ages so it's either that or she's using Tinder. Clearly not a hero since they're not leaping into action with her.
These bottles also look goofy as hell. It feels like the idea was glass bottle and Sandoval went "I know what a bottle looks like" and drew a sports bottle instead.
The setup has pretty much confirmed that Brainiac is looking for a loving family and that the Brainiac Queen is probably supposed to be his Frankenstein'a bride, but I still really hope Williamson takes the time to acknowledge how hypocritical of a position this is. He has family. He abused and tried to kill the over and over again.
That could be an interesting plot point that showcases the more "human" part of him, the narcissistic part that wants love so badly despite the way he treats people. That wants a family but as some kind of dolls in a doll house that can give him affirmation rather than as people. It ties in with the way he collects worlds and wants to hold all the knowledge in the world just to have it. He wants the entire world to be his carefully assembled miniature that follows his rules and nothing else, that he rules supreme over.
Now he does say here that he'll share it, but I think he's referring to the Brainiac Queen only. And that shared reality is probably very conditional. Brainiac giveth and Brainiac taketh.
This page is interesting too:
In every other scene we see him standing alone, so I'm not sure if this is supposed to be metaphorical or a shock reveal. We know that Williamson was taking inspiration from Convergence (which is why I think it's possible that Techne pops up if the others do) and in that it was established that Brainiac is some kind of multiversal where everyone universe's Brainiac exists as an extension of the one true multiversal Brainiac. Who's standing towards the back there. And is supposed to not really exist anymore.
So either he's gathered himself a multiversal army of himself, and the sharing aspect is supposed to refer to that rather than or in addition to the Brainiac Queen, or this is more of a metaphor in some way. Maybe because he's doing their will, maybe because he's merged in some way.
#Tuesday comics#tuesday spoilers#Action Comics#wednesday comics#wednesday spoilers#Dc comics#Brainiac
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My Life Review
Est: 2002-2011 Getting punished by my parents & beaten for every "wrongdoing" in my life & underperformance in school. Shit ton of unrequited love because I had no balls to interact with anyone. Extremely quiet/emo because I was too embarrassed to be myself; I'm weird. At some point, probably lower primary school I was molested by my cousin for a couple of months. No sexual knowledge and had no idea what was going on. Eventually, consciousness hit and I initiated a halt to everything. Games and anime were my only saving grace from those suffocating times.
2013: First exclusive date with a classmate (1.5yrs). Life was truly amazing.
2014: Got bullied in poly for a year because I was a slow learner and a dumb fuck at programming, but I eventually became relatively good at it & came in first for a prestigious competition that was even featured in the school's magazine.
2015: I lost my first love and fell into depression. Got dumped and I reacted extremely badly. Filled with anxiousness & hatred; spammed and judged and was so rude and emotional to her because of what she did to me. I was an extremely insecure & emotional person with no sense of logic.
2016: Took my emotions for a ride and competed in a physique competition. Lost with pride because I brought my best package amongst a group of druggies.
2015-2017: Living hell, depression, suicidal, self-harm. Think of the worst and i've either tried or at least thought about it. Wanted to be a "fuck boy" and started smoking, drinking, and clubbing and learning how to "have game" which i quickly quit (except smoking) because i wasn't being true to who i am.
Early 2017: Second date from tinder (6months). Dating app was never a good idea. Generally filled with either depressed or fucked up people. Congrats we're a match! But hey I've "learned my lessons" and in this relationship, as fucked up as she is, somehow i wasn't insecure at all. Life was great while it lasted.
Late 2017: Of course, it ended badly with third/fourth parties. Went through some details in my 2018 posts below. Fell into depression again. Didn't manage to solve my emotions. When shit went down, i blamed her and hated her like how i did in 2015. Life was miserable as i was in the military. 5 weekday of depression in camp and 2 weekend of unloading all my pain at home for almost a year.
Early 2018 (?): Can't remember which year exactly but at some point the "bad boy" version of me tried to go on more dates and at one point, hooked up with someone. I hated it. I thought being nice wasn't enough so I wanted to be different. I hated who I became and went back to my true self.
Mid 2018: Third love, still in the military. No surprise its from tinder again. Generally filled with either depressed or fucked up people once again. Trying to be co-dependent without first achieving self-love and self-worth. But of course, i can only say and realize this now - because it finally ended, after 5 years. But don't get me wrong, while it lasted, it was amazing going through all thick and thin together. I had complete control over my emotions and still held on to my ability to trust and be 100% secure in the relationship. Learned my lesson from the first two and this time I made plans and asked her to be my girlfriend. Unfortunately for her case, insecurity was a major trait alongside ADHD. This would lead to our eventual downfall.
Well, she was a player who hooked up with different people on a daily/weekly basis. An extremely carefree person who simply wants all the instant gratification she could get. I was potentially "just another guy" to her. This however does no dismiss the fact that she too has been through abuse and shit before.
Early 2019: Caught her nudes on her phone in some hidden telegram folder. I was overseas for 2 weeks for a military operation and during that time she used locanto to sell nudes to make quick cash (which i didn't know what was those photos for at that time). My initial feeling was shock and fear, but just as quickly i recomposed myself, approached her, and forgave her without a second thought or even questioning her. With tears & guilt in her eyes, I hugged her and told her everything would be ok. She thought that i would break up with her, but instead, i gave her a second chance and trust that through this, she would learn her lesson about how it is not worth the risk of losing someone like me. We moved on from here and was happy again.
July 2019: The one and only time but we didn't know better. I had no knowledge about the menstrual cycle and she told me it was safe during her most fertile period. 2 weeks later we were deciding between keeping or aborting. This was probably the toughest time i had to go through in my life. A potential life was at stake, but luckily the heart had yet to form. We negotiated and we weighed the pros and cons. Her motherly instincts were definitely there but we ended up choosing the latter option. I took responsibility and was there for her through every step of it and every procedure i could attend. With a few thousand in my bank, i depleted almost all of it because that was the least I could do as she bears the weight of going through this physical and mental turmoil. The stress we had to go through was insane.
What made it worse was that during this time i had to go for nasal and tonsil surgery. Things were going fine until I was discharged and had complications (5% chance of throat hemorrhage). Ended up being sent to ER thrice in 2 weeks. Each time blood would flow out constantly and choke me up. I had to ice my neck and constantly spit the blood out until the ambulance came. The third time it became so bad I spat out almost 500ml of blood and clots into the blood bag provided by the paramedics on the way to the hospital. This time tho, i was hospitalized for almost a week. Literally had diarrhoea 24/7 from the antibiotics to the point where even the nurses were annoyed. Was on IV drip diet, and I lost ALL my gains. The guilt i had to go through when i was supposed to be there for her, but now she had to constantly be here for me in the hospital is indescribable.
Sept 2019: Started my career as a personal trainer right after ORD. New environment, new structure, and with no idea of what to expect. Stayed with the company until the first circuit breaker of covid which resulted in them closing down. However, it ain't all sunshine and rainbows. I was mentored by a dictator who disciplined and scolded me worse than my parents. Treated like a dog holding my clipboard, paper, and pen, walking to lunch with him while asking questions and taking notes. Everything that had been asked or answered before, i wasn't allowed to ask again before i got a scolding for being dumb. Scolded for my lack of spatial awareness, lack of critical thinking, and being judged for every action i took on the gym floor. Vacuum, mopped, cleared the thrash, and cleaned the toilet, because i was new. Shouted at me and slammed weights on the gym floor once while everyone was around and training clients. Insane personal growth, tough love. Later do I know half the shit he taught was either false or an overcomplication of what was necessary; however the other half was gold.
Late 2019 - May 2022: Life was great with her. Had some ups and downs, but we were grateful for each other and tried to iron out our differences as much as we could.
Sept 2020 - May 2021: Life was great. Worked at a new gym, was respected, promoted and i worked my ass off to develop my skill as a trainer. I would even dare to say i was the best in-house trainer at that place. Had a few drama going on in the company and it did got very toxic. But i was able to steer clear of most of it. However, the gym eventually closed down due to circuit breaker 2. In which i had to find a new place again.
Some time around here i broke down once and probably changed my dad forever. Though he no longer beat me like before, the anger issues and attitude was still as bad. I could vividly remember what really happened. But he got mad and I had fucking enough of this shit. I shouted back at how harsh and shitty he's been, i sat down with my back against the wall and started smashing the back of my head against it countless times it until he ran over to stop me and calm the fuck down. Since then, he's been aware and really, much better.
July 2021: Joined a new gym opened by a friend of mine. Grateful for the opportunity with an arguably higher pay compared to before but damn well a better and premium work environment to further improve my skills as a trainer. Met amazing colleagues there too and got to know all sorts of clients ranging from MNC/SME/Start-up business owners, directors, doctors, lawyers, taitais, rich stay-at-home-moms, rich spoiled brats, traders, corporate workers, pilots to even the low-income ceiling ones trying their best to improve their life by using our service. Steep learning curve at the start, but no biggie.
Dec 2021 - May 2022: A good friend hooked me up with a shady investment. Gave great return and honestly till this day (Nov2023) it is still paying out at about 7% per month. But greed took over, and he introduced me to another one which was 15-20% per month. Naive and uneducated as i was, i Invested half my life savings into both platforms at that point. The latter one got shut down eventually and became an international case and MAS was also heavily involved with it. In order to recuperate my loss, i ventured into cryptocurrency and got myself into even more shady investment schemes, and at one point, i even recruited a whole family tree of people online (10 over investors) to be under my name and got their commissions. I was highballing and reinvesting the gains, rarely ever withdrawing. 3/4 way through my recuperation, I got scammed by a fake admin and lost 80%. With 20% left, the way back up was long, stressful and tedious. Soon after, the platform rug pulled but luckily i was able to withdraw whatever i had left into my crypto wallet. Once again i ventured into many other platforms until one day I got destroyed by a bitcoin pyramid scheme and lost everything again. Withdrew back everything from my first platform due to fear into my fiat bank (DBS).
All or nothing. Sometime after, i got to know someone online, and as stupid as it sounds, i trusted "her" and to cut it short, invested my entire bank account into it. Bit by bit, more and more. I lost close to 6-digits. Platform admin needed me to "pay tax for withdrawal" and "someone reported my account so i needed to top up the balance to prove that i wasn't laundering money" At that point, a few thousand meant nothing and i was too blinded to pull back. Borrowed 2k from my love and 3k from a friend i once lend some money to as a return of favour. Topping my with the last 5k in my bank, needless to say, i lost it all once again. But she was still there for me, being my greatest supporter. Which i will forever be grateful for.
To be clear, this stranger/scammer that i built a friendship with, I made it clear to "her" that i have a girlfriend and that nothing will go on between us. I was in it for the money. Maybe "she" if its even a "she" had other intentions, it was not for me to care about.
And why did i even attempt to try all these? Because she didn't have a plan or a job. I felt the need to be the breadwinner and make her a taitai. I thought only the brave could take the risk and reap the rewards. I wanted to get rich quick and make our life better. I risked it all and lost it all.
May 2022 - Oct 2023: Bankrupted, but i wasn't depressed. I was calmed and composed. I accepted reality as it is and immediately took action to draft out a plan on what i should do moving forward. Stay away from ALL investments and work honestly on my day job until the day i recuperate everything back. Be extremely thrifty and only spend on necessities. I became so hyper focused on money that our relationship took the hit. Well, she tried to be understanding and never once complained. I thought everything was fine and this was simply a phase of downturn. September 2023, I officially recovered all my losses. I felt a great sense of relief and freedom. With a clear mind, I finally start putting in more effort into the relationship and also started to plan on marriage and housing. "I made her wait long enough" I told myself. "Next year i'll have to propose" I told myself. 17th October 2023, we celebrated our 5th anniversary. Everything seemed fine.
25th October 2023: I received a text for a break from the relationship. My heart sank. I knew what was coming. I knew she went out herself to calm her mind and will be back anytime soon. 10:15pm, i stood on the void deck, outside her lift without letting her know until she finally return at 11:20pm. She couldn't look at me in the eye and asked me to go home. I didn't want to be possessive and toxic so I allowed her to head back without stopping verbally/physically. She left me in front of my eyes. Should I have pulled her back? Would anything I say at that point help to change her mind? I will never know the answer. But I know that the reason why i did not act was due to my past 2 relationships. Both ended with me trying so hard to get them back and being all emotional. I didn't want history to repeat itself.
I sat down somewhere trying to process what had just happened. I couldn't. My mind went blank. I texted and ask if I could talk to her, to see her, to stay the night. "Go home" she texted me. "Don't push my buttons". "Go home, don't make me repeat myself". "Take bus home".
My mind was blank. My vision was blurred. Hyperventilating. I knew the bus stop was just a street away yet no matter how i walked, i couldn't find it. Took a few steps in every direction and each time i stop, i didn't know where i was.
25th-29th October: A couple of back and forth texting with me explaining how we could still make it work. How it's not worth ending our 5 years of memories. How we all deserve another chance. How the lessons we learned could have been applied to us again, instead of starting from ground zero with someone new. No hatred, no emotional and reckless talking like I did before. But maybe my sin was too great for her to handle.
"the stranger who scammed you, why was her photo in your deleted album and you answered with your story, i lost trust in you" Why should I keep a selfie of a stranger in my photo album and why are you checking my phone this deeply when you know clearly how much i respect my personal space? You didn't even trust in me since day 1. Yet I was the complete opposite trusting you a 100% even after what you did.
"you changed your phone password and that made things worse. If I could turn back in time, I would have told you how upset I am every single time life comes and hit us w something and we have to delay our plans for the future. How scared I am once my career stabilises, and yours get rocky again. And we have to restart the whole process. I wish I could have told you how much I don't trust you, how much I miss the old us, how much I missed being happy, instead of just being contented"
"I've given you chances and chances again. I always asked you out, but I know you're too tired. So I stopped asking you out and spend time w u at home instead. I know you're too tired, I know what I want; but I don't even dare to ask you out."
"I hate that I love you so much, but I doubt we have a future together. I don't know if I can trust you that you'll start putting effort into this rs. Ever since your incident last year, I've been patient."
"I've been hurt so many times, yet I just kept quiet. When you went out with Marcus (my best friend of 10years which we meet only once or twice a year) I realised how lonely I am without you. I don't want to depend on you for happiness anymore. I need to find it within myself. To fill the void you weren't able to."
"I hate that I know you've been working hard for us. I hate that I don't know if I can see a future w you bc I just have so much doubts. I hate that this has caused me so much pain too"
The old us had no troubles. The old us had all the time in the world to date and be stress free. The me after bankruptcy was fighting for our future. She talk about doubting our future when I was there fighting for it in the present.
I said "If you see yourself 50 years with me then you'll realise you won't have 50 years of the same thing & perhaps this is just 1/50 phase of the relationship" in which she replied "When you're saying all these, do you ever pause and admire the moment? Live in the present?"
So was it our possible future or the present that she was unhappy with? My present had a fuck ton of stress. Crazy workload while dealing with the financial loss and the delay of our future. Was it my fault that i wasn't strong enough to stay active and happy and "live in the moment"? Or was her insecurity and the need for instant gratification the root of our downfall? I asked myself this and I realised that it doesn't matter. There's no need for closure.
She'll be happier without me now and i'm proud that she knows what she want. She's finally heading towards a good career and she's learning to love herself, which is ever so important. Nobody is perfect and each of us are always in the journey of healing. With this, she gave me a new dumped-experience to heal myself from too.
29th October 2023: "I can't ever go back to "us" anymore. I hope you can respect that and let's move onto the next phase of life." She said. This was it. I was sad, but i wasn't depressed. I gave her a few final text to ensure she's certain. I listed out the good and the bad of us. I apologized for my shortcomings and mentioned how grateful am I to have her in my life. I thank her for giving us this opportunity to heal and grow ourselves. Life goes on.
On the same day, i broke down in front of my mother as i spilled the beans and revealed the details. This brought me and my family together, closer than ever before. For the first time, i became vulnerable in front of her.
30th October 2023 - 26th November 2023 (present) : No contact has started and I began my personal healing journey. I left no regrets and accepted life as it is. I've been through too much in life to dread over spilled milk. Everything happens for a reason and with every obstacle, i grew stronger. This is my opportunity for linear growth and I have to take advantage of it. I know i needed to love myself and i know i need to be happy enough as an individual before i jump into another relationship like a dumb dumb again. I know my self worth and i know how loyal, genuine, patient, kind, honest, forgiving, respectful, grateful for every little thing, driven, weird, eccentric, funny and playful i am.
I am not a cheater, i hate letting people down. I strive to work hard but also to live a balance life. I know what i want and i know that whoever that steps into my life next needs to also be a happy enough individual with similar enough mindset as i have. Being into fitness is definitely a huge bonus too since fitness is literally my life. I know that this time it'll be someone i meet in real life and not from dating apps. I know the law of attraction and i know that as long as i continue working on myself, the right one will come one day even without me chasing for it.
Chasing brings the excitement of challenges that'll die along with it once you obtain it. Chasing is a sign of lack of self respect. It needs to come from mutual investment, or move on.
Meanwhile, i'll continue to upgrade my fitness knowledge, explore more into cooking and singing. Take care of myself by dressing better, getting a few more trims and get some skin care routine going on. Spend more time with friends and family which i've neglected my whole life. I'll live my best life knowing that storms will still come ever once in a while. I'll identify and accept those negative feelings. I'll go into a space of observational awareness while waiting for the storm to pass, then jump right back into the path of never ending healing of life again.
In only 26 years i'm glad to have been through most of life's grieves and have the emotional maturity to take on whatever that's yet to come. My only uncertainty to how i'll react is the loss of health which may interrupt/inhibit my training/nutrition routine or the loss of health/life of my parents (no details but my dad's memory has been getting worse rapidly over the past 2 years). But when the time comes, which it will. I have full faith in my future self that i'll be able to handle it.
This is all for now. It's time to be positive. Looking through all my older posts since 2015, I'm fucking proud of where i'm at now & i'm sure my future self will be fucking proud of me taking this step today too.
Hello J from god knows if tumblr will still be around. 5 years? 10 years? Look at me and be glad i've yet to throw my life away and give up. Because of my decision today, you get to be who you are now. BLEH.
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Luckless Romance
Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.
Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.
Chris Evans x OFC
18+
Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-
Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.
Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.
Please let me know what you think!
_____
August 2015
Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.
That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.
It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.
I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.
But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.
Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.
I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.
There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.
But it was more than just that.
There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.
Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.
"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"
His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.
"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."
"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"
"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"
Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.
"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."
His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.
"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"
I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.
"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."
Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.
"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."
The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.
"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."
There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.
"Well, was that was you asked for?"
"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"
My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.
"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"
"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."
It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.
"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."
"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"
"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."
Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.
"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."
Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.
"As long as she promises to make better choices."
I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.
"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."
Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.
Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.
"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."
"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."
"Does this group need any encouragement?"
Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.
"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"
He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.
-
"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"
"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."
"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."
"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.
"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."
"Terrible is harsh!"
My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.
"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."
"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."
Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.
"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."
"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."
We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.
"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"
"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."
Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.
"Beginners luck!"
Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.
However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.
"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"
"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"
"It was clearly on your side!"
"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."
"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."
"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."
I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.
"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"
"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."
"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."
"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"
Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.
"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"
My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.
-
Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.
My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.
"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."
I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.
I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.
I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.
That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.
"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"
"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."
"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"
"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."
I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.
"Really? That's not a great area..."
"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."
"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."
"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."
"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded in response.
"Absolutely."
I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.
"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."
Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.
"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."
"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."
Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.
"Can't it be both?"
"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."
I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.
"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."
Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.
"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."
"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."
"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"
"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."
"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."
"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"
"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."
"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."
"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"
I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.
"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."
"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"
"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."
"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."
"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."
I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."
"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."
"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."
Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.
"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"
"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."
They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.
"Really? Could I see them?"
"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."
I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.
"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"
"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."
We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.
"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."
I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.
"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."
Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.
"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."
"I did not!"
"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."
"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."
"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."
I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.
"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."
"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."
His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.
"You're just drunk."
"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."
There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.
"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."
Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.
My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.
I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.
"This is me..."
Chris looked up and nodded slowly.
"It doesn't look so bad."
"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."
"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."
Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.
"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."
Chris laughed, but shook his head.
"Now who's drunk."
"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."
"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."
He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.
"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"
Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.
"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."
"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."
"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."
Friends.
Good friends.
His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.
Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.
At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.
I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.
I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.
Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.
As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.
---
July 2016
And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.
I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.
But we kept things very much friendly.
There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.
My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.
I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.
"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"
"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."
"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."
I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.
"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."
"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"
I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.
"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."
"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."
"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."
Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.
"You're impossible."
"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."
"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."
The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."
I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.
It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.
"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"
"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."
"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."
"Nah, this place is great!"
"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."
"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"
I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.
"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."
I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.
Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.
"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."
"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."
I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.
"Then we'll stay in?"
"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."
"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."
"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."
"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."
I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.
"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."
He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.
"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"
"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."
"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."
"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."
"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."
"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."
"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"
"Imaginary ones don't count."
I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.
"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."
"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."
"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."
"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."
"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."
I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.
"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."
"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."
"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"
I sighed and shook my head.
"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."
"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."
"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."
Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.
"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."
I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.
"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."
"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."
"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."
"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."
I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.
-
Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.
"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"
I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.
"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."
Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.
"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."
The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.
"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."
Chris raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? How so?"
"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."
"And what did he say?"
I scowled at the memory.
"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."
"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."
"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"
"What was this one's job?"
I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.
"A club promoter."
"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"
"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."
"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."
I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.
"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."
Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.
"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."
"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."
That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.
"What was it about then?"
"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"
Chris shrugged.
"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."
"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"
"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."
I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.
"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."
Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.
"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"
I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.
"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."
"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"
I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.
"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."
"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."
"Until now."
"It's not true!"
"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."
I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.
Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.
"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"
He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.
"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"
Demonstrate.
Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.
Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.
"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"
Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.
His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.
He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.
It was now or never.
Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.
He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.
I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.
There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.
I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.
It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.
Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.
Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.
As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.
"Are we really doing this?"
I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.
"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"
A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.
"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."
I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.
In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.
But the anticipation was practically killing me.
My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.
Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.
"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."
His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.
"Not much of an exhibitionist?"
"Not on the first date."
My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.
"Alright, that's fair."
I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.
My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.
"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"
I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.
"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.
"So, you're like, always this strong?"
Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.
"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."
My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.
"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."
Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.
"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."
With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.
I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.
Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.
"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.
"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."
"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"
"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."
He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.
I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.
I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.
"Now, it's your turn."
"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."
I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.
"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."
I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.
"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."
His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.
"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."
His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.
So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.
"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."
I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.
It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.
Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.
However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.
"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.
I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.
His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.
"Like what you see?"
His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.
"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."
"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."
Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.
I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.
"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."
I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.
He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.
I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.
He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.
As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.
"Well?"
"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."
Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.
"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."
"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."
Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.
He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.
"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."
He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.
"Only because you're huge."
I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.
"Thank you."
I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.
I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.
The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.
I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.
"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.
It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.
"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.
"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."
A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.
"You heard about that?"
He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.
"Everyone heard about that," I teased.
He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.
"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."
His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.
"Atta girl, Winnie..."
His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.
My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.
"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."
His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.
The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.
After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.
"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."
I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.
"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."
He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.
"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"
His question made my own smile widen even more.
"Of course not!"
He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.
I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.
-
The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.
I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.
Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.
At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.
After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.
By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.
He wasn't coming back.
It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.
We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.
One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.
The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.
But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.
-
Part Two
Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces
#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fic#chris evans one shot#once bitten/more hearts
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how my love springs deep
by stiltonbasket
(read here on AO3!)
Summary:
My Lan Zhan, his husband calls him. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.
Or, the one where Wei Wuxian feeds rabbits, and Lan Wangji reads a love letter.
(brief a/n: this fic was inspired by this heartbreaking work of beauty by @pakhnokh--I had to write Lan Wangji getting adored after witnessing it, come join me on the angst parade T~T)
____
My Lan Zhan,
It has been two years and more since I last wrote you a letter, for marriage has joined us both at the hip, and ensured that we are never more than a touch or a cry away from one another. I have you by me always, in every hour of every day; and every love-word that crosses my mind finds its way to my lips in the very moment of its birth, and reaches your ears just as quickly, for I could no more keep silent in my devotion to you than swim the full length of the Songhuajiang against the current. And so I go about my days hence, calling “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, my Lan Zhan” all the while: but today I have woken before chenshi, and you are still asleep beside me with Xiao-Yu in your arms, and though my every nerve and vein is aching for love of my husband, I cannot bear to wake you to say so.
Lan Zhan, sweetheart—when we were first married, you told me once that I colored the world for you the instant we met, and brought every shade of the rainbow with me from Yunmeng to make the Cloud Recesses beautiful. You said that the air that touched me at the gate smelt as if lightning had passed through it, and that the very stones I knelt on in the lanshi’s courtyard began to glitter after I departed, though they had never done such a thing before—and that the Cloud Recesses itself, having been a place of peace and reflection before my arrival, was filled with delight and warmth after my coming, as if that first day was the dawn after a long, long night, and I the sun who gifted it to you.
Heaven knows I had no equal words with which to worship you then, my darling, for I was young and still bewildered to know that you loved me. But I have been your husband for nearly three years now, and so I must tell you this—you have driven me mad for love of you, Lan Zhan, and it has been so since we first crossed swords on the rooftop gate when we were eighteen.
How mad, you ask? The classics say that love is a proper, courtly thing, to be shown with modesty before others and in its full force only in confidence. But I have never been proper, and so I must tell you that if you were a flint and steel, seeking only to light a flame and a tinder-heap to light it in, I would take form as a sun-parched forest, and set myself afire at your touch so that I might be beside you thus. If you were a god, roaming the heavenly kingdoms while my mortal flesh kept me constrained below, I would take the habit of a priest and devote myself to your prayer; and if you were a grain of sand in the Gebi desert, and I a traveler sick with thirst, I would fall to my knees and sift through every dune and basin to find you before drinking even a drop of water.
If I were freezing in the great mountains above Gusu, whose peaks are lush in the springtime but shrouded in snow in the winter, I would be well and happy if I had the warmth of your hand in mine; and when I am in my jishi, with the doors thrown open to let in the wind, I drop my knives and tools at the sound of your voice and stand there enraptured until you fall silent again. My heart nearly beats out of my body with everything you say, and everything you do; and when you look at me I lose all knowledge of speech and reason, recalling nothing but your name and your smiles unless some show of wit is necessary—which it very well might be, with you and I being what we are, and all our doings riddled with puzzles that would have bewildered even the scholars who founded our clan.
Lan Zhan, I love you so desperately that to be away from you is torment, and to be with you has always been paradise, even when you were sitting on one side of the library pavilion and reading Lan An’s poetry, and I was on the other with my brush and parchment, pretending to copy lines while I sketched a portrait of you and painted flowers into your hair. You have made me more your own with every passing day, though in every moment I fully belong to you, and there is no strangeness in it—as if new pieces of my spirit are formed shichen by shichen, and bound unto you before drawing their first breaths.
I could go on endlessly, xingan, and exhaust even the lanshi’s stocks of paper in my adoration—but it will soon be breakfast time, and the hens have not been fed, nor the eggs collected, and neither have the rabbits been given their greens. I must go and tend to them now; only wait for me, and I will be back at your side again before you have time to miss me.
Ever yours, my husband—
Wei Ying.
P.S.—I left a pot of ginger porridge on the table by the bed, if you should wake and be hungry before I return. There is only a little, since the rest is still cooking in the kitchen, and you and A-Yu will still have an appetite for breakfast if you finish it all.
_____
After Lan Wangji wakes and reads the folded letter on his bedside table, he scarcely glances at the tiny blue pot of ginger congee before stumbling out of bed and putting his shoes on. He is dressed in nothing but a thin white undergown, since he gave up dressing warmly at night when he first began sleeping beside Wei Ying; but he does not bother putting on a coat, and pauses only long enough to tuck a sleepy Xiao-Yu back under the covers before bounding out of the jingshi and hurrying downhill in his nightshirt.
“Wei Ying!” he calls, when he passes the tidy chicken pen—home to ten brown hens, which Lan Wangji brought to the Cloud Recesses as a gift for Wei Ying before they were married—and finds the chickens pecking away in the yard, eating grains of fresh corn that had clearly just been thrown out by Wei Ying’s dear hands. But Wei Ying must have finished collecting the eggs, and gone on towards the warded field on the fringes of the bamboo forest to scatter vegetables for the rabbits; so Lan Wangji presses on, running with the wind at his back and the sharp pebbles underfoot almost piercing through his slippers. He reaches the rabbit field in less than a minute, careening between stalks of bamboo like a man possessed, and throws himself at Wei Ying so forcefully that he knocks his husband backwards into the soft grass at their feet.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying wheezes, as his lettuce basket flies out of his hand and lands near the entrance to a burrow: mercifully, the basket of eggs must have been set aside somewhere else before Wei Ying arrived to feed the rabbits. “Lan Zhan, sweetheart, what are you doing here? Is Xiao-Yu—?”
“Do not worry. Xiaohui is still asleep,” Lan Wangji assures him, bringing Wei Ying’s sun-warmed hands to his mouth and kissing them. “I came to find you because I read your letter.”
Wei Ying smiles, beaming from ear until Lan Wangji finds himself gasping for breath at the beauty of the sight before him. “I thought you must have. You were cuddled up against me when I woke up, and you were holding Xiao-Yu between us to keep him warm...and I couldn’t help it, Lan Zhan! You were so sweet that my heart could scarcely bear it, so of course I had to write it down for you.”
“Perhaps I should take up the habit of writing you love letters,” muses Lan Wangji, kissing Wei Ying’s delighted grin straight from his lips. “What do you think, xingan?”
“I think that waking to find you beside me every morning already brings me so much joy I could burst, darling. If you really did start leaving love letters for me to find, I would fold myself into your arms and never come out again.”
“Mm, perhaps you would. But that would please me greatly, so I suppose I will have to do it.”
His husband pinches his cheek. “Lan Zhan!”
“I am listening, beloved. With all my heart.”
Wei Ying covers his face and tries to roll out of Lan Wangji’s grasp, wriggling about six inches away before Lan Wangji takes him by the waist and draws him back. “Lan Zhan,” he wails, as a couple of baby rabbits hop up onto Lan Wangji’s back. “You can’t say such things, you silly man! See how my face is burning, look!”
“I’m looking,” Lan Wangji teases, tracing Wei Ying’s red cheeks with the pads of his own pale fingers. “I am always looking. I love my husband dearly, and he is very beautiful to look at.”
“Well, my husband is not so young as he used to be. Perhaps he is mistaken.”
“Oh?” He punctuates the inquiry with another searing kiss, pulling Wei Ying up into his arms and holding him so close that he can feel the stutter of his breathing, and his pulse beating quickly against Lan Wangji’s wrist. “Do you really think so?”
But the only reply Wei Ying gives him is a tender look that shakes Lan Wangji down to his jindan, and leaves him struggling for air all over again as Wei Ying wraps his arms around him.
In the end, they do not leave the clearing until nearly half an hour later; the grass is as comfortable a cushion as two sweethearts could want, and the rabbits keep leaping around them and making Wei Ying laugh, so they lie there, cheek to cheek and chest to chest until they remember Xiao-Yu, all by himself in the jingshi with no one to hear him cry if he wakes up frightened to find himself alone.
The thought of their son has Lan Wangji leaping to his feet with Wei Ying’s hand in his, and then they bolt back towards the house and retrieve the basket of eggs on the way, running nearly fast enough to outstrip Wen Ning at his swiftest before Wei Ying throws the doors open and barrels into the bedroom.
“A-Yu!” he calls, letting out a shout of laughter as Lan Wangji comes jogging up behind him. “Xiao-Yu, baobei, what are you doing?”
“I’m eating ginger porridge,” Xiao-Yu chirps. The little lotus-shaped pot of congee is nestled snugly in his arms, and A-Yu is eating out of it with the large spoon Wei Ying left behind for Lan Wangji. “Papa and A-Niang went out, so Xiao-Yu is having breakfast.”
“Aiyah, Xiao-Yu,” Wei Ying groans, taking the pot away from A-Yu and wiping his dirty face with a handkerchief. “That was for you and Papa, sweetheart, since I was going to be late back. How will you eat your breakfast properly now?”
“But A-Yu is still hungry,” the little boy insists, trying to grab the spoon. “A-Niang, let me finish?”
“Wait a little longer,” scolds Wei Ying. “I still have to cook the rest of the porridge with steamed dan, and make chicken soup to go with it. Now be a good child and go with Papa to take your bath, and breakfast will be ready when you finish dressing.”
Xiao-Yu nods and jumps off the bed, scurrying off towards the washroom on the other side of the house, and leaves his parents to embrace each other once again before they part to attend to their own duties.
“What do you want this afternoon, qinai?” Lan Wangji murmurs, as Wei Ying’s head falls onto his shoulder. “The tradesmen ought to have sent up the day’s groceries by now, so I will make lunch while you teach your talisman class.”
Wei Ying blinks, very slowly, and then he stands up on his toes and plants one last, lingering kiss between Lan Wangji’s eyebrows.
“Teach my talisman class with me,” he entreats. “When we get back, we can make lunch together.”
(And so they do, and just like all the other dishes Lan Wangji has shared with Wei Ying, that afternoon’s luncheon tastes fresher and sweeter than every meal before it.)
#wangxian#the untamed#mo dao zu shi#lan wangji#wei wuxian#my fic#i was heartbroken i had to take ACTION#*sobs*#please check it out on ao3 if you can!
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thoughts on online dating and SOGIE
I've been hanging out on Tinder and Bumble again lately but I'm not looking for anything specific, I just want to talk to new people sometimes, and I think it's safe to say that, as per my observation, people don't know who they are and what they're looking for, too!
I've been talking to this one guy on Tinder and he asked me what my Gender Identity (GI) is. I was surprised because this is the first time I've been asked by a person from Tinder of this particular question. The questions I usually get from the people I'm talking to on this app are: "what's your Sexual Orientation (SO)?" and; "what's your preferred position in bed?".
These questions are valid since we're trying to get to know each other and sex and physical compatibility are important to everybody's relationship.
I answered his query but was disappointed by his response. I'm posting the following screenshots of the conversation we had for context.
Apparently, he doesn't know what he's talking about, and he became confused by my response. This isn't shocking at all since the majority of the people I've talked to do not know what Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity and Expression (SOGIE) is. What's worse is that the only SO that they're aware of is bisexuality and the term is not even being used properly! They think that a person who identifies as bisexual is someone who's gay but in a discreet way. They always prefer guys when they're straight-passing and they ridicule overly-feminine homosexuals. This frustrates me because it completely invalidates bisexuality and homosexuality and it promotes toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia among the members of the community.
I asked him if I could give him a fairly brief lecture on what SOGIE is, he agreed and I tried to carefully lay out the different Sexual Orientations and Gender Identities and Expressions in the most basic terms. I know that it's nothing close to being flawless, because now that I'm rereading what I told him, I wish I could've dissected the terms more, I wish I could've introduced more terms to broaden his vocabulary because the opportunity was right there already! He said that he understood the difference, and I don't have any choice but to trust that he did.
It's unfortunate because even our own people lack the proper awareness and knowledge on SOGIE and its impact is quite momentous in our lives, if you ask me. SOGIE is not only limited to the members of the LGBTQIA+ community, but it is applicable to all types and all kinds of people.
There are a lot of videos and articles online that explains what SOGIE is, and the whole spectrum of Sexual Orientations and variations of Gender Identity and Expression and how to properly use them and apply them when we try to describe ourselves, I just wish more people would spend the time to watch or read them.
This just proves that the majority of homosexual relationships are somewhat toxic and demeaning. And it's even more challenging because it's online. I'm not trying to act all high and mighty because I still have a long way to go on my journey of accepting who I am and knowing who I want to be, and I also think that all of us have the tendency to glorify toxic masculinity because we were raised by a patriarchal society, but I just hope that in the years to come, more people would realize the influence of knowing who they are and who they want to be in a community that is designed only for the norms.
It's funny, my first cousin is very passionate about this topic, and I never really understood why before, but I'm slowly learning.
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Valkyrie
Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4
(The Mandalorian x f!reader)
“What... did you... do?” You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.
“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 7.8k
Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.
A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)
<-Previous Next->
Everything. Was. Purple.
Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.
The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.
No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.
You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.
Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.
You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.
A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.
“What are you laughing at?”
Oh no, I’ve been caught! “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.
“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”
“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.
“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.
Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.
“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”
“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”
“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.
“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”
“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?
You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.
“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.
“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,
The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.
We had high expectations of their hospitality,
But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”
“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!
Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!
We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,
But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”
Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.
“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;
She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!
The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,
And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”
You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-
“-KABOOM-!”
The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.
“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”
Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.
“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.
“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.
A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.
“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.
”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it.
“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!” Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.
Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.
“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!” Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.
Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.
Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.
“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.
“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.
“What... did you... do?” You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.
“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.
“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.
“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.
“So... Beautiful...” The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?
“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.
“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.” Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.
“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.
“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.” The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.
“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”
“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”
You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.
“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”
The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.
“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.
“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.
“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.
His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”
The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.
“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.
“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”
You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream.
“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.
Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.
“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.
Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.
“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.
You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.
Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.
But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.
You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.
“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”
“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.
“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.
“Who did this to you?” The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”
“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.
“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.
“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.
“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”
“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.
“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.
He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.
After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.
Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.
“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.
“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.
“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.” He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.
Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off.
Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.
“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”
“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.
“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.
“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.
“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.
“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.
“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”
“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”
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Oxford
In the middle of fall 2020, I arrived in a not-so-small-but-can-be-bigger city. My first impression of this place: very cold and not warm at all (metaphorically), everyone-seems-to-be-busy-doing-their-own-things, individualistic, just-a-city-of-very-smart-people. Put all unpleasant adjectives of first impressions, and those will be my answer. However, Oxford is a stunning gorgeous city. If one thing balances the scale, it's the beauty of the buildings and the little alleys. It's like when you met a good-looking man/woman on a first date, and you came back home thinking you had a great night but not wanting a second date. That is Oxford in my eyes in my first three months(?) or so.
Then I realised, "probably it was because of lockdown, Non". The first(?) lockdown was just before Christmas, and it got lifted in March(?) 2021. I might have had these wrong(?) first impressions of Oxford because I didn't get to see the real Oxford. I lost most of the experience.
Then, after March/April 2021, everything started to open up again. Now I got to experience Oxford's second (?) first impression. I got to meet many people, eat from different places, visit more places (colleges, museums, libraries). Did my first impression of Oxford change? Not entirely. It's not easy to rewrite a memory, so I still kept my first first impression of Oxford dearly even though I had tried to revise it.
What I believe is nothing you could experience out of Oxford is the moment you are inside these buildings. When you are entering a hall or a room in Oxford, especially an old one, you can't help but wonder what kind of conversation took place there, what talks and lectures they have had in the very same room and what science has emerged of the discussion.
I found only here in Oxford the people's passion for science; the city is full of students, postdocs, RAs, and faculties learning, developing, and creating science. These people choose to be here, think, and 'devote' their time to their chosen specific field of knowledge. (Almost) every person I have met here so far is a burst of energy, passionately talking about what they are excitedly working on. Whether a mathematician, computer scientist, chemist, engineer, history student, management student, archaeologist, or physicist, everyone is just pure talking, living, and breathing thinking machine.
I put an (almost) on the previous sentence because apparently, not everyone is keen on talking about their research to others, with the reason I'd never know. One day, I got to do a one-on-one walk (not a Tinder first date, it's a program from my college to help 'solve' loneliness problem during lockdown) with a DPhil from StCatz who is working on a specific classical English writer's book. He seemed reluctant to share with me in detail what he was working on. "Oh, you wouldn't be interested anyway. Let's hear you talk about this period when the earth had huge volcanism.", he insisted. We ended up walking one lap of CC meadow with me, talking about my 'exciting' research.
With its abundance of knowledge diversity in Oxford, I also realised that the body of science is HUGE. There is almost no boundary between the discipline. Anyone can work with anyone, and I think to myself: "this is what happens when money is not a problem in doing research, Non". Oxford is what an ideal science-producing world looks like. To make a scientific discovery, think of a breakthrough formula, create new materials, drugs, and vaccines, one must be in the very supportive research environment that Oxford provided.
In short, you could get a richer experience elsewhere. If you want to meet a more 'diverse' set of people, definitely do not go to Oxford (or, at least, not to my department; I can't speak for other departments or courses). However, Oxford does offer you the best experience of a well-established (hundred of years of) research ecosystem and beautiful classic old buildings with scholars' learning spirit all over the walls. But, unfortunately, that's all there is to it.
I, therefore, give Oxford a three and a half star.
P.S. I wrote this essay in my 17th month of living in Oxford after arriving in the middle of the pandemic. The score given is subject to change, especially after I finish my study or leave Oxford in the future.
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I am in love with your fics!! 30 and stony for the short fic ask please :)
thank you!!! that makes me so happy hehe
also i know... i know it said short fic.......... yet here i am. thank you for sending a prompt and i hope you enjoy!!
Me voy pa'l pueblo, M, 2.7k | “tourist/knowledgeable local au” + stony bingo prompt fill “farewells” | on ao3
Steve wrinkles his nose as he looks around the intersection he’s found himself on. He tries not to be too obvious about it, and he hates when he gets sympathetic looks from the locals. So he glances at the street sign, then back at the shopfront.
He meant to go see the Casa de las Conchas—a large, Gothic building with seashells dotting along its facade. It also housed a public library.
Steve sighs in frustration then looks around the almost empty street—it’s lunchtime, and there aren’t many people milling about, having settled on a restaurant or gone home. Steve’s gaze lands on a man ostensibly doing just that. Steve walks toward the man as he pulls off his glove and punches in the code to his building.
“Uh—disculpe,” Steve says, fumbling already with the little Spanish he knows.
The man turns to look at him and Steve is almost bowled over by how gorgeous he is; he tries his best not to stare, but it’s nearly impossible. His face is framed by a well-trimmed moustache and goatee, and his gaze is somehow arresting—he’d never thought that description made sense until this moment.
The man blinks at him. “Sí?” he prompts.
“Casa de las Conchas?” Steve says it like a question. “Lo siento,” he adds. “No hablo Espanol.”
The man snorts softly and nods at Steve, considering him for a moment.
Steve stares back, taking every available second to drink in the sight of him. His shirt fits just right, enough to highlight the muscles of his tan arms, and Steve could look at him forever.
Then, the man scratches the side of his head, shaking it a little as he mumbles to himself. “Er, go straight there,” he says, using his hand to direct Steve’s gaze. “Then you turn right at the first. Then after two…” The man pauses, and bites on his lip as he thinks. It’s absolutely adorable.
Steve is infatuated. This is not how his vacation was supposed to start.
“After two corners,” the man resumes, “you turn left, and then you will see—” another pause. “Many people,” he finishes with a grin.
Steve nods. “Right at the first corner, then left after two corners.”
“Sí, exactamente,” the man says, still smiling.
“Gracias.” They smile at each other for a bit more, until the door of the man’s apartment beeps.
Steve takes it as his cue to leave.
***
Steve feels a little pathetic, daydreaming about the Anonymous Man as he settles down in a cafe across the historical landmark he set out to see. He can’t help but dream up scenarios in which the man comes to have a cup of coffee, and then they share a look of recognition, and Steve asks him to sit, and they chat and—well.
Steve pulls out his notebook and starts sketching, the activity handily keeping his mind focused on reality.
Steve wanders around the city a bit more, following crowds until he ends back at the Plaza Mayor. The Old City looks beautiful, lit up by bright lights strategically placed to highlight building facades, the crowds bustling with university students and tourists.
He’s planned this vacation for more than half a year, and he relishes the feeling of getting lost somewhere. Not that he’s ever really lost, but there’s some relief, not knowing. He buys a few postcards and stamps, and after a full afternoon of sightseeing, he sighs with contentment as he takes a seat in one of the bars that dot the interior of the plaza. A waiter comes to take his order—Steve picks out three pinxtos right off the bat, and he spends the few minutes waiting by watching the crowds milling about.
A pint of beer is placed in front of him and Steve looks up at the waiter, intent on saying thank you, and startles when he sees the man from earlier.
They look at each other and Steve huffs out a laugh.
The man smiles, runs a hand through his hair, looking a little nonplussed. “Did you find Las Conchas?” He asks.
“Yeah,” Steve nods. He almost asks the man to sit, but remembers that he works here. “Thanks for the directions.”
The man nods. “Enjoy your beer,” he says, and Steve watches as he walks back inside, only to blush when the man looks back at him and catches him staring.
Steve laughs a little to himself, embarrassed by how giddy he feels—it’s been a while, since he’s felt this, like he has a crush. He can’t help but hope that the man continues to serve his table, even if he knows it won’t go anywhere. It’s not like he knows if the man is gay or bisexual, or that he himself can communicate that without being so overt; how do people just do that, anyway? Steve takes a sip of his beer, enjoying the idea that he could be that kind of person, maybe. The kind who just jumped someone’s bones, didn’t worry what other people would think.
He is on vacation, after all. And it’s not like anyone here knows him. It’s a liberating thought, but Steve knows, too, that that’s all it will be.
Thankfully, the man comes back, easy smile on his lips as he sets down plates of food. “Did you like the beer?” He asks, and Steve nods, and doesn’t look at the man any longer. He tries to subdue the desire stirring in his gut. He doesn’t want to be so weird about it, but god, his mind is going strange places—he imagines touching the man’s wrist, asking his name, laughing and chatting with him until the attraction boils over and drives them to act. He imagines kissing him against the wall in one of the side streets leading out of the plaza. He imagines the sounds the man would make, how Steve would ruck up his shirt. He feels his cheeks heat, and feels a little like a deviant.
Steve takes out a book from his bag, tries and fails to focus on it as the man comes back to check on him periodically. Steve feels a little hysterical, doesn’t want to think it means anything, maybe they’re just trained to provide great service.
He shakes away the thought, finishes his meal, and leaves a large tip before the man can come back out again.
Later that night, after tossing and turning and thinking, still, of the man’s smile, he sits up and turns on his phone. He’s never really sincerely used this dating app, even after Bucky had helped set up his account and hovered over his shoulder as Steve swiped through.
Steve takes a deep breath, adjusts the settings to just far enough to span the Old City, and what he figures to be close enough to where the man lives. He can’t explain why he’s doing this, or what he hopes to achieve. He hopes he finds the man on the app, and if he does, by some miracle, then maybe it’ll be a blessing enough that they match. Besides, he’s leaving two days from now, has a plane ticket to Barcelona, and this feels like a last ditch effort of pleading with the universe. Please, please, please let him be gay. Let him be on the app. Come through for me, this one last time.
After spending the good part of an hour swiping and never coming across the man’s profile, Steve sighs and puts his phone away.
Message from the universe certainly received.
At least he has a nice memory to tie to this place, on top of everything else. It’s as good a souvenir as any.
***
Steve feels a little manic as he walks towards the bar. He’d spent the day exploring the outskirts of the city; sat down on the banks of the river and sketched while he ate a sandwich, then later meandered back towards the plaza at the center of it all.
He figures that he doesn’t have much to lose, at least compared to what could happen—which, honestly, is just to see the man one last time.
The bar has just opened for its afternoon shift, and Steve takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside.
Like a flash of lightning, his gaze locks on the man’s. He looks just as gorgeous as Steve remembers (and he has been remembering a significant amount).
The man huffs out a laugh, a look of surprise and relief on his face. “It’s you,” he says, and Steve feels his heart soar.
“It’s me,” Steve says, laughing a little. The man gestures to the seat in front of him from behind the bar.
“I’m Tony.”
Steve grins, reaches over and shakes his hand. “I’m Steve.”
Steve’s thankful there are no other patrons that need to be attended to, and he’s about to say so, but Tony speaks first.
“I’m happy you came back,” he says. “I was worried.”
Steve shrugs, still feeling giddy with excitement. “Well, you had such great service.”
“Did we?” Tony asks, peering at Steve.
Steve fumbles. “You… kept checking on how I was doing.”
Tony laughs. “Yeah, because you’re cute.”
Steve makes a sound of protest, feeling his cheeks heat. “Oh,” he says. He bites his lip for a moment, then says, “you are too.”
Tony puffs up his chest, making Steve laugh again. Then he turns to Steve, a crooked smile on his lips. “I checked Tinder.”
“I did too!” Steve exclaims, because the additional confirmation of their mutual attraction is a welcome relief.
“Ah, well. You are here now.” Tony leans on the counter and winks.
Steve hates that he blushes even more. “I am,” he murmurs.
“Do you want to…” Tony trails off, chewing on his lip.
“I’d say grab a drink, but we’re already at a bar,” Steve says.
Tony arches his eyebrow at Steve. “Something else on your mind, then?”
Steve shrugs, feeling very coy as he smirks at Tony and says, “Only if it’s on yours.”
***
The bar had filled up and cleared out, but Steve and Tony had still managed to have bursts of conversation especially since Tony was bartending that night. Some customers had given them knowing looks, one regular even went on to jeer at Tony in spanish and wink at him, making Tony laugh and Steve flush all the way down his neck. He may not have known the words but the intent was clear.
Tony’s manager waved them off early, and Steve left a generous tip while Tony was putting on his jacket.
As soon as they’re out the door, Tony reaches over and twines their fingers together. It should be absurd, the simple gesture sends a bolt of electricity up Steve’s spine, except he’s been thinking of what it would feel like to touch Tony, and now he is.
The plaza’s not as busy anymore, most bars and restaurants closing as well. Across the square there’s a group of rowdy men, drunkenly singing as they walk.
Steve gestures at them and Tony ducks his head and laughs. Steve can’t say what comes over him, but he can’t bear the thought of not looking at Tony now that he can, so he reaches over, cups Tony’s jaw, and pulls him into a kiss.
Tony’s laugh cuts out abruptly into a soft moan, and he tugs Steve closer until they’re pressed against each other, hip to shoulder.
“My apartment,” Tony says, lips still brushing against Steve’s as he speaks.
Steve nods. “I remember.”
Tony pulls away and blinks at Steve. “You do?”
Steve blushes again and looks away. “I told you. I think you’re cute.”
Tony turns Steve to face him. “Good,” he says, and tugs on Steve’s hand, leading them out of the plaza.
It takes them longer than it should to get there, stopping every few steps to kiss. Steve feels drunk with desire, with the heady feeling of being this close to someone, with the disbelief that more than once he’d walked away from Tony yet somehow, is now walking with Tony.
At one point their kisses get heated enough that Steve acts on what he’d dreamt up, pushes Tony against a wall and slides his hands under Tony’s shirt, making Tony gasp.
“My apartment is a street away,” Tony breathes out, but tilts his head to give Steve access to his jaw, his neck.
“I can’t wait,” Steve says, right before nipping at the skin above Tony’s collarbone.
Tony lets out a string of curses in Spanish, and Steve groans against Tony’s neck, feeling himself getting hard.
Tony grunts and pushes Steve off him, muttering to himself in Spanish and half-dragging Steve the rest of the way.
When they finally get to the door of Tony’s apartment, Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s waist as Tony punches in his code. He smiles to himself as he peppers Tony’s nape with kisses, still in a mild state of disbelief that only a few days ago he’d chanced upon meeting Tony.
He’s glad that of all the people in Salamanca, he’d asked Tony for directions.
“Bruto impaciente,” Tony huffs, oblivious to Steve’s inner musings. Then they’re inside, and Tony hushes him as they stumble toward the elevator.
Tony pushes him against the doors just as the slide shut, kissing him soundly, his hands tugging up Steve’s shirt. The doors to the elevator open just as Tony undoes Steve’s belt.
Tony keeps kissing him, making him walk backwards until he bumps into a wall, then they’re laughing and shushing each other. Tony quiets as he turns and digs his keys out of his pocket. He makes an impatient sound when Steve presses up behind him, resting his hands on Tony’s hips.
“Here, here,” Tony says, throwing the door open and pulling Steve inside. He slams Steve against the door, kissing him roughly. It seems like the privacy has unleashed something in Tony, who digs his fingernails into the skin of Steve’s shoulders, kisses Steve so deeply that he has to blink when Tony pulls away.
“Until when are you here?”
Steve lets out a breath. “What?”
“In Salamanca?”
“Oh.” Steve leans back against the door and cups Tony’s cheek. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
Tony considers him. “Then we should make tonight worth it, no?”
Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, pulling Tony close to press their foreheads together. “Yeah,” he says again, and kisses him.
This certainly isn’t how he thought his vacation would go. But it’s a good detour.
***
Steve is drying his hair when Tony comes back with two cups of coffee. He murmurs his thanks before taking a sip, and Tony sits down on the bed, watching Steve.
Steve tilts his head at Tony, waiting for him to speak. Instead, Tony shakes his head and laugh softly.
“What?” Steve asks, setting the towel down and sitting beside Tony. He takes Tony’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles.
Tony blushes and tries to tug his hand away, but Steve tightens his grip, kisses the inside of Tony’s wrist, then up his arm. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Tony laughs, just as Steve kisses the inside of Tony’s elbow. “I am just glad that you came to the bar.”
Steve smiles up at Tony. “Me too.”
“Are you going to miss me?” Tony teases.
“Maybe,” Steve pauses for dramatic effect. “Maybe I’ll miss you as much as you miss me.”
Tony arches his eyebrow, unimpressed. “So not at all.”
Steve squawks in protest and tackles Tony onto the bed, pinning Tony down with his hips as he kisses Tony all over while tickling him.
“Enough!” Tony screeches, laughing so hard he’s nearly in tears. “I will not miss the tickling!”
Steve laughs, stopping his attack and resting his forehead against Tony’s chest. They’re quiet for a moment, and Tony strokes the back of Steve’s hair.
“I’m happy.”
Steve looks up at Tony. “Me too.”
Tony’s lips quirk into a smile. “But you have to go.”
“I do,” Steve says, returning to resting his face against Tony’s chest.
“That’s okay,” Tony says. “You have my number.”
“I do,” Steve says, his voice muffled.
“Maybe we’ll see each other again,” Tony says. He snakes his hand under Steve’s chin and tilts his face up. “RIght?”
Steve presses closer against Tony’s palm. “Right,” he says.
“But before that,” Steve pushes himself up and offers Tony his hand. “Shower?”
send me a number and i’ll write you a short fic
#stony#stevetony#superhusbands#steve rogers#tony stark#i hope you enjoyed this!!#asks#things i write#bookworminaslump
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Black Ocean
I wrote another Labyrinth AU piece, this time with Bruno. Bc I can. I have an idea for literally every fucking character in this Au so rip y’all who don’t like it
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: razors, blood, deception, ocean, implied drowning??
It was a lot easier when you weren’t traveling alone. You felt yourself smiling a lot more, happier more of the time. Your travels didn’t feel like a chore, and there was someone to watch your back, finally. Of course, it wasn’t always like that.
When you first met Bruno, you had bumped into him while traveling through a large desert-like portion of the maze, ready to drop dead of thirst and exhaustion. Bruno found you and hauled you out of that wretched place, and although the two of you were suspicious of each other, the idea that the other was not a beast in disguise still not completely at bay, you agreed that if the two of you were ever to meet again in this terrible place, you would exchange the knowledge you had learned while you were apart. It seemed amicable, at least.
It must’ve been weeks before the two of you found yourselves in the same place again, this time bumping into each other while lost in the Great Dio’s Maze of Roses, a terrible place where the awful beast would entrap people in a maze full of thrones Rose bushes, taller than any wall constructed by man, only to wait for them to collapse from exhaustion and allow him to drain their bodies of all blood. Some even said that he could suck out their very soul, ending the cycle of deaths and resetting. The two of you made a deal to help each other evade the terrible Beast, hoping that if there were two of you, you could work as the other’s support from falling into despair. The two of you only barely scraped past, Bruno getting the idea to set some of the brush on fire in order to escape, letting Dio get lost in the smoke. For a moment, you actually had lost Bruno in the smoke too, leaving the Rose Labyrinth by yourself, and you had a twinge of fear. It wasn’t as if you cared about Bruno, but you didn’t wish the fate of being Dio’s snack upon anyone. When you heard his coughing, you felt yourself sigh in relief, going over to him as he leaned on you for support.
“Bastard… Sorry, you know how Beasts like to talk. He was willing to drown in the smoke just if it meant that I would drown with him.”
And since then, both of you quite convinced that the other wasn’t a beast in disguise, there was a mutual pact to travel together. It wasn’t spoken at first, simply the idea that both of you “happened to be heading this way.” But after a few days of stubbornness on your part, and kind gestures on Bruno’s, you relented and agreed the two of you would become partners in your journey to the exit.
And then, you got to know Bruno, got to actually know him as a person and not another face on your journeys. You had to admit, he was a handsome man, tall and muscular, with black hair he tied back to feel from falling into his face.
“I was a fisherman before all this. I’d like to get back, I’m sure that there are people waiting for me back home.” He would tell you as the two of you sat around a fire, hoping that the gray would get just a bit darker so it would be easier to sleep. “I’m sort of missing the ocean at this point.”
Bruno was an open, honest person. He would tell you exactly how he felt, listening to you ready to squabble about what direction the two of you were to take, only to give you a calm reply, telling what he thought. He was always able to convince you, and you sort of hated that about him. Bruno really was a born leader, but you were stubborn. He would relent a few times, when he thought it wasn’t important, like what the two of you should have for dinner or the type of tinder for the fire. It wasn’t until the incident with the Blood Beast that you started to realize that you might be in too deep with your feelings about Bruno.
He had saved you. You had gotten upset with the man and rushed head first into a beast’s maze, not realizing you were heading right into his den before your limbs started to freeze up, before you started to cough up metal scrap mixed with blood.
“Foolish little human, running straight into my maw…” You heard the terrible thing growl, and god, you thought this was it. This was the end, and it was going to be a painful one. But right as you were about to give up, to give in and hope that you would awaken at the beginning quickly, Bruno was able to throw some rocks to distract the beast, before grabbing you and starting to drag you off. Of course, it only took moments for the Blood Beast to realize what had happened, but apparently in the time where you were left coughing up razors, Bruno had used his knot tying skills to work and left a snare for the beast, grinning as he heard the pained yelp as the Beast ended up trapped upside down. Bruno easily scooped you up into his arms, running off with you and back out into the open wilds of the Labyrinth.
“What were you doing, rushing into there like that?! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Bruno fussed as he laid you down, moving to grab the meager first aid supplies the two of you had in one of your packs.
“I would’ve come back… It’s fine, you put yourself in danger just to get me… That was pretty stupid of you, to be honest…” You tried to reason, just shrugging yourself off. You were right. You would’ve been fine in the end, your death would have been one of many you’ve experienced at this point, but Bruno just gripped your hand.
“Don’t say that. If you died, we probably would never see each other again. And I honestly don’t think I could bear that, Tesoro.” Bruno’s voice was low, genuine, and you couldn’t help but gasp. In all your stupidity and stubbornness, Bruno was always there for you, always helping you when you fell down, that you couldn’t help but tear up.
“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” You couldn’t get another word out, your tears becoming too heavy and you buried your face into Bruno’s chest. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to do, before finally wrapping his arms around you.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you (Y/N).... You’re okay now, he won’t be able to reach us out here….” Bruno’s voice was soothing and warm, something you could attach to, keep close with. He was real, not like this constantly changing Labyrinth the two of you were trapped in. Your worst fear was being realized, finally. You were in love with Bruno, with a man you had met in the middle of hell.
“Let’s rest here for the evening. You need to rest.” Bruno told you, pulling you off him to set up camp. You whimpered, looking over him with wide eyes.
“But… We haven’t made any progress today, I don’t want to be the reason we’re being held back…” You mumbled, only for Bruno just to sigh, giving you a sad smile.
“I don’t care about that. You need to rest, and that’s all that matters.” He told you. You nodded, your heart warming up as you laid back down, shocked and pleased at being taken care of. Of having someone else to rely on, to not have to constantly be afraid for your life. That night, you slept in Bruno’s arms. It was the best sleep you’ve ever had in this hell.
Your travels became a lot happier after that. You became a lot more pleasant to travel with on your end, and you were honestly the happiest you had ever been on this journey. In turn, you also became a lot bolder, willing to take more risks if it meant moving forward, much to Bruno’s distress. When the two of you reached a shore of what appeared to be an endless ocean, you just smiled and looked around until you found a broken down sailboat.
“Oh, we could totally fix this and get through the sea! Come on, help me take a closer look!” You called, running over to the small vessel and finding only a few small holes and the two of you could easily patch up.
“I don’t know… We don’t know what kind beast’s lair we’re walking into out there. Plus, I’ve never even heard of an ocean in the Labyrinth.” Bruno pointed out, but you just smiled.
“Which could mean that we’re looking at the exit right here. I mean, come on, I really have the instinct that we’re getting close to something big! Besides, I’ve read Moby Dick. I know how to deal with sea monsters.” You grinned. Bruno just sighed.
“I don’t know…” He looked out at the ocean, but you just leaned against him, entwining your fingers with his.
“Come on. You’re the best sailor I know, I know if we’re together, we can do anything.” You told him. He just rolled his eyes, but you knew that Bruno was smiling.
“I’m the only sailor you know.”
“Making you the best! Come on, how about this? You work on the boat, and I’ll collect food and try to make a harpoon in case we do actually meet a sea monster. If we think the preparations are good by tomorrow morning, we go, if not, we’ll find another path. Deal?” You told him. Finally, Bruno sighed and leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek.
“You always know how to wear me down into saying yes, don’t you?” He teased. You just grinned.
“It’s a gift! Now come on, I want to find a good stick for my harpoon.” You told him, pulling away to go hunting for that sweet stick. Bruno just laughed and got to work.
The two of you worked into the night, but as the time grew near, it seemed like the two of you were finally ready. He had repaired the canvas sails using thread from old clothing he had found, fashioned driftwood into oars, the whole works. You grinned as you saw it, your bag loaded up with food and your stick nice and sharp. You’re doing great.
“Alright, look at us. A couple of sailors, about to take the ocean!” You grinned, pulling your shoes off and throwing them onto the boat so as to not get them wet.
“Why am I already regretting this?” Bruno sighed, though he was smiling at how excited you were. He helped you push off the boat, the two of you climbing in without much trouble.
And it really was smooth sailing. Bruno commented on how favorable the wind was, showing you exactly how to steer and position the sails, before fixing it into position and letting you watch as you saw fish swim under your small boat, watching the land behind you disappear into nothingness. The two of you were really in the middle of nowhere. In a sense, it was wonderful, to see nothing but the ocean around the two of you, watching the ocean beneath you allow your passage, shifting from blues to purples. Another mystery of the Labyrinth you would never be able to explain. It was a long journey, but Bruno was eventually able to set it to move forward, only getting up to adjust if the wind where to change, which wasn’t often. The two of you simply sat and watched the endless sea. You could really get lost out here. In a way, you did.
It wasn’t until the two of you spotted a small island that you perked up, grinning.
“Bruno! Bruno, look! Isn’t it amazing? It’s not an exit, but we might be able to find something there!” You told him, getting up and moving to adjust the sails to try and land, but Bruno grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.
“Let me handle it, landing without damaging the boat is a heavy task. Mark the island on the map, it might be important.” He told you, and you immediately relaxed, turning to look through your bags for the map. You trusted Bruno entirely. After all, he would never hurt you. He would never lie to you. If only you weren’t so trusting that you didn’t look up to see the tentacles surrounding the boat.
“Tesoro, I’m so sorry I had to do things like this.” You turned to ask what on earth he meant, before Bruno lunged at you, wrestling you down onto the wooden floor of the boat. You screamed out, squirming and trying to struggle. Bruno has never been this strong, his nails never this sharp, his eyes never this wild. When you looked into them, a fear you never even had was realized, Bruno’s eyes reflecting the ever changing colors of the ocean in a way that only one creature’s could. A Beast.
“No, no! Let me go, this isn’t real! What did you do to Bruno?!” You cried out, trying to squirm out of the terrible grasp of this beast in Bruno’s place.
“Please, calm down Tesoro. It’s me, it’s always been me. I’m so sorry I had to lie to you like this, I never meant to hurt you. Please, you’re breaking my heart.” He crooned, and at one point, that might’ve been enough to calm you. But you knew those words were meant to twist you up, meant to calm you, even though you had the instinct that they were true.
“Breaking your heart?! You lied to me, made me believe you were a human being, all to eat me! You’re not just a beast, you’re a monster! I hate you, I really do hate you!” You screamed, only for Bruno to growl, his claws digging into your wrists.
“You don’t hate me. I know you love me. I know it.” Bruno’s voice was scaring you, his teeth growing sharper by the minute. His grip loosened when you finally whimpered out in pain, blood being drawn at your wrists. He took a deep breath, attempting to explain himself. “I didn’t lie, I was human when you first met me, honest to god. I changed in the Rose garden. That encounter with the beast was enough to turn me into one, it seemed. At first, I didn’t know what I would do. I was in despair over losing my humanity, over losing my chance to leave this place. But…” Bruno reached a hand to run along your cheek, wiping a tear you didn’t know you shed.
“You kept my soul human. You’re my salvation, (Y/N). When the Blood Beast almost had you, I realized that I could never let go. When we reached the ocean, I realized that this was meant to be my territory. That once I entered into it, I would never be able to escape it. But… You’ll be here with me. You’ll be here, with me, forever!” Bruno’s smile was terrifying, leaving you just to gulp. He was a beast, alright, and one of the most terrifying you had ever met.
“B-Bruno… I love you, I really do, but you have to let me go… I have to escape here. I can’t spend the rest of my life in this Labyrinth.” You told him, but Bruno only smiled and shook his head.
“Oh, Tesoro. Now that I have you, I’ll never let you go. I love you. If you’re here, I’ll be able to survive an eternity in this ocean. It’ll be a paradise of our own making.” Bruno declared. The tentacles that came from under the ship started to tear it apart, leaving wood chips in its wake as Bruno pulled you under the water, pressing his lips against yours. There was nothing you could do to resist as the two of you began to sink into the icy depths. The last thing you saw before you fell into another slumber was Bruno’s eyes, ever changing and always adoring.
They were as black as the depths he pulled you into.
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Wolf, Bat, & Rat || Ariana & Harsh
TIMING: During Sweet Dreams POTW
PARTIES: @notsoharsh & @letsbenditlikebennett
SUMMARY: Ariana and Harsh run into each other while looking at knives. No wrong assumptions are made and no rat kings show up in the store.
Humans and their fucking birthdays. Why did they even make such a big deal about them? Well, maybe when they only had about forty of them to look forward too, they were more important. Harsh didn’t care much about his own, he had forgotten when it was some hundred years ago. It didn’t matter. He kept track of the years in a vague sense, but after two hundred had gone by, the precise number was less and less important. The gap between 29 and 30 seemed much bigger than the one between 262 and 263. But Kaden was closer to the former, so he needed some kind of present. Something nice, something he could probably use to kill people. That’s what hunters liked, right? Harsh didn’t really know where to start. He had picked the store at random. Their stuff looked relatively high end, decent knives at least. The door at the bell rang, new customer probably. Harsh let his eyes drift over. Huh, she looked kind of young to be checking out weapons, but… she could be a hunter, they started young. He didn’t pay her much mind, instead keeping his attention focused on the knives lining the wall before him. This would be a lot easier if he had any idea where to start. “I wish these things had better labels,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
If how things were going lately was a sign of anything, Ariana was about 95% sure she was cursed and she was almost positive the mimes had something to do with it. Every time she actually needed to use all the random shit that seemed to be popping up around town lately, it conveniently vanished from her pocket like she was in some sort of nightmare. Sure, she had other assets she could rely on, but she couldn’t just casually turn into a wolf in the middle of town. Or maybe she could. It’s not like she’d be the craziest thing anyone was seeing. There was another man over by the knives, but she mostly minded her business looking over the non-silver knives until she heard him speak. She looked to him with an amused grin on her face and joked, “You mean, you can’t tell what type of metal it is just by looking?” She picked up one of the ones in front of him and ignored the mild irritation from the silver before placing it back down. “Are you looking for something in particular? I’m no expert, but I have a decent enough idea of what I’m looking at.”
Oh shit, this kid actually knew something. She probably was a hunter then. Harsh gave the blade another look. It did look kind of silvery. God, he needed to be better about this. He had never really cared about the kind of wood stakes were made out of as long as they weren’t pointed his way. But he should. He flashed her a sheepish smile and shrugged. “They all kind of look the same to me. I go more on the weight and feel. Knives aren’t really my area, I’m looking for a friend. He’s got a birthday coming up and he’s really into all this stuff.” Harsh gestured to the wall, which was almost entirely covered in hunter tools. Really, he should have been more careful walking into this place. They didn’t have a wall for stakes, but he wouldn’t be surprised if there were tons in the back just waiting for slayers to ask. “What about you? Is this where cool kids hang out after school now?” She looked young… ish. He had never been great at guessing human ages even when he was one. She was sort of small, but that could mean anything. Maybe high school? Middle school age? That was probably a weird thing to ask. There weren’t any parents trailing after her waxing on and on about silver and cold iron, so she was probably at least old enough to walk around town without a babysitter. When did they stop babysitting kids now… twelve? Maybe she was twelve.
Judging by the lack of knife knowledge, Ariana felt herself relax a bit as she realized this man was decidedly not a hunter. Especially not a werewolf hunter. While her luck with hunters and winning them over was going, odds are the ones shopping for knives would be plenty eager to stab her. Which was something she largely preferred to avoid. She laughed a bit and said, “You’re valid. Do you know what type of knives your friend normally goes for? What does he like besides knives? Some of the engravings really give extra personality.” It dawned on her that Kaden had a birthday coming up pretty soon. She was, after all, nearly done with the final touches on his gift. What were the odds this random guy was friends with Kaden? He looked like he was maybe about Kaden’s age, but it was hard to tell. She’d still probably pick something she knew Kaden would probably like and hoped it wasn’t going to a werewolf hunter who would actually use it on her. Or one of her friends. She refrained from sighing as she picked up another nice looking knife that slightly irritated her skin. The remark about after school made her laugh a bit. “Oh yeah,” she joked, “Knives are the new makeup because why should your looks be the only thing that kill?”
Glancing at the selection, Harsh carefully picked up a blade. It was… very shiny. Great. Wait, the label there said silver. That might be good. He cast a glance at the kid. If she was a hunter, she would probably know what he was after as soon as he tried to get specific. “I think he’s a fan of silver or iron. It’s tough, he’s got a lot already, but that’s a good point. Maybe I could get one of these engraved for him. I should get one with stripes, he would hate that,” he said, with a soft laugh as he set the knife back down. Maybe he was going about this all wrong. Kaden had knives, he had weapons. And lately he seemed… less than enthusiastic when they talked about hunting. But what the hell else did hunters need? “You mean killing a guy with eyeliner isn’t enough now? Damn, kids have it rough these days,” he said, shaking his head. He picked up another knife, faintly trying to test the weight of it. It felt even, nice and balanced. That was probably good, even if he wasn’t sure what the hell it was best used on. Maybe he should just get Kaden something he could drink instead. “You here for knives too? Or are you more of a crossbow person?” He glanced at the kid again, she seemed nice enough… probably harmless. Or as harmless as any hunter ever was. If she was one. Hunters really needed to wear nametags or something.
This man was clearly going for hunter metals which wasn’t the most comforting thought, until he mentioned the stripes. Ariana grimaced at the thought of stripes and how she had almost been stuck with them. You ghost one mime on Tinder and suddenly they were all out to get you… or maybe they realized she also ate one of them once. Not that it really mattered. “Silver or iron, huh? And stripes… someone who likes silver and iron knives, but hates stripes. Wouldn’t also happen to be grumpy and French, would he?” Was this one of Kaden’s friends? If she helped pick a knife for Kaden, it was a lot less likely to end up in her own side. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but her brow raised in question all the same. She picked up another one of the silver ones despite the minor rash beginning to form on her hands. It had some nicer designs along the handle though she wasn’t sure how much Kaden really cared for aesthetics outside of his hair and pies. The smile that thought started only grew as this man joked around with her. “I know, it’s a tragedy… or maybe not, I’ve never been great with makeup. Knives are a little more straight-forward.” Not as much as teeth and claws, but they did the job. And were a lot less obvious. She handed the knife over the man and made sure to not show her now slightly irritated palm. “Nah, I was actually looking for the candy store,” she said with a smirk before she gave the real answer, “But yeah, never know when you’re gonna get attacked by a mime or some shit in this town. I can throw a hell of a punch, but… better safe than sorry. And yes, I do know how to use a knife. Both for cooking and as a weapon.” She realized they were having a pretty good back and forth, so she added, “I’m Ari, by the way.”
French? Harsh blinked. It was a small town after all. A smile snuck onto his face as he nodded. “He is. Although, I think he’s faking, I speak French better than he does. I bet he’s Canadian French,” he said, voice dropping slightly, as if conveying a deep secret. So she knew Kaden. That figured. Well, as far as hunters went, he wasn’t so bad. Huh, the more he looked at this kid, the more she kind of looked like Kaden. Shit, how old was Kaden? If this kid was twelve… Kaden could’ve had a kid young. Humans did that sometimes. Her not being all French was weird, but maybe she grew up here. Shit, why didn’t Kaden ever tell him he had a kid? “Oh yeah, the mimes are a real hazard, gotta keep an eye on them. Y’know, the first time I ever met Kaden, we got attacked by one. Good times.” He took the knife, testing the weight. It seemed fine too. Maybe a little unbalanced. “I’m Harsh, nice to meet you. I don’t think Kaden’s mentioned you before, but I get it. Probably doesn’t want you hanging around his hunting buddies. Do you take after him?” If she was a hunter, she was still dangerous, even if she was just a kid. Maybe her mom was normal though. That would be just like a hunter, train them young even if they don’t get the hunter powers.
Making fun of Kaden? Ariana decided she liked this man already. That paired with the fact she could practically hear Kaden cursing in French at the thought of this whole conversation. It brought a devious grin to her face as she agreed, “You know, I always knew his French accent sounded phony. And he does talk about poutine a lot.” Another knife caught her eye as it had a nice leather cover for the blade. She picked it up and it reminded her eerily of one of Celeste’s which probably meant it was good though it wasn’t the most comforting thought. Clearly this guy knew Kaden was a hunter though, why else would he be gifting him knives for his birthday? Still, he didn’t seem ready to use one of the knives on her and didn’t quite have a feel for them so that pointed to the conclusion that he probably couldn’t detect her no matter how many times that fun little paranoid thought popped right on up. “That sounds like the worst first meeting ever, but for Kaden, that doesn’t surprise me. I think we’ve both pissed the mimes off at this point. Talk about silent but deadly.” Then it came, he indicated he was one of Kaden’s hunting buddies and boy was he fucking right. Kaden didn’t want her hanging around his hunting buddies. Probably because a good chunk of them would want to kill her. And wait-- did this Harsh guy just ask if she took after him? Did he think Kaden was her dad or something? How old did he think she was? Actually, this probably wasn’t a bad rouse to keep up. “Nice to meet you, Harsh,” she said brightly, maybe even a little too much so, “You know Kaden, that sounds about right. He can be a little protective. But yeah, you could say that I take after him. We’re both pretty good at taking down beasts… and mimes. What about you?” Way better for this hunter to think she was a beast hunter than a werewolf, right?
“Right? He’s definitely just from Quebec.” Kaden was going to hate this. Harsh couldn’t stop grinning. This kid was pretty okay. He had never cared much for kids one way or the other. They weren’t really an option for him personally and a lot of them kinda seemed annoying, but Ari was alright. And she seemed to be buying the hunter thing so far, so that was a big plus. “It wasn’t great. The mime looked just like him. Worst date ever. Uh, not that it was a date. Cause dating Kaden would be gross.” That was close, good save. It hadn’t been a date, not really. Harsh had maybe been angling for that beforehand, but Kaden hadn’t gotten the hint. And it was old news anyway. Plus, his kid probably wouldn’t want to hear about that. Better to move on and just not talk about that. “I’m alright with mimes. I do better with bloodsuckers. Which is why I’m a little lost here with the knives. I usually stick to stakes. And usually it doesn’t matter too much what kind of material those are made out of.” There were a few exceptions to that, as he had learned. This whole ‘fake slayer’ thing took a lot more research than he would have expected. He had to actually sound like he knew what he was talking about. Such a pain. He picked up another knife. Looked like silver too, with a little wolf etched into the hilt. That seemed offensive somehow. Maybe Kaden would like it. “He’s a good guy, I feel like I should get him something nice. But you know him better than me. Do you think he already has enough knives?” He probably did. What else did Kaden like? Maybe something obnoxiously French. Harsh frowned, brow furrowed as he tried to think. It was hard with that soft, weird noise coming from the back of the store. Something was squeaking up a storm back there. He glanced over the counter. “Do you hear something?”
“Someone better update his Yelp reviews,” Ariana quipped in response. The smile on her face only grew. Even when he wasn’t around, there was something fun about messing with Kaden. It was probably all the French swearing. Then, here eyes widened like saucers when Harsh said the word date. Kaden had gone on a date with this guy? What? It dawned on her she didn’t actually know how long he and Regan had been dating, but it was definitely as long as she had known him. Clarification soon came albeit in a manner that wasn’t the most convincing, but she’d take it at face value. The moon knew she didn’t always say the right fucking thing. “Oh yeah, the fucking mime twins. Those were the worst. I had to e-,” she cut herself off quickly and tried to recover, “Fight my mime twin, too. She wasn’t cute. But hey, Kaden’s not totally gross. He makes good pie. Still mimes are not a fun way to meet.” The last bit came out a bit rushed as she literally almost told a hunter that she ate her mime twin. Ate. Not stabbed or shot. Ate. A very distinctly werewolf thing to do. Good going, Bennett. There was a slightly puzzled look on her face about her knowing Kaden better but she decided to go with it. “He does enjoy a nice knife though I think the wolf may be a little too… not in good taste,” she noted biting back any hint of anger the knife made her feel, “He really likes baking, too. And flannel. I think a knife fits though-- for your friendship with him since you know, hunting buddies. Gifts aren’t so much about what they are as much as they’re about who they remind you of.” A chorus of squeaking caught her off guard and her head whipped over to make out what the sound was as she caught wind of an animal-like smell. “I definitely hear something,” she said as she followed the sound as she heard a scream, “Oh, what the fuck?” Was that… a bunch of rats? That seemed to be morphing into a larger, scarier rat? “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’re in a knife store,” she said, gripping the knife she had in her hand still as she lunged toward the rat monster.
Why had he said it like that? In front of Kaden’s fucking kid too. It didn’t matter that Harsh had maybe thought the meeting was a little more than it actually was. That was so far in the past. Kaden was his buddy, against every rational thought and hint of self preservation he had. And now here he was, chatting with his daughter. When the hell had his life turned into some kind of bullshit sitcom? But it probably wasn’t going to have a great season ender if they ever figured out the real reason he could never grab a round of drinks down at the local hunter bar. “Shit, you had one too?” Maybe that was a family thing. “I killed Kaden’s. Which was… kind of horrifying.” Harsh found himself frowning, a little annoyed at how that wasn’t quite a lie. Which was fucking strange. He didn’t actually care about Kaden. That soulless gaping void inside wouldn’t let him. But there was no thrill in the rearview mirror, no rush at the thought of taking out something that even looked like a hunter. Hell, talking to this kid, there was no urge to take the knife in his hand and see if it worked just as well on hunters as it did on wolves. That should be there. But… nothing. The idea was actually… not pleasant if he let it sit there. Weird. He was getting soft in his old age maybe. “Yeah, no on the wolf then,” he said, setting the knife down. “Flannel might be good. You think they have any plaid knives?” The squeaking was getting louder and weirder until the mound of twisting, shrieking rats burst in. Oh. Gross. It figured even the pests couldn’t just be normal here. “Shit--” This kid was definitely a hunter. Someday he would hang out with someone who’s first instinct wasn’t to launch themself at the closest source of horror as soon as it walked into a room. Oh well. Harsh snatched up the blade he had just set down, rushing after Ariana. He slashed, cutting through a few rats twisted up in the growing snarling mass. But some of them were way more than rat sized. One nearly Ariana’s size leapt at her. Harsh moved without thinking, taking a mouth of sharp teeth to the arm. “Fucking rats--we can’t stab all of them. There’s gotta be something--”
“Yep,” Ariana said matter of factly, “And damn, talk about a first meeting. At least you got rid of his mime.” She was pretty sure Celeste had also encountered Kaden’s mime twin. At least from what she was able to gather from her sister. It was just a relief to be past the point where everyone had their own murderous mime twin out for blood. Stripes and murder looked good on no one. Briefly, her focus shifted back to knives and she laughed at the idea of a plaid one, “A flannel knife, now that’d be unique. Maybe they have a flannel cover for one? Or maybe you just get one engraved to say ‘putain’ along the handle or something.” All talk of knives was gone now as she found herself lunging toward a… pile of rats? Even with her sharp senses, it was hard to get a read on how this rodent mob was moving. Every way it jerked was erratic and had a tendency to take shelves down with it. Great. At least Harsh was following given he was a hunter. A hunter and a werewolf could definitely take on a bunch of rats magically tied together, right? As a rat leapt toward her, she found Harsh intervening and her grip on the knife in her hand tightened. They seemed to move together with purpose, but so chaotically she couldn’t keep up with their next move. She took a step back, kicking one on her way for good measure, “I mean, we could stab all of them, we just might also end up scratched to all hell,” she said incredulously, “I’ve never seen something like this before, but maybe, I know Kaden used fire on a hedgehound before. Since there’s so many, it may be more effective than, well, sta- Ow!” Apparently the rats didn’t like her idea and were nipping at her ankle. The one time she didn’t wear high topped boots. She lifted her foot up to stomp on the ones at her foot, “Fuck off you stupid rat,” she grumbled as she refrained from letting out a more animalistic sound. A wolf was not about to be taken down by a bunch of rats. She was a wolf, for fuck’s sake. For good measure, she kept her knife drawn. “You got a lighter? I’ve got some spray deodorant in my backpack if the- I swear on Post Malone’s life if you don’t stop trying to bite my feet I’m going to turn this joint into a rat barbecue.”
It was probably better to leave out the part where a second weird mim Kaden had walked in the door just after the last one was dispatched. That made him sound a whole lot cooler anyway. If there was a way to be cool when fighting some kind of horrifying mime clone. Harsh certainly hadn’t felt cool at the time. He also very much did not feel cool now. The rat that had sunk its teeth into him was a persistent little fucker, taking at least three sharp stabs before it finally let go and dropped to the floor. Jerking back, he kept the knife in front of him slashing at any of the vermin that tried to leap at them. “Yeah, I’d like to look for a plan B. There’s too many of these fucking things.” Should he be swearing in front of her? Whatever, Kaden cursed like a French sailor, he probably wouldn’t care. So not the time to worry about that crap. Kids seemed more desensitized to that now anyway. She probably heard a lot worse at school. “Fire? That could work. Hang on.” As luck would have it, he did have a lighter on him. Harsh didn’t smoke much, not breathing made it sort of hard, but it never hurt to have a light and a few extra smokes on him just in case. Plus, it made him look cool. Aesthetic was important, even if he couldn’t see himself in the mirror. He fumbled at his jacket pockets, finding the lighter and pulling it free. “Here, this should work.” Even as he said it, he couldn’t stop glancing around, looking for something bigger than a knife. There was an axe on the far wall. It probably wouldn’t do much more than the blades, but maybe they could hack the mass of rats apart if the fire didn’t take care of them first.
Anyone else visiting the shop had long since cleared out. Ariana could hardly blame them. She would much rather be far away from whatever the fuck his rat atrocity was. It was hard to keep track of its movements as tails, claws, and fur scurried around her. Which was bullshit. A pile of rats attacking a wolf. While Ariana didn’t necessarily consider herself to be inherently better than others, it really wasn’t too much to ask that rodents and produce knew their place in the food chain. It took a concentrated effort to keep her claws in place and not accidentally go a little wolf-y in front of this hunter guy who thought she was a hunter. At least she could still stab the little shits and she did as they lunged toward her again. “Too many is an understatement,” she grumbled as she just barely dodged more tiny yet surprisingly fucking sharp teeth. “Hanging on here but quicker we get some fire the better,” she said as she kept swatting at rats with her knife. Once the lighter was out, she grabbed it and directed, “Watch my back for a minute.” She fumbled around in her backpack momentarily before pulling out the spray can filled with deodorant she had on her for rainy days. Here goes nothing. She held the lighter up far away from her and carefully aimed the spray nozzle toward the slew of rats charging her. “Harsh, keep your distance,” she said quickly and confidently before she pressed down on the spray nozzle causing a large frame to hit the rats… And singed her fingers, but that hardly mattered. A storm of squeaks erupted through the shop followed closely by the pungent smell of burning rats. She stood her ground and tried to concentrate the flame toward the rats, but some of the fliers and carpet were decidedly also toast. Literally. It didn’t take too long for the squeaks to fade and the rats to turn to ash. She turned to Harsh as she let out a sigh. “Something tells me we should probably ditch the scene before cops and firefighters get here.”
Of course a hunter kid would know how to make a homemade flamethrower. Not that Harsh was complaining. Hell, he should have been taking notes. He ducked back, staying well clear of the flames. They did the trick, quieting the squeaking a little gruesomely. If he were human, the smell of burning rats probably would’ve turned his stomach. Grimacing at the pile of ash, he nodded. “Yeah, don’t really want to stick around to explain this. C’mon, lets head out the back.. Less questions that way,” he said, already making for the door. It looked like whoever was supposed to be running the store had headed out when the rats made their way in, leaving the back door wide open. Either that or… maybe the rats ate them. Probably better not to think about it. He shot Ariana a grin. “It was cool meeting you. I’ll see you around, yeah? Hopefully… with less killer rat piles next time.”
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enemies-to-lovers!hendery
request: Could I request an angsty enemies to lovers AU with Hendery or Ten? Thank you so much for posting your writing
others: lucas | yuta | renjun | jisung
it all started probably at some university party where a mutual friend or a friend of a friend introduced everyone in a group
since there were so many people, there wasn’t a lot of interaction to go on
but what you did know was that the dude named hendery???
yeah the most obnoxious person you’d ever met
and he thought you were the most judgmental person he’d ever met
to be fair his rowdiness comes with the friends he has nearby you’re bound to be the same way with yours
but it just seemed like he was so over the top and loud and it was annoying how you couldn’t have a conversation with your friends when he was literally screaming across the room
at the same time, however, hendery isn’t appreciative of your dramatic groans and eye rolls whenever he does anything and he feels so restricted from basically getting to have fun
and putting the both of the together in the same room is a chemical reaction that leads to an explosion
it basically started at that party and y’all were having fun and the mingling of groups was happening where everyone was getting to know each other
y’all didn’t really interact during the party besides hanging around the general area
but that didn’t stop you from giving each other the slight stink eye, which may have started on your part when he accidentally spilled some drink on your friend’s pants
and he thought nothing of it so he assumed you were just a stick in the mud and thought it was dumb you were there to cramp on his fun
obviously you hadn’t added each other on social media, so when hendery was doing something especially dumb you smirked and had been recording it
in all fairness it had started with you recording one of your friend’s rants about how nobody treats them right and how they deserve the perfect lover but there’s just trash people and their trash lists of who’s the best kisser or whatever
but all of a sudden your camera had switched to hendery’s group of friends where he was standing on top of a table and slipped off due to all of the snacks and drinks spilled on it
he ended up getting caught by his friends before he got hurt, but he clonked heads with one of them and was wincing while the others laughed or were more focused on whether or not he was okay
you were chuckling to yourself and captioned it ‘bet he doesn’t have any braincells if this is what keeps happening... makes sense alrdy tho 💀💀’
and you thought nothing of it until the next morning you’d woken up to a couple of messages and whatnot
you’d been debating whether or not you wanted to go to the bathroom and check later on during lunch after you spent some time to yourself but you chose to continue laying in bed and read through everything
a couple of the typical ‘what was the homework’, ‘lunch?’, and ‘did you know that this happened...’ type of things
but what caught your eye was the ‘hey, did you know that you have a bounty on your head rn?’
you were so confused because you had no clue what that was supposed to mean and typed back a simple ???
and one of your friends ten responded back pretty quickly and he was just like yeah, hendery apparently hates your guts rn so i suggest don’t run into him
you’re just like????? hUH????? who?????
he sends you a picture of himself and a whole group of others and he’s just like furthest dude on the left
you squint at your phone because wow ten you could have chosen a better picture or maybe screenshotted something huh
however once you recognize him, you’re like UH???? KnUcKLeheAD?
ten’s just like yeahh, apparently he found out about your story and has been asking everyone who you are
someone must have told him because ten sent you a screenshot of the story hendery posted that captioned your story with smth like
‘this person rlly don’t have anything better to do besides play therapist for their friends at a p a r t y :///’
you’re gaping at the message and it’s so bad you sit up from bed so fast with your phone in the tightest grip
like what??? and followed by that there’s another screenshot of another story that basically was some poll or something about whether or not you were fun or some lame-o
you were fuming at that and saw the username in the stories ten sent you and basically looked him up and found out who hendery was
your phone was practically thrown to the other side of the bed as you got ready for the day
part of you was so confused as to who sent him the story but you were also really confused as to why he’d just project you onto his as if you’d see it (which you did soooo)
and you found yourself complaining to your friends about it like who would do that??? it was a joke anyways and plus why does he care when you barely know each other???
they’re all on your side of it too since most of them had met hendery that same night or only knew a couple of the other guys and him by extension
your food was feeling your wrath as you chewed on it and your friends tried to find a different subject to talk about
“hey, did you transfer classes like you wanted?
you finally smile at that and give a satisfied hum to them
“yep, i finally got out of that blasted quantum mechanics class or whatever”
“why were you in that anyways?????”
you shrug and it’s just confusing to you because you were trying to get an elective course in but they decided to put you in a big science class where people with big brains and bigger egos liked to flex their knowledge and lord it over you when you didn’t understand
“doesn’t matter!! i’m in advanced hip hop dancing now! no more 8am lectures about one dimensional applications anymore”
“but you still have to wake up at 8am to walk across campus to the theatre rooms?”
“it doesn’t matter if you like what you do”
which was the best part since you took hip hop last semester and had some background in dancing before, so the instructor suggest you move to intermediate
but the worst part was the voice you heard behind you
“oh no way in-”
you whipped around and saw the shocked and irritated look on the one and only hendery
“you!” you pointed your fork accusingly at him and he has the audacity to look offended and point both hands at himself
“me???”
“yeah you! who are you to put me on blast to social media even though i’m a total stranger to you?”
“exCUSE ME?????!! the same goes to YOU!”
“tHE sAmE GoES tO YOu. it was a joke, especially by someone you barely know!!!! i didn’t want to have to see your face first thing in the morning to find out you got butthurt because you bonked your head as a kid and wanted to reenact that??”
hendery almost revolts backwards and holds a finger up
“first of all? do you think i’m happy about getting to see you first thing in the morning either??? and do you think i’d be happy seeing you at 8am every other day?”
you quickly put two and two together and you’re clenching your teeth
“you don’t mean-”
“yeah, see you in advanced hip hop, lame-o”
you (and practically the entire lunch room alkfnskfn) are left in shock as hendery takes his leave without even ordering food
you sit there in shock and think all of a sudden you might not like hip hop anymore
and you’re complaining about it to ten as he sits across from you at dinner, a couple hours after your lunch and having enough time to sit on it
“i should have taken modern dancing with you........ or maybe even ballet 3 with sicheng?”
ten only laughs and you scowl as he attempts to keep his snickers quiet
“you wouldn’t have lasted more than two days. you’d be itching to get your feet moving faster than they can get their toes pointed”
you roll your eyes because he’s right. one of the best parts of dancing hip hop was that you felt you could lose control of yourself in a more reckless way than the other styles of dancing could
“i hate it when you’re right?”
ten smiles at you and pats your shoulder from across the table
you’re just internally screaming that you have to wake up at 8am to see hendery’s dumb face again
“why is it because i’m right so often?”
“no, because i tend to owe you money because i lost the bet”
he snickers and then offers his student id to you
you take it questioningly and he pats the hand that has the id in it
“take it out at the dance studio. they’ve closed it from regular students after 9 since someone decided it’d be funny to steal one of the mirrors”
you roll your eyes but smile gratefully at him
“gotta love TAs with their magical access for ‘tutoring hours’”
“hey they’re actually convenient for when it doesn’t fit someone’s schedule!”
you’re already walking towards the door by the time he says that and you look back cheekily
“tell me that again when you haven’t used it for a private picnic date with someone you met on tinder!”
by the time you reach the dance studio you’re absolutely giddy and so glad you wore comfortable clothing to dinner so you didn’t have to go back to change
your giddiness changed when you already saw somebody in the studio
and as fate would have it, of course hendery had to be there, jamming out to some 80s hip hop song
before you could turn around and leave, he spun around during once of the dances and opened his mouth in shock
“there is no way-”
“save it! i’m just as shocked as you are”
he huffs and turns off the music and stands with his arms folded
“well?”
“well what?”
he makes a face and over exaggerates your irritated one with a “wELl WhAt?!?!??!!!?!?”
you set your jaw and mimic his stance but the awaiting look in his eyes told you everything
“i’m not here to apologize if that’s what you’re thinking” you put a hand and put your other on your hip before he could say anything
at least he had enough respect to listen to your cue even though he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air and huffed loudly
“and even if i wanted to, i wasn’t so immature to go around asking everyone about who made me cry because they laughed when i decided to climb a table and almost fall because it was slippery”
“i didn’t cry” he’s got this childish tone to his voice and you know better than to instigate but the fiery look in his eyes only lights up one of your own
“i can give you a reason”
you don’t even realize you’ve stepped in the middle of the dance floor until he huffs out a laugh and meets you in the middle where you have your hands on your hips defiantly and a cocky smirk on your face
he hates it and you feel so powerful seeing him seethe
it only adds to your satisfaction that he ends the stare down by walking away rigidly
however it quickly melds into confusion when he turns the music on again, this time to a more recent song on the radio and one of the songs you were thinking of dancing to actually
he starts walking again, but in circles around you
he adds a spin here and there and a little kick of the leg
“what are you, constipated?”
he takes your comment in stride and backs away again to give you the floor
“you obviously came here to dance, and if you’re all talk about it then why don’t you up me one?”
“gladly”
there’s a bite in your tone but there’s even more snap in your hips
you don’t miss the way hendery’s eyes trail up and down as you flow into another move
you smirk once he trails back up to your eyes and instead of looking caught he only smirks right back
it peeves you a little how confident he looked now and he slowly clapped once you finished up another spin
“not bad for a freestyle”
you hate how much his ego has been stoked and you hate how you absolutely know how much he absolutely seemed to live for your annoyance with him
you two circled each other for a while, none of you really knowing who started moving first and why you both continued
but it was you who stepped forward first, and he responded in kind and it would have been so off putting that you both were so close
when he chuckled at your determined gaze you could practically feel his breath against your face
you felt the anger bubbling in your core once the warmth hit your cheeks
but a closer look at his eyes showed you that he was definitely affected by your snappiness with him and the irritation was practically pooling in his irises
“you know, for someone who’s in advanced hip hop you sure don’t seem good at motor functions. you could barely stand at that party”
“you know, having fun tends to have that effect. but you wouldn’t know. nobody does anything with you besides stand against a wall and try to talk over the music. there’s a reason why the lyrics are the only words you’re supposed to be hearing”
normally you’d bite your tongue and walk away or tell him he’s being the immature one once again, but those words were dumb and it mad you livid
“funny, for someone who claims to move so well yet you haven’t really shown me anything”
in a flurry of motion, hendery has grabbed your arm and spun you around so that you fall hard into his chest
you can hear a huff of effort from him as he twirls you out again and then back into him but with his hand at your waist
his cocky grin makes you almost growl at him, but you were too shocked to say anything
“cat got your tongue?”
he releases you and then dusts himself off
“you know when you want to act up.......”
he gets in your face and the cockiness as dissolved into the pure annoyance that you are already familiar with from feeling it yourself
“make sure you’re not just all talk.” he turns and grabs all his stuff, but he waves over his shoulder before he leaves “see you in class”
and oooooOOOOOH do you see him in class the next morning
the instructor has greeted you since you transferred in the class two weeks in
they were glad you decided to come in even though the class was already working on some dances and it would take a couple classes to see where you were at since it’d been a while and also with a different instructor
so..................
“hi, i’m hendery. i’m the student instructor/TA, i’ll bring you up to speed”
and GOSH did you feel so angry for waking up at 6am to have breakfast and having to walk across campus in the cold morning air just to figure out you’d have to work 1:1 with hendery for a couple of classes
and he wasn’t too happy about it either
mainly because he had some of your friends on his tail for blasting you on social media and all of a sudden it was talk of the two friend groups and even in some other circles
but while he was getting told off for being immature about it and even about being teased about his clumsiness and somewhat recklessness (which got old real fast)
you were also getting constantly teased by your “boringness” but also some people had the audacity to actually stop inviting you to some things because they thought so
little did you know hendery was sort of in the same boat because they were afraid he’d break something and when he heard that boy did he really want to
and both of your indirect interactions with each other in that method only fueled the spite you had with the direct contact with each other
the next couple of classes you purposely would hit him with an arm when you had it swung out or maybe accidentally stepping on his toes
but he was also quick to make sure to “accidentally” not teach you the full dance to a song or even give you the entirely wrong song to dance to
but the instructor assumed that it was because you were logged from all the physics shenanigans so they wanted hendery to run it through with you during class
you were practically seething over a lunch with your friends about all of this and they gave you tired glances
ten was the only one who seemed unfazed, as he was the only one in the two circles with direct connections to both of you
“i just don’t understand why this keeps happening. if he just wasn’t so immature and keeps insulting me about my way of spending time with friends then i’d stop fighting back”
“but you started it”
“we didn’t know each other, ten! it was just some light jabbing” you scoff at that because it was just so annoying at this point “besides, he was so obnoxious in the first place”
ten gives you an encouraging pat on the back
you groan and say you haven’t been able to spend a good weekend of fun in a couple of weeks thanks to wary eyes or not knowing where the parties are
“didn’t know you could have fun~”
you also smack ten but his cheeky grin lets him get away with it, like it does every time
but he soon makes up for it by giving you the location and time of another party by a friend of his and that he’d be there to hang with you
by the time you got there he was already tearing it up on the dance floor after taking one too many
he was all the more excited to see you though and had jumped into your arms happily and was laughing the whole time
“hey, you made it! you won’t believe who-”
but he was whisked away before you knew it
so you left to get something to drink on your own
somebody you vaguely knew recognized you and started chatting with you on the way
“hey, haven’t i seen you around before?”
“yeah..... i think we took physics together?”
“oh right!!!! i remember, you transferred out right?”
you knew where this was going since they obviously wanted to sound smarter in this situation
they had been your lab partner and it totally sucked to hear them complain about having someone ‘not competent enough to do anything’ as a partner
you only nod and listen to them ramble a little more, looking for someone familiar to latch onto so you could leave this conversation
until you heard
“i didn’t know you went to parties”
“uhhhh....... what made you think that?”
they shrug and they look amused to keep making jabs at you
“well, i heard you were kind of a stick in the mud. not to mention you don’t really do much at parties, so i figured it wasn’t your scene”
“what? excuse me??”
“oh. well i thought since you were a little slow in class then you wouldn’t be doing anything besides standing around. the dorm’s more your place, yeah?”
before you can go off on the dude, the person’s shoved against the wall and they’re not going anywhere
especially when hendery’s face is in theirs
“that’s enough, buddy. you’re a little harsh, no?”
they give out a nervous laugh and look around to see if anybody is going to come to their aid, but the others have decided to keep moving and ignore what’s going on
you on the other hand are shocked to find that hendery’s here, much more that he’s defending you in a sense
“whatT? didn’t you...... you know, start all of this?”
hendery rolls his eyes but shoves a little harder
you hate to say it, but you were feeling pretty proud of this
“first of all, they did”
“hey!”
“but second of all, you’ve been skating on thin ice ever since you thought it’d be funny to start insulting someone as your first interaction”
“that’s RICH coming from you” and the person’s right, but they’re also toeing the line reeeeeal far with agitating hendery
“oh yeah? i didn’t realize how much of a stuck up twerp i sounded like before i heard those words coming out of your mouth”
you merely watch on and hendery takes a glance out of the corner of his eye to look at you
there’s a hard glare in his eyes but they soften a bit once you come into sight
you’re................... confused????
but you also recognize the anger in his eyes since the person also began jabbing at hendery, so you were prepared for his next line
“by the way... you hungry?”
“huh?”
and hendery had raised his fist up and the person recoiled hard
but it never made contact.....
they timidly looked up to see the fist
he scoffed and straighted out his clothes as he backed away
“yeah, don’t act though if it’s just that. an act”
he walks away from the person and heads for you
“come on, let’s get you a drink”
you just stand there as he searches around for an empty cup and fills it with water quickly before walking you outside
you didn’t need to be pulled along to follow with him
you wanted answers
by the time you’re outside you just give him an expecting look with your eyebrows raised and he seems almost frustrated to admit his thoughts
“what, cat got your tongue this time?”
he chuckles as he remembers that one instance in the dance studio together but he hums, thinking of his next words
“i mean, i’m not sure how else to phrase it”
“i can wait. i don’t do much besides not have fun anyways”
at this he hangs his head
“okay, well i do feel bad about that. i didn’t realize how harsh those words all sounded until it was being played back to me”
“it took this long to figure out why i was upset by it and not just me being a ‘stick in the mud’?“
he nods and you can see instead of irritation.... there’s sincerity in his eyes now
a.......... sudden, but also welcome change
“yeah... well! no, not really.......... i kind of thought it was childish to keep this whole fighting thing going on, so......”
“why keep it on then?”
he shrugs and looks away, almost like he was embarrassed
“i......... really, really............. really liked the fiery look in your eyes whenever we’d bicker”
you laugh at that this time
“you thought it was hot?”
he almost whines out a “kinda!” but then groans and mumbles
your mischievous look makes him throw his hands up and he’s frustrated again but this time there’s a civil air between you two.... almost...... flirtatious
“yes! i thought it was attractive most of the way through... but even when you’re not mad..... you’re still pretty cute”
you find yourself blushing even though you’re practically glowing in amusement, but then you find yourself turning practically red when he defends himself with an almost equally red face
“and don’t lie!! i know you think i’m attractive too. i saw the way you were eyeing me when i was telling that person off. i was all macho man and you were swooning!”
“i was not!”
“i literally said don’t lie, didn’t i!”
and you keep throwing bickering comments back and forth, but it’s amusing and you both...... like it
after a while there’s a silence in between you before you make a light jab at hendery.... only this time it’s in a soft teasing kind of way
one that the both of you can stand and put smiles on your faces instead
“so you weren’t too chicken to actually land the hit?”
“shut up, i’ll fight if i have to”
“aww, even for me?”
and he’s silent at that but there’s a slight tint of pink you can make out from the lights outside
he purses his lips and decides now is the time to make the move to patch things between you two
“i still think there’s apologies left to be said”
“from both of us?”
“..... yeah”
and you hate to admit that you’ve also been super immature about it, but you’re pretty glad that it’s getting moved past now
but it was so awkward to just do this so suddenly
he notices the tension in between you and decides to make the first move
“okay........ let’s just start over..... hi, i’m hendery. i’ve seen you before. i’m the TA of your advanced hip hop class, right?”
“right! i think i can recall you staring at my butt a couple of times”
“shut up!!” he pushes you slightly but his grin tells you he’s not that shy to admit it and he’s goofing around now “besides...... can’t lie you’re kinda cute though”
and suddenly there’s a crash behind the two of you and you see ten bounding his way for you
“i cannOT believe it, wow! the two of you together and not ripping each other apart. BUT I knEW this would happen”
and you just look at each other like ?????????? huh?????
“that you would look so cUtE together!!!!! everything turned out juuuust right, like i thought it would since the beginning”
and all of a sudden you both made ten explain everything to the both of you
because ten had shared the initial stories to the other person, not thinking it’d go down like this
but most of it was forgiven since you were more distracted by hendery leaning against the railing and having that as an excuse to wrap his arm around you
and you were practically leaning into his side since it was ‘too cold outside’ while you were listening to ten ramble on and on about how his plan ended up being messy but he was living for it
while the both of you gave him an earful about how setting the two of you up could have been done where you didn’t hurt each other’s feelings for so long, he shut you up quickly with a
“oh please, you two bickered like an old married couple. with the way you guys act just get married already! some of those sparks weren’t just angry, there was some love in there too!”
“ten!”
“and do NOT get me started on the sexual tension-”
“TEN!”
#elli writes#nct#wayv#hendery#nct imagines#nct scenarios#wayv imagines#wayv scenarios#hendery imagines#hendery scenarios#nct angst#wayv angst#hendery angst#angst#neutral pronouns#enemies to lovers au
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Afterdate | UshiOi
Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Oikawa Tooru
Genre: Fluff, first date
Rating: SFW
Words: 6900+
A/N: This was for UshiOi Week (@ushioiweek2020) but I wasn't able to make the deadline. I wrote Ushijima and Tendou scenes on a writer's block, phew. Thank you to Risa for beta reading this! I owe it all to you!I have quite a number of Haikyuu one-shot ideas, including thrillers and angst, I still need to write. But uni is taking a lot of my time and I haven't fully surpassed my writer's block yet (hence, why I've been posting less and less). If you enjoyed it, don't hesitate to comment. See you on the next! Nevertheless, I hope you love the story as much as I loved writing it!
Masterlist
Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be. Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular
It was a terrible date. Until it wasn’t.
The usually loud metropolis was quiet as a wraith as Tendou and Ushijima waited for the bus home. The kiss of smooth, cold breeze enveloped them both, making Tendou shiver.
Tendou rubbed his hands on his arms as the condensation of his breath blew against the low temperature before whipping his head to the side, only to see Ushijima dart his gaze to the road, patiently waiting. He didn’t care at all about the freezing temperature, standing still as the bus finally arrived, making Tendou frown at their differences.
He would always find himself beside Ushijima as it seemed they always came in a pair. And he knew how different they were. Tendou was the lively one, while Ushijima remained as composed as ever. For a moment, he thought he’d never outdo the captain of the team, but Tendou had a girlfriend waiting for him, waiting for a message regarding his whereabouts.
That alone was enough to make him think he was ahead of the stoic captain. And as a serial dater, Tendou knows how girls turn into something else when their boyfriends don't text back in two minutes.
But when he took out his phone, it was dead.
So the horror that produced sweat on his forehead cascaded down from his neck, even in the temperature, was accompanied by a hammering chest. He knew he needed to shoot his girlfriend a message.
He was left with no choice but to ask Ushijima to borrow his phone. As he fumbled through his friend’s phone after he had no choice, something piqued his interest.
Tendou paid a short glance beside him and his mouth formed a sly smile. The shock mixed with amusement on his face was inexplicable when he saw the Tinder app on his best friend's phone. He covered his mouth to stifle a snort, careful not to wake passengers in their slumber in the back row, late at night from volleyball practice.
Ushijima directed his attention at Tendou, who was looking at him maliciously. The moment his eyes landed on the phone, he understood why.
He tried to hide his surprise, but failed miserably as he quickly tried to retrieve his phone back from Tendou.
Thanks to all the blocking techniques Tendou learned from the team, he held the phone as high as he could out of Ushijima's reach. There was no way Ushijima could retrieve his phone without pushing Tendou over and making a scene since he sat on the window side.
"Hm," Tendou teased. "Since when did you have this?"
"I don't know why it's in there. Give it back," Ushijima argued with a straight face, but the falter in his voice was enough to prove that he was lying. And he wasn't a good liar.
Tendou wiggled his brows, tilting his head. From Tendou's above peripheral, the app successfully loads, and he immediately turns his attention to it, raising it further from Ushijima's grasp.
He pressed on Ushijima's profile. Gods above, did it make him cringe, not to mention the photo Ushijima used for his profile taken about four years ago.
Ushijima, 20
Miyagi Region
"Ugh," Tendou released a sigh. "Have you ever dated anyone from here?"
Ushijima sighed, sitting straight as he set his head down, "No, I don't understand it. I only swiped, and then nothing."
So nobody swiped for him, Tendou thought, feeling both sorry and amused for his friend at the same time. He should change his picture on the app. He looks like an annoying know-it-all, 15 year old. Nobody would go for him.
"Well, that's why you have me," Tendou grinned and head-locked Ushijima. "I'm going to help you get a date!"
The volleyball captain slowly looked up at his friend, "How?"
Tendou only smiled, "Leave it to me."
All Ushijima could ever do was sigh and look over the window as the bus moved further away. He kept his eyes on the bright and warm lights of establishments outside that elongated from the bus’s movement.
He knew that fighting Tendou was futile. In all these years, he had known how the redhead always did whatever he wanted, and how he was good at getting all that. Besides, Ushijima felt too tired to argue anyway.
The continuous clicks of the camera brought his conscience back from almost spacing out. Immediately, he turned his head over to the source beside him to see a smiling Tendou holding his phone as if he’d just come up with something interesting of some sort.
“Did you know it's rude to take photos of somebody without their knowledge?”
The redhead only rolled his eyes with a grin, turning the phone over to Ushijima to show the new profile he’d arranged. "And did you know I only did that as a favor?"
His new bio now read:
Ushijima, 20
Miyagi Region
I must be in a museum because you are a work of art
The four year old photo he once had as his profile picture was now replaced with the one Tendou took.
It was Ushijima's side profile looking outside over the window. The lights of the establishments they passed through created a nostalgic aesthetic along with the slight blurriness of the photo, but never missing his straight, high nose and the sharpness of his jaw. Oh, and that aura of both seriousness and mysteriousness that Tendou knew would catch the attention of anyone who’d look at it.
Ushijima stared at the phone closely, reading the new bio Tendou wrote for him, "That doesn't feel like me at all."
Tendou ignored his friend's remark, giving the phone back to him. "Now try swiping again."
Ushijima took his phone back, observing what buttons to press as he had forgotten how to use the app between the long months since he used it. Finally, the profiles load and he's greeted with a certain boy with light brown hair looking rather cheerful in his picture.
Oikawa, 20
Miyagi Region
If nothing lasts forever, can you be my nothing? ;)
Ushijima scrunched his nose, making Tendou roll his eyes as he grabbed the phone back from him.
“You don’t just stare at it, okay?” He swipes right and a match appears, “See? You swipe and then that will appear if they like you too.”
“Why would they like me if they don’t even know me yet?” the captain asked, tilting his head to the side.
Tendou grimaced, looking a little funny at the innocent question asked of him. “They like your face, okay?” he replied. “Okay?”
*
Oikawa couldn’t remember how long he’d been talking to the brunette he met on Tinder. Yes, Ushijima was a dry texter, but for some reason, for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from talking to him. Not even when every topic shifted to thinking if they’d ever had milk from the same cow. Because Ushijima took him to a place where he only knew two things: that he couldn’t stop smiling and couldn’t stop looking forward to all his replies.
The smell of sweat and the sounds of bouncing balls and shoes scraping against the gym floor sang around Oikawa as he made himself comfortably seated all alone on the bench, taking advantage of the fifteen-minute break the coach lent the team.
He laced his phone around his nimble fingers while the other danced around the clean, white towel he used to wipe his forehead before setting it down beside him, placing it along various colored tumblers that belonged to his teammates.
Iwaizumi watched Oikawa from a distance, gulping down on his tumbler, rivulets of water running down from his lips to his Adam's apple, all the way down to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the flamboyant big shot as he lowered his drink.
He didn’t know why exactly, but there was something different about Oikawa today.
One could say that there was something quite off about the confident captain of the team. Usually, he’d be socializing with the team, or annoying Iwaizumi during breaks, but today he chose to confine himself in the corner, craving what little quiet the noisy gym could offer. Of course, underneath the winks, smiles, exaggerated swagger, and childish antics lies a much more serious persona for when a situation demands it, channeling all that bravado in his pursuit.
But what was so important that could possibly bring Oikawa’s tenacity and attention completely locked on his phone, which he hasn’t put down since the first minute? What could possibly have Oikawa on edge that he couldn’t keep his right heel from lifting and dropping over and over, restlessly?
Oikawa couldn’t stress how long he’d been waiting for Ushijima to ask him out. He wished to have Ushijima beside him, wished he could inhale his scent—and how he probably smelled of dark wood with a hint of vanilla, wished Ushijima’s fingers threaded his hair, and how he wished they were something more.
Truthfully, he couldn’t explain why he’s so intoxicated with the man. He couldn’t determine or distinguish the weight of various reasons why, as if translating them into words would be translating symbols into letters.
Perhaps, the first time Oikawa let himself be swayed by the awkward and dry texter was after he had only slipped into his blanket. Ready to go into a deep slumber after reviewing tapes of his enemy team a day before the match to chalk out strategies, when his phone lit up, the light coming from the screen illuminating a halo around the corner.
From: Ushijima (sent at 9:43pm)
No. You’re the only one I talk to.
His breathing hitched, and he rose as quickly as he laid on the bed. In the small light, his bronze eyes glittered. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he wondered, Only me?
Oikawa had teased Ushijima about staying up late to reply to others. Vague, but just the right words to get the exact answer he wanted from the male: if he’d been talking to anyone else other than him. But he found himself kept up by the lingering messages from Ushijima.
A few weeks after that conversation, and at the mention that Ushijima also played volleyball, here he sat anxiously alone on the gym bench, trying the same scheme yet again.
Another word, another hint that he was interested in meeting Ushijima.
To: Ushijima (sent at 4:30pm)
Yeah, volleyball is good! But I miss hanging out sometimes >_<
Oikawa bit his bottom lip, anxiously staring at his phone that had just shifted to a black screen as he waited for a reply. He sighed, dropping his eyelids as he slumped his shoulders back from all the tension he didn’t know had been building up.
His phone pinged, almost sending his body into a full gallop, immediately raising his gaze to the screen. His heart jumped at the sight of the text preview, Do you want to…
This is the moment. He’s finally going to ask me out. Oikawa smiled to himself, regaining his composure as he sat upright. He inhaled slowly, swiping his fingers to unlock the message. Nevermind the smell of sweat. This is the moment.
From: Ushijima (sent at 4:32pm)
Do you want to play volleyball?
Oh. The corners of his mouth dropped just as soon as they pulled upward at the reply. His shoulders sagged, setting his head down in disappointment. Oikawa couldn’t quite make it up, but sometimes, Ushijima seemed to be out of place.
Sometimes, he’d read signals as fast as he misinterpreted others.
This is hopeless, Oikawa laughed to himself. The array of possibilities he set for himself and Ushijima smeared like oil in the air, drowning out his suave as he tried to shut them all down. Then he tipped his head back, breathing in deep. Breathing in the disappointment, taking it into his head that Ushijima was most likely not at all interested in that way. Anxiety and embarrassment mingled into his chest.
But his phone pinged another time, and it sent his body into another jolt.
From: Ushijima (sent at 4:33pm)
I mean, do you want to go on a date?
And for a moment, he couldn’t breathe under the crushing weight that pushed in on him.
*
“Are you going on a date or to a Sunday morning service?” Tendou cackled as he watched Ushijima put on his necktie over his deep violet long sleeves he paired with black slacks, sitting comfortably on the bed.
Ushijima reciprocated Tendou's gaze through the full body mirror, his eyes squinted, fingers securing the knot of his tie, “What's wrong? Isn't this presentable?”
“Formal. Too formal!” he said as he raised his hands up to stress his remark, barely unable to stop the wide, malicious smile.
“Then tell me,” Ushijima sighed in defeat, realizing that his friend might be right. “What should I wear?”
He was so hopeless that Tendou wondered, What would he do without me? What would have become of him if it weren’t for me guiding him in the big world out there?
Tendou could go on and on about teasing Ushijima with the kind of clothing he chose to wear. Who goes to a date wearing a church outfit? But he saw how Ushijima needed genuine help and pushed his remarks to the side, lending his friend a helping hand on his first Tinder date.
Actually, his first date in general.
“You sound like that time when you finally asked your match out on a date,” Tendou chuckled. “Oh, it was thanks to me.”
Ushijima turned to face Tendou, “I thought it was obvious.”
“Obvious?” Tendou’s hand reached for his stomach as he laughed at his best friend’s words. “How is asking someone to play volleyball flirting? How is that considered flirting?”
Thanks to Tendou, Ushijima was able to make a correction. He was fast to take the latter’s phone in his hand and send another reply. The shock that reverberated into Tendou’s body only dispersed once they received an enthusiastic reply. A feeling that Ushijima would never have felt because of his inexperience.
“But I don’t just ask anyone to play volleyball,” Ushijima replied, tone low and neutral, completely clueless. If he was embarrassed, it didn’t show. Rather, his face remained distant as usual.
The red-haired cleared his throat. It was one of those rare moments when he thought he should be honest with Ushijima before he ventured into a world he hadn't stepped into: dating.
“You’re hopeless. But there’s one thing I can tell you,” Tendou clicked his tongue, eyes shifting left and right trying to search for the perfect words.
He weighed in the list of possibilities that could happen to Ushijima and his date. Of course, there was already a high probability that both of them would be as awkward as ever. But Tendou took notice of the amount of emojis Ushijima’s date uses, so he couldn’t be that boring.
Sometimes, there are just people who could make everything boring. Unfortunately, Ushijima was part of that.
Tendou chuckled inwardly at his thoughts.
Ushijima was intimidating, and he doesn’t speak much. But when he does, he can come off as blunt. He was the kind of man who spoke no lies. He didn’t hesitate to speak what’s on his mind. He didn’t have any concerns. Only that he disliked things he didn’t understand.
He had the oozing air of confidence and reliability about him. He was a fantastic player on the court, but he was just a regular person outside of that. And sometimes, Tendou wondered if Ushijima had any fun at all.
His scrutinizing gaze brought Ushijima’s eyes to meet his through the mirror as the lad unbuttoned his shirt to change. “Have fun.”
*
Oikawa’s blood pumped through him in a strange rhythm. With every step he took, his feet felt heavy, lightweight, soft, and hard all at once, dragging them to move. He was tizzy as he approached the cinema—where he and Ushijima agreed to meet, biting down on his bottom lip.
The man walking in front of him paid him a short glower as if he’d been suspecting Oikawa for his stalking gait. Oikawa reciprocated the man’s hostility with an apologetic smile, halting his steps and embracing the frigid weather around him.
He took in a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes. Then he opened them, and the big ‘CINEMA’ sign glowed red in the light of the dark and the busy streets and youth passing by.
The first snow still hasn’t touched the ground, but it was felt in the frigid cold. He posted himself beside the entrance. He could feel the warm temperature coming from inside the hall whenever the doors opened. There was that burning need to invite himself in, but he stood outside, patiently waiting in the cold.
All around him, there were laughs and smiles from people around his age. Mostly couples, but he spotted friends who came in groups. Some were buying tickets from the booth manned by a straight-faced fellow, who impassively bid goodbye by saying, “Enjoy your movie.”
Some, he guessed, were waiting for someone. The restless tapping of their foot against the ground, the constant checking of time, and the biting of their lips. All of which Oikawa recognized. Because he was doing the same thing.
He raised his left hand, pushing aside his long, blue sweater sleeves to reveal his leather watch, “6:47…” he whispered.
There were still thirteen minutes left to see Ushijima for the first time. Thirteen minutes to hold on to his dear sanity.
He tapped his foot restlessly against the pavement once more, releasing another breath that condensed in the air, making him push his khaki scarf upwards to cover his mouth.
As soon as he raised his gaze towards what’s in front of him, he saw the man he’d been yearning to see. Behind the screen. Behind all those words. Behind all the smiles. And on that cold night, he saw him for the first time.
Oikawa’s eyes widened as he watched Ushijima from only eight feet away.
Ushijima’s body was turned to the side, giving Oikawa only the picture of his long coat, cropped light-colored trousers, and loafers. His side profile boasted that high nose and that brown hair—and Oikawa wondered if it was as smooth as it looked.
It’s literally unfair how attractive he is, Oikawa groaned in his thoughts. He knew how strange it was to look at Ushijima. But he found difficulty in not staring at him. He couldn’t find the courage to tear his gaze away from him. Not when Ushijima had that mesmerizing aura about him.
He was all too aware of how cliche he sounded, and he smiled like a fool when he realized that, maybe, he liked it. And he was still smiling like a fool when Ushijma whipped his head in his direction, locking their gazes.
Ushijima narrowed his eyes, making Oikawa’s smile drop as soon as he realized. But Ushijima was already walking toward him, and Oikawa couldn’t breathe.
“Good evening,” Ushijima greeted as soon as he was in front of Oikawa. If he was nervous, if he was shy, it didn’t show.
Oikawa noted the aura Ushijima emitted. He was, perhaps, more than what he had expected. A little too unreal, maybe. He swallowed, but his throat was too dry. “Hello…”
Ushijima’s lips twitched a little upwards. Even as he smiled, there was still something serious left in the air. “Have you been waiting long?” he checked his watch then returned to the speechless Oikawa.
He’s so pretty. I think I’m gonna faint, Oikawa thought before he realized he was asked a question. He shook his head to disperse himself of unwanted thoughts, creasing his brows as he leaned a little forward. Ushijima’s scented soap caressed his nose, a touch of wood… and is that baby powder? “I’m sorry. What was that?”
“Have you been waiting long?” Ushijima repeated.
“Oh. No,” Oikawa retreated. “No, I haven’t. I just got here,” he chuckled, trying to conceal the awkwardness in his tone. Feeling a little anxious, he asked, “And you?”
“I also just got here,” Ushijima answered dryly. Then his eyes went past Oikawa, and both felt the warm temperature from inside the hall, the noises sounding louder as the door swung open before it shut on its own and the noises died down with it.
Ushijima brought his gaze back to Oikawa, “Would you like to go inside? I’ve got the tickets.”
“Sure…” Oikawa smiled awkwardly.
Ushijima pushed the door open for Oikawa, to which he thanked him for. As soon as Ushijima couldn’t see his face, he closed his eyes in frustration. Say something!
Oikawa found himself speechless around Ushijima. It seemed like all of his confidence had died at the very sight of him. There was something intimidating about Ushijima that he couldn’t quite explain.
Yes, he’d been waiting for this moment for so long. And he hated himself for feeling as if he wasn’t even trying hard to connect with him.
The thundering drum in his heart pulsed through his ears, drowning out the sound of talks and the smell of popcorn invading his nose. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another as they waited in line for the cinema room, pocketing his trembling hands as he started at his feet.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, then lifted his head as he smiled at the staff that manned the entrance to the cinema room before following Ushijima ahead. His throat was tight in nervousness—a feeling he wasn’t very much familiar with—even as they sat in their seats.
Oikawa shifted his gaze over to Ushijima, and found he kept his eyes on the big screen, the flickering light from the changing scenes illuminated the planes of his face. He could watch Ushijima the entire time. Nevermind that Romeo and Juliet movie using the original dialogue. He couldn’t even understand it.
Then his eyes shifted towards his hand that rested on the recliner, making him frown. Since the movie started, he already placed his hand where Ushijima could hold it. But the movie was probably half over already, and nothing.
A child’s cry drowned the actors’ voices and shook the whole cinema, turning everyone’s attention to the source in the row behind them. Only Ushijima did not bother to pay a glance towards the disturbance.
Oikawa thought, Why make a child watch Romeo and Juliet?
He stifled a laugh and his hand flew to cover the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards as cheese popcorn fell from right above Ushijima’s head.
That was all it took to have Ushijima turn his attention to the annoying child. The audience expressed annoyance through angry muffles, but Ushijima remained calm and collected, politely accepting apologies from the man, whom Oikawa guessed as the father, as he tried to soothe the crying child.
Ushijima caught Oikawa’s attention, but it was too late for him to hide his smile. Oikawa laughed awkwardly, then hoisted his drink he hadn’t touched from the recliner to hand over to Ushijima.
“Drink water,” he said even as he himself was dehydrated.
*
Musicians took up spots inside the restaurant that Ushijima booked for the date. The room was filled with a blend of soft conversations, the clang of plates, and violins. Such a beautiful sound, if only that one musician knew how to carry a tune.
Oikawa and Ushijima kept straight faces, looking at each other as if they could tell what the other was thinking.
It was grand, but terrible. The dishes were too small. Certainly not enough to satiate their hunger. And that music? Gods above.
He registered the change in Ushijima’s face as he watched him intently across the table that separated them both. His ears were turning a little red, his forearms braced on the table. While Oikawa, on the other hand, leaned on the back of his chair, sitting like a king.
“How do you do it?” Ushijima asked quietly, his eyes almost pleading.
“Do what?” Oikawa grinned, raising his head high, teasing.
Ushijima gave him a slow smile and a flicker of light moved across his eyes, “How do you ignore that irritating sound?”
“My teammates are louder, and much more annoying than that,” Oikawa laughed, stealing another glance at the stressed-out musicians who wasted no time in poking at the one who couldn’t play the right strings. He would’ve felt sorry for him, really, had it not sparked an interesting conversation between him and Ushijima.
Ushijima traced the rim of his glass, “Louder and annoying?” his brows narrowed slightly.
“So,” Oikawa tilted his head, keeping a smile on his face as he recalled moments he spent with the team. “There was this one time when we went to a training camp. And I couldn’t sleep on the bus because they were all so obnoxiously loud and kept singing.”
Oikawa was the leader of that fiasco, but he would never admit to it.
“I had to snap their foreheads one by one to make them stop,” he shrugged. “It was fun though.”
“You have a very different definition of fun,” Ushijima chuckled, so soft and so mellow. The sound was better than the horrible quartet playing in the background, and Oikawa wanted to hear it again.
“Well,” Ushijima started, “do you want to get out of here?”
Somehow, it didn’t seem like goodbye.
*
“Wait!” Oikawa laughed when the tail of the scarf around his neck got caught in between the restaurant door they walked through.
Ushijima took a step closer, opening the door for Oikawa to pull out his scarf. A slash of a grin spread across his face, “What are you doing?”
Oikawa could only laugh as Ushijima stared at him with the same intensity. They stood in front of each other. No words, just stillness. But they were sure something changed. Even when they’ve only had a short time to get to know each other.
From the short distance that separated them, Oikawa watched as Ushijima’s brown eyes turned molten from the warm lights all around them. He couldn’t brush off the rush of having Ushijima look only at him, trying not to get lost in those strange, enticing eyes.
Oikawa winced as a gust of icy wind blew the tail of his scarf and froze his ears. He took that sign as an opportunity to pull it tightly around him.
“Walk with me?” he asked gently.
“I would love to,” Ushijima nodded. “But I’m afraid you would have to lead me instead. I’m not quite familiar with the road down there.”
Oikawa smiled even as he rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets picked up?”
Ushijima tucked his hand behind his back as they strode forward through the cobbled streets. He fumbled for words, but he did not drop his grin as the golden lights twinkled across the city, “Not really.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Do you have a reason not to?”
“Okay, you’re good,” Oikawa complimented when he couldn’t counter his quick remark.
“Thank you,” Ushijima chuckled, deep and slow.
Oikawa frowned, “You actually look more handsome with honesty on your face.”
“I do?” Ushijima grinned, boasting those white teeth, brows knotting.
“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa waved him off. “You’re cute. Stop smiling at me like that,” he added, averting his gaze from Ushijima. “Your lack of self-awareness is deeply troubling.”
Ushijima pocketed his hands, “And you? Are you honest?”
“Yeah, I mean,” Oikawa shrugged and smiled roguishly, keeping his gaze on the lights ahead. From a distance, he could see the head of the illuminated fountain by the park they were nearing. “Maybe I’ll just be straightforward about taking advantage of you.”
Ushijima laughed but said nothing. No one spoke as they realized that the space between them felt strangely intimate.
“What about the violin in the restaurant earlier, huh?” Oikawa followed with a tease.
“What on earth,” Ushijima drawled, sounding exasperated, “is all I have to say to that.”
With a turn around the hedge, the gush of water from the fountain park enticed them both. A strong gust of wind made them feel that the air had turned colder with the time, ripping through them as they observed the golden lit decorations surrounding the park.
“Do you want to..?” Ushijima didn’t finish the words, extending his arm and pointing his index towards the brightly lit fountain.
Their date should have ended the moment they stepped out of the restaurant. But the beautiful fountain in the center illuminating their faces signaled that it had only just begun.
Before Oikawa could sit on an empty bench—only a few feet away from the fountain, Ushijima dusted it with his hand, making his date smile appreciatively at the effort. In the touch of freezing cold, it became their spot to just sit and watch the fountain as a silent acknowledgement that neither were ready to part ways just yet.
“So,” Oikawa said as he crossed his legs, turning to Ushijima as the latter sat down. “Tell me more about you.”
“About me?” Ushijima’s brows creased, setting his eyes on his hands that rested in his lap. Oikawa realized how there was no progress in terms of skinship between them, but he wasn’t complaining. “There’s nothing much about me, really.”
“Impossible,” Oikawa shook his head. “There’s never nothing about anything or anyone.”
Oikawa’s eyes glittered as he stared at Ushijima’s hand, and his heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to his face.
“How about us?” Ushijima asked.
A flush of pink bloomed on his cheeks as his heart hammered against his ribcage. He hadn’t been expecting such an honest question, such a question that flushed all the bravado he tried so hard to muster.
“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Ushijima tilted his head.
Oikawa kept his gaze averted, biting his full bottom lip. Because of you!
“Oikawa?” Ushijima called.
He tried not to let it show what it did to him to have Ushijima remember his name. Or to hear him say it. To have him let out the words from his lips.
“Are you okay?” Ushijima asked, but made no move to touch him.
Good. Because Oikawa wasn’t entirely certain he could handle his heat hovering against him. He took a breath, and that same impish grin swiped back. “You should know by now,” he teased.
The silence that followed after didn’t lay as heavy as it used to be. Instead, Oikawa straightened himself, resting a hand on the bench in the short distance separating both, gazing at the fountain that kept them company.
“I like mushroom risotto,” he said out of the blue.
“Mushroom risotto?”
“Mushroom risotto,” he repeated, still keeping his eyes averted.
There was a short pause before Ushijima spoke, “Did you know that mushrooms are made up of 90% water?”
Do you want to go try mushroom risotto next time? Do you want me to bring that for you one day? Do you want me to cook that for you? Such questions were what he thought would’ve followed next. Questions that would make them meet each other again. Never a random fact he didn’t expect.
Oikawa turned his head towards his date. “What?” He choked on a laugh as he asked it.
“Yeah,” Ushijima gruffed, completely unaware of what left Oikawa in disbelief. “They’re also a fungus. Did you know?”
“No,” Oikawa shook his head. “I didn’t.”
“We should forage for mushrooms next time.”
Next time, the words rang in Oikawa’s head. Next time.
“And you?” Oikawa followed. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Curry,” his date answered plainly, his free hand discreetly traveling towards Oikawa’s hand on the bench.
A faint warmth bloomed in his chest. The brief touch of Ushijima’s fingers through Oikawa sent a pang of desire through him so strong he wanted to pull him in closer. It had taken all of him, all his self control to keep his breathing steady as he gazed back at the fountain.
That was all it took to have Oikawa’s gaze back at the fountain again, “These lights are familiar,” he started. “From my recitals from those years ago. It’s kinda nostalgic.”
When Ushijima didn’t say anything, he took it upon himself to turn his head back towards him. With the look written across Ushijima’s face and those eyes, he understood.
“I will pretend I haven’t heard the question in your eyes,” he groaned.
“No, tell me,” Ushijima leaned a little forward.
“It’s nothing, really. I just took up dancing a while back. Then I shifted to volleyball,” he eyed him, searching for any sign of mockery.
“Dancing?” Ushijima pondered, running a finger along his lips—the sight making Oikawa swallow—before returning his gaze to the other, “Could you, perhaps, show me?”
“What?” Oikawa asked in disbelief, turning left and right. “Here?”
Ushijima nodded.
“What?” he shook his head. “No!”
But Ushijima stood up and offered his hand. Oikawa stared at it for a moment, creasing his brows, but a ghost of a smile remained plastered across his lips. He looked around, searching for prying heads.
“There are people,” he argued in a whisper.
Ushijima shrugged, “People are too busy to care about anyone other than themselves.”
Oikawa let out a long sigh before he took Ushijima’s hand. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Fine.”
He cleared his throat and lumbered, positioning himself in the center from where they stood. Ushijima could never tell him, but he looked like a perfect decoration in front of the fountain behind him.
Oikawa gazed across the stone pavement. Sliding his foot back and the other forward, he extended his arms in front in a smooth motion that truly suggested he had some background in the art. He was dancing, then his arms were flailing in the sky with feline grace. His scarf spun around him as he whirled, and he was thankful for the cold that he wouldn’t sweat. He felt like flying, until the ground was beneath his feet again.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. And why did he stop?
Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be.
Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular.
Oikawa picked up his scarf that fell on the ground. Then his eyes rested on Ushijima, whose hands were pocketed in his coat. A tug on the corner of his lips issued the bravado he’d been keeping.
“What? Amused?” he teased with a conspirator’s grin when he closed the final distance between them.
Ushijima just stared at him, taking in the warm gleam in his eyes. He said nothing, but his hand flew to Oikawa’s scarf. Both said nothing as Ushijima wrapped the it around him, “It always becomes loose when you’re the one putting it on.”
A delicious heat kissed its way down Oikawa’s neck to his spine as if there was some warmth left despite the winter.
“Perhaps I will take up dancing again,” he said in a little more than a whisper, his throat constricting at the moment.
A hush had fallen between them, but Oikawa felt as if there was something inside him that found it to be a perfect piece in their merriment. It went beyond his expectations. He enjoyed his time with Ushijima.
“Let’s take you home,” Ushijima said and Oikawa only nodded.
The streets were too quiet this time of the night—so quiet that only their footsteps and chuckles and moments of conversation lingered in the sleeping city. They were still talking and laughing, and it had been that way since they left the park, stepping forward with the wings of conversation.
“What was your favorite part?” Ushijima asked, his eyes not on the streets before him but on Oikawa. Such wild ecstasy, he noted.
Oikawa paused, his brows creasing as Ushijima waited for his answer, thinking. Then his eyes widened and met Ushijima’s, “Oh, you mean the movie?”
Ushijima only chuckled, “Yes, the movie.”
“Not the baby?”
“Yeah, and maybe that too,” a faint smile stretched Ushijima’s lips.
“Hmm, let’s see,” Oikawa looked forward, brows knotting yet again as he acted. His finger tapped on his lip in a way that forced Ushijima to remind himself to keep his focus on Oikawa’s eyes, “I like the part where the dad,” he stared back at Ushijima, “picked up the baby and they went outside. That scene was amazing!”
Ushijima chuckled, looking away from him and Oikawa realized how manly Ushijima’s voice was. Then Oikawa’s eyes scanned the street before him, how the establishments and the crooked, dark streets were becoming more and more familiar to him.
“You laughed at me earlier,” there was a hint of a smile on Ushijima’s lips.
Oikawa felt a little embarrassed, but he laughed, “You’ve gotta admit. It was kind of funny.”
“It was fine,” Oikawa answered seriously.
“Same here.”
“No way. I thought you liked Shakespeare,” he said in disbelief.
“I thought you liked Shakespeare,” Ushijima countered.
He assumed that Oikawa was interested in Shakespeare because, sometimes, he would post quotes from Romeo and Juliet. What Ushijima didn’t know was that: it was Oikawa’s literature teacher who originally posted those, and he only wanted to get on their good side.
“It took me some time to understand the words,” Oikawa admitted.
Ushijima’s smile widened, revealing his white teeth, “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”
Oikawa’s hand flew to his mouth that went agape, “How did you memorize that?” he asked with amusement in his eyes.
“Say your lines,” Ushijima urged him.
“You are reciting Juliet’s lines,” Oikawa narrowed his eyes in thought, but the grin didn’t disappear from his lips.
“Say your lines,” Ushijima repeated, ignoring his remark.
Oikawa rolled his eyes, his brows knotting trying to remember the right words, “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”
“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”
“You’re annoying. Mine is long,” he frowned at how fast Ushijima replied and how long he remembered the next line was. But it took only one grin from Ushijima and he started speaking.
“Something. Something,” his eyes almost bawled upwards trying to remember the words. “Let lips do what hands do. Uh. They pray grant thou, lest faith turn to despair..?” he finished with uncertainty. “Wait. How do you even memorize these?”
“Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake,” Ushijima continued.
“Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take,” Oikawa grinned with how fast he recited the lines as he halted in front of his house and Ushijima did the same.
“Thus, from my lips,” Ushijima said hoarsely. Oikawa didn’t mean to, but his eyes went down to Ushijima’s lips, “by thine, my sin is purged.”
His heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to Ushijima’s eyes, “Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” he said in a little more than a whisper.
The night was honest and his eyes whispered of how they met, how there was an unspoken understanding between them. And being with Ushijma was like staying in the rain, he still wanted to be in it one more time.
Through a clearing in the skies, clusters of stars could be seen and the sliver of the crescent moon shone above them as they stepped into the pool of moonlight.
“Good night,” Ushijima said. “You’re probably tired.”
But he was not tired, he was not done. There was still greed and want inside of him that made him want to pull Ushijima closer. The longing for a wave of touch and friction of joy that only grew bigger and bigger by the minute.
“Good night,” was all he replied, his voice so soft and mellow.
Oikawa turned his back on Ushijima, his steps feeling heavier by the minute as he trudged away from him. But he looked back, and the greed must have shown because Ushijima stood there, watching him, thinking.
He grinned and crossed his arms, “You do realize what time it is, right?”
Ushijima shrugged and pocketed his hands, “I just want to see you walk in.”
That was all it took for Oikawa to do the opposite. He went closer to Ushijima, closing the gap between them. There was only the absence of conversation and how much he wanted to touch Ushijima.
“It was enchanting to meet you,” Ushijima said quietly before his ears filled with the softness of Oikawa’s laughter.
“Do you know how cliche you sound, Romeo?” he teased.
Oikawa watched the way Ushijima’s lips widened in a smile and died down slowly.
“I think,” Ushijima started, the words were barely more than a strangled whisper, “I like you a lot.”
The longing blinded him, and he flung himself on Ushijima, breathing in his scent and the slight trace of cheese in him. He memorized the feel of him and the heat of Ushijima’s body hovering over him.
“We probably should just go to McDonald’s next time,” he teased.
“As long as I’m with you,” Ushijima chuckled against Oikawa’s lips. “I would like that very much.”
It was only that, and their lips touched.
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It’s All Coming Back to Me Now 5/?
To read on Ao3 click here
You can read the previous parts on Tumblr click here
‘Does this mean that I’m finally going to see you at home again?’ Catalina asks as they are once again walking back home.
‘Ehh,’ Kat grimaces a bit, ‘I’m helping Anna.’
She knows from their previous life together that Anna never learnt how to play any instrument. She could dance well enough and Kat had fond memories of that, and she had a lovely voice albeit clearly not trained, since she had been raised with the concept that music education was not proper for a noblewoman. Anna didn’t even have to say anything out loud. She just asked her when she was free to meet, the reason implicit yet understood by both.
‘That’s fine.’ Catalina bumps her hip against Kat’s. She doesn’t want her to feel bad for spending time with her friend. Friends. Family. Fellow queens. Whatever. But she misses having her around the house. ‘Just don’t forget about your old mother.’
‘You’re not old!’
Catalina would lie if she said that her heart didn’t skip a beat, dreading the last word would be two instead...my mother.
‘Anyway!’ Catalina knows from the tone that Kat is trying to distract her, probably having noticed her mood falling slightly. Perceptive kids these days!
‘I was talking with Cathy...do you think that us getting a PhD in history, Tudor history, would be cheating?’
‘Cathy, uh?’ Probably not the part Kat wanted her to focus on, but a mother has to take her fun where she can.
‘What?’ Kat is confused at first, before turning her head and seeing the look on the older woman’s face. ‘It's not like that.’
‘Okay.’ Catalina immediately accepts the answer. Not being believed is something that at best deeply upsets Kat and at worst triggers panic attacks. She doesn’t have all the details, Kat is reticent to talk about her life after Catalina’s death if not in broad general terms and Catalina has never forced the issue. She knows Kat would tell her, Kat said it herself. But every time she offers, she looks so dejected that she always refuses. But it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots and blame Henry. It had been on her mind a lot, especially after Anne’s song and her talk with her. Whether Kat’s experience had been similar to her cousin, besides the ending, or not. Catalina isn’t sure she wants to know, to be honest. ‘But if it was...it’d be okay, you know.’
Kat shrugs, a subtle hunch in her shoulder. That won’t do. Catalina puts an arm around her shoulders and draws her in, kissing her temple. ‘Want to get a slice of cake to celebrate you writing yet another brilliant song?’ She said her piece. Short, sure, but that’s all she wants Kat to know. All the rest doesn’t matter. She’ll be there if Kat will ever want to revisit the topic again.
.
Right from the start it’s clear that Anna has decided to go for a modern take too. Music is once again streaming from Kat’s laptop, the young queen snapping her fingers as her predecessor sings.
Where my hounds at? Release the bitches
(Woof)
Anne claps her hands, howling with laughter at Kat’s first venture into the song, which will also be all the other queens’ part. Jane shakes her head, rolling her eyes. Say one thing once and they will forever use it against you. She is ready to bet that Kat’s song will also include a swear word, just disguised enough that you can argue it’s not really swearing.
Lookin’ cute,
(Das ist gut)
All eyes on me,
(No criticism)
I look more rad than
(Lutheranism)
Dance so hard that I’m causing a sensation.
Okay, ladies, let’s get in reformation.
Anne is hollering, quickly followed by Cathy and, to everyone’s surprise but Kat’s, Catalina. Religion puns and Beyonce reference deserve a holler, queenly composure be damned.
Kat shoots a beaming smile at Anna. The fourth queen had been worried about her song not measuring up to the others, but the reactions are proving her wrong. She actually gets a standing ovation as the last ‘I’m the queen of the castle’ fades away.
‘Have you thought about choreography?’
‘Not really.’
‘Can I?’ Catalina exchanges a look with Anne. ‘Can we?’
Anna looks at the first two queens, both almost vibrating for the excitement. ‘Sure.’
Anne whoops and Catalina looks like she is one step away from doing the same. ‘It’s going to be glorious.’
‘Before we lose those two,’ they do look like they are ready to bolt, eager to start working on Anna’s song, ‘can I point out the,’ Cathy stops to look for the right word, ‘whiplash of going from Jane’s song to this. Both songs are amazing just…quite a different vibe?’
‘What about having an interlude? We would have three songs, well four with the intro. Interlude. Other three songs. Conclusion.’ Catalina proposes, her head seemingly back in the game and not on the dance anymore.
Cathy looks at Kat. They had sort of taken the lead on how to structure the musical…and Kat on writing the songs, having a hand in all of them so far. ‘We can give it a try.’
‘Also,’ Anne seems to be back among them too, ‘was that a Tinder reference?’
‘What’s Tinder?’ Jane sees the mirth on Anne’s face. ‘Wait. Do I actually want to know?’
.
The whole process is going surprisingly smoothly. Sure, it has been months, but considering they have no experience whatsoever with writing musicals, having 4 songs (out of 8 planned) mostly hashed out is impressive, in Cathy’s humble opinion. And that’s not even taking into consideration them being 16th-century queens reincarnated in the 21st century figuring out the modern world...and how to get along.
Unexpectedly, since she has been the one moving everything along, it’s with Kat’s turn that the smooth process comes to a halt.
‘Why the change? Not that I mind.’ Catalina specifies. Katherine had requested them to show up at a different location instead of the usual one. This one is more like a proper recording studio, with a live room with mics and instruments and a separate control room. ‘You know we have no idea how to use all of this, right?’ she jokes, gesturing to the mixing equipment. She frowns when Kat doesn’t even attempt to give her a smile at that.
‘I need you to be in another room. I know you will hate the song and-’
‘Impossible.’ Catalina scoffs.
‘I’m sure we will love it.’ All the others have joined them, and they chime in, agreeing with Jane. She has helped them all, whether with music or lyrics or both, and it is evident to everyone, even to Cathy, the only who still hasn’t worked with her, that she has a way with music.
‘No, you won’t.’ Kat is not looking for reassurance. She has no doubt about it. ‘It’s already going to be hard. If I have to worry about your reactions too...I can’t do it with you in the room. All of you.’ She had just recently managed to go through the whole song without having a major breakdown before the end.
While the first three queens appear confused, Cathy and Anna share a look. Having lived through Katherine’s reign as queen, they are the only ones with some knowledge about her past. They even had a brief conversation about it, not wanting to betray Kat’s confidence or their ‘vow’ not to look into each other’s past, but also needing to share their thoughts with someone who could understand them. Their conclusion had been easy: even if the charges levied against her had been true, which is not a given, as Anne’s example shows, considering her age she would have been a victim and not the temptress she had been portraited as.
‘Kat.’ Cathy takes a step towards her.
‘Please.’ Kat raises her hands in front of her. ‘Don’t.’
Cathy stops, nodding, slightly dejected, Anna laying a hand on her shoulder.
Catalina had noticed Kat was worried, but she didn’t think it had reached this point. And she doesn’t know what to make of Anna and Cathy’s solemn expressions. ‘Why don’t you show us and let us decide?’ She tries to encourage her daughter with a smile.
So that’s what she does.
All you wanna do
All you wanna do, baby
And ever since I was a child, I'd make the boys go wild
Kat had decided to use a backing track while playing the keyboard. She hopes that having to focus on playing and singing at the same time (and actually breathing, if things go as they went during her previous practices), she will be physically unable to think about the other queens being on the other side of the glass listening to her song (she angles herself so that her back is to the window and she is also physically unable to see them, even if she were tempted to look).
He just cares so much, he's devoted
He says we have a connection
Her voice breaks and by the time she reaches the last chorus she is sobbing and hyperventilating. The effort required to finish the song definitely takes her mind off the others’ reactions…but everything comes crashing down as soon as the last note resonates.
She bows her head, shoulder shaking, hands frozen on the keys. She takes deep breaths, trying to calm down. Once she has it under control, or as much as possible in the situation, she pushes herself up. Time to face the music. Or not. What if she opens the door and they had left? They wouldn’t do that...right? Her...Catalina would not do that, right? She told her she would never be disappointed in Kat…but she never knew the truth...
But what if they are still there and are...disappointed? Angry? Ashamed of her? Would that be better? Or worse? One way or another, she has to know. And regardless, she has to leave the room sooner or later. It would only be delaying the inevitable.
#six the musical fanfiction#six the musical#catherine and katherine#six fanfiction#six the musical fic#six fanfic#fic: It’s All Coming Back to Me Now#my posts#mywork#six writing#six fic#six the musical fanfic#my ideas#my six posts
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11 Reasons Not to Fall in Love
Warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol
Summary: Ashton is in love, and Y/N might be, too. There are a million reasons not to fall in love–– here are eleven.
Word Count: 6.7k
ONE: YOU MIGHT NOT EVEN KNOW IT
Ashton sprinted down the terminal.
His suitcase rattled behind him, the wheels sputtering as they hit the cracks in dirty tiles. And his shoulders ached from the weight of his bag carving into already-sore muscles. A pair of headphones had fallen from his pocket down near gate A3, but he hadn’t bothered to retrieve them. Not when his connecting flight had less than ten minutes until departure. Ashton couldn’t waste another minute apologizing to strangers for slamming into them during a moment of distraction.
Sweat accumulated under his arms and along his hairline. Long corridors awaited him, meanwhile, his lungs strained within his ribcage as he rounded corner after corner. He hadn’t remembered the airport being this large. Perhaps he had slipped into a Twilight Zone nightmare where every doorway led him to where he had once been. Time ticked away, and Ashton was too frantic to check the clock on his phone.
“Final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles. Please make your way to gate D26. That is D for Delta. Again, this is a final boarding call for American Eagle flight 1683 for Los Angeles, located at gate D26. Thank you.”
“Shit,” Ashton spat, his knuckles curling in a firm grip around his duffle. The same duffle his mum gifted him nearly six years ago, yet it still worked like a charm. The duct tape held up well.
His feet skidded against the rug leading into gate D26. He opted out of the dramatics, slowing down his pace and walking calmly around the rows of seating before addressing the gate agents with a smile. They saw plenty of passengers like him–– late, damp, and a bit smelly as well. But that didn’t erase the scowls from their features. He sped down the jet bridge, dropped off his carry-on at the end, and boarded the plane with two minutes to spare.
“Hey, hi, sorry,” he mumbled to the flight attendants, but his breathy words hardly translated through his large gasps for air. It didn’t take him long to find his seat in first class. The large cushions enveloped him like an old friend. He sat back after placing his bag underneath the seat before him, and his eyes fell shut as a sigh left his lips.
Ashton’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
snail butt:
text me when u land!!!!!!
His cheeks burned. A smile stretched slowly on his cheeks, the kind of smile that wrote novels and lit up silver screens. It was a smile that could not be hidden no matter how hard he tried. Ashton’s stomach had been stuck with thousands of pins. And all it had taken was a single text from you.
“Only a fool who’s in love smiles like that.”
Ashton turned to face the person behind the voice, his eyes wide and watery as he shut off his phone. “Excuse me?”
The older man beside him chuckled. “I know a smile like that anywhere.”
“In love?” Ashton repeated, soon falling into laughter himself. “No, no, I’m not––”
The man winked and glanced away, but Ashton chose not to harp on a nonsensical conversation. Instead, he stared at the seat before him, mouth slightly ajar as he registered the older man’s words. Ashton had never been in love, at least he believed it to be so. He had no knowledge of the feeling. So, he rejected what he heard.
He spent the next few hours with his gaze locked on the clouds, wondering if what he felt for you was, perhaps, something a little like love.
TWO: IT’S ONE-SIDE
The lights had flushed out his skin. Every inch of it was warm and wet to the touch, a sensation he knew well but hadn’t quite gotten used to. Even after thousands of shows–– thousands of performances that kicked his adrenaline to new heights only to have it plummet by the time he made it to the showers. Ashton stood against the tiled walls and let the water pelt against his skin. The pressure was never how he liked it. And the water was never hot enough.
He liked to call you after shows. He liked to hear about your day. You told him about the customers that pissed you off and the ones that sweetly tipped you a little too much. You told him that Oatmeal had taken a poo in your bathtub again, and he’d laugh at the thought. He’d think about the faces you’d make, because while you’d be upset one moment, your anger never lasted long. You could never stay mad at your cat.
Ashton had yet to call you tonight. He sat on the bathroom floor instead, fingernails picking at scabs on his palms while the sounds of J. Tillman’s Cancer and Delirium echoed around the room. He didn’t have the option to sit much longer; they had to pack up and drive off to a new town overnight. He always thought about the what-ifs. What if he walked out right then and there? What if he left without saying goodbye? What if he hopped aboard a plane and moved to the other side of the world? What if he cut off all contact with everyone he knew? And, what if that included you?
The thing that scared him the most was the possibility of it all. He could do whatever he wanted. It was his life, his body, his mind–– he had the ability to walk away whenever he so pleased.
He had the ability to forget about you.
Ashton stared at your contact on his phone. A picture from your New Year’s Eve party faced him, your goofy, smiling face staring up at him, happiness permanently immortalized within a small circle. And he wasn’t sure what your contact name meant anymore–– it had been an inside joke from years before, but time stole the memory.
He could delete your number if he wanted. He could rid himself of the pain of loving you by losing you. He could end everything now.
Ashton called you instead.
“You’re eating away at my cellular data,” you said right away, and somehow, the sound of your voice always made him feel better. All of his previous thoughts melted away. “How was the show? How are your bloody hands?”
“Beaten t’hell,” he spoke, but his words felt lifeless. Ashton could no longer identify his exhaustion. He felt like a stale being, like the grimy tiles beneath his bum as he counted scratches on the bathroom mirror. “Tell me about your day.”
“Didn’t do much,” you replied. “Oh, but––“
You talked for a half-hour. About the dentist, about your cat, about the food you ate... and he listened with pleasure. He listened because it was the only thing keeping him from walking away. It kept him from wiping the slate clean.
And he wanted to. He didn’t want to love like this. It was one-sided, trivial in every aspect, and you had no idea how much it pained him to even think about you. His urge to leave it all behind grew larger every day.
You didn’t love him. You didn’t see him the way he saw you.
“Hey, bug,” he mumbled. You had been talking about a Tinder date, one that went oh so right, and Ashton gripped his thigh until he drew blood. His eyes screwed shut at the idea of you piled under bedsheets, arms tied around the neck of someone else. “’m gonna have t’let you go.”
“Aw,” you said.
He pictured your pout.
“Well, okay,” you continued. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
Ashton forced a smile. He wished you could see the ache behind it. “Of course, doll. Love you.”
“Love you, too!”
J. Tillman’s voice filled the tile room once again. And Ashton sat wishing your words held meaning. He wished he could erase the casual and fill in sentimentality. Because he now knew what love was, and he knew you would never feel the same.
THREE: THEY LOVE SOMEONE ELSE
His kitchen faucet had been dripping for eleven days. The noise faded into the background, its constant drip, drip, drip like an unspoken rhythm to Ashton’s ears. He found himself tapping along and making up songs to the beat of these drips. They weren’t irksome–– not for the first eleven days.
He was lonely on the twelfth day. Beaten hands pushed back dirty and newly dyed dark strands of hair. Ashton hated looking at his appearance in his bathroom mirror. The dark circles were unfriendly, and he hadn’t seen his skin that sickly color before. He was malnourished at his own expense. And he was exhausted.
Tired of spending all of his nights staying up until four because being home felt like a prison. Tired of looking at pictures of you and your boyfriend while Ashton was stuck wallowing with a sore heart. A sore heart that failed to tell you how he felt sooner. Because now he saw your face when you were with him–– with your boyfriend, and you looked so happy. Ashton couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself.
It seemed as though everything was falling apart at once. The faucet, his relationship with you––or lack thereof, and suddenly his dishwasher was overflowing, and every meal he made he was burnt to a crisp. The twelfth day of his faucet leaking was the last straw.
But Ashton didn’t want to call a plumber. He took the matter into his own hands.
An hour later, he had flooded part of the kitchen and dented a pip with his wrench. The activity hadn’t gotten rid of stress or anger, and it certainly hadn’t distracted him from thoughts about you.
He sat back against his fridge, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks while he avoided the ache in his spine. The leaking had only gotten worse, but Ashton decided he would worry about it on the fourteenth day. He wanted to curl up on his couch and stay there forever. He wanted to rot in his home (was it even his home?) and have everyone forget about him. To have you forget about him. He wanted to forget about you.
snail butt:
hey.
pls answer me
are u ok
Ashton kept the messages open on his phone, but he didn’t respond to them. He wasn’t touched by your concern right now. He felt numb, and he wanted to sink into the tiles and melt in with the puddled water. It wasn’t normal anymore–– to feel this way. He lost himself in the shape of his hands; they no longer looked like his hands. Did he even exist?
snail butt:
ash
can i call
His eyes narrowed. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to talk to you. You were the last person on the earth he wanted to talk to. All because he did want to tell you everything, but he knew he couldn’t. You had always been a constant in his life, and the reason you no longer were had fallen upon his shoulders. Because he had fallen in love when he never meant to in the first place.
Suddenly, you were calling him, and his fingers stayed still. His thumb didn’t move to answer the call.
This wasn’t who Ashton was. He always answered your call no matter where he was, no matter what time of day. His eyes brimmed with tears, yet they refused to spill. No one said love could be this painful. No one said it would be like this.
You called again, a contact picture of you in minion goggles popping up only to disappear a half minute later. Ashton knew he was worrying you. He felt the fear creeping up into your chest while you tapped “voice call” over and over, meanwhile mumbling a few frustrated words involving insults you never meant. You had sensed his change in behavior long ago. He didn’t blame you for forcing communication like this.
That was why he wanted to pack his things and leave sometimes. It was easier than convincing everyone that he was okay.
Ashton:
Hey sorry I missed your call
Can’t talk right now
Love you
FOUR: EVERYONE KNOWS BUT THEM
A familiar feeling filled Ashton’s stomach. It knotted and twisted, but it never loosened. His grip on his phone tightened with every word he read. Knuckles ached while his fingers dug into the metal siding, and tension soon collected in the hinge of his jaw.
This had been his night so far. Stuck in between tables and chairs in the middle of a bar while you texted him about your boyfriend. But Ashton wasn’t mad because of that. His anger boiled because your boyfriend had mistreated you, and Ashton was hearing every little bit about the story.
He believed that he was seconds away from breaking his phone altogether.
“Ashton.”
His head shot up, small curls falling over his eyes as his jaw clenched. A bunch of worried eyes faced him.
“You okay, mate?” asked Michael. His voice was hushed and full of a certain comfort that his friend needed to hear.
Ashton swallowed, and he could feel all of the individual muscles in his cheeks strain. The gray dots on his phone appeared again–– you had more to say. “’m fine,” he spoke. His eyes said otherwise. They were watery and wide, filled with an easily read emotion, yet he hoped his friends would avoid the conversation.
Luke hummed. “Sure.”
“Is she okay?” Michael set his drink down on the table before them.
The words sunk in Ashton’s chest. He appreciated their concern. He appreciated that they cared about you. But he didn’t want to talk about it–– he never did.
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Convincing.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” asked Ashton, voice raising in frustration while the sea of eyes blinked back in response. A cold silence met him, but the music in the bar carried on. He sighed. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”
He gripped his forehead and wiped the sweat from his drink onto the table. His fingers trembled as he did so.
“Does she know how you feel?” Michael mumbled.
Ashton raised a brow. “Know how I–– what?” He began to laugh. He felt strange–– like anger was fighting with anxiety, and he knew he could no longer repress his feelings by this point.
“Ash.”
He turned to face Luke.
“It’s obvious,” said the blond. “We’re not stupid. We know you love her. We’ve known for the past like, six months.”
The frustration softened, and soon, Ashton deflated. His shoulders slumped as his frown deepened. “It’s obvious?” he whispered.
“Not that obvious,” Calum intervened. “You jus’–– you get really sad when you get feelings for someone.”
“I’m not––” Ashton straightened his spine. “I’m not sad. We’re fine. She’s fine. We’re both really fine.”
“I’ve never seen you guys this distant before,” Michael said.
“Friends grow apart.”
“Not like this.”
Ashton dug his fingernail into the wooden tabletop.
“Dude,” continued Michael. “You gotta tell her soon. It’s just gonna keep hurting if you don’t. And it’ll keep gettin’ worse and worse.”
“Or maybe it’ll hurt worse if I do tell her,” muttered Ashton.
“So, you do love her?” Luke asked.
Ashton waited a moment to answer. “Yeah.”
Silence washed over the group, and a beat later, Michael asked, “does she love you?”
Ashton stared at a neon sign in the distance. He could hear its buzzing from his seat. It gnawed at his eardrums and wedged itself under his skin. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t.”
FIVE: THEY ARE OBLIVIOUS TO YOUR PAIN
Ashton had been late to his own birthday party. He strolled in after forty minutes, heart heavy while he pushed through sweaty bodies that he hardly recognized. The stairs were his destination, and he could only fake so many smiles. He could only force empty hellos for so long before someone was bound to pull him aside. Their skin burned his.
Because it had been you, and every touch was a pain unlike any other.
“Hey, hey, birthday boy,” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “Miss me?”
Ashton stared at you in awe. Not because you looked stunning, which you did. You always did. But because he hadn’t seen you in four months. He had hardly spoken to you— he felt like he hardly knew you.
“Holy shit,” he muttered as he wracked his brain in search of something to say. Or rather, the right thing to say. Heat trickled up his neck and into his cheeks.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” you asked. The drink in your hand had hardly been touched. Meanwhile, your fingers toyed with the small plastic straw.
Ashton felt his smile grow. His stomach was on fire. “Yes— yeah. Give me a fucking hug.”
Your arms wrapped themselves around his torso, your head burying into his shoulder while he tried to memorize the feeling of you against him. He missed being held by you. It came with a sense of belonging–– like he was always meant to be here.
“Did Michael fly you in?” asked Ashton, and meanwhile, he kept his hands on your upper arms. His gaze on you was intense–– that he knew, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Had you always looked that beautiful?
You shook your head. “Wanted to surprise you myself.” A smile grew on your lips.
Ashton smiled as well, but it ached to falter. He just wanted to be happy around you.
The drinks poured on, night crawling with sweat and glitter and everything Ashton had wanted to avoid. As the hours passed, you stuck to him like glue. And the more alcohol in your system, the more you kept your hands on him. Unsteady fingers scraped down his arms whenever a good song came on through the speaker. You were in constant movement, and all Ashton saw was a gaussian blur of colors and smiles.
He locked himself in the upstairs bathroom.
He sat there for at least an hour, knuckles drumming against polished tile while the bass reverberated through the floor. It had been months since his last interaction with you–– he never knew when he would see you next. And then you were dancing with his friends, mind elsewhere while you tried to forget about the dried tears over your ex-boyfriend. You were swaying and laughing, looking like an angel kissed you just that morning, and he hadn’t been ready for any of it.
In all honesty, Ashton would have preferred not seeing you at all. Your presence taunted him. It reminded him of all of the mistakes he made, and it reminded him that you would never love him the way he loved you.
Before leaving the bathroom, he washed his face. He washed away the past couple of hours in order to prepare for the next few. In order to see you again, he had to forget all of his feelings for the night.
But he couldn’t. He barely took a step downstairs before retreating to his bedroom. It was his own birthday–– he could be miserable if he wanted to be. Did he even want to be?
Ashton changed into a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He could still hear the music through the floorboards, but it no longer bothered him. His phone remained silent with no phone calls or texts asking where he was. And then the door opened, and you walked in.
“Uh oh,” you said. “Birthday boy went missing.”
“You found him.”
You smiled softly. “You okay?”
Ashton shrugged. “Tired, s’all.”
You kept your arms crossed as you looked at him. He felt like you were analyzing everything about him. Perhaps you could read minds. Perhaps you already knew how he felt about you.
“Ya wanna sit?” he asked you, motioning to the empty spot next to him on his bed.
Your smile grew. “Duh.” You rushed over, flopped down against the comforter, and nestled into him. He hadn’t expected that last part. “Missed you,” you mumbled against his shirt, and your arm twisted around his. You were warm–– it was a good warmth.
“Missed you, too, bug,” he whispered. He leaned back against the pillows and took your body with him.
You hummed. A comfortable silence settled in, albeit the soft music from down below, and all Ashton could feel was you. He felt your skin, your heartbeat, your smile... He felt the happiness he had been looking for since the night began. This was why he needed you.
You turned to look at him. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”
Ashton raised an eyebrow at you.
“We’ve been friends for like ten years,” you said. “I’ve even kissed Luke. Why haven’t I kissed you?”
“You kissed Luke?”
You pressed your palm against Ashton’s chest. “Should we kiss?”
“I don’t think––“
“We haven’t even tried it.”
Ashton shrugged. His heart rate had doubled, and the temperature in the room spiked. “Yeah, well...”
“Do you wanna?” you asked.
His limbs felt numb as he sat up. “Maybe now’s not the best time, bug.”
“Oh.”
Ashton wiped his hands against his thighs, and when he looked over at you, a pout had found its way onto your face. The soft light from his bedside lamp reflected in your watery eyes and in the moisture on your lips. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Shit.
“Why do you wanna kiss me so bad?” he mumbled.
You glanced down. “I’ve always wanted t’kiss you,” you said. You looked back up at him, and he saw something in your eyes that he had never seen before.
It gave him hope.
He nodded, swallowing thickly while he fought back conflicting thoughts. “Okay,” he said.
“Okay?”
Ashton nodded once again. “Yeah. We can–– we can try it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, meanwhile wishing he had let the whole thing slide. He wished he could turn back time and never let himself feel like this.
But then you smiled, and he thought that, maybe, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.
You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t get the chance to think about anything else before you pressed your lips to his. It was quick, almost as if it had never happened. You moved away slowly, and he nearly pulled you back.
“Well,” you whispered, chuckling once more. The heat of your breath met his skin. With your arms still around his shoulders, you looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing you had laid eyes upon.
He wanted to believe it.
“Well,” he said in return. A small smile grew on his lips. He hardly remembered the kiss, but he knew he needed more. So, he placed his arms around your waist.
You leaned in again, this time capturing his lips gently between yours, but he held you close.
And then he pulled away. He pulled away because it meant too much to him. He pulled away because it didn’t mean anything to you.
SIX: NO ONE WILL EVER BE THEM
Ashton’s hands were numb.
The sun had only begun to rise. Its golden hue cast long rays through his blinds, the light taking shape and giving the dust a chance to shine. The colors washed against her back, but he wasn’t looking at that. He didn’t want to look at her.
He arose slowly, careful not to wake her before making his way to the bathroom. He kept his shower brief, and soon, the memories of the night prior infiltrated his brain. They had been together for a few weeks now. A few weeks of late-night hook-ups and early morning goodbyes. And last night, he called her by your name. She didn’t even notice.
Ashton wasn’t sure how he felt anymore. It was all numb. He could hardly feel the loofa as it scrubbed against his skin.
The morning was quiet around him. He thought about her while he spread jam on his toast. She was beautiful. She had kind eyes. But Ashton had to quit lying to himself. He never wanted to get used to the scent of her perfume on his sheets. He didn’t want to lose himself in the color of her eyes. He didn’t want to memorize her.
He grabbed his keys and drove off, skimming the coast with his tires as he dreamed of easier days. And then he called you.
“G’mornin’, Mister West Coast,” you said, and the stress of his mind eased with the tone of your voice. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. The sky was lilac above the ocean. He wished you were here to see it. “Mind’s racin’, and such. Miss you.”
“Aw, miss you, too,” you replied. He could hear your smile. “How’s Sophia?”
Ashton nearly slammed on the brakes. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel to keep his knuckles from turning white. He wanted to say, “she’s not you”, but instead, he said, “she’s okay. A little sick.”
“Wasn’t she just sick?” you asked.
He bit his lip. “Dunno.” And he truly didn’t. He didn’t know much anymore. He felt like he was a floating entity. He felt like he was living someone else’s life. “I really do miss you, stinky.”
“Stinky?” You scoffed. “I’m not stinky. You’re stinky.”
“You can’t smell me through the phone, idiot,” he said, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.
“Maybe I should just come visit and find out for myself.”
Ashton’s smile grew. “Maybe you should.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” he said.
You huffed. “Fine.”
Ashton was grinning now, cheeks burning while he stared at the road ahead. He still loved you. He didn’t know if he would ever stop.
SEVEN: IT WOULD NEVER WORK
“Don’t fucking skip my favorite song, you asshole!”
Ashton’s stomach burned from laughter. He held his phone high, yet the roof of the car kept it within arm’s reach. Meanwhile, you were fighting for dominance as he kept one hand on the steering wheel. You huffed once you gave up, and you fell back into your seat.
“C’mon,” he said, poking your thigh to earn a response. You didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Look, I’m changing it. Here. You control the music now.”
That pleased you. You grinned, taking the phone from his hands while he let out a laugh. This was how the week had played out. Back and forth playful bickering until you pulled out your infamous pout, and he had to keep himself from falling harder and harder in love with you.
It was a dynamic he had missed over the past year. His friends noticed as well. His feelings hadn’t changed, yet he was happy. He could finally allow himself to be happy.
You set his phone down in a cupholder and took his hand in yours. Ashton couldn’t deny the shift in energy between the two of you, yet he refused to let it overwhelm him. He refused to let his hopes get the best of his behavior. Instead, he just smiled at you and returned his gaze to the road ahead.
“Have your hands always been this big?” you asked him, holding his hand up in front of your face to examine it.
He laughed. “Are you–– are you flirting with me?”
You set your hands back onto your lap. “Maybe,” you mumbled as you traced his knuckles.
Ashton continued to smile, and a fluttering stirred in his stomach.
“Is that okay?”
His laughter quickly faded, and he cleared his throat. “Y-yeah,” he said, gripping your hand a little tighter. He traced his thumb along your thigh. A comfortable silence settled in, one full of smiles and unspoken words that kept his mind racing.
The next morning, he helped you pack your things. The security line at the airport was short, and you were already running slightly behind schedule. Your plane would begin boarding within the next half hour. So, he kept his goodbye brief.
And then you kissed his cheek, and he wanted to pull you back in and hold you forever.
“I love you, Ashton,” you said with a smile. A warm smile that held meaning. You spoke words that he had heard before, but they felt different as they settled in his chest. You turned away before he could say anything else, and he spent the drive home with tears in his eyes.
Because he loved you, and you possibly loved him, too. But he could never have you the way he wanted. There were too many miles in between.
EIGHT: YOU’RE NOT READY FOR COMMITMENT–– RIGHT?
His feet ached. His knees did, too. Sweat coated his forehead, and he carried on up the steep trail.
Ashton had been thinking about you for weeks. He was caught up in your smile and the soft words you spoke. He climbed mountains to get you out of his head. His muscles burned while his brain ached with the idea of you.
You left him with a thousand questions. Did you feel the same way? Did he still feel the same way? Is this what he wants? Does he want commitment?
Ashton was caught up in scenarios left and right. He was stuck on a house in the hills, or maybe a small town on the eastern seaboard with a mile to the ocean. He felt the waves on his shins, and he felt your hand in his with a silver ring imprinting on his skin. He saw children, and he heard their giggles. He saw his life with you.
But, even after all of these thoughts, he wasn’t sure if it was what he wanted. He still didn’t know. The mountain had yet to clear his head.
He set his keys in the bowl beside his front door. The cold shower felt like an old friend, and a familiar song echoed in the tiled room. Your favorite song. Ashton smiled.
He still loved you, even if you didn’t love him. He still wanted you. He wanted you for the rest of his life.
NINE: IT MIGHT WORK
snail butt:
hey what’s the address for mikey’s party
oh also!! surprise!
i'm coming to mikey’s party
Ashton’s leg bounced as he awaited your arrival. He felt trapped in some small room at the back of a club while his friends chatted around him. Michael wore golden party decorations around his neck, and he couldn’t stop smiling. Meanwhile, Ashton couldn’t hold back his fucking nerves. He hadn’t told a soul that you were coming.
When you stepped in, the room was yours. Your name was sung in a booming chorus, bodies making their way toward yours for one big group hug, and you were smiling, too. Ashton stayed behind. He felt like he couldn’t move.
Your eyes met his only seconds later, your smile growing while you shot him a wink. Michael talked about something that reminded him of you, and you laughed along. Ashton’s heart swelled at the sight of you. He wished he could have it every single day.
The night carried on slowly, and the conversations between the two of you were cut short. But the shared glances flooded the atmosphere. There was something heavy behind them, like a beckoning almost, but he couldn’t force himself to move in your direction. He wanted to look at you from afar.
“Stranger danger,” you said after approaching him later on in the night. You folded your arms and smirked, and Ashton was suddenly aware of how tight your dress was on your figure.
“Me?” he asked, mirroring your grin. “What d’ya mean? I’m the least terrifying person you’ll ever meet.”
“Say that to the fifteen-year-old kid who dressed up as Freddie Krueger to scare the shit out of his innocent neighbor,” you replied. You took a few steps toward him.
“To be fair,” he began and placed his hands against the small of your back, “you’re just an easy scary.” His smile grew. “Hi, bug. Missed you.”
You fell into him, arms wrapping around his shoulders while your breaths quickly fell into a rhythm. “I missed you,” you mumbled against his jacket. You pulled away suddenly. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
You nodded. “Come along,” you said.
The two of you said a quick goodbye to Michael, wished him a happy birthday, and made your way out into the chilly night. You had yet to let go of Ashton’s hand, even as he drove down streets that he hardly recognized. The address you gave him was one he had never seen before.
Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to an apartment complex fifteen or so miles away from his place.
“You gonna murder me?” he asked you.
You shook your head and smiled. “Nope,” you said.
A billion questions ran through his head as you led him up a staircase. But he stayed quiet. Even when you pulled out a set of keys and unlocked a numbered door, he still kept his mouth shut.
A lamp in the corner of the room lit up the small space. Boxes were stacked upon other boxes, and it hardly looked lived in. Yet, that didn’t matter. Ashton had realized what was happening. He felt sick to his stomach.
“I was offered a job,” you said.
He stared at the mess of boxes and mismatched furniture. Even through the clutter, it was thoroughly you through-and-through.
“And I was tired of having to constantly come visit you,” you continued with a laugh. “I didn’t wanna tell you until it was set in stone. But, yeah, welcome to my new home.”
Ashton turned to face you. You appeared nervous as you awaited his response. You were waiting for him to tell you it was a stupid idea, that you should have thought about this before packing up your life and moving to Los Angeles. But he wasn’t going to do that.
Instead, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you.
And you kissed him back.
TEN: THE FEAR OF FALLING OUT OF LOVE
He could hear the screams from backstage. A venue full of thousands of fans, all waiting to hear him and his band. He wished he hadn’t become numb to the feeling. It was his job–– it was normal. And the music he created no longer held the same meaning.
But he heard the songs differently now. He played with more passion, adrenaline rushing through his veins as his drumkit became a solace. Venues were his sanctuaries. Every night was filled with a new sensation he desired–– no, he craved.
His friends took notice. They fed off of his energy, and he wasn’t sure they had ever played this well before. It was something he wished he could share with you.
Ashton didn’t like remembering the thin line the two of you had drawn out. It was unexplainable, something unnamed that he was desperate to make sense of. Conversations were full of old jokes and stupid pictures he always saved into his camera roll. However, he never bothered to ask you how you felt. He never pressed about the one thing that stuck itself to his mind for well over a year.
He wanted to tell someone about how scared he was. Past relationships failed on his part–– he would flee instead of looking for reasons to stay. He chose to leave because he never saw things escalating further. Ashton had gotten used to the escape.
He felt different. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he needed. Yet, the lack of reluctance created an unwanted fear. Ashton was afraid that, if you ever opened up to loving him back, then maybe he would stop loving you in return.
This fear showed itself in his performance. It fueled an anger that terrified him. But the shows were fucking phenomenal, he told himself. His hands bled after every night. And he still called you every night.
He was afraid of losing feelings. He was afraid of losing you. The idea of loving you was more beautiful than he could imagine–– the idea of you filled his heart with so much joy. That was where Ashton’s love for you differed from past relationships. He was used to falling in love with ideas, but this time, he fell in love with the honest you. He loved every little thing about you.
“Hi, bug.”
“Hey, how was the show?”
Ashton pushed sweaty strands of hair out of his face. His heart was pounding through his skin, fingers sore and shaky from an incredible set. His lips were numb. “Hi, um, it was–– yeah, it was good.”
“You sound out of breath.”
He inhaled as best as he could. “Sorry, yeah. I am.” Anxiety crawled up his forearms and into his chest.
“You okay?” you asked him.
He swallowed. He wasn’t okay, but it didn’t matter. “Yeah. I’m good. How was your day?”
“Oh, it was fine,” you said. “Didn’t do much. Watered your plants, ate your food, had a good nap on your couch, and then I––”
“I’m in love with you.”
You were silent.
Ashton’s throat burned. Everything was numb. His entire body had fallen numb. He wanted to end the call and never come home.
“You are?” you whispered a moment later.
His heart ached. “Yeah,” he said.
“Please come home soon.”
Ashton tried to laugh through the nerves building. “Can’t do that, bug. I got like forty shows left.”
“Poopy.”
This time, he could laugh. Maybe he had been nervous for nothing. Nevertheless, he now believed that he had nothing to fear.
ELEVEN: THEY MIGHT LOVE YOU BACK
The door to his home creaked as he stepped inside. A thick black night greeted him, not a single light to be seen as the white noise settled. He held his breath while he set his belongings beside the couch. It always felt like this when he came home. He was always welcomed by an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He would shower and crawl into bed, and he would spend the entire night in a restless state.
Ashton hadn’t expected to see you curled up in his sheets. That was where the night different from the many others. He hadn’t expected his heart to fill with such warmth at the mere sight of you. Two in the morning had never felt so good.
You held his pillow tight, and he wondered if it smelled like him. He wondered if you had spent the past few months here, and he wondered if it felt like home to you. Because you looked like home to him. It was like you were meant to be there, all curled up in his bedsheets with his shirt on your back.
Ashton knelt beside you, a smile etched on his features as he ran his fingers through your hair. He had never felt this much love before.
“Hey, bug,” he whispered, grazing his thumb against your cheek while your eyes fluttered.
You stirred beneath him and hummed.
“’m gonna shower, then I’m gonna hug you after,” he said. “Okay?”
You nodded, but a moment later, your eyes snapped open. “Ash!” you yelped. You tossed your arms around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him. “You’re fucking home.”
He chuckled, yet he didn’t reply. He held you tighter and took in your warmth. He took in your scent and the weight of your breaths. He wanted to hold you forever.
You were the first to pull away, a smile never fading as you rested your forehead against his. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, and your fingers twisted in his hair; it was a feeling he’d never let himself forget.
“You forgot to text me when you landed, asshole,” you mumbled.
He laughed again, raising his hand to cup your cheek before kissing you softly. And, like always, you kissed him back. Ashton had loved you for over a year, and perhaps, you loved him in return.
#5sos#5sos imagine#5sos imagines#5sos au#5sos fanfic#5sos fanfiction#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer fanfic#5 seconds of summer imagines#5 seconds of summer fanfiction#5 seconds of summer imagine#5 seconds of summer au#5sos fluff#5sos angst#ashton au#ashton 5sos#ashton irwin#ashton irwin fanfic#ashton irwin fanfiction#ashton irwin imagine#ashton irwin imagines#ashton fanfiction#ashton imagine#ashton imagines#ashton irwin au#5sos writing#my writing#alcohol#swearing#fluff
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Welcome to Seattle (Ch. 3 of 5)
Remus deleted Tinder the second the app finished downloading. He was sitting at the dining table/desk combination of his studio apartment, and, unsurprisingly it was raining just outside the window. Seattle felt so new to Remus, although it had now been months since he moved away from his previous life. It took a lot of journaling and time, but he had begun to feel like what had happened–– his ex breaking his heart an hour before his twenty-sixth birthday party–– was meant to happen. His life hadn’t been his own. It was full of so much compromise, as is necessary for a life shared by two people, but the compromises that were made did not further his growth. He was stuck in a rut in his career, he was still in his college town, and he hadn’t even written a word of the novel he told himself he would write after the next big thing––graduation, holidays, birthdays, travel–– finished.
And now, here he was. Living in a big city, alone, but doing it the way he wanted. He had a job that furthered his growth, he had supportive friends, and he had already filled entire notebooks with the ideas, character charts, and plot diagrams that would eventually become his novel. Suddenly realizing that no one was here to complain about the cold, he cracked the window open, letting some of the fresh, rain-scented air in, and shrugged on a sweater.
He was at peace with himself, and for that reason he felt he was ready to give dating another shot. He re-downloaded Tinder, chose a few random pictures of himself, and typed out the bio that Dorcas had helped him draft, cringing the entire time. He closed the app without viewing the other Tinder users within twenty-five miles and two years of his age.
As a treat for his bravery, he decided to get a margherita pizza for lunch. If he exercised self-control, he could save half for tonight’s dinner as well. It was really a matter of simple economics.
***
Remus immediately noticed that the restaurant looked a little different in the midday light, but he also immediately noticed that Sirius was not on the clock. He ordered his pizza to-go.
As he walked back to his apartment, one hand tucking the pizza close, the other brandishing an umbrella, he tried not to think about the fact that he had so far only received free–– and unsolicited–– dessert items when Sirius was working.
***
An hour later, Remus had made his first matches on Tinder. He had also accidentally “super-liked” a person named “DL Top” with a gray image as their only picture, frantically looked up how you could “un-match” with someone, read a very patronizing how-to article on basic Tinder functions, and decided to choose “block” for good measure.
One of his matches was a graduate student at the University of Washington, and Remus liked that his profile said he loved to read. They exchanged normal greeting messages, before the man asked Remus if he was “a LTR kind of guy.” Remus answered him by saying “Tolkien is an amazing writer, obviously, but I have to admit the movies were kind of long.” The man didn’t reply, and Remus figured that his opinions on the Lord of the Rings franchise must have been a deal-breaker for the other man.
Dorcas and Marlene were adamant about hearing his progress with Tinder, so he sent a group text to the two of them.
Remus: Tinder day one is a thing, I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong yet
Dorcas: Yes! Proud of you
Marlene: what’s the weirdest thing that’s happened so far!!!!???
Remus: well, someone asked me what I thought about lord of the rings on the second message, does that count?
Dorcas: haha seriously? What did they even say
Remus: “so are you an LTR kinda guy or what?”
Marlene: HAHA
Dorcas explained that LTR in this context likely stood for “long-term relationship,” with intermittent texts from Marlene such as “how in the heck even” and “you are my favorite person oh my god.”
Remus decided to give Tinder a break for the rest of the day.
***
He made a good deal of progress within his first week of online dating, especially when considering that he started so low, with the misunderstanding of slang and accidental super-liking. It was now a Friday night, and he had a real-life, in-person date set for six o’clock. On Wednesday Remus had met a different match for coffee (but only after Dorcas had cross-referenced his story, friended him from a blank Facebook profile, and found pictures of him at his high school senior prom from nearly a decade ago. “You should be arrested,” Remus had said, horrified but a little grateful). Coffee had been perfectly pleasant, but both men agreed that they would rather be friends than anything more. They even friended each other on Facebook so that Remus could be added to his book club.
Meeting new friends was a welcome side-effect, but Remus was still in the market for a boyfriend. Hence, the anxious shuffling as he waited for the clock to get closer to six. Remus wished his apartment was larger, if only for the chance to have more space to clean. He had already Swiffered the floor, cleaned the bathroom mirror, and remade the bed, and it was still only a quarter past five. The cleaning was just for something to do with his hands and nerves, he knew that his date wouldn’t be seeing the inside of his apartment tonight. As per Dorcas’s prescriptions (and his own self-preservation), Remus’s first dates with strangers met online would take place completely in public.
At 5:45, a message from his upcoming date announced that he was being held a bit late at the office, and asked to reschedule for 6:30 instead of 6. Remus, wanting to be easy-going and amicable, kindly agreed, wishing him luck with his pressing work matters. Internally, however, he was frustrated that he had already taken the garbage out, since now there was absolutely nothing left to clean.
6:30 turned into 7:00, and by 7:15 Remus had taken his shoes off and was laying on the top of his neatly-made bed. The excuses changed from finishing at work, to a friend in need, to traffic, and Remus was beginning to consider just preemptively cancelling it himself.
At 7:45, the match asked if they could just skip dinner and maybe move straight into watching a movie “and cuddling” at Remus’s place instead. It was the final nail in the coffin Remus already saw, so he wasn’t even too disappointed.
Remus sent a polite but clear no, and knew that whoever this person was, he was not someone Remus would be building his life with. His stomach growled suddenly, reminding him that he still hadn’t eaten the dinner he was supposed to have hours earlier. Instead of going to all of the trouble to devise a meal at home, Remus decided that his troubles with the cancelled date warranted a very cheesy, doughy, and effortless meal. He quickly changed from his date clothes–– button down shirt, khakis, and tan buck shoes–– into a more comfortable, eating-pizza-alone-on-a-Friday-night ensemble: cozy sweatshirt, old blue jeans, and nikes.
When he got to the restaurant, he was still moping about getting blown-off from his date. He had sent a quick text to Dorcas and Marlene to let them know that his date was cancelled (otherwise they would have been checking his location religiously every fifteen minutes), but said he was doing okay since he didn’t want to interrupt their own date night plans with his sorrows.
Truthfully, Remus was pretty upset about what had happened. So far, online dating had not been a success, and Remus found himself returning to his secret fear that he wouldn’t ever successfully date again. Maybe it was because he was just too old, or perhaps he was out-of-touch, or it was simply because he had no real experience with dating since he had only ever had to go on one first date, and everything afterwards seemed to fall into place. If Lily was right, and he needed to meet someone organically for a relationship to work, he hoped it would happen soon.
Just then, his inner wallowing was interrupted by Sirius, carrying silverware and a glass of water. Somehow, Remus had forgotten that Sirius may be here, and hadn’t had time to prepare himself for the sight of the attractive waiter. His hair was swept into a loose bun, seemingly held together with a pencil.
“Hey there, how’s your Friday night going?”
Remus almost laughed at the question. Clearly, his night was not fantastic, because if it was, he would not be sitting in the booth of an Italian restaurant, alone, at 8:30 PM. He tried to shake off his own self-pity before answering. “Fine, thanks. How about you? Has it been busy tonight?” One of Remus’s favorite tactics when avoiding conversations about himself to his friends was to get them talking about themselves instead. Or, in the case of James, talking about Lily.
“It hasn’t been too busy today, or at least not since I got here at 5. Although,” he said, smiling almost conspiratorially, “I’ve had three different tables tell me ‘you too’ after I brought them their dinners.”
Remus laughed, and filed away the knowledge that Sirius remembered their inside joke from last time to the back of his mind for unpacking later. “I’ll have to see if I can get that number any higher then.”
“Oh, but you won’t be able to if I change up my script when I bring you your small margherita pizza. I’ll just say something like ‘here it is,’ no wishes of enjoyment included.” Sirius said, with faux sincerity.
“And what if I changed up my order on you?” Remus was surprised but pleased that Sirius remembered not only their jokes from last time about customers stumbling over words when presented with their food, but also the very food that Remus had ordered.
“I hope not, since I told the kitchen to start making it right after I saw you walk in.” Sirius grinned, but then suddenly looked almost bashful. “Although if you wanted something else, you still can order something else, that would be fine, I just thought, well, since it’s kind of late, we might as well give the ovens a head start?” His voice tilted up at the end as the statement turned into a question.
Remus liked this more approachable version of Sirius. He made him feel at ease. “No, you were right, I came here specifically for that margherita pizza. Thank you for starting it early for me.”
Sirius’s nervous smile turned soft.
***
The pizza was delicious, and succeeded in making Remus feel slightly better about the cancelled date. After all, he wouldn’t have been able to eat this much on the date, hindered by an abundance of good manners.
When Sirius dropped off the check, he also let Remus know that they would be closing soon. “You’re welcome to sit as long as you like, but the kitchen did just close.”
“No worries, I’m ready to head out. Thank you!” As Remus signed the receipt, a small to-go box was placed in front of him.
“Kitchen is closed, but you may want that for the road.” Sirius smiled warmly at Remus. “Have a good night!”
As Remus left the restaurant, carrying the small box, he reflected on Sirius’s parting words. He did have a good night, all things considered. Comfort food is one for addressing his emotional turmoil, but having a light conversation with a few inside jokes with another person is another thing entirely.
He also happily noted that he would get to bring the enclosed tiramisu with him to his breakfast with Dorcas and Marlene tomorrow. Pawning off the soggy dessert on them would be good for both reducing food waste and generating karma.
#wolfstar#harry potter#original fic#fluff#modern au#non-magic au#seattle#finding yourself post-breakup#found family#writer remus#waiter sirius#humor#great friend group#online dating#remus#sirius#james#lily#dorcas#marlene#dorcas/marlene#minerva mcgonagall#gilderoy lockhart
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