#short straw shivs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mandobatemans · 9 months

Text

intrigue (Tom Wambsgans x f!reader)

warnings: infidelity, fingering, unprotected piv sex, soft!dom tom, size kink kinda, biting, greg, do NOT have sex with the head of conservative news organizations irl!!!, i am a shivcel fr anything negative abt shiv in here i didn't mean it ily siobhan 🫶, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 4,740 (i got carried away)

A/N: this is loosely based on s4 e7 but there's no real timeline so it probably takes place like somewhere around season 3 or 4? this is my first succ fic so...enjoy 🤗 & also this took me SO long to write i'm so deeply sorry to anyone who was waiting

also posted to ao3

Tom had never been a fan of the whole “open marriage” arrangement. When he thought back to that fateful night (fateful night…who else would say that about their wedding night?) what he remembered most was the look on Shiv’s face when she told him that she wanted an open marriage. On their wedding night.

It was more for Shiv anyway. Tom rarely thought about actually acting on the arrangement, whether it be out of love for Shiv or loyalty to her father, he wasn’t sure. Sure, he had kissed someone here or done oral there when high on coke, but he had never actually fucked anyone else.

Something was different, though, tonight. Firstly, they were hosting a Waystar/ATN event at their apartment, and despite being chairman of ATN, he wasn't even sure what the evening was for. Shiv had told him about it last minute, casually mentioning it as they were being driven to work, like it was dinner at Logan’s rather than hundreds of media moguls and politicians to host. Actually, dinner at Logan’s felt equally, if not more, important than tonight. A better equivalent for how nonchalantly Shiv had mentioned it would be Connor inviting them somewhere.

Secondly, Shiv had suggested, outright, that they both find someone to hook up with at the party tonight. Earlier in their bedroom, after getting dressed in silence, Shiv had turned to Tom while putting her earrings in to share the idea. He knew she would be acting on it whether or not he did, and why shouldn’t he? It had been a while since he had gotten laid and was verbally (and physically) assaulting Greg a lot more as a result.

Did he just pick someone? How did you approach someone and say, “Hey, I’m in an open marriage but I’ve never actually done anything more than get my dick sucked with anyone else…anyway, let’s fuck!”

Tom fidgeted with his glass as he surveyed the room.

Despite your personal beliefs and the endless human rights violations that Waystar was affiliated with, their (and by extension ATN) events were some of the most lavish you'd ever attended. As a political journalist, it was standard for your company to send a journalist or two to whatever soirée the Roys were throwing. Everyone took turns, and this time you had drawn the short straw. It hadn’t been too bad so far, you thought, although perhaps you were jinxing yourself. You had kept to yourself mostly, chatting with other journalists you frequently saw around the city on assignments, snacking on the hors d'oeuvres, and listening to the ridiculous conversations political and media bigwigs were having.

You had been to an event hosted by the Roys before, but they were usually at ATN, Waystar, or some expensive venue. Being invited as a member of the press to Shiv Roy’s apartment felt strangely intimate. You were certain this was some calculated business move on the part of one Roy or the other, but you honestly didn’t really care. Whatever drama was happening within Waystar Royco was contained within the Roy family. You were simply here to supplement a piece your coworker was writing on the atmosphere of this political season.

It was only an hour into the party when you had collected all the quotes and interviews you needed, and sampled almost all of the hors d'oeuvres. Your boss expected journalists to stay for most, if not all, of the night for these things, in case some political bombshell were to happen. You were pretty sure nothing too monumental was going to happen in this room full of suits, especially with all of the Roys notably absent from the festivities. Even Shiv, whose house it was, looked like she wasn't paying any attention to what was going on in her home. In fact, she had been in the corner all night, talking to some prominent New York and D.C. women, important enough that you knew their faces but not important enough for you to attach any names to them.

You checked your phone for the time. You could probably get away with leaving in another hour if you made up some family emergency as an excuse for your editor. Even another hour seemed like ages. Maybe you could re-interview some people? Speak to some guests whose quotes would never make it in the article just to kill time? Sighing, you opened your messages, thumbs hovering over the chat with your editor, putting your journalism degree to use by brainstorming an excuse to get you back home in your bed before ten o’clock. When you turned around to pace while you typed (a nervous habit), you found yourself face-to-face with one of your hosts.

It felt like a fucking cliché. Literally bumping into someone at a party? If one of your writer friends wrote something like this, you'd tell them it was bullshit and things like that didn't happen in real life. Yet here you were, inches away from–

“Tom Wambsgans, Chairman of Global Broadcast News at ATN.” He introduced himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake.

You returned the handshake, grateful that he wasn’t offended by you bumping into him. “I know who you are.”

“And I know who you are.” He paused. “That sounded stalkerish, didn’t it? I meant, I know who you are because I’ve read your articles.”

“You have?” You were surprised. Your company and your articles in particular were considered left-leaning, the very opposite of the stories ATN ran.

He nodded. “Gotta keep up with the competition. I’ve seen some of your features on the network, as well.”

“Really? I would have thought you would just watch ATN all day,” you teased.

Tom made a face and then shook his head. “No, no, no. Plus, I wouldn’t really call any of our journalists ‘journalists’ so much as pretty faces. You do your own research and look good on the camera. That’s impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow and Tom’s eyes widened, processing what he had just said.

“God, I do sound like a fucking stalker.”

You laughed, “Just a little bit.” You let him cringe for a second, then smiled to reassure him. “No, but I’ve seen some of your interviews since you took over ATN. You look good on the camera, too.” You paused, before adding, “Maybe that makes us both a little stalkerish.”

His eyes lit up at your response, earning a genuine laugh (the first one that night not faked for some suit, he noted).

“Uh, sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going,” you explained, waving your phone in your hand for context.

“Ah, cell phone. The curse of the twenty-first century.”

You furrowed your brow involuntarily for a moment. He wasn't how you expected the spouse of a Roy to be like. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren't yet sure.

“I’m making a huge ass of myself, aren't I?” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to the party–”

“No! It’s okay. Stay,” you heard yourself say. It was Tom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Okay. You found him attractive. And even despite his eccentric comments, you also found yourself wanting to talk to him more. You were, however, purposely avoiding looking at the wedding ring on his finger.

To Tom, it all seemed too perfect. You, for example. He was being honest when he said he had seen and read some of your work and that he enjoyed it, and he did sometimes watch other networks to get an idea of the competition, but he had left out the fact that there was something about you in particular that made him watch the entire segment when you happened to be on air. And the fact that sometimes he'd scroll through your articles online and imagine you reading them aloud to him. But he wasn’t a stalker. And now you were here, in his house, on the night that his wife had all but shoved him into the bed of anyone that he wanted.

But still; one pleasant, slightly flirtatious conversation didn't mean you wanted to ride off into the sunset with him. Or, more accurately, go upstairs with him.

He scanned the room for Siobhan. Although it had been her suggestion, and he knew she had acted on the arrangement before, he still felt like it was somehow a trap. Like she’d hire someone to hide behind the bedroom door that night and catch him with his pants down (literally) to use as blackmail.

But sure enough, she was across the room, laughing at something some lobbyist had said, and resting her hand on the other woman’s arm slightly longer than a casual touch would last.

The longer he thought about it, the more confident he felt. If you were interested, he wanted to spend the night with you. And maybe more. But he was getting ahead of himself.

“It's kind of loud over here. Come on,” he gestured with his head toward the opposite corner of the apartment, one not occupied by any guests save for an elderly politician snoring on the couch.

You followed him, nodding when he asked if you wanted another drink before picking a champagne flute off of a passing server’s tray. He handed it to you once you reached the corner, your hands touching during the exchange. It seemed like even more of a cliché to feel sparks fly at this tiny touch, so you ignored that, as well.

“You host these kinds of things often?” You asked, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of your champagne. The room was full of very important people, though none of them seemed to be talking about very important things. You couldn't quite wrap your head around why a high-level executive who had married into one of the largest media conglomerates was wasting his time talking to you (flirting with you?), but you had seen stranger things in this city.

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, no. I’m usually just a guest.” Tom laughed and took a sip of his drink. “And not a very important one, at that.”

“I’m sure that's not true. I mean, how many people watch ATN? And you’re in charge of what airs or doesn't air.”

“1.89 million,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, “Outside of the office, nobody’s really worried about what I think.”

“Not even your wife?” You stopped after you said the words, giving your brain a second to catch up with your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect, I–”

“No, no, no, no, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching out to rest a hand on yours consolingly. Tom leaned in closer so only you would hear him, unnecessary considering the secluded corner you two were in.

“But no, not even my wife.”

Your eyes darted to his hand atop yours, suddenly aware of how large his hands were. They almost completely covered yours, and they felt so comfortable and right there, like–

“We have an open marriage,” he suddenly said.

“Oh.”

Tom seemed disappointed with this reaction, quickly removing his hand from yours and adding, “That’s just to say that, our marriage is, uh, unconventional, so her not caring what I have to say isn’t that unusual.”

You were still processing the feel of his hand on yours, much less the revelation that he actually might be flirting with you and that it actually might go somewhere. By the time your thoughts caught up with you, it seemed like he was about ready to excuse himself and go scream at his reflection in the bathroom.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” you responded, mirroring his gesture from before and resting your hand on top of his to comfort him. “You don’t deserve that, really.”

He scoffed. “You don't know what I deserve.”

You looked up at him, taking the time to absorb the look in his eyes that revealed just how much he was going through.

“Uh, Tom?”

Tom rolled his eyes and turned away from you to snap at the source of the interruption. “What, Greg? Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”

“It’s just–well, Shiv is leaving with someone.” The taller man gestured at the door, where sure enough, Shiv was weaving her way through the crowd toward the elevators with the lobbyist from earlier, her hand guiding her by the small of her back.

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, Greg, we do have an open marriage. So, everything’s fine. Now, scram.”

Greg looked between the two of you and hesitated for a second before nodding and disappearing back into the bustle of the party.

Tom turned back to you. “That’s Shiv’s cousin, Greg. I’ve sort of taken him under my corporate wing, so to speak. Showing him the ropes and all that.”

You nodded, finishing your champagne.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” you echoed.

He paused for a minute, though it seemed to last much longer than that. “You’re writing an article about this party, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded, unsure of where he was going with this.

Tom leaned in, lowering his voice. “What would your editor say if you got a behind-the-scenes look at the party?”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Of course, you'd have to come upstairs…” Something shifted in his tone. You were well aware of what the change implied, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't want to jump at the offer. This wasn’t you, though. Sleeping with a married man? On top of that, not just any married man, but the host of the party that you were covering for work. It sounded like a problem you’d encounter on an Intro to Ethics exam. But any moral qualms you had about the issue were pushed out of your head when you registered the way Tom was looking at you.

“Of course,” you repeated, nonchalantly, setting your empty champagne glass on a nearby table.

Something flickered in Tom’s eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Wambsgans,” you replied, gesturing dramatically.

Neither of you spoke for the entire walk away from the excitement of the party to the quiet of Tom’s bedroom. It looked much like you had expected it to look: modern, chic, and impersonal. You were sure Tom (or Shiv) had some personal items somewhere in the house, but the bedroom was so clean and styled that the only indication anyone slept or dressed in there was some of Shiv’s makeup and jewelry strewn haphazardly on the vanity.

When he had closed the door behind you, Tom stepped closer to you experimentally, as if he was afraid you'd flee like a wild deer if he moved too fast. You stepped closer as well, which seemed to give Tom the permission he was looking for. Within seconds, his mouth was on yours, his hands cupping your face, all tongue and teeth. There was hunger and desperation in the kiss, but it was hypnotizing, beckoning you deeper and deeper. He was almost doubled over to reach you (god, he was tall), so you shifted your weight to stand on your tiptoes.

Tom broke the kiss, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

He shed his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Next, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Tugging on the length of his tie, he loosened it enough to undo a few buttons at his collar, revealing an inviting expanse of chest hair.

“Turn around,” he told you, snapping you out of your male-stripper-fantasy gaze.

You did as he said, something in his tone going straight to your core. You felt him run his hands from your shoulders down your arms, then down your hips and up to your waist, the action bunching up the fabric of your dress. He moved your hair to the side, pressing hot kisses to your neck that made your eyes roll back.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear.

You nodded in response, trembling momentarily under his touch. Tom unzipped your dress, helping you push it down your body and step out of it. He unhooked the back of your bra without moving further. It occurred to you then how wrong this was, to be sleeping with someone else’s husband in their own bedroom, but to your surprise, you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the heat of Tom’s gaze on your bare back. You took your bra off the rest of the way and discarded it on the ground next to your dress. Once in only your underwear, you turned back around to face him, watching his eyes follow every curve of your body to drink in the newly exposed skin.

“Wow,” he said, simply, reaching out to grab you by the hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, cradling his face in your hands. You felt him smile back into your kiss. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, totally enclosed by his larger form. He went from kissing you on your lips to your neck to behind your ear to your chest, as if he couldn't decide which spot deserved the most attention or for how long.

One of his hands slid down to the waistband of your underwear, the cold metal of his wedding ring a shock against your hot skin. You made eye contact with him as his hand slipped between the fabric and your skin cup your cunt, whining when you felt his touch. He seemed to get off on that, capturing you in a kiss again at the same time he slipped a digit into your wet heat. You were too hot; you pressed your hand to his chest to stabilize yourself and pushed your underwear down your legs and kicked them off. Tom smiled at this, getting right back to pumping his finger in and out at a pace that almost made you melt down the wall.

It was probably a power trip thing, you thought, you totally naked and him almost fully clothed. You didn't mind because it was kinda hot, but it wasn't what you had expected from Tom based on the unassuming, Midwestern image of him that was circulated in columns and by the Roys themselves. But, then again, you hadn't expected to find yourself in this position at all when you left your apartment earlier that night.

The pace of his fingers felt so good, so intoxicating, that now that you had him, you needed more of him.

“A-another one,” you whined between kisses.

When you opened your eyes to look at him, Tom had a smug look on his face. Sure, it was arrogant, but it turned you on, so who really cared? “Yeah?” he asked, “You want another one?”

“Tom,” you hissed, gripping onto his shoulder as his finger curled in just the right way that it made your legs go numb.

The look remained on his face, but he added another finger nonetheless. Tom appeared to inhabit both extremes when it came to sex: he really wanted to pleasure you but he also really wanted to do what he wanted. Luckily, those two wants aligned.

He was making you feel so good that you needed to have more of him. Your kisses got sloppier, each so desperate to be further molded with one another that your tongues tried to push impossibly further into the other’s. Tom shifted his hand so he could angle his thumb to rub slow, tantalizing circles on your clit as he continued to pump his fingers. Your grip on his shoulder tightened–you feared your fingernails would leave dents in his skin–but like so many other things tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could feel the pressure rising in your middle, your cunt clenching around his fingers in anticipation of your impending orgasm, but then it stopped.

You opened your eyes that you hadn't realized were squeezed shut to look at Tom, who had his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with your slick. “Open,” he encouraged. You obeyed, accepting his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean with a ‘pop.’ He stared at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Sit.”

There was authority in his commands, but you didn’t fear him; from the short amount of time you had spent with him, you knew he was at his core a sweet man. You would admit to yourself that you had been curious how his awkward, nervous energy would translate into the bedroom, but once alone, he seemed to be a different man.

You watched him strip off the rest of his clothes eagerly, smiling up at him once he rejoined you on the bed totally naked. He must’ve noticed you staring, because he asked: “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

You shrugged, shifting your eyes back up to his own. “No, it’s okay. I'm on birth control.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I don't even know if I have one in here.”

“Then why’d you ask?” You laughed, encouraged by the smile that crossed his face when you did so.

“Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If you said yes, I would’ve sent someone to go get one or borrowed one from–”

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fuck me already.”

“Alright. If you say so,” he teased, leaning down over you to kiss you. Both your lips were red and puffy from all the kissing and some biting, but it didn’t matter. You could feel his cock pushing against your stomach from the angle, so you reached down to take him in your hand and pump his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your skin, face buried in your neck as he pressed kisses to the every inch of available flesh, “Fuck…Can I?”

“Please,” you responded, noticing a little desperate hitch in your voice that you ignored. Tom licked his hand and cupped your sex with it, running the pads of his middle fingers through your folds a few times to collect the wetness between your legs. Gently, he guided his length into your opening

inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort before bottoming out.

You should’ve expected his dick to be big from his height, the size of his hands, his nose, whatever, but you hadn’t considered just how big. It was quite a stretch to take him fully, but he gave you all the time you needed to adjust and get comfortable. When you were ready, you bucked your hips up into his to give him the okay.

Tom took your permission to move and ran with it, grabbing your left leg and placing it over his shoulder before pressing you down further into the mattress with his body weight so he could thrust into you at a deeper angle.

You lifted your head to meet him to return to making out, the sensation of his tongue down your throat even more erotic now that he was inside of you, as well.

His thrusts were deep but not as aggressive as he had been with his fingers. He wouldn’t vocalize this, or even admit to himself that he was thinking this, but he wanted this to last. As much as it was supposed to be a hookup–emotionless sex–he found himself wanting it to happen again, despite his attempts to push those thoughts deep into the recesses of his mind.

One arm was thrown around Tom’s neck, hand gripping a fistful of his hair. Your other hand went down to your clit, beginning to rub circles to match the pace of his thrusts.

“You wanna cum again?” He teased, “Again, when I haven't cum once?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, slipping your finger down from your clit to lightly stroke the length of his cock that wasn't fully inside of you.

He let out a moan, eyes twinkling as he snapped his hips a little harder, snickering when you gasped in response.

Tom caught you in another kiss, resting his weight on his forearm that was positioned next to your head. You arched your back up into him, urging him deeper, which he obliged. “Touch yourself,” he said, disconnecting his mouth from yours just long enough to give the command.

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your clit again as his thrusts became sloppier and jerkier. He was holding on until you came again, despite his earlier cockiness. The moment he felt your walls tighten around him, he let go, spilling inside of you with a grunt.

He pulled out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

Tom was still catching his breath, and you watched his chest heave for a few moments. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, nodding and reaching over to kiss him again. “I'm good, yeah. You?”

“Perfect, actually.” Tom smiled back at you. He found himself lost in the moment, lost in your eyes, lost in the connection you two had just had, and it was too much for him. Quickly, he sat up, ready to change the subject. “You need to clean up?”

You furrowed your brow at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but going along with it nonetheless. Despite him just having been inside you, you didn't feel like it was your place to mention the change. “Yeah. Can I?” You asked, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Go ahead. Towels are above the sink.”

You flung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll just clean off real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, no, no. I mean, you can stay the night. If you’d like, that is. I could call you a car, though, if I’ve made some awful faux pas and you don’t want to look at me for another–”

“Tom.” He focused on you again after his brief spiral. “I would like to stay.”

He grinned. “Great, that's great.”

“Just let me–” You waved your hands around your lower body, “–clean all this up.”

“Yeah, of course, sure. I’ll be here.” He added the last part in a quasi-sing-song voice.

At the sound of the shower turning on, Tom rose to locate his clothes and try to clean up. He pulled his boxers back on, taking his dress shirt, pants, & jacket to be thrown into the hamper. They really should be dry-cleaned, he considered, but found that he couldn’t be bothered. As for your clothes, he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with them, so he laid your dress across a chair in the bedroom and left your bra and underwear on the floor. He was still considering whether he should pick them up or not when you came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your torso.

Once you had dressed in your undergarments again and Tom had given you an undershirt to sleep in, you started to wonder what all this meant. If it had just been a hookup, why were you staying the night? You had thought you’d feel dirty and disgusted with yourself, spending the night in someone else’s bed with someone else’s husband, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what that said about you, what it meant that you were perfectly comfortable talking into the night with Tom, both laughing and sharing stories long after you had agreed to turn the lights off and get some sleep. That almost made it worse, you thought, that it wasn’t just sex. That made it dangerous.

After you had drifted off, Tom spent a few minutes watching you sleep. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, watching the worries of the day wash off your face while you slept. He knew it was wrong to be more comfortable in this bed with you than he was with his own wife. But that was something to deal with (or repress) in the morning. Here, now, with you wrapped in his and Shiv’s bedsheets, your form against his chest rising and falling with his breaths, he could pretend it was meant to be like this.

@swiftcession @greenwrldsz @zirrocom @lukas-matsson @ledtassoo @bluecruz97 @rita-lean @grainyimag3

#my fic #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #succession

199 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 24 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

6K notes · View notes

selfindulgentfandomstuff · 4 months

Text

Succ selfship ramblings...

this will be rlly unorganized bc im just getting things out and down somewhere so yea <3

wanted to redo my succ self insert to be partially more of an oc/self insert bc idk i just wanna explore different stuff with his design visually that wouldn't necessarily be accurate to how i currently look irl so uhhh yeahp

a lot of his backstory is still the same as before ive just changed up a few things like how they meet and Elia's general physical appearance!

------

Name: Elia Holden

Pronouns: he/they

Gender: trans man

Orientation: biromantic + bisexual

Age: 26 (at start of series)

Appearance: 5’7, small frame/build, fluffy wavy blonde hair, freckles, blue-green eyes, short scruffy facial hair that only is visible in good lighting, dresses pretty casually throughout first season but wardrobe changes with time + prolonged Tom exposure

Education level: bachelors of science in physics; working on doctorate in astrophysics

Occupation: scientific journalist with the left leaning news network, Social Impact (specializing in physics and space related news)

Background:

Ever since he was a little girl, Elia wanted to be a scientist. He didn’t really know he wanted to go into physics, specifically until sometime around middle school but from then on, he was determined to be a physicist. Unfortunately, he kind of sucks at math (not really, but he’s just not on par with other physics students in that regard) so instead of a hard science career as a physicist, Elia decided to go into science journalism and write about physics instead.

Still in school part time, trying to get a doctorate in physics, Elia got picked up by a left leaning news network, Social Impact. There, they worked as a journalist specializing in physics related news in the world of science. Though they most often got to write about science, particularly physics and space related news, there were certain occasions where Elia picked the short straw and, like all of the journalists at some point or another, had to attend a Roy hosted social event (given how much of a social influence the family and their company was).

It was the celebratory party to announce Tom Wambsgans’ new acquisition of the role of Chairman of Global Broadcast News at ATN publicly and as big, well, news, in the news world, Social Impact sent a journalist to cover the event for their network. That journalist was Elia Holden.

At the party, Elia tried to keep to himself for the most part, only there as a formality and having no real interest in the people or the event itself. He’d deal with his boss’s frustration at his apparent apathy later. So, they kept to themself in a corner of the very large room in which the party was being hosted, right up until someone decided to bother them, despite the very icy glare on their face.

That someone turned out to be the man of the hour, Tom Wambsgans himself. Something about the strange little guy skulking about the room, only occasionally sneaking some hors d'oeuvres before slinking back to a corner and just watching the people mingle; he intrigued Tom. And Tom had been getting bored so he decided to go bother the antisocial young man.

After a good few hours of talking and getting to know each other, Tom, slightly drunk, stressed and emotionally conflicted about the state of his marriage to Shiv, caved and he did what he’d been wanting to do since about 20 minutes in of talking to Elia. He led Elia to a room (Elia would later discover that this was Tom and Shiv’s bedroom; the party had taken place at one of their many residences) and slowly boxed them into a corner, giving them plenty of time to escape and return to the party if they wanted to. They didn’t take any of the opportunities he was giving them to back out and so, emboldened by the knowledge that they probably wanted this too, Tom shoved Elia against the wall behind them, kissing them in a way he hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time.

Elia, startled but quickly catching on, reciprocated enthusiastically, albeit clumsily; they were pretty inexperienced in this territory- kissing and intimacy, that is. Tom didn’t mind. He kissed them hungrily, like a starving man who’d just been given a feast.

Things got heated pretty quickly but just as Elia was yanking Tom’s tie off his neck, the door opened, revealing a very surprised Greg, whose mouth hung open stupidly in shock.

Tom yelled at Greg before reassuring Elia that he hadn’t done anything wrong and this was just bad timing. Tom took Elia’s phone, held it up to his face to unlock it with facial recognition and quickly typed in his personal number, handing it back to Elia and muttering something about how this, “didn’t have to be over” if they didn’t want it to. He then straightened himself out again and walked out the door, looking for all the world like nothing had happened at all. Elia waited a few minutes, as instructed by Tom, before leaving the room as well. He grabbed a few macarons and sweets and stuffed them into his pockets before quickly leaving the party to go home.

Once there, Elia sat on his bed and stared at the phone number left in his phone under the contact name: “Tom Wambsgans (guy from that party you were at)”

small messy doodle

------

idk i thought i was gonna have more to say lol i'll add more if anything comes to mind :)

#dark and lonely... i need somebody to hold me #tw suggestive #suggestive tw #cw suggestive #tw alchohol mention

4 notes · View notes

thelibraryiscool · 2 years

Text

Short Story Project -- Week 1

Here’s what I read this week -- I won’t give any ratings, but I’ll say if I recommend (R), strongly recommend (S), or don’t recommend a story (D)

1. Ursula K. le Guin, “Vaster Than Empires And More Slow” (S) “The people of the Survey team walked under the trees, through the vast colonies of life, surrounded by a dreaming silence, a brooding calm that was half-aware of them and wholly indifferent to them. There were no hours. Distance was no matter. Had we but world enough and time... The planet turned between the sunlight and the great dark; winds of winter and summer blew fine, pale pollen across the quiet seas.”

2. Ted Chiang, “Exhalation” (R) “As I contemplated this vista, I wondered, where was my body? The conduits which displaced my vision and action around the room were in principle no different from those which connected my original eyes and hands to my brain. For the duration of this experiment, were these manipulators not essentially my hands? Were the magnifying lenses at the end of my periscope not essentially my eyes? I was an everted person, with my tiny, fragmented body situated at the center of my own distended brain.”

3. Shiv Ramdas, “And Now His Lordship is Laughing” (D) “Needle and twine, knife and lime. Hands flashing, jute bending, straining, obeying her, as it always had. Dawn to dusk she weaves, reaching within to put of herself into the jute, letting her feelings and memories flow. But all she can remember is the sound of that laughter, the peals of merriment that had convinced her not to succumb, because that would be the worst way to die, to the sound of your murderer’s laughter. And all she can find of herself is that ever-growing, cold, frightening feeling that frightens her no longer, because it is not just inside her, now it is her. And all she feels, she puts into the doll.”

4. Nella Larsen, “The Wrong Man” (R) “Julia Romley, in spite of the smoke-colored chiffon gown (ordered specially for the occasion) which she was wearing, seemed even more flamingly clad than the rest. The pale indefinite gray but increased the flaring mop of her hair; scarlet, a poet had called it. The satiny texture of her skin seemed also to reflect in her cheeks a cozy tinge of that red mass.”

5. Anton Chekhov, “В вагоне” [In a train car] (R) “В моем вагоне все то же: тьма, храп, табачный и сивушный запахи, пахнет русским духом. Возле меня храпит рыженький судебный следователь, едущий в Киев из Рязани... В двух-трех шагах от следователя дремлет хорошенькая... Крестьянин, в соломенной шляпе, сопит, пыхтит, переворачивается на все бока и не знает, куда положить свои длинные ноги. Кто-то в углу закусывает и чамкает во всеуслышание... Под скамьями спит богатырским сном народ. Скрипит дверь. Входят две сморщенные старушонки с котомками на спинах…” [tr. below the cut]

5. In my train car it is all the same: pitch dark, snoring, smells of tobacco and moonshine vodka, smells like the Russian spirit. Next to me snores a redheaded court inspector traveling to Kiev from Ryazan... Two or three steps from the inspector dozes a good-looking girl... A peasant in a straw hat wheezes, huffs, turns over onto all sides and does not know where to put his long legs. Someone in a corner is snacking and munching for all to hear... Under the benches the people sleep like a log. The door creaks. In come two wrinkled up old ladies with bundles on their backs...

#short story project #allie reads #quote #books

6 notes · View notes

kendallsdreamsong · 2 years

Text

okayyy heres the roman analysis. cw: discussion of nsfw topics (its about his sexuality. so), abuse (references to physical & emotional abuse, heavy discussion of sexual abuse), homophobia, ummm. yeah okay that should be it

romans sex deal is so interesting to me bc its a major facet of his character but its also so open-ended. there are the 4 main interpretations that ive seen; intimacy, power, queerness, and that hes a csa survivor

intimacy makes the most sense imo. he is most comfortable when he cant see the other party, with tabitha he creates this whole. weird necrophilia thing to justify not having to properly interact with her, and with gerri theres always something *between* them -- a phone, or a door, or the fact that they can never actually discuss it since gerri doesnt want her career ruined. this would also parallel nicely with shivs marriage issues, since those also come down to intimacy. shiv even says, in 3x07, "the relationship was fine sexually and you're loving the intimacy and all?" to roman and like. if anyone knows roman its shiv. self recognition through the other (derogatory). see also: tomshiv/romangerri parallels. theres not rlly much i can say here, its like. just metaphorical enough for it to be a theme but not Too much that its grasping at straws.

the only thing i'd have to say against the intimacy interpretation is that i think the fact that they explicitly said it in s3, *especially at kendalls bday party* (where the csa survivor implications are the heaviest), prob means theres something more. if that was meant to be taken straight-on as a whole explanation of romans sex issues then it wouldve been part of a major turning point in his arc -- instead, well. literally in the next episode dickpicgate happens. so. nothing changed. it reads as a one-off line that reflects more on shiv than it does on roman

if u want to read it as a power play thing, i think it has to be in combination with another interpretation. its certainly not enough to stand on its own, since most of romans sex deal is a Lack of sex. having said that, his relationship with gerri attests to this in a very particular way. it started with gerri degrading roman, with him seemingly taking less power in the relationship (which is only hammered in by the age gap), until u realize just how much power roman has over gerri. yes, gerri is a board member, but roman is a *roy*. yes, hes *roman* roy, but a roy nonetheless. he could ruin her career just by a wrong text message, and he almost fucking did! because he was too shortsighted with his own power that he didnt fully conceptualize how dangerous the game he was playing truly was, even though gerri told him time and time again. either way, their dynamic creates this interesting faux secession of power, in which roman can play a sort of. charade that hes less powerful than he truly is

queer interpretation: okay. this one… definitely has backing. i get that the bathroom thing is about masculinity and exclusivity, but its also very very gay to bring not 1, not 2, but 3 men into the bathroom with you. there is no heterosexual explanation for the mencken bathroom meeting. in any case, there are also lines with double meanings, like "i am a walking rainbow band" and logan saying to "get straightened out" when discussing his sex deal. which is. definitely one way to phrase it! roman also has a very noticeable reaction to being called queer/the f slur by logan, which to me says theres some truth to it. overall, i wouldnt say this makes sense as an Explanation of his sex deal, since yknow. his relationship with gerri is to some degree about sexual attraction, from what i can tell. i think hes just queer And has a lot of psychosexual issues. he can do both❤️ (i also left out a Lottt of examples of him being. so manliking. like his entire agreement to "seduce" eduardo, saying "i could rim with vim", etc. theres a 5 minute fancam of him just being gay and the only reason its that short is bc of tumblrs video limit. to give u an idea of just how not-straight he is)

the csa survivor reading is. well. okay. he has a tendency to separate "sex" from "bodies", for example when tabitha says shes wet he cringes and asks her to be less specific. even gerri and romans whole Thing carries with it the knowledge that it is solely gerri degrading roman, only mentioning his behavior and not his body. roman does say shit like "i'd lay you badly but i'd lay you gladly" but like. gerri has made it VERY clear that its not gonna get physical and they both know that. which means roman can make those advances without actually having to fulfill them. additionally, (edit: nvm im proofreading and this is all wrong, sorry i wrote this in the middle of season 2 i didnt know what was coming) he feels isolated from the family bc they think hes "weird"/"has something wrong with [him]". this can presumably be brought back to the dog pound, as thats when he "went weird" and was sent to military school. however we know that his recounting of the event that transpired is unreliable, seeing as kendall confirms later that that wasnt the whole story. ssssso. something big happened around the same time as the dog pound. we get mentions of bedwetting, which is a common symptom of csa, and he makes a Lot of incest/pedophilia jokes, particularly where he is the victim (see: "…said the father as the sexual assault allegations poured in" "like a camp counselor in my butt when i was 12"). like, um, more than any other sibling (except for shiv, whose incest jokes are also always about roman). ESPECIALLY in season 3, like. it feels like every time roman is on-screen in s3 theres some joke about him wanting to fuck his mom. in any case, this has all been talked about before. if u wanna see more about it, heres an article discussing it that i really liked: https://medium.com/@krpilon/successions-roman-roy-is-a-csa-victim-here-s-why-b96aa628fe71 . what i havent seen discussed while ppl talk about this interpretation/theory, is his role in the argestes panel. for a refresher: the panel was waystars initial statement following the news of the sexual assault and murders in cruises. shiv and kendall take haphazard turns making statements, while roman is notably quiet. now, u could just say that this is a metaphor for their respective roles within the company, and u'd be right -- shiv and kendall are really the only two that are at all being considered for ceo, while roman fades into the background, despite technically being there. but i wanna try out a different interpretation. lets take a look at the cinematography first. at ~50:56, kendall says, "we dont know." at the same time, the camera moves to romans face. kendalls voice is overlayed, "right now we just dont know". before zooming back out and focusing on the rest of the panel as kendall moves on. if were running with the csa survivor interpretation here, which we are in this case, this would reference people not knowing about romans sexual abuse, only bolstered by the fact that the argestes panel *was literally discussing sexual abuse*. finally, the only thing roman says during this panel is, "we'll do whatever anyone wants". again, double meaning. theres other stuff, like in 3x01 the camera focuses on roman when the possibility of logan sexually assaulting someone is brought up, but that was the most clear example i could see of cinematography being used to imply this

FUCK i forgot another thing with the csa interpretation. okay so like. theres sexual abuse within the company. thats a pretty big piece of season 2 and season 3. and we know that the violence of capital (abuse within waystar) is the violence of the family (abuse within the roy family). so it would make sense that there would also be sexual abuse within the family. this leads into theories surrounding rose as well, since if romans csa mirrors the sexual abuse in cruises, then the murder of rose would mirror the murder in cruises

IN ANY CASE. those are the 4 most common interpretations ive seen. i agree with all of them to some degree, but i also trust in succession's ability to throw us curveballs

#mine #txt #roman #this is the 1k word one #this was actually meant to be a dm but . i never actually ended up sending it #Hi Vin heres the roman analysis i was talking about a couple weeks ago #in any case. i dont even know how much i agree with this #i wrote the majority of it while watching season 2 #and then went in and added a couple things from season 3 once i finished it #but i havent actually like. edited anything #SO. who knows how this is gonna turn out

28 notes · View notes

shadoedseptmbr · 3 years

Text

fic post 2

@breadedsinner

A future chapter of Steal Away Home, for a very patient reader <3 And anyone else who just likes drama :D Hard warning: Violence, blood, kidnapping, high peril, and some implied but not shown torture and mind control. (typical of Dragon Age but not everyone’s cup of tea at 10 in the morning.0

There were guards on the small barn where they tracked them.

They all died. They stood between him and her and they *died* for it, with his crimson fletched arrows in their eyes and throats for daring. No prayers on his lips for his enemies, tonight.

Varric held his tongue for once. He'd reminded Sebastian to leave one for questioning, but he’d clearly looked at him- seen him for once. There was nothing of the gentle Chantry priest, nothing of the Choir Boy left in him.

Only a blazing eyed archer and his next target.

Fenris had swung his sword and the one standing on the trap door found himself sliced neatly in twain for his audacity.

The heavy, cloying scent of blood, acidic potions, and the putrid, acrid notes of quick death on musty air rolled over them when they pulled the straw covered hatch open.

Sebastian went white to the lips.

At point, Fenris hauled up short before he trod on another guard, who gurgled a final breath. There was a flechette buried in his eye, handle deep and a blood trail, leading...

"Aeryn!" Sebastian ran into the next room, pushing Fenris aside with no regard for the staying hand on his shoulder. His lead foot slipped and he grabbed at the doorframe to catch himself, the door creaking open to reveal the chamber.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, flickering torches shedding lurid illumination from the corners, catching in the remnant of chemical smoke while shadows pooled in the center. Liquid gleamed viscously in splatters on every surface, including a table tipped on its side and shoved towards a wall, a limp hand just visible underneath the edge. Glass was shattered, glittering. Two heaps that had once been human lay immediately in front of him, broken vials of something acidic eating away at the ruin.

A dulled flash of metal drew his eye to a silent corner.

Maker, she was covered in blood. The ruins of her fragile black silk dress hanging in shreds from the band under her breasts. It registered in the last rational bit of his mind that only some of the blood was hers; it oozed from deep slashes veining across her shoulders, her throat, trailing in lurid vines down her arms.

But most of it belonged to the dead she was surrounded by; a sharp piece of glass and a curved mage's belt knife in her white-knuckled hands.

Lockpick in her mouth, she hunched in the corner of the filthy cellar, trying to get a rune-marked cuff off. He went to duck under the low doorframe, hand reaching out, reaching to her, "Aeryn! Thank Andr..."

Something...some *wrongness* to her movement made him pause.

She looked up at him, slowly; eyes shadowed by lank, dark bangs. She tilted her head to the side and observed in a clear, detached tone he'd never heard- at odds with her wretched appearance. "Three hundred sixty three."

Fenris' hand grabbed the back of his armor like a vice before he could start forward again, holding him immobile and Sebastian batted at the taloned glove. "What? Fenris, let go of…"

She informed them matter-of-factly, "That's the number you'll be. I think. I lost count once."

Fenris refused to let him budge, barring the others from advancing, snapping. "Hawke, be still!"

In serpentine motion, utterly feral, she whirled away, placing a wall at her back. Lips curled, teeth bared in a snarl. Aeryn's gaze was flat, her eyes dilated nearly black and soulless as a shark's as she watched them and Sebastian felt the hair on his neck raise.. Not his Aeryn. Not a spark of her. He went still as stone as she locked on him in a predator's calculation.

A moment passed as they stood frozen before confusion twisted across her face and she raised her hands sharply.

She retreated further, pressing against grotty stone. The pick pinged as it hit the flags. "Don't." as her shadows guttered around her, voice harsh as though she'd been screaming for hours.

Aeryn looked behind him to Fenris, relief breaking across her face...and oh, Maker, it hurt that she looked anywhere but him. "You." Hauling in a breath, she spoke again. "I know you.”

“You know us.”

Her voice turned desperate, and he could see her fingers clawing into the stone. “Knock me out. Don't leave me alone with him." She rasped, pleading.

Sebastian felt the ground slide beneath his feet. Surely she didn't think he had anything to do with this..."Aeryn?!"

"Stop!" Fenris' shock was evident and desperation plain as she raised the glass shiv to her neck.

Ice formed in Sebastian's gut, and he only just succeeded in locking his knees to keep from rushing her, knocking the wicked sharp from her hand. Maker, what happened here? Please.

He made his voice quiet and as soothing as he could, considering. Echoing Fenris, "Aeryn. Be still, leannan."

Her eyes hadn't left Fenris’ "Knock me out. I'm not safe." Her hand was trembling and the glass nicked her pallid throat, where a throbbing blue artery ran too close to the surface. "You know. I can't…"

Sebastian felt the anguished noise he couldn't hold back burst from his throat. He couldn't move, for fear she'd act but Fenris reacted, finally, his hand releasing the death grip he'd kept on Sebastian.

"No! I will...I will." Fenris approached her slowly, like he was attempting to soothe a wounded animal. She turned her head slightly away, though her eyes stayed fixed. The lean tattooed sword arm came up but before the pommel flashed down, a bolt shot past them and burst behind her. A gas cloud enveloped her and she dropped in a crumpled heap on to filthy flagstones.

#sept writes #steal away home #blood tw #kidnapping #violence #read with caution #aeryn hawke

5 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Safety In Numbers (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary: Red knows how to play the game. The only problem is, not everyone gets out unscathed.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Background Kustard, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!, Unhealthy Relationship, Unnamed Ship

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

Musically Inclined

Lest You Be Judged

Solo Act

Appealing To Better Judgment

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Refuge.

That was what Toriel named the protected Monster settlement that rose up at the base of the mountain, for all the Monsters who either couldn’t or wouldn’t live in Ebott.

Red supposed if there was nothing else, they could all thank her for sparing them from whatever dumb shit Ass-gore would’ve called it, like New New Home.

Despite all the treaties and negotiations, there were plenty of Monsters still living there. Some found that once they set their feet on the grass, they were about as far away from the mountain as they cared to get. Some were plain afraid to live out amongst the Humans. And a fair few simply weren’t allowed to leave, their little laminated ID cards didn’t grant them clearance through the front gate. Monsters with LV, Monsters with an appearance that might be considered disturbing. Any Monster likely to hit a ten on the Human freak-o-meter wasn’t allowed out not yet, anyway. Made sense, really. If they scared the shit out of the Humies by going too fast, they’d be lucky if they only ended up chased back beneath the mountain and not used as potting soil.

Try telling that to the dumbfucks, though. Red kept an ear hole close to the ground for any incoming gossip and from what was coming down the line it looked like the Assholes of Asgore were using it as a recruiting point. Red suspected that they didn’t have only have the interest of one or two disgruntled folks.

Anyone with half a lick of sense should see through their bullshit, but if Red was supposed to count on any of the dipshits he knew underground having common sense, he might as well shove a bone through his own soul now and spare anyone else the trouble of dusting him.

Their real goal was to start the bloody war Asgore promised them all and if they managed it, well, it was gonna be a pretty damn short one. Magic was handy dandy, all right, but the Humans kinda outnumbered them a million to one. Hell, while they’d been down below twiddling their thumbs, the Humans figured out their own version of magic, one that was a fuckton more explosive than anything Monsters had on tap. If Red was a betting man, and he was, thanks, he knew which odds he was putting down on.

Red looked out the tinted window of the car driving him through the newly paved streets of Refuge, watching the scenery pass by. Much as he hated being chauffeured around, these days he didn’t have a whole lot of choice. Back when he was training in the guard, there was still some opportunity to skulk around. Strip away his uniform and its delta rune crest, and he was only another Monster with a shitty attitude wandering into Grillby’s for a drink.

Being Chosen took away any chance he had of wandering around unnoticed. Even if Red slipped away from Rus, his face was too well-known now and probably rated a solid six on the Humies freak-o-meter.

If he thought the chucklefucks throwing themselves at Rus’s feet begging for blessings were annoying, it was a damn sight worse when they tried that shit on him. As if he had any say in the way the Universe trundled on down the road. He wasn’t the one second in the queue to chat with the Angel, thanks, and none of the Divine had seen fit to give him their direct line.

Shame Edge didn’t let him fuck with them; a few broken fingers and a bruise or two might give them all a little peace, but eh, his bro was a spoilsport that way. His own fault for leaving the kid on his own years ago while he skulked off to join the guard, instead of sticking around to teach him what’s what. Edge’s code of morals didn’t line up so much with Red’s anymore and wasn’t that a bitch.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and shook one out, ignoring the sour look the driver gave him in the rearview mirror. They didn’t say a peep, though, kept whatever words they wanted to say locked up tight behind their tusks. Being Chosen did have a few perks other than risking his life and getting to spend plenty of quality time communing with Rus’s pussy.

Red lit the cigarette with a harsh rasp of his lighter, took a long drag of smoke and breathed it out as he leaned his skull against the cool window glass, watching the blurred landscape. The streets were lined with cheaply made carbon-copy houses, but there wasn’t a whole lotta room to complain about that. The first few months most of ‘em spent huddled in patched-up tents given to them by the reluctant Human government, miserable in the spring rain and mud that tried to suck off your shoes with every step. Far as Red was concerned, all Monsters should be damned grateful for a house to call their own and if someone wanted their place shaped like a fucking fish, they were gonna have to wait their turn.

Yeah, lots of Monsters struggled when they hit sunshine, trying to wrap their minds around everything that happened. Red wasn’t one of them. He’d been Chosen only days after his boots hit the ground, but he’d spent some time out in the mudholes, searching out threats against his freshly appointed Judge. He’d learned a few useful tricks before putting on a uniform and they sure did come in handy from time to time.

These days, Red didn’t get out as much anymore. Maybe if Rus had more Chosen than only him and Edge, he could’ve kept up with it, but it hadn’t worked out that way. The kid needed him, all of him, and that was that.

Inconvenient, yeah, but probably just as well. Kept him from having to hold the lid down on his boiling need to shiv anyone who fucking dared touch what was his. He played nice enough when it came to all the unity mumbo jumbo bullshit, the Judge was an avatar of the Angel, the Judge belonged to the people, yeah, sure, he’d toe the party line.

But when it came to laying hands on his boy there was only one other Monster with the right. He was as much Red’s as Rus was and that’d be true until the day Red shivered to dust.

So, yeah, he couldn’t do the footwork himself anymore, eh, sucks to suck. Instead, he was forced to rely on other Monsters to keep him rolling in that sweet, sweet info. He’d vetted all of them himself, checked into every detail of their lives all the way back to the day they dropped from their mama’s cooch. Every single one of them was loyal as fuck to the Angel and as willing to spy on each other as they were anyone else, and that right there helped weed out most of the trouble. Wasn’t a perfect method, but it usually worked pretty well and let Red keep his fingers hooked into a few pies. That was, whenever he could pull 'em out of Rus's desserts.

Right now, all his people were working overtime, trying to dig up some dirt on how those fuckers managed to get into the cafeteria to take a pot shot at Rus. When they finally got something concrete, Red planned to deal with it personally, and if Rus ended up giving him a Judging look over it, he didn’t much give a shit. He was Chosen for the Judge, to protect them in every way possible and if the Angel was having second thoughts about it, She could stop by and deal with it herself.

None of that had shit to do with what he was up to today.

The house his car pulled up in front of was as unremarkable as the rest, a cookie-cutter copy with different curtains and a doormat. The driveway was empty but that didn’t mean shit. He already knew they were home, had to be, because they never damn well left.

“stay here,” Red ordered the driver. He nodded silently, sodium-yellow eyes meeting Red’s in the rear-view mirror. Red got out, hopping down to the ground from the high seat with a silent grumble. He took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the gutter. Straightening his uniform shirt was an automatic to him these days as taking his next breath. Didn’t make Red hate the fucking thing any less and he forced his hands back down as he trudged up the walkway.

He didn’t knock on the front door. Instead, he went around to the back of the house where he already knew what he would find. A turn of the corner an expansive garden was spread out before him, filled with neat rows of greenery already creeping their way out of the rich dirt.

There was a garden in every backyard in Refuge, every one of ‘em planted at the Queen’s command. Part of her plan was making sure that eventually Monsters would be as self-sufficient as possible. Couldn’t depend on the Humies to keep them in clover forever and sure they had some tech deals getting hammered out, but if there was one truth all Monsters knew, it was that G wasn’t food.

True, it wasn’t a perfect plan; some of those mandatory gardens were pretty fucking sad, brown straggly plants that might cough up a tomato or two before they kacked it. This one, though, was pristine. Red didn’t care about growing shit that couldn’t be rolled up into a blunt and knew even less about it, but even he could see the way all the plants were evenly spaced and that there wasn’t a single weed growing anywhere. Not a stray piece of grass or a single thistle dared peek out of the soil in this garden.

A Monster was kneeling in one of the plots, dressed in overalls and a funny little straw hat, a wagon next to him heaped with tools and paper bags, a small pile weeds who ignored the warning signs.

Red didn’t actually know Blue real well. When Rus talked about Blue, it was always with a wealth of fondness in his soft voice, often whispering his memories in the darkness of their bedroom whenever insomnia haunted him.

Whatever sweetness Rus remember in Blue, it was long since eroded away, torn out of him, and whether it was being Chosen, his past Judgement, or Asgore who did it didn’t much matter to the outcome.

He was one of Sans’s early Chosen, back before Red even joined the guard and the few times he’d seen Blue were when he came to assemblies to watch the trainees before they were instated as full guards. Red remembered seeing him those days; dressed to the nines in his uniform, boots polished until a person could see their reflection in them from ten steps away, every crease straight, every button fastened. Seen him a few times from a distance, too, with Sans, always a nice, respectful two steps behind him and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt between his knees. Couldn’t even picture the bastard ever getting bent over a sofa getting fucked by a desperate Judge.

(Sans was more likely to flop back and take a fucking, way back when, all sly smiles and slick pussy, knees spread wide in invitation. Whatever becoming the Judge did to him must’ve given his preferences a good topsy-turvy, ‘cause gossip in the barracks warned all the guards to be prepared for spending plenty of time on their knees)

They’d talked a few more times since then and not a single one of those chats endeared Blue to Red any more than the first.

These days Blue was pretty fucking hard to look at. His skull looked like it’d been busted apart and put back together by hands that didn’t care if the puzzle pieces didn’t fit right, parts of the bone still discolored with char. The empty left sleeve of his shirt was pinned up neatly to his shoulder and the cane leaning against his little wagon wasn’t for show. He’d survived the coup, but not by much, the only one of Sans’s chosen who didn’t die along with him, and there was a memory that Red didn’t like to take out and play with too often.

His team came in far too late, after it was all over but the vacuuming. Breaking through the barred door and walking into the leftovers of a massacre, a mass Judging, no one who’d been in the throne room came out unscathed. Blue the only one still breathing right and Sans…yeah.

Probably a wonder Blue hadn’t offed himself yet.

All that aside, it was a shame that the stick in his pelvis didn’t get yanked out along with his arm. The eye light that lit his less damaged socket was blazing sharp, and he was struggling to his feet the second Red started walking across the yard, snatching up his cane and brandishing it like a sword.

“What are you doing out here?” Blue demanded loudly. He stormed out of his garden, tracking mud across the carefully shorn grass. “You should be with Rus, he needs to be protected!”

“well, hello to you, too,” Red drawled. He stuck his hands in his pockets carelessly, rocking on his heels. “kid is fine, edge is with him.”

Blue’s dismissive scoff raked across Red’s nerves like the tines of a fork on a cheese grater. “Oh, certainly, with Edge, that’s surely impenetrable protection! Edge wasn’t even a full guard when he was Chosen!”

"might be so, but edge is the one in charge these days. you think i want out there handling that shit?" Either Blue wasn’t keeping up with the times or he was just being a prick. Either was possible, but the fact of the matter was that in public, Edge was the boss. His word was law when it came to Rus and it had a lotta spillover onto Toriel. To insinuate that he wasn’t capable of protecting the Judge was an insult about the level of hocking a juicy loogie into Red’s face and if it was anyone else, Red wouldn’t be fussed about getting the dust out of his shoelaces before he headed home. Blue caught the barest hint of a break, for Rus, but he was already fucking pushing it. Still, Red kept his voice carelessly easy, “you sound kinda worried about your bro.”

Blue shed the glove on his remaining hand and pulled a tidy bandanna out of his back pocket, mopping at the sheen of sweat on his shattered skull. “I heard about the attack, of course. Everyone has.”

“yeah?” Red raised a brow bone, reluctantly interested. “hear any useful gossip about it?”

“If I had, you would already know about it,” Blue retorted. He sighed and gestured for Red to follow him, making his staggering way up to the back porch. It was surrounded by flowering bushes, heady perfume overwhelmingly filling the air while bees flee drunkenly from blossom to blossom. Sitting on a little patio table was a carafe of lemonade, lemon slices floating amongst the ice.

Blue poured two large glasses, pushing one over to Red. He took a long drink, the tartness blotting out the nauseatingly thick reek of the flowers.

Blue took a sip from his glass, ice cubes rattling, and he dabbed away the thin stream that ran out of his cracked jaw with the bandanna. “I don’t hear most of the gossip, I’m afraid, not anymore. I’m a failed guard, the neighbors don’t exactly stop by for visits and chats.”

“You didn’t fail at shit,” Red retorted sharply. Bullshit was all that was, all because Blue managed to not die.

Red wasn’t fond of Blue, but fuck, he’d had nine toes in the dustpan when they managed to tow him back into the land of the living. He’d fucking well tried and if anyone wanted to toss in their opinion on whether they thought Blue didn’t try hard enough, they were welcome to give Red’s fat one a good ol’ suck.

Blue only let out a humorless laugh. Once, his eye lights had been a starry yellow-blue, showcasing his traits. Patience and justice, pretty good draw for a Chosen companion to the Judge. The one eye light he still had was pale and colorless now, reminiscent of Rus’s, only Blue’s was dull, doughy-blank, showing none of Rus’s vibrancy. Hard to believe anymore that these two were even brothers.

Curious that Rus’s Choosing gave him a pair of brothers with a matching trait of Determination. Made a person wonder exactly why, but neither the Angel nor the Judge were telling.

The glass in Blue’s hand rattled against his trembling fingers, the bones still yellowed and scorched. “Tell that to Sans.”

“tell him yourself,” Red lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. The cunning little device in his pocket would’ve warned Red if there was any active listening devices around, but Red hadn’t survived as long as he had without harsh lessons in watching his mouth, “i told you before, i can get you up to our rooms, no one’d ever know.”

Blue’s mouth twisted disgustedly. The movement from his jaw pulled the gaping crack over his dead socket grotesquely wider as the first real emotion winking in and out of his eye light in a flash. "And I told you, there is a reason that former Chosen aren’t allowed near the new Judge,” Blue slammed down his glass, a wave of lemonade slopping over his damaged fingers. “There's no telling how he'd react if he saw me! If he recalled I was once Chosen, he might--ugh!” Blue hunched over with a shudder of revulsion, “It's bad enough that you and your brother are servicing him."

“you questioning the judge’s choice?” Red said coolly, just this side of waspish. He didn't really give a good shit what Blue thought of it, especially considering Red’s reasons for being here to begin with, but he did wonder what Blue would think if he knew Sans popped out for a recent visit. Whispered a coupla sweet nothings while he jammed Rus’s prick East bejesus up Red’s cunt. The memory made a slick of wetness form at Red’s crotch and he shoved the memory back. Not the time and he stuffed that little reminiscence back where the one of his brother’s cock in his mouth lived, the knowledge of how it felt, soft and slick with his own come and Rus’s, carefully tucked into the furthest corner of his mind.

That tart question struck the dartboard in a bullseye. Blue faltered like he’d been jabbed right in the tailbone, sputtering out, “No, of course not, but—" He recovered, straightening his spine and that cool soldier’s expression dropped over his face, the stick in his ass jammed straight. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is the damage it could cause my brother to see me, so you can stop asking, the answer is no, it’ll always be no.”

“whatever you say,” Red shrugged, ‘cause he didn’t care, not really. Except for how desperately Rus wanted to see his fucking brother, just once, one last time. The brother he’d missed out saying goodbye to between Blue’s unconsciousness and him being Chosen. Any other Judge at least got a chance to say fare thee well and the fact that Rus lost the opportunity was just one more bar in Rus’s prison, caged in, body and soul.

Blue’s answer was about what he’d expected though, and that was fine. Another useless attempt to get him to the Embassy wasn’t Red’s real reason for coming.

“not really here about you anyway, pipsqueak,” Red said, letting the words fall lightly. “i heard papyrus is staying here with you these days.”

That little tidbit of gossip came through the vine in the wee hours last night, Red checking his phone with Rus sleeping peacefully beside him, Edge on the far side. He’d spent the rest of the night lying awake, cold fury thrumming in his soul and that was the real reason Red came all the fucking way out here for a little face to face chat. “shacking up with sans’s little brother, huh, that sure must be something.”

Papyrus was only a kid when Sans was chosen as Judge, still in striped shirts and missing his two front teeth. Biggest difference between him and Edge was the Crown gave a stipend to the families of Chosen to make up for the loss of income. Papyrus probably never had a hungry day in his life and certainly not after Sans put on the robes. His bro never had to worry if the shit wage he was earning in the guard was gonna be enough to keep a roof over his kid brother’s head or keep him in clothes when he started growing like a weed. Sans didn’t have to set aside enough for a bribe to make sure that whatever G he made actually found its way to his brother and didn’t end up lining the pocket of some greedy deliveryman.

None of that was Papyrus’s fault and sucking on a silver teat didn’t make him miss his brother any less. Kid tried the join the guard a few times and always washed out, only got to try more than once because of who his brother was. Red wondered morbidly what Blue’s stuck up, sanctimonious ass would’ve thought if Papyrus had gotten into the guard and Sans Chose him.

Now it was looking like that stick in Blue’s ass didn’t keep him from inviting Papyrus between the sheets.

Whatever color was in Blue’s skull leached away, the bone dulling to chalky white, and taking with it any hope that Blue wasn’t using that kid as a dim replacement. His gaze skittered away, hunted, skipping around the yard, looking for fuck knew what. For Sans to step out of the void with shrieking admonishments, for a stray bolt of lightning to finally strike him down and send Blue after those who went before him. There was nothing, only Red standing here holding half a glass of decent lemonade in the sunshine so many died to get.

There was nowhere else for that look to go, no escape, and finally Blue reluctantly looked at Red again. He said, raw and stiffly, “There’s nothing against the code about that.”

“no, there ain’t,” Red agreed, softly. He only met Blue’s solitary eye light evenly. Red couldn’t see into Blue’s soul but he fucking well hoped Blue felt his sins crawling their leisurely way up his spine.

Red set his lemonade down carefully before he gave into the urge to toss it glass and all right into Blue’s broken face. He turned away and started back around the house, barely off the patio when Blue called his name.

“Red?” Blue struggled for words finally asked, plaintively. “Is he happy?”

Almost Red wanted to tell Blue that they kept Rus well fucked. That his little bro looked good stuffed with cock on both ends, that he sucked dick with the expertise of a thousand G whore.

But he wasn’t about to talk about Rus like that, not even to get one up on his shitheel brother. “i like to think so. he’s a real sweetheart.”

Red made no mention of the almost desperate adoration that rose up in his soul that came from only thinking about Rus. That wasn’t for sharing time.

“Yes,” Blue said. His hoarse voice was low, subdued, “he always was. take good care of him?”

Better than you could, Red did not say. “want me to give him a message or anything?”

Blue’s melancholy faded and he shook his head immediately, "Judges are forbidden from any contact by a former Chosen or family, and I’m both. You know this.” He sounded like he was reading straight from the guard manual.

If Rus hadn’t been Chosen, he’d be here right now taking care of his piece of shit brother. Standing back helplessly while Blue fucked the old Judge’s kid brother and pretended he was someone else, and Red was a selfish enough bastard to be glad he wasn’t. “you’re right, i do. so is there?”

Blue only lifted his chin and it was a damn good thing he wasn’t a Judge, because his single eye light was loaded with resentful judgement. “No. There’s nothing I could tell him that he wouldn’t already know.”

Yeah, just as well Rus was Chosen. Blue didn’t fucking deserve to have his brother here with him.

Wasn’t a fucking thing Red could do about Papyrus; he was out of stripes and kid was gonna have to make his own bad decisions and what was Red gonna do about it anyway? Take him back home like a stray puppy he found on the streets? Tell him that he didn’t have to settle for Sans’s leftovers, remind him that it wasn’t Sans’s idea to leave any of them? That he didn’t need to live here, the two of them burying themselves into a dusty tomb that Sans wasn’t even in.

He wondered what Papyrus was getting out of it. If he was closing his sockets and played his own version of pretend.

He wondered why he even cared. Why had he come out here to Refuge, really?

“tell paps i said hi,” Red said finally, “ain’t nothing against that in the code, either.”

“I will.”

Red turned on his heel and headed back to the car before he said something he wouldn’t regret, but would hurt Rus if he ever heard about it. He lit a cigarette before they’d even pulled away from the curb and by the time they got back to the Embassy, he’d smoked his way through the entire pack.

~~*~~

When Red got back to their quarters, he was too fucking tired for the early hour of the day and faintly nauseous from too much nicotine. He closed the door carefully behind him, resetting all the alarms. His joints ached like all his frustrations seeped out of his soul and settled into them.

In their living area, Rus and Edge were sitting on opposite sofas, playing some kind of stupid card game. Rus was choosing to stay home for a few days, barring a Judgement, and that was the only reason Red felt comfortable enough to leave the two of them alone, anyway.

Kid didn’t want to endanger anyone else, perfectly reasonable response to what happened, but they couldn’t hide away in here forever. Rus needed fresh air and sunshine. He needed his meditation gardens, not the weedy looking herbs Edge grew on the narrow windowsill for his cooking.

That meant Red needed to go over the intel his contacts were sending along. Search for reoccurring names, patterns, anything that’d lead him to the end of this snake so he could chop off the head.

Needed to, yeah, but it’d have to wait. Right now, his head wasn’t exactly in the game. He’d left too much of his mind behind in Refuge, turning that chat over and over, trying to find a chink, a solution that didn’t exist.

Probably better to get settled so he didn’t miss a trick, yeah, that was the ticket. All Red wanted right now was some manufactured forgetfulness and he wanted to get started making it right now.

“welcome back,” Rus called cheerily. He only glanced at Red, pale eye lights filled with warm greeting, before turning back to the cards in his hand with a little frown.

That gave Red a chance to discreetly run a mental inventory of his honey. Rus was looking good today. There was some color back into his bones, his pristine skull glossy with health. His magic was leveling out to its normal slower upward trickle. Hell, at a glance he was damn right perky, and that made it hard not to appreciate how fucking pretty he was. His long robes were discarded in favor of a pair of soft, loose pants and a t-shirt to match, bare feet tucked under his knees and a hint of his clavicles peeking tantalizingly over the neckline, begging for a mouth to give ‘em a taste.

Just seeing Rus like that leached some of the aching tension out of Red’s soul, trading it out for relief.

It was tempting to step up right then, but Red hung back, waiting for them to finish their game. When Rus wasn't giving Judgments, what he was mostly was bored. There was only so much meditating and bonding with the spirits or whatever the shit that anyone could do. Protecting the Judge was the focus of their job, the most important thing, but it wasn’t the only one. The other part of their bit was plain taking care of Rus and that included entertainment.

Sex might be an easy way to knock out two birds with one dick, but it couldn’t be the only thing.

Their living room was lined with shelves filled to the brim with books and blu-rays, video game consoles and board games, anything to help Rus pass the day and hopefully forget that the sunshine his brother nearly died to get for their people couldn’t really be his.

“What were you off doing anyway?” Rus asked absently. His attention was mostly on the game, sockets narrowed, and across from him, Edge only waited patiently, the slightest hint of a smirk curving his mouth. Rus didn’t seem too worried about Red taking a field trip, it did happen from time to time.

His brother was probably less than pleased that Red took off without a word as to where he was going other than a hastily scrawled note of ‘back soon’, but eh, Red could take that medicine when he had to.

There was a split-second choice to be made here, whether to tell Rus the truth of where he’d gone or not. With only a couple words, Red could make sure Rus never wanted to see his brother again…and taint every past memory he clung to in the process. Almost did it anyway; Red was an old hand at cleaning up all kinds of messes, he could handle one more. The only thing that held his tongue was thinking of Rus’s grief, the choking tears streaming down his pretty face, and his memory of his brother would end up just one more thing he’d lost.

Only this time it would be Red doing the taking.

Fuck it, if the Angel wanted Rus to know about it, She could do the dirty work.

“nothing important, darlin’,” Red said smoothly, and that was true enough.

Rus didn’t notice anything amiss, but Edge gave him a narrow, suspicious look. Eh, he’d catch his bro up on things soon enough. Now wasn’t the time. For once, Edge wasn’t buttoned from his clavicles to his toes in his uniform, instead dressed in soft pants and a sweatshirt that was a hair too tight, probably from Rus’s side of the closet. Probably meant they’d spent some cuddle time on the sofa before starting up on the game or at least Red hoped so. He might watch the cameras later. Just to make sure.

His wandering thoughts were coagulating, coming back together in his skull and Red was already wondering what kind of distraction he could come up with to tug their attention from the cards when he heard it. Faintly, the familiar, hollow sound of a constant buzzing against bone.

Well, now, this was getting interesting, now wasn’t it.

“care to fill me in on the rules to this game?” Red drawled. He leaned against the sofa arm and treated himself to a more in-depth perusal of them both. Nothing unusual leapt out at him, not yet.

“it’s pretty simple,” Rus said. His cards were fanned out messily in his slim hands, a disorderly array of suits. “whoever loses a round has to wear a vibrator in the next round. winner gets to put the vibrator wherever they want.”

Huh. Rus sounded a little more disgruntled than that called for. Kid was an ace at counting cards, it was a little surprising he’d even persuaded Edge to play. “sounds fun.”

“i thought so too,” Rus said, shooting Edge a sulky look. “only edge doesn’t even work up a sweat, no matter where i put it. i’ve tried it behind his sternum, his sacrum, pubic arch. i'm about ready to toss it into his eye socket and let it rattle around in his skull for a while, see if that shakes him up.”

Edge laid the queen of spades on top of the card pile and said placidly, “My apologies for my self-control being so boring.”

Boring, huh. Red looked his brother up and down calculatingly. The little details were there if a person knew how to look. Eye lights barely hazed, the slightest hitch to his too-even breathing. He was a little worked up, but Rus wasn't lying, he still looked like an ice cube wouldn't melt in his shorts.

Meanwhile, Rus was pouting unhappily, his pretty smile turned upside down, and that just couldn’t be allowed, now could it. An idea perked up in the back of Red’s mind, ripe with possibilities, and Rus would go for it no question. Whether Edge would was dependent on how happy he wanted to make Rus, which usually fell under ‘a lot’. The odds were good, and Red never shied from a good bet.

Red leaned in and settled a wandering hand on Rus’s knee, sliding lightly up his inner thigh and snagging his attention. "how about we play another kind of game, honey."

Rus immediately looked wary, but Red wasn't offended. Couldn't blame him; Rus'd played Red’s games before, good on him for taking the lesson to heart.

"what game?" Rus asked suspiciously.

"Doesn’t anyone want to know if I want to play a new game?" Edge asked no one in particular. They ignored him.

Red rose up on his toes and laid a soft kiss on Rus’s mouth, lingering a little too long over that sweetness before he reluctantly drew back. “lemme get changed first then we'll talk. you go on ahead and finish that round.”

He strolled off, whistling cheerfully. The day was already looking up.

In their shared bedroom Red stripped out of his uniform, carelessly dropping it to the floor for Edge to bitch over later. A pair of well-worn shorts and a t-shirt was a decent match to the wardrobe choices of two brats out there, and made for easier access and cleanup. Ready Freddy, except for one thing.

Red knelt down and dug out a small box hidden underneath their bed, grabbed a little something that might come in handy right soon. He tucked it into his pocket, shoving it deep enough not to arouse (heh) suspicions.

Edge was picking up the cards when Red came back out, tucking them back into the box. The previously unseen vibrator was sitting innocently on the coffee table as if Red couldn’t see the faint traces of crimson that’d been hastily wiped away.

Red crawled up on the sofa next to Rus and held out an arm, pretended that his soul didn’t give a solid throb as Rus immediately snuggled in against him happily. The kid rolled over on his back, his skull in Red’s lap, looking up at him with bright curiosity in those pale eye lights as he said, “c’mon, red, tell me!”

That pout was back and Red took a moment to lean down and quickly kiss it away, allowing only a brief flicker of their tongues together before he pulled back. He stroked the smooth bone of Rus’s forehead lightly, soothingly, “all right, honey love, here’s the game. you got five minutes to get edge to come, however you can. if you don’t get it done in the allotted time, i get five minutes to make him come. winner gets the prize.”

As he’d guessed, Rus’s eye lights immediately blew wide, briefly tinging golden in an abrupt surge of desire. It faded quick enough, Rus struggling to hold it back, but the cat was out of the bag now, wasn’t it.

Across the way, Edge barely stifled a sharp, startled sound, but if he had an opinion about Red’s little suggestion, he kept it to himself.

The rest of Red’s words seemed to have wormed their way past that first thoughtless rush and Rus was frowning again, “that's not fair. if i lose, he'll already be all worked up for you.”

Red leaned down and gave him a light kiss in reward for figuring that out. “ah, but see, difference is, i don't get to touch him. no bone on bone for me, sweetheart, i promise.”

Mollified, Rus settled back. “what do i get if i win?”

“you get to ask a favor of me, anything at all.”

Poor kid was gonna get whiplash the way he kept flipflopping from interest to disappointment. “i can already do that.”

“yeah, but you don’t.” Red pointed out, “you never do. this one you’d earn fair and square, might make it easier if you’re spending your own dime rather than the inheritance.”

Rus nodded slowly, understanding coupled with intrigue lighting his face, “and if you win?”

“same deal, i get to ask one thing from you. anything i want.” That win or lose Rus was gonna enjoy himself thoroughly was heavily implied.

“anything,” Rus murmured, rolling the word around in his mouth, giving it a good taste, but before he could decide if he liked the flavor, another bargainer stepped up to the table.

“I have a question,” Edge said, coolly. Red glanced at his brother meaningfully, met crimson eye lights that were a match his own. Edge was sitting on the opposite sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. The line of his jaw was tense, teeth gritted together, but that wasn’t distaste or reluctance on his face, not one fucking bit. He waited to see if his bro would beg off or outright refuse. They’d teeter-tottered around into a little touchy feely a long time ago, didn’t matter so long as it helped get Rus off. They'd been ramping it up lately, but this was a horse of a different color, deliberate red on red without a buffer of honeyed gold between them.

He was counting on his brother not to disappoint.

“what’s that, bro?” Red asked.

Edge’s crimson tongue flicked out over his teeth, an almost imperceptible hint at nervousness. "What do I get if neither of you get me to come?"

Oh yeah, that was his bro.

"ah, that’s easy,” Red said lightly, “favor is all yours, little brother. from both of us."

Red looked back down at Rus and he could about see the gears turning in his mind. He was a smart kid, even smarter when you took into account all the Judges in creation playing house in the back of his mind. He was trying to work out what kind of monkey's paw bullshit Red wove into the bargain, but looked like he wasn't finding anything cause all he said was, decisively, "deal.”

“Deal,” Edge agreed softly. He stood and turned on his heel, walking out. Came back only a minute later with a couple towels over one arm, fucking neat freak. He spread them out on the sofa then shed his clothes, folding each piece neatly as he stripped it off. Edge wasn’t anywhere near as pretty as Rus, his bones were thicker with none of the delicacy that was laced into their lover’s, pocked with scars from the years before he was in the guard and the training alike. Strong bone that could take a beating and had, bearing the marks of a survivor and warm pride flowed over Red like syrup, like the honey he so often named Rus.

Edge’s joints were already lit with mana, either from the earlier vibrator or the recent chat, and a cloud of it filled his pelvic cradle, a thunderstorm of brimming desire. He settled back on the sofa, long legs stretched out, and said, mockingly sweet, “Ready when you are.”

A hasty search found lube where it was thoughtful stowed under one of the cushions and Rus drizzled it over his slim hands, rubbing them together until the slender bones were glossy and slick. “summon your cock first, give me something to work with.”

Edge tutted in disappointment, shaking his head, “Asking for a concession already?”

“everyone knows you don’t start a game without setting up the pieces first,” Rus countered, waggling his slippery fingers teasingly.

“he’s got you there, bro,” Red chuckled, amusement mingled with a peculiar sort of relief. All the nastiness of the day was flowing away, dirty water down the drain, simply by being around these two sassy shits. “don’t you think he deserves a little head start?”

Nice to see that Red wasn’t the only one who weakened under a pair of wide, pleading eye lights. Edge softened like sweet butter left on the stovetop. The swirl of his magic solidified, his cock formed between his femurs, already heavy and hard, a formidable piece of equipment that Edge usually put to good use. Rus reached out with dripping hands, only waiting when Red called out.

“hold up.” Red pulled out his phone, setting the timer, “okay, rus…go!”

Red settled back into the throw pillows to watch the show, one hand slithering down the front of his shorts, hard phalanges idle against his pubic crest where his magic was settling humidly. Wasn’t any part of the bet against him coming and Red was all ready to hit the concession stand.

Rus didn’t waste any time, both hands already curled around Edge’s shaft, spreading the slippery lube until the scarlet ectoflesh was glistening wetly. The rhythmic sound was wickedly obscene, startlingly loud over Rus’s satisfied hum.

There was no reaction at all from Edge, his eye lights barely flickered as Rus stroked him. Even when Rus frowned determinedly, kneeling between Edge’s spread legs, tongue already eagerly extended. He lapped softly at the little jewel of scarlet fluid beading at the head of Edge’s cock before sucking the length of it down with a messy slurp.

“that’s it. little brother,” Red called, smirking as Edge only hissed out a breath, keeping stubbornly still, “don’t make it too easy for him.”

It was a helluva show, to put it mildly, worth it even if by some random chance Red lost the game. Rus was pulling out all the stops, using every dirty, wicked trick he’d been taught between them about giving head and a couple made up on the spot. The long, flexible length of his tongue wrapped around the shaft, a thumb and forefinger surrounding the base, following the tight rhythm of Rus’s head. Mouth sloppy wet, golden spit sliding down his chin and wetting his hand as Rus sucked Edge in deep, his formed throat bobbing as he swallowed, formed muscles massaging the hard length. His free hand wandered wherever it could reach, seeking out places he knew were sensitive. Rus had mapped out their bodies with those shy, nimble fingers of his too many times to count, committing their every twitch to memory, and now he was tweaking cartilage, fondling up the length of Edge’s spine, teasing at his floating ribs.

All the little details put together a fine picture; Rus’s ass in the air, his clothed pelvis wriggling enticingly as he worked. Muffled whimpers were spilling into the air from him around the cock filling his mouth, garbled pleading, and Edge sure as fuck wasn’t unaffected now.

Sweat decorated his skull like glittery sequins as Edge breathed hard through his nasal cavity, his tongue caught between his jagged teeth hard enough that a thin rill of crimson was spilling down his chin. His knees jerked slightly with each bob of Rus’s head, bones clattering softly. A raw groan escaped Edge, hinting at desperation at the exact moment the timer buzzed, shifting to a pained gasp as Rus pulled off with slow deliberation, giving the head a last teasing suck.

Rus sighed in mock disappointment, wiping at his mouth fruitlessly with the back of his hand and only succeeding in smearing the mingled gold and crimson fluids. “damn it, guess i lost.”

“guess you did,” Red slid down to the floor with less grace than he would’ve liked, knees wobbly and his own arousal settled heavily into his pelvis. “have a seat, honey, watch the master at work.”

Mischief flittered over Rus’s face, far too quick for anything but a warning. He caught hold of the front of Red’s shirt and yanked him in, forcing his sex-tainted tongue down Red’s throat. The taste was one he knew all too well, honey sweetness mellowed with spice, rich and addictive.

A last delicate swipe of his tongue and Rus sashayed away, snagging one of the pillows to curl around while he settled in for his turn to watch.

Red licked the back of his teeth, catching the last of that tang before it faded completely. Yeah, Rus was gonna pay for that.

Or maybe Red needed to thank him, because Edge was watching them hotly with a riveted gaze, a thread of crimson fluid leaking from the tip of his cock to stain the towel.

He didn’t quite flinch as Red crawled up on the cushions, keeping a careful distance from his brother’s bare bones. There was a certain fraught quality to Edge’s expression, a feral wildness like he might bolt away.

“close your sockets, bro,” Red told him, gently. Which mean of course that Edge did no such thing, contrary bastard.

“Why?” Edge said suspiciously. His gaze flicked down Red’s body helplessly to where his dick was pushing out the front of his shorts, then away, then back to Red’s face, the color blooming his cheekbones lovelier than any flower in Refuge.

Thoughts like that weren’t gonna help Red win the game and he shoved it aside, adding it to his growing collection of ‘ain’t thinking about it’.

“because i fucking told you to,” Red retorted, “that’s why. now play the game right.”

“I don’t recall following orders being in the rules,” Edge grumbled, but this time he did as he was told.

Red waited until he was sure those sockets were closed tight, not the faintest hint of crimson showing. Then he reached into his pocket for his special toy surprise.

This particular prize wasn't from their normal toybox since Rus didn't have a lot of interest in his cock. That might be changing, he'd give it a thought some other time. The toy was made of a gelatinous material was only slightly softer than ectoflesh, formed into a hollow sheath that was lined with small bumps and curving grooves designed stimulate, drag out every drop of pleasure possible, willingly or otherwise.

The expected cries of cheating didn’t come and Red flicked a glance at Rus to find him watching with wide, rapturous sockets, face flushed golden bright. One arm was wrapped so tightly around the pillow the fabric threatened to burst and his other hand pressed between his legs overtop his pants, fingers digging in helplessly as if he could stop his cunt from forming by sheer, physical will.

The audience was waiting, the timer was set. Time to get this game started. Red scooped up the depleted bottle of lube and squirted a dollop into the sheath and with one motion, deftly slid it down on his brother’s dick.

The reaction was gratifying. Edge’s hips lurched up wildly, his sockets flying open, hands curled into claws that very nearly latched onto Red’s skull before they abruptly diverted and clenched into the sofa cushions.

"You said no touching!" Edge hissed, crimson eye lights flashing as he trembled with outrage. His sharpened fingertips dug into the cushions, tearing through the fabric down to the memory foam.

“i ain't touching you a bit, baby brother,” Red crooned, and tightened his fist around the sheath, giving it a quick, vigorous stroke. Those bumps had to be digging in, massaging their way up and down with each rub.

Edge gasped wetly, squeezing his sockets shut, "Don't call me that!"

The other sofa creaked and Red slanted a glance at Rus who was halfway to his feet, reaching out weakly and conflicting emotions tangled across his face. “red, stop," Rus said, trembling but firm. "not if he doesn't want it."

Red only chuckled darkly, dragging his clenched fist down achingly slow, then up abruptly again, "oh, don’t you worry, honey, he wants it. don't you?"

Edge said nothing, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he struggled to keep his pelvis still while Red jerked him off through the thin barrier of the sheath. Looked like the trap might need a little more bait.

Red leaned in closer, careful not to so much as graze his brother’s strong, scarred bones, and whispered, low and harsh, "you remember the first time you fucked him? the way he was spread out under you, begging you to take him?”

This time his brother’s breath creaked out like the hinge of an old door as Red kept it up, murmuring breathily close to his auditory canal, “remember pushing your cock into that pretty virgin pussy? how it was already dripping with my come, how tight he was around your cock? kinda like this, yeah, remember him cryin' cause he needed it so much? how scared he was, showing us his soul? sweet thing all dripping wet, he needed it so bad, the mess he made, oh, that honey magic and silver, practically squirting over himself the second you touched his clit, remember that? you remember how he looked when he came?"

He kept up the relentless pace with every low word, letting the memory warm him. There was a certain charm to clumsy eagerness, inexperienced hands searching unknowingly for all the places that felt best. Not that Red missed it exactly, but he sure didn’t mind bringing that memory out to play with from time to time.

Edge was struggling, heaving, his eye lights narrowed to pinpricks as he stared blindly up at the ceiling.

Almost there, almost, and Red leaned in close enough for Edge to feel the heat of his breath, a bare whisper too low for Rus to possibly hear him, "member the first time he said he loved us?"

That did the trick. Edge let out a wretched sound like a sob, bones rattling as he came, filling the sheath to overflowing with his seed. Red could feel the surging heat of it through the thin plastic, smelled the rich spice even as the blare of the alarm came from his phone.

Game, set, match.

Red pulled off, tossing the dripping sheath to the coffee table to join the vibrator already there. Edge only lay weakly in his defeat, pelvis smeared with come, the rest of his bones dabbled with sweat. Red left him there to wallow in his filth, prowling over to Rus.

Who scrabbled back into the corner of the sofa, his sockets so wide it looked like his eye lights were gonna pop loose and fizzle out on the carpet. He fumbled for the phone gracelessly, somehow managing to turn off the warbling timer without dropping it on the floor even as Red raked a look over him. Taking in the heated glow of his joints, the honey-tint to his eye lights, the wet patch seeping through his pants, leaving a darkened stain that clung visibly to his pussy lips.

Yeah, Red had his number now. Looked like their honey had a lil' voyeurism kink going on. That was a new toy Red was looking forward to playing with, fuck yes. But for now, he had a problem of his own going on in his pants and Rus’s magic was crackling hotly in the air, searing lightning searching for the ground

"lay back, sugar," Red slipped off his shorts, briefly fisting his own cock, groaning at the feel of his own hard fingers.

Rus did it instantly, squirming as he worked his pants down his legs and kicked them off even as he asked doubtfully, "this is what you want as a favor?"

"nope, this is mine by right.” Red jerked Rus down until his pelvis was at the edge of the sofa, long legs dangling to the floor. He shuffled forward, lining his cock up with Rus’s eagerly clenching entrance, smearing his cock with golden wetness. “i'll let you know about the favor."

Then he shoved into that wet pussy, groaning at the soaking, tight heat around him as Rus’s wail filled the room.

So fucking gorgeous, watching Rus whimper and flail as Red fucked him. Pretty as Rus was on his knees, Red liked him better on his back. Liked watching that lovely face scrunch up every time Red fucked into him, honeyed tears welling up, streaming down the rounded curves of his cheekbones as that sassy mouth dropped open and his tongue curled behind his teeth.

In the down under, he got to watch his dick moving in the soft, golden magic that filled Rus's pelvis. His cunt was a slippery, plush delight, that first thrust inside always bordered on too tight until his walls loosened up a little, Rus whimpering out little cries as Red forced his cock in, past the rippling clench to fill him up.

And fuck him for how hot that was. Red knew Rus could take a fist all the way up to the elbow into his pussy, a cock wasn't no big thing, (heh), but the feel of it, fuck, like taking his virginity all over again. Red braced his heels against the coffee table and pumped harder, watched the length of his shaft slide in, pussy lips spreading wide around it, parting to give him a nice look at Rus's swollen clit. Red reached down to trace around it teasingly with a careful, sharp-tipped finger and Rus let out a frantic whine.

"you want somethin’, sweetheart?" Red panted out.

"i want to come!" Sweet desperation poured from him, fuck, talk about no stamina. Then again, Rus was like a little energizer bunny of orgasms, he could keep going and going, popping off one after another. Wasn’t no reason to hold him back now.

One hard drag of Red’s thumb over his clit and Rus was arching, his legs going tight around Red’s hips, holding him in deep as he convulsed. A fresh rush of wetness flooding his pussy, smoothing out the ride.

Rus sagged back against the cushions, hiccoughing soft little cries as Red kept it up. His own orgasm was swelling in him, tantalizingly close. Next to him, the sofa suddenly dipped with added weight and maybe Red couldn’t lean up high enough to give Rus’s pleading mouth a kiss, but that was fine, cause Edge was there to do it for him, his brother’s crimson tongue moving sinuously against Rus's golden one, fuck, yeah.

"come on down here, bro,” Red growled, flicking his thumb over Rus’s swollen clit again, “got something better for you to work with."

His brother shifted downward instantly, tilting his head in to lick at that sensitive nub. His crimson tongue was long, prehensile, dipping in between Rus’s femurs. Not his normal one, either, this one forked at the tip, all the better to work against Rus's clit, circling it from both sides, yeah, his fucking clever brother. Sometimes it wandered too low, one of the tips occasionally grazed against Red's cock, slyly pushing into Rus’s cunt and catching Red off-guard with a brief firework of sensation.

Red could taste his own sweat, sharp and faintly bitter, tried not to jerk as that tongue lashed against him again. He didn’t want Edge the same way he did Rus, he didn’t, but oh, you kid—

Fuck it, he couldn’t hold out anymore.

Red let go with a groan, pulling out to come in hot streaks over Rus's pelvis, and, oh, yeah, his bro's face. Edge flinched, closing his sockets and didn't stop, licking Rus through another orgasm even as a glossy spurt of come striped across his tongue, the fluid a shade of crimson darker than the ectoflesh.

With a deeply satisfied sigh, Red shuffled over enough to flop on the sofa even as Rus trembled and writhed through his shuddering ecstasy. He watched through narrowed sockets as Edge sat up, blinking too fast and his tremulous expression was loaded with conflicting signals. Almost, Red reached out, his sense still blurrily pleased, struck with the idea of rubbing his come in, smearing it across his brother’s scarred bones, marking him—

He reeled back, snorting aloud at his own stupidity. Yeah, yeah, his brother and no one else’s. He’d lived that schtick his whole life, no reason to complicate it now.

Looking at it sideways, the mess of his come was dripping down Edge’s skull in a way that made Red think hilariously of strawberry syrup on cheesecake.

Well, it could be a sweet treat for someone to eat, now couldn’t it.

"whoopsie, looks like i messed him up," Red drawled, elbowing Rus lightly. "you gonna clean him up, sugar skull?"

Rus stirred at the pet name, sockets fluttering open, then going wide as he took in the sights. He swallowed audibly, husking out, "yeah i can…i can do that if…if you want?"

Like Edge was even capable of turning that down. A short, sharp nod and Edge sat obediently still, let Rus lave at his face, greedily licking up the spatters while Red watched the crimson smearing the deeper gold of his tongue avidly. The sudden flood of fresh arousal was startling, almost unwelcome.

Almost.

The way he figured it, Edge would only stand that for so long before he hauled them all off to their massive shower. The three of them standing together beneath the generous spray, the water pouring down on them about two degrees lower than the temperature of lava, exactly how Rus liked it. The probability of blowjobs or fucking was high and so was the chance of a nap afterword, Rus snuggled up against him blissfully well-fucked, his brother on the other side. A preciously rare gift from the Angel to make up for the slagging shithole of Red’s life before.

He'd guarantee that Rus would mumble out a sleepy ‘I love you’ for them both before drifting off and right about then, Red wanted that more than anything in the fucking world. Those three words, Rus, and Edge.

His, all his in a way no one’d ever been his entire life. Not even Sans.

Red didn’t have a fucking clue what game they were playing anymore. Didn’t matter, either. All he knew was that the fates were sore losers and that he didn’t give a shit.

He was playing to win.

-fin

Next Chapter

#fontcest #keelywolfe #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #underswap papyrus #underswap #underfell #lemony goodness #papcest #spicyhoney #honeymustard #spicyhoneymustard #bodyguard au

54 notes · View notes

wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 142

Chapter Summary - Danielle's cousin Siobhan and her boyfriend come to London sparking Tom to realise he never knew something about Danielle.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

In certain areas of Ireland, Irish is still the first spoken language, not English, including parts of Connemara, Kerry, Cork and Donegal, amongst others. Kids actually do not speak English in the home with their family, it is not their first tongue.

The amount of times I have physically grimaced in the face of Americans and British people who try to tell me how our names are pronounced and spelt because they have had someone in their family 5 generations go that was Irish, so of course, they know more than someone raised in Irish, is growing by the day.

Right, here is a fun fact. Irish is not a phonetic language. The names are Siobhan - Shiv-awn Dáithí - Dah-hee Caoilfhionn - Kee-lin Aoife - Ee-fa

'Guess who?’ A pair of hands came over Danielle’s eyes.

‘How many Irish people do you expect me to know in the one station at the time you are arriving in?’ She laughed as she turned around to hug her cousin. ‘How was your journey?’

‘Confusing, Heathrow is mad.’

‘You get used to it.’ She looked at the guy that was next to her cousin. ‘And you must be Dáithí.’ She smiled, leaning forward and giving him a hug. ‘I believe it’s your first time to these parts.’

‘Tis, alright.’

‘Ah, a Waterford man. Speak slowly for them here, if you don’t they’ll be easily confused.’ The pair laughed. So, this is where we need to go to get the Northern Line.’ She instructed, taking them to the correct area of the station to get to their destination. ‘Tom and I are taking you two out for dinner and we will drop you at your hotel afterwards, alright?’

‘What, no Danielle, don’t worry yourself.’

‘I am not worrying myself, I mean it, we want to do this for you. Nothing fancy, just lovely Indian we always use, and this is not your local takeaway place; if it says spicy, it fucking means it.’

‘How are you with a privately educated Brit, you are too normal.’

‘Tom is not averse to swearing, I assure you.’ Danielle laughed as they got to the platform. ‘Four minutes.’ She stated, looking at the time for the next train, a man close to them seeing the sign and swearing at it as he did. ‘One thing about these parts, four minutes may as well be five hours, the way some people act.’

‘They’d die in Ireland.’

‘Yes, so don’t get too bothered when they start huffing and puffing like they want to blow down a house of straw in a few minutes.’ Danielle stated as she watched the time to the next train come down. When they got to the correct station, she ordered them off and walked them to the right house.

‘Wait, you live here?’

‘Yes.’ Danielle laughed at her cousin. ‘What were you expecting?’

‘It’s just so you.’

‘Well, it’s Toms, actually, not mine, but yes. I love it.’ She put the key in the door just as she heard Siobhan fawning. ‘I hope you like dogs, Dáithí.’

‘We have three at my Mam’s.’

‘Grand so.’ She opened the door, the dogs immediately rushing over. ‘Bed.’ Mac looked as though he had been struck, disheartened, he trotted to his bed, groaning as he did, Bobby looking between his big brother and the new humans to sniff before finally sensing Danielle’s body language was stern and trotting there sadly.

‘You’re so mean.’ Siobhan commented. ‘He’s only a puppy.’

‘Yep, he is.’ Danielle nodded, saying nothing more.

‘You are going to be the Mom that every other child in the school fears, you know that, right?’

‘Probably.’ Danielle acknowledged. ‘But then, my kids wouldn’t be the little shits running around the shop making a mess and back answering teachers.’

‘Yeah, that’s true actually.’ Siobhan conceded. ‘Is Tom here?’

‘Yes, he is working on something in his office, he’ll be down when he realises we’re here. Put your bags over there and we’ll get tea. I have Barry’s.’

‘What does Tom think of it?’

‘Tom maintains it’s fine, nothing special about it….but seems to find himself going for the box of that over the box of PG Tips.’ Danielle smiled, causing the other two to laugh. A moment later, the dogs’ ears shot up. ‘Here he is.’ When the sound of footfalls on the stairs became apparent, Danielle made another cup of tea.

A moment later, Tom walked into the room, an empty cup in his hand. ‘Hello.’ He smiled, before putting down the cup and walking over to Siobhan. ‘Great to see you again, did you have a good flight?’ He gave her a hug.

‘Hello, yes, it was fine, it’s so short you are hardly in the air when you are coming down again.’ She joked. ‘Tom, this is Dáithí, Dáithí, this is clearly Tom, Danielle’s….what do you call it?’

‘Long-suffering fool.’ Danielle jested as both men shook hands; when they were done, she walked over to Tom. ‘I’ll trade.’ She held out the fresh cup of tea and took the coffee mug off him.

‘That’s a good trade.’ Tom grinned. ‘What have I missed?’

‘Just that Danielle is going to be that mother that if she says “Sit Down” in a restaurant, her kids, all other kids, four husbands and a waiter will obey out of sheer fear alone.’ Siobhan recapped. ‘Ooh, did I show you the pictures of Laura’s baby?’

‘No, show me now.’ Danielle rushed over. ‘Oh my God, she looks so like her and you.’

‘I know. She is the cutest thing. I steal her any time I see her.’ Siobhan moved through the pictures.

‘How did Bernie take it?’

‘Oh, she’s the doting grandmother now.’

‘Of course, she is.’ Danielle rolled her eyes, having known her aunt’s reaction to the pregnancy. ‘Oh, before I forget, stay here, I have two outfits I got for her that I want you to bring back.’ Danielle left the room and went up the stairs to retrieve the bag with the little outfits she had purchased on hearing of the safe arrival of her cousin’s daughter. When she went back into the kitchen, Tom looked utterly baffled. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Say Laura’s baby’s name.’ Siobhan laughed.

‘Why?’

‘Just say it.’ she encouraged.

‘Caoilfhionn Aoife McNamara.’ Danielle looked at them all.

‘See.’ Siobhan beamed.

‘What’s going on?’ Danielle asked.

‘Tom saw how Caoilfhionn is spelt.’ Dáithí explained.

‘Ah, right.’ Danielle, realising there was no actual problem, went over to Siobhan with the bag. ‘You had me worried.’

‘Worried...how the fuck is that word pronounced like that?’ Tom exclaimed.

‘Because it is.’ Danielle shrugged. ‘That’s Irish, it’s not even in the same branch of languages as English, it is very close to Scottish Gael though, your dad might have known speakers of that growing up.’

‘There’s an “f” in it.’

‘Yes, I know. I know how to spell it.’ Danielle stated.

‘You do know Danielle was raised in Connemara. Her parents didn’t speak to her in English all her life, right?’ Siobhan pointed out.

Tom stared at Danielle. ‘What?’

‘Connemara is a Gaeltacht, the first language in those regions is Irish, not English.’ She shrugged. ‘Everyone there speaks Irish as their first language.’

‘But your mother was not from there?’

‘No, she was from Beara in Cork, the Cork Gaeltacht.’ She explained. ‘I learnt English in school when I was five.’

‘Really?’

‘Did I not tell you this?’

‘No.’

‘Whoops.’ She gave the bag to Siobhan. ‘Look at the little yellow one.’

‘So...you only spoke English in school?’ Tom reiterated.

‘In English lessons, yes, the rest of the time, we were taught in as Gaeilge so unless I went to Galway for the day with my parents, I could go a couple of days without speaking or hearing a single word of English.’ She looked at his shocked face. ‘You saw how Aoife is spelt too, right?’ He shook his head. ‘How would you spell it.’

‘E.F.A.’ She shook her head. ‘E.E.F.A.?’

Again Danielle shook her head. ‘I’ll give you a hint. The “A” is at the start and the “E” is at the end.’

‘Fuck off. No, you’re just joking now.’

‘A.O.I.F.E.’ She spelt.

‘I…’ Tom sighed. ‘I give up.’

‘Siobhan has a “B”. And Dáithí has a “T”.’ She stated.

‘Why is it so complicated?’

‘Because it is older than English and we like to confuse you.’

‘So that incomprehensible mumbling you do when calculating things is not just gibberish?’

‘Moda means plus, Luda means minus and the rest is usually numbers, all in Irish, all force of habit.’ She explained with a smile.

The evening was pleasant, with Tom and Danielle bringing the younger pair to dinner. When that was done, Danielle drove them to the Travelodge that they were staying at, with a plan to meet them a day or two later to do some sightseeing with them before saying their farewells.

While tidying the house for the evening, Tom found himself looking at Danielle a lot.

‘Dare I ask?’

‘So in all respects, this is your second language, English?’

‘Are you still bothered by that?’ She asked curiously.

‘I just never thought…’

‘When the Plantations occurred, and the Cromwellian situation after, most of the Irish were hunted to Connacht, where the land was wet and as a result, the language never waned as it did in other areas, famine, war, none of it took the language there. Sure, look at the Welsh, their language all but died and was revived, now it is a popular language in some parts of there again.’

‘I know, I just...Do you think in Irish or in English?’

‘It varies from moment to moment.’ She smirked, using his line, causing him to smile. ‘When I am at home here, tidying and what not, more often, in Irish I suppose. I speak Irish to the dogs some days or listen to Radio na Gaeltachta online or something. I get worried I will lose it sometimes. I love my language.’

‘I never even considered it.’ He confessed. ‘How come I never hear it on?’

‘I rarely have the radio on when you are home.’

‘Well, from now on, if you want to listen and I am here, please do.’

‘You won’t understand three words.’

‘No, I won’t, but it matter to you, and so long as it is not secretly trying to plan some form of attack on my home, I don’t particularly mind.’ He put his arms around her.

‘Damn, you’re onto them.’ She smiled, leaning up and kissing him.

Tom chuckled for a moment. ‘So, if we decide to have kids, would you speak Irish to them?’

‘Definitely.’

‘I will have to learn it so.’ He kissed her again. ‘Elle?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Please never consider calling one a word I could never hope to spell.’

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #i hate you i love you #chapter 142 #wolfpawn

17 notes · View notes

1dffexchange · 5 years

Text

Here You Come Again

To: Hannah @primetimewritings

From: Fran @fromherlips

Warnings: Alcohol

Summary: kiernan reid, in truth, had no idea what she was doing. she just wanted to graduate college, find a place of her own, and try to do it without having a breakdown. but with her three meddling best friends and a complicated friendship/relationship hybrid with liam, that was starting to seem less possible with each passing day.

a (short) story about college, confusion, and copious amounts of wine.

Author’s Note: hi hannah! i’m happy the official last thing i ever write is for you!!!! love you to pieces <3

“Never have I ever seen Kier naked.”

Kiernan wasn’t sure who chucked a chunk of pizza crust at Niall first, but she saw Liam rolling his eyes in Niall’s direction before putting his remaining finger down. They both shared a look as Liam took a sip of his beer and their friend Carmen picked up the next card from the ring around the can of Natty Light in the center of the table.

King’s Cup was a staple part of any Saturday evening for Kier’s friend group. It was the pre-game before the proper pre-game which typically preceded a party which was the last step before anyone still sober enough to stay upright would head to the bars in Brooklyn or occasionally in the East Village. While some people’s goals were to get everyone beyond trashed well before the Ubers were called, Kier and Liam seemed to be the only two people smart enough to order pizzas and breadsticks for their ever-growing group of friends, sending Venmo requests out the moment they got their receipts so no one would forget.

“Six is chicks!” Carmen cheered.

“I thought six was dicks,” Niall said, his beer already in his hand before Carmen could even set the card to the side.

“We do this every single time we play,” Kier said, shaking her head. “Everyone, drink."

Nobody complained, following through the motions of the game. Liam was next to grab a card, pushing his empty pizza plate underneath the table to shield his drink from Carmen’s loose limbs. Her lightweight tendencies made her more clumsy than usual and typically sent her back to her apartment before anyone even left for the party.

“Eight is date,” he said, flashing the card to the circle. Kier knew what was coming before he even his mouth, so she grabbed her poorly made vodka soda and held it out in his direction to cheers. “Kier, you know me so well.”

“If only she was your real date,” Niall sighed, propping his chin onto his closed fists while he batted his eyelashes at them.

Kier and Liam ignored his antics while they took their respective drinks. They weren’t any strangers to Niall’s comments. They had started sometime during the spring semester of their freshmen year and hadn’t seemed to stop since, long after Liam and Kier stopped being a “thing.”

Well, she would use a “thing” loosely. Being A Thing meant that they were exclusive and together. Kiernan and Liam were, in fact, never together. Not officially, that is. They spent a lot of time in each other’s beds and hanging out casually, but she thought the terms “friends with benefits” and “no strings attached” were much more appropriate.

That was, until they decided to call it quits. Liam dated someone else exclusively for six months before she broke up with him after she graduated and Kiernan had a string of short-lived exclusive relationships which usually led her to not feeling sad enough about her failed romances yet still somehow ended drunk at a bar where she’d makeout with someone new, even if she didn’t want to.

Their friends tried to ask if things were weird between them ever but Kier usually just laughed. Things couldn’t be weird if they weren’t actually together. As Kate Hudson famously said as Andie Anderson, “you can’t lose something you never had,” a line that Kier recited one too many times during her rom-com bingeathons with Carmen and their friend Lydia.

Besides, as far as she was concerned, she still “had” Liam, whatever that meant. They just didn’t fuck anymore, which was fine with Kier.

“Only in your dreams, Niall,” Kier finally said, rolling her eyes at her meddling friend. It didn’t go unnoticed that Niall, Carmen, and Lydia each exchanged a look. She ignored it, taking another sip of her vodka in hopes of building up her buzz before they moved onto the next party. “Come on, let’s keep the game going.”

Kier wasn’t sure who was sitting next to Liam. He must’ve been new to the group, or maybe he came with someone else. With a straw clamped between her lips, she swayed lightly to the blaring 90s music in the background, some TLC song she’d no doubt belt out if she was out a club with her friends. She must have been caught in a tipsy trance because Liam had his eyes squinted with his gaze on her until she finally stopped swaying.

“You good?” he mouthed. She stuck up her thumb, nodding a few times. It seemed like the best way to prove her point, but in retrospect it probably just made her seem a lot more drunk than she was. Was she even drunk? She’d go with tipsy over anything else.

Kier didn’t even have to think when she saw that the guy drew another jack, immediately sticking up her three fingers to let another rousing round of Never Have I Ever commence. He looked around the circle, as if he was trying to think if he could take anyone down with a single strike, a targeted attack that tended to be the best part of the game, hence Niall’s previous remark.

She barely even heard his statement, keeping her finger up along with basically everyone else in the group. The game was starting to die down like clockwork, kickstarting the transition from the pre-game to the next stop. She waved her hand around, trying to get Liam’s attention without yelling out his name. It didn’t take long for him to notice, mostly because Kier wasn’t sure he had ever really looked away.

No, that would be silly. Maybe she was drunk.

Liam nodded in her direction, setting the empty can of beer down in front of him. Kier followed suit, finishing her vodka soda in one long sip before nearly burping when she was done. The game ended up being less eventful than usual, mostly because nobody was nearly as plastered as they usually were and neither Carmen nor Lydia allowed targeted attacks against them because they were both seeing new guys and didn’t want anyone, namely Niall or Kier, exposing the secrets of their past. There were some threats involved that neither of them seemed to test, letting the new couples enjoy their honeymoon period for a few weeks before they brought out the big guns.

“Kier, are you going to the party or what?” Carmen asked, trying to straighten out her mini skirt. “Julian and I are going to start walking soon we think.”

“Don’t leave without me,” she said, pulling up the waist of her skintight jeans.

“We’ll find you and Liam before we go.”

“Go where? To the party?” Liam asked, walking up behind Kiernan.

He slung an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. Kier didn’t even try to wriggle out of his grasp, melting against his body. Besides, she was drunk, she decided. They were always too close for comfort, toying the line of friends and decidedly not just friends. Nothing had happened in a while. Even then, it was just one night. Or two nights. Kier knew it wasn’t any more than four nights, but she still stood by the fact that it was only three because all they had done the last night was fool around a bit because they were too drunk to finish.

“I think their apartment is right around the corner from Rocka Rolla,” Kier replied.

“We’re staying in Brooklyn tonight? Interesting,” he hummed. “Thought we were venturing to the East Village to hit up an NYU bar on 2nd.”

“Don’t act like you’re not happy that you don’t have to go all the way to Manhattan just to come all the way back to Brooklyn drunk as hell in an Uber Pool that you still can’t afford.”

“Ouch,” he said. “I’m hurt.”

“We’re all poor, babe,” she told him, patting his arm. “Now round the troops, or at least make sure that Niall and Lydia are accounted for.”

“Will do, Kier.”

She hummed a response, unsure of what else to say in the moment. She was just happy to be leaving the apartment. There was only so much sitting around she could do on a weekend before she got antsy. She spent most of her time in a classroom, library, or coffee shop just sitting around doing work. She had a part-time job at an office not too far from campus to keep her entertained and pockets somewhat (see: barely) lined with disposable income. Most of it went into her savings though in hopes that someday she would leave the nest, also known as her parents’ house in Greenpoint.

It wasn’t far from where some of her friends lived in Williamsburg, making it an easy walk from her childhood home. They once had an apartment somewhere on the Upper West Side when she was a toddler, but then her parents had another kid and needed more space so they ended up in the land of the G-train and she just didn’t see any reason to leave when rent was free and school was too stressful and expensive to deal with her own place.

All it meant for her was crashing at Lydia or Carmen’s more often than not and making sure that whoever she hooked up with had chill roommates. She’d only had Liam over a few nights in her childhood bedroom but was too mortified by the possibility of her parents or siblings hearing that she couldn’t finish and snuck Liam out at 1 in the morning instead.

“Earth to Kier,” Carmen said, waving her hands directly in front of her face. “Lydia is heading home with Shiv.”

“Too drunk to continue?” Kier asked, cocking her brow.

Carmen shrugged. “My guess is that she’s just tipsy enough where she’s super horny,” she replied. “Can’t blame her. I’ve heard Shiv is quite the giver in the sack.”

Kier snorted, shaking her head at Carmen’s comment. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” she replied. “Lydia’s a lucky gal.”

“If you’d just start seeing Liam again you could have that too,” Carmen said.

“I was never seeing Liam,” Kier corrected her friend. “But also that’s over, for good. It’s mutually beneficial but it’s also a bad idea.”

“Bad ideas can become good ideas,” Carmen pointed out.

“Give me a good example and I’ll blow Liam right here, right now,” Kier deadpanned.

Carmen rolled her eyes at Kier, ignoring her comment before waving Niall over. “Let’s go, Kier’s getting sexual."

“Kier’s getting what now?” Liam chimed in, pulling his red and white plaid flannel back on over his loose t-shirt.

Kier flipped off Carmen, shaking her head. “Kier’s getting nothing, that’s what,” she said. “Let’s go before my buzz wears off.”

* * * * * * *

“October is the best month in the city,” Liam announced. He had long since shed his denim jacket in the coffee shop, leaning back in his seat while he stared out the window at a group passing by on the side street near campus. “It’s not too hot, not too cold, and everyone seems slightly less miserable.”

Kiernan snorted, losing her place in the textbook she was scanning. “People here aren’t as miserable as they seem,” she said. “You non-natives always think the worst of us New Yorkers.”

“I mean, you’re tolerable most of the time,” Liam replied. He nudged her shin under the table with the tip of his shoe, a smile stretching across his lips. “I forget that you’ve never lived anywhere else sometimes."

Kiernan merely shrugged, giving up on the assignment she was supposed to be working on. “New York has everything you’d ever need, why would I need to live anywhere else?” she asked. “I mean, you’re here from wherever in the Midwest you’re from. I don’t know anything west of Jersey, so…”

Liam laughed at their long-standing joke, rolling his eyes at Kiernan’s comment. “I still stand by the fact that you would enjoy a weekend in Minnesota during the wintertime,” he said.

“In all that snow? Unlikely,” she replied. “I love the fact that you love Minnesota so much though. I think that’s enough love for the both of us, don’t you?”

“Get back to work, you menace,” he said, pointing down at her textbook.

“Could say the same to you,” she replied. “Have you even typed a word of that essay yet? I’ve heard you say a lot of shit, but I don’t think I’ve seen your fingers on that keyboard the last two hours."

“I can’t get work done when you’re around,” Liam replied. “You distract me too much.”

“And yet you continue to work with me off campus,” she said. “Don’t blame me for your own lack of an attention span.”

“Kiernan Reid, your words hurt like fists,” Liam said, clutching his hands to his chest. “I’ve been wounded.”

She rolled her eyes, flipping the page in her textbook. “So dramatic,” she muttered. Her eyes were focused on the top of the page for a split second before she flickered her eyes up, catching a glimpse of Liam staring out the window. When he shifted in his seat, she averted her gaze back onto the textbook to try to make sense of the words in front of her.

Liam and Kiernan were taking completely different classes, but their schedules were somewhat similar. Their work schedules didn’t always line up, but it at least meant a day or two a week that they could hold each other accountable and try to get some work done together before they went their separate ways out of Manhattan, Kiernan to her house in Greenpoint and Liam to his apartment in Bushwick with three other guys.

He wasn’t wrong though. Kiernan did distract him too much, but in all fairness, he wasn’t innocent himself. If anything, they continued to “study” together just as an excuse to hangout. Sometimes Kiernan was worried if they spent too much time alone together that she’d just slip back into their casual routine of sleeping together whenever it was convenient. And for a while, it was just that: convenient. But convenience didn’t mean that things couldn’t get complicated. Feelings always get involved, the lines between lust and love become blurred, and it stops being fun.

Hanging out at a coffee shop with schoolwork though was easy. They couldn’t fuck on the floor of a coffee shop the same way that they could easily hook up if they were watching a movie at his place. So maybe their studying dates at whatever coffee shop they could find with outlets and space were a waste of time because nothing was accomplished, but at least it gave them time to be just friends and nothing else.

“How’s that book?” Liam asked.

“Really interesting,” Kiernan replied without looking away from the book.

“Must be, considering you haven’t flipped the page in over five minutes.”

She narrowed her eyes, slowly looking up from the page. “Did you seriously time me?” she asked.

“Either you read really slow, or you just lied straight to my face,” Liam said.

Kiernan snorted. “As if I haven’t lied to you before,” she said.

Liam pursed his lips. “Like when?”

She flattened her palms against the glossy pages of her textbook, staring forward straight at Liam. “Mmm, oh yeah, I’m so close, right there Liam, right th–“ she moaned, loud enough to make Liam’s cheeks flush red. For a moment, she thought he’d be mad but it only took a few seconds for him to burst out laughing instead. Kiernan ignored the glances from the people sitting around them, more focused on the fact that Liam seemed to be amused.

“Like fists, Kier. Like. Fists,” he said, still smiling. “It was never for lack of trying.”

“Never for lack of trying, mostly just because of alcohol,” she replied. “You’re shit after you’ve had too much to drink.”

“You accidentally bit my dick once when you were drunk,” he pointed out.

“Probably wasn’t an accident, I was mad at you because you were dancing with another girl at a party and I was hammered and jealous,” she said.

“You told me to dance with her!” Liam replied.

“Girls are weird, what do you want me to tell you?” Kiernan replied with a shrug. “Now, enough about our previous shared sex life, I have to read about…I don’t even know what I’m reading about because you’ve been distracting me this whole time!”

“Okay well why you try to finish that page you’ve been reading for ten minutes now, I’m getting something to eat,” he announced. “If I get a cookie will you eat some?”

“As long as it–“

“Doesn’t have raisins in it, I know,” he said.

Kiernan didn’t smile until she knew his back was turned to her before she focused on her textbook once again, finally finishing the page she was stuck on. She still wasn’t sure what she was reading about, but in the grand scheme of things, that didn’t really matter.

* * * * * * *

Kiernan was running approximately half an hour behind schedule but she refused to take the blame. Her younger sister was hogging the bathroom when she desperately needed to shower and the dish she was bringing to Friendsgiving ended up not being done until ten minutes after she was supposed to leave. How she managed to fuck up mashed potatoes she would never know, but she didn’t want to cop out and buy anything store bought which everyone else no doubt did. In her defense, she lived with her parents who actually had cookware that she could use. She wasn’t even sure half of her friends owned any sort of pots or pans aside from maybe a skillet to cook grilled cheese on.

She started to stack the containers on top of each other, trying to find the insulated bag that her mom set out for her. It was supposed to be on the counter or maybe it was on the kitchen table.

“Aha!” she announced to no one, spotting the red bag collapsed onto the table. She was already sweating through her outfit, a plaid mini skirt and a cream-colored turtleneck. She made a mental note to stick to white wines only, knowing that red wine would be a disaster with her light colored outfit. It was a last minute buy at some sale in SoHo specifically for Friendsgiving. This was their third year doing it, but it was the first year Liam and his roommates were hosting.

Kiernan went over to his place two days prior to help clean it up, though they were fairly tidy for four guys. She hoped to god they hadn’t become incredible slobs over the course of two days and knew better to at least do one more tidy the morning of to ensure that nobody was eating in absolute filth. Not that anyone would particularly care. Their friend group was about as chill as chill could get, even if Lydia did have the tendency to be a bit over the top. In all fairness, Niall was her male equivalent and tended to always push the envelope towards everything becoming extra.

It took her five more minutes to make sure her hair and makeup looked okay before slipping on her tan jacket and white calf-high boots that she borrowed from Carmen the week before specifically for this outfit. She would take them off as soon as she got to their apartment, but at least she could make her entrance in the full ensemble. Not that she had anybody she had to make an entrance for.

She wasn’t the only person carting around what appeared to be some kind of dishware containing their contribution to dinner. She spotted a few oddly proportioned bags on her multiple subway rides to Liam’s apartment. In truth, it was only a twenty-minute trip or so door to door, but the G train was useless to her until she transferred to the L. It did save her the extra time it would take to walk from Greenpoint to the L line though, especially in the impractically high booties she was sporting for sartorial purposes.

Even whilst running thirty minutes late, there were still a few missing faces at Liam’s apartment when Kiernan finally arrived, her skin feeling a little frost-bitten after walking around in the cold without a pair of tights on. That was her mistake, but she realized last minute that she’d ripped holes in every single pair (or rather, some of her male courters had), rendering them useless to her. So, she bare-legged it through the city and had to hope that Liam’s apartment was slightly warmer due to the fact that they were cooking the turkey and there would be a group of people crowding the tight space.

Kiernan knocked on the door with the tip of her boot. She knew the code to their building but having a key to their apartment was another story. It took a few seconds for someone to come to the door, but she could already hear the sound of some kind of commotion inside.

“Hey Kier,” Liam’s roommate James said, holding the door wide open for her to come in. “Liam, Kiernan’s here.”

“Hey James,” Kiernan said, keeping her boots on momentarily while she searched for someplace to set down her serving dish. “Any idea where I should–“

“I’ll take that, Kier,” Liam said, swooping in before she could finish her sentence. He didn’t even stop before he grabbed the bag from her hands, taking it into the kitchen before setting it down onto the counter. He was back seconds later, his hands free of any kind of dishware with a smile on his face. “You didn’t have to dress up. I feel like garbage next to you now.”

Liam was just wearing a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt, it was hardly garbage. She rolled her eyes at him before bending down to slide the boots off. “Any excuse to not wear the shit I wear to campus,” she replied, pulling down the hem of her skirt. She felt about four inches shorter, which sounded about right considering the death trap shoes she decided would be appropriate to wear for a total of two minutes inside.

“Well, you look nice, that’s all,” he replied. “Well I mean, not that I have to tell you but make yourself at all. Lydia, Carmen, and Niall are all late, go figure but they’re the only three we’re waiting for. Uh, sit wherever and the wine is over in the living room already."

“You might catch me there all night,” she said. “I made sure it was well stocked.”

Liam snorted. “Yes, yes you did,” he said. “I think Trader Joe’s owes you a personal thank you note after all of the money you must have dropped at the wine shop in Union Square before you came over early this week.”

“My arms stopped being sore yesterday after carrying that many bottles, but it will be well worth my Friendsgiving buzz,” she told him. “I better see your indulging today, mister. It’s no fun when you leave me to be wine drunk by myself.”

“Someone’s gotta make sure you’re okay in your wine drunk state,” Liam pointed out. “Wine drunk Kiernan is on another level. The only thing worse might be tequila drunk Kiernan. She’s the fucking worst.”

She shuddered at every recollection of those tequila drunk nights, almost all of them no doubt ending up with vomit. “In all fairness, you benefitted from some of those tequila drunk nights,” she said.

“Just go drink your wine, Kiernan,” Liam said.

And that she did.

Kiernan wasn’t sure what portion of dinner was the turning point in her drinking or how many glasses she had actually had. She had her own, but then she kept stealing some of Carmen and Lydia’s and had Liam get her some refills. By the time she served herself food, her plate seemed to become 90% carbs in her attempt to soak up the alcohol. Even after mounds of bread and potatoes were consumed, she still found herself bloated on the couch, her face flushed and vision fuzzy.

“Hey Kier, you doing okay?” Liam asked, sinking down next to her on the couch.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there, but Lydia, Carmen, and Niall had all hugged her goodbye long before. They’d had a nice conversation at dinner. Or at least Kiernan thought it was nice. She made a mental note to get together with the girls before they all went their separate ways before the holidays and when the semester was finally over. They needed some well-deserved girl time, mostly because she wanted to make sure their new boyfriends were treating them well and that they were doing okay after their penultimate semester from hell.

“Splendid,” she replied, following her statement with the final sip of wine in her glass. “Were my mashed potatoes okay?”

“They were great, Kier,” he told her.

“I made them myself,” she said. “Peeled ‘em, cut ‘em, boiled ‘em, mashed ‘em. All of it. Not store bought! I mean, I bought the stuff at the store to make them but I made them. Kiernan Marie Reid made them.”

Liam snorted, draping his arm loosely over Kiernan’s shoulders. Or maybe he was just resting it along the back of the couch they were sharing. Did the heating come on earlier than usual in their apartment? It felt awfully hot. She wasn’t even wearing tights and her legs felt like they were on fire.

“You outdid yourself, Kier,” he finally said.

“Did everyone else leave?” she asked, eyes surveying the room.

“Not everyone,” he replied. “There’s still a few people left if you needed to chat to anyone in particular.”

She shook her head. “Nah, I like chatting with you,” she told him. “I finished my wine.”

“I can see that,” he replied. “Do you want me to take your glass?”

“To refill it?”

“To wash it,” he said.

Kiernan pouted, furrowing her brows at his comment. “I haven’t had that much.”

“Okay,” he said, refusing to argue. “How does this dinner compare to your family’s Thanksgiving?”

Kiernan shrugged. “We go to our family’s house out in Long Island. I hate Long Island, but it’s way better than Staten Island so I guess I can’t complain.”

“Are you going to bless everyone with your homemade mashed potatoes?” he asked, nudging her gently in the side.

“Only for you,” she replied. “We just bring the wine and sometimes my mom makes a pie if she feels like it. My aunt and uncle are very particular about Thanksgiving dinner but it always tastes amazing so like, no complaints I guess.”

“Sounds like my parents,” Liam replied. “We host at our house. It’s always a nightmare until everyone arrives and then it’s like none of the stress ever happened.”

Kiernan widened her eyes, her head turning to face Liam. “Do I stress my aunt and uncle out?” Kiernan asked.

Liam laughed, shaking his head at Kiernan’s panicked question. “I don’t think so, no,” he assured her.

“Did I stress you out? Because you hosted today?”

“You always stress me out, Kier,” he told her.

“Aren’t you gonna take my glass away?” she asked, tilting it back and forth in her hands.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, reaching his free hand across her body to grab it.

But the moment he started to stand up and his arm draped around her shoulder began to lift, Kiernan abruptly interrupted, “Wait!”

Liam froze, almost squatting above the sofa before he decided to just sit back down. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, unable to think of anything else to contribute. “Sorry, I forgot what I was going to say.”

“Okay Kier,” Liam said, still looking at her skeptically out of the corner of his eyes. “Were you going to take the train home tonight?”

She nodded, drumming her fingers against her legs. “Should probably leave soon,” she said

“I think you should just stay here,” he suggested. “Or you should call a car.”

“Why?”

“I mean, you’re drunk,” he pointed out matter-of-fact.

“Do you worry?”

“Of course I do,” he replied.

Kiernan’s lips lingered in a small ‘o’ shape while she thought of something to say. But instead of an intelligible response, she merely muttered, “Oh.”

“I just have to clean up but you can just hang here or just lay down in my room,” he offered. “Or if you decide to call a car, can you just let me know? I’ll walk you down and make sure you get into the right car.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to examine Liam’s expression or body language. She could barely see straight, let alone try to decipher context clues about his feelings. Even if she was sober she’d still struggle. She and Liam had never been very good at reading each other in most contexts. They knew almost everything about each other, but when it came to feelings, they just couldn’t figure it out.

“I just want you to do whatever you want to do,” he finally said.

“How long will it take you to clean?” she asked.

“Not very long because I cleaned before dinner and helped set up, so it’s James and Grant’s turn to clean,” he explained.

“Can you help me to your room?” she asked.

Liam nodded, getting off of the couch first. He discarded her wine glass onto the nearby coffee table before stepping directly in front of her. She held out her hands for him to grab, gently hoisting her up until she was on both feet. Kiernan felt wobbly as she walked with Liam, but she tried to keep her balance as they made their way slowly down the hallway towards his bedroom.

“I have to pee,” she announced, the thought dawning on her as they passed the bathroom. “Wait outside.”

“Aye aye, Captain Kier,” Liam said, letting go of her for the first time since she got off of the couch.

She was only gone for a few minutes, but she felt pathetic clutching onto the bathroom sink to keep herself upright until she got back outside to Liam. She made a mental note to never trust herself when it came to buying excessive amounts of wine again, a promise she made to herself every single time and never followed through with.

They didn’t talk as they stumbled into his bedroom, a familiar act that wasn’t ending the way that it used to. He guided her to his bed, letting her fall gently backward until she was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Kier tried to center herself, wishing her head would just stop spinning for a second so she could look at Liam. He seemed to be busying himself near his dresser, disappearing out of the corner of her eyes. She could hear him rummaging through a drawer closely followed by the gentle slam.

Liam didn’t say anything as he presented Kiernan with a pile of clothes, a pair of sweatpants with a coordinating sweatshirt that she had worn plenty of times before. She hadn’t seen Liam wear them in years. She assumed they became her comfy clothes at his apartment when she either didn’t wear or bring any of her own.

“Thank you,” she told him, setting the pile down on her lap.

“I also found, uh, these makeup wipes in my drawer,” he said, handing over the light blue packet. “I know it drives you crazy to sleep with your makeup on. I don’t have any of that micellar water or cleanser stuff that you like but–“

“Liam,” she said, interrupting his ramble. He paused, pressing his lips together. “Thank you. I’m sorry I got drunk at Friendsgiving again.”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “Why don’t you get changed and lay down. I’ll bring you water soon.”

“Are you going to stay?” she asked. “In here, I mean. It’s your apartment after all.”

“Yeah, I can stay in here if you want me to,” he replied.

If you want me to.

I just want you to do whatever you want.

Kiernan’s fingers played with the clothes in her hand, flicking through the edges while she sat on Liam’s response. She could see his fingers drumming at his sides, but she just couldn’t get the words out fast enough. This wasn’t like her. She acted quicker and wittier. She didn’t pause or stumble. She just wasn’t sure she could blame it on the alcohol this time.

“I’ll leave your side empty,” she finally said. “I’m going to get naked now.”

Liam laughed, beaming at Kiernan. She couldn’t see much, but she could always make out his smile even in her drunken hazes. “Okay Kier, you do that.”

* * * * * * *

“Didn’t we just have Friendsgiving?” Lydia asked, tossing the throw pillow she had in her hands back onto the shelf at Urban Outfitters. Lydia and Carmen dragged Kiernan out to shop in Manhattan for their Secret Santa gifts for their big annual exchange within their friend group. “And why did we agree to let Niall host?”

“Because his begging was pathetic,” Carmen replied, looking over her shoulder for a brief moment before she focused on the candle in front of her again. “Not every man has an apartment as tidy as Liam and his roommates do. Live with it, Lyd.

“Liam is very tidy,” Lydia agreed. “Right Kier?”

Kiernan sighed, rolling her eyes at her two friends. “You two are ruthless,” she said. “We’re friends.”

“Okay,” Carmen replied, nearly snorting as she said it. “The two of you are very clearly not just friends and never have been.”

“You can be friends with a guy and have it be platonic,” Kier pointed out.

“Well of course you can, all of us are friends with Niall and I don’t know about you, but I’ve certainly never thought about having him dick me down,” she said, earning a grimace from Kiernan. “But you and Liam aren’t the same as you and Niall and not just because you two used to fuck on the daily.”

“It was not on the daily,” Kiernan argued.

“It might as well have been on the daily!” Lydia chimed in.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Kiernan muttered. “I thought we’ve talked about not discussing this subject.”

“We have, but sometimes we just need to remind you that pretending that you’re not attracted to Liam is stupid and you’re depriving yourself of someone who could be good for you rather than you trying to find someone better at a bar,” Lydia explained. “Which, you never have. You’re batting 0 for 4 right now, Kiernan.”

“Can we just shop for our Secret Santa gifts?” Kiernan asked, wishing they could just drop the subject once and for all.

Lydia wasn’t wrong though. They didn’t talk about it that much anymore, not since Kiernan had a drunken breakdown about it the previous semester during spring break. What Kier did wasn’t fair, but she had one too many frozen margaritas at Hotel Tortuga at dinner and not nearly enough of the free chips and salsa. She was scrolling through Instagram Stories and saw that Liam kept posting videos with some girl. He had gone to Miami with Niall and a couple of their mutual friends, but she didn’t recognize the girl from New York. It only took a quick search on Liam’s Instagram to find her at the top of his ‘Following’ page and even less time for the envy to set in.

It was unfair for her to get upset about it, but she was drunk and admittedly the tiniest bit jealous. She ended up crying on the subway about it to Lydia and Carmen, confessing god knows what to them. All Kiernan remembered was begging them to not talk about Liam like that and for the most part, they kept up with their end of the bargain.

“Fine, but only because I want to get the fuck out of Urban Outfitters and find a bar,” Carmen said. “My treat, by the way for surviving the semester but also because I found out I’m somehow getting a tiny bonus at work which means we all deserve a happy hour cocktail.”

Kiernan only tagged along for emotional support. She got Liam, no doubt a sign that god was trying to fuck with her. Even still, she’d found his gift by happenstance the week prior when she was browsing a small boutique in the West Village. She might have spent ten dollars over the limit, but she couldn’t choose between the bag of overpriced coffee that Liam always raved about but never bought for himself and the candle that not only had Minnesota on the label but supposedly smelled like the state. It was one of those Homesick candles that she never really needed because she never left her hometown, but she knew that Liam always missed the Midwest one way or another, even if he enjoyed living in the city.

She dodged all of his nosey questions after they all picked names, rolling her eyes at him every time he asked when they were studying earlier that week. They were holed up in a café in Greenpoint, neither of them particularly feeling like staying near campus that day. It wasn’t too far from Kier’s place if it ended up being too crowded for them to study in. It was the day before both of their last finals for the semester and neither of them seemed too keen on studying, even if that’s what they both desperately needed to do after a semester of some serious slacking off.

Kiernan wouldn’t budge, refusing to blow the surprise even if she hadn’t chosen Liam by accident. He would just have to wait like the rest of the group until their holiday party later in the week before everyone started to disperse for the holidays. They did White Elephant the previous year but it was too disastrous to organize and everyone forgot the rules ten times throughout so they decided it’d just be easier to do a Secret Santa purely because it was hard to fuck up, aside from the whole keeping it a secret thing.

It was clear by the time their friend group all got together in their festive attire that some people had spilled the beans, including Niall who had chosen one of Liam’s friends that he didn’t know all that well. Instead of embarrassing himself and picking some shit gift, he decided to just ask him what he liked and went from there. Still, Kiernan refused to tell anyone who she had chosen, mostly because the only three people she would consider spilling to would’ve made a huge ordeal out of it.

She arrived at Niall’s alone with just her gift in tow. Okay, and a bottle of red wine and spiked eggnog. It was her personal stash, or at least that’s what she said as a joke when she handed them over to Niall the second she walked into the door of his apartment.

“You really outdid yourself with the tacky décor,” she told him, noting all of the multi-colored lights that seemed to adorn any surface possible. Or rather, any surface possible that was near one of the outlets that were far and few between in the apartment. “Nice sweater, too.”

He looked down at the red and green monstrosity, smiling wide at his sartorial accomplishment. “Thanks, Kier,” he said. “Yours is…not ugly, what the fuck?”

“It was cheap at H&M, what do you want me to say?” she replied. It was a holiday-themed sweater at least. It was tan and just had Winterland written in red text with a few diamonds. It was subtle but she just didn’t have the time to find a truly heinous sweater that she hadn’t already worn before.

“You’re just trying to show us all up, huh?” he joked, nudging her arm with his elbow. “Red or white wine?”

“I’ll start with white,” she told him. “Now scram so I can put my present in the pile without you trying to peek at the name.”

“The holidays make you cranky!” Niall yelled over his shoulder while he walked away from the living room and into the kitchen. Kiernan rolled her eyes, making sure her box was still concealed by its bag before she walked over to the small pile of presents and hid Liam’s amongst the rest. He wasn’t at Niall’s yet, but in all fairness, Lydia, Carmen, and a few of their mutual friends were still missing in action as well.

By the time everyone had arrived (she pretended not to notice that Liam was last and hated herself when she felt her body perk up at the sight of him), Kiernan was a glass and a half of wine and two and a half sugar cookies deep into the night. In retrospect, eating a full meal before coming would have been a wise idea, but she made the mistake she always made by not doing that, not even in the slightest.

She was mid-bite when Liam squeezed his way through Niall’s roommates to join Kiernan near the tree. She’d decided it was her spot for the night, mostly because it gave her the perfect view of the room so she could survey everyone and essentially just people watch all night long. As long as she stayed sober enough to see straight, that is.

“Did you decide to just stick up a big middle finger to the Ugly Christmas Sweater thing?’ he asked, pointing at her fairly cute sweater.

“I’m part of the resistance, what can I say?” she replied with a shrug. “Feeling any better than earlier this week?”

“That final scarred me for life, I thought I said never to mention it ever again,” he said. “I’ve never been more excited for a semester to be over.”

“Well, hold that thought because next semester is our last semester and then we’re free,” she reminded him. “Just to celebrate that thought, time to finish this glass and get myself something fresh.”

“Dare I ask how much wine you’ve had on no doubt an empty stomach, or at least just a sugar-filled stomach?”

“Nope,” she replied, smirking over the rim of her now empty glass. “Get a drink with me, come on.”

Kiernan wasn’t sure if she and Liam both had steam to blow off after their respective semesters, but they kept a bottle of wine and eggnog to themselves and holed up in the corner on the floor near the tree until someone announced that they were going to start the gift exchange. Was it Lydia? No, she would know Lydia’s voice–

“Fuck, should we be mixing wine with spiked eggnog?” Liam asked.

“Probably should’ve asked that question before we were multiple glasses into this bad decision, now shouldn’t you have?” she replied, cocking a brow. “If both of us keel over during Secret Santa, then we can take equal blame.”

“Sounds like a deal to me,” he replied, shifting off of his butt and onto his knees so he could hoist himself off of the ground. With his glasses discarded on the ground still, he knelt down to help Kiernan up. “Should I push Niall off the couch so we get a comfortable seat?”

“Usually I’d say yes but since I’m buzzed I can tolerate him. Let’s just sit on the floor,” she told him. “I mean, that’s what we were doing before so our asses are gonna be sore anyways.”

“Why are your asses going to be sore?” Niall asked, somehow picking up on their conversation from across the coffee table that had previously housed a bunch of wine glasses and plates of snacks, replaced by all of the gifts instead. “Are you two trying anal again?”

“Niall, I swear to god if you don’t shut up I will throttle you through the wall,” Kiernan threatened. “Can someone just choose their present first before tonight becomes Niall’s funeral? Thanks!”

“Kier is mean when she drinks,” Niall said.

“Wanna test that theory even more?” she asked, cocking a brow at Niall. He shook his head immediately. “Good, now someone pick their gift and let’s let the unwrapping and guessing commence!”

It would have been wise for Liam and Kiernan to stop drinking when presents were being opened, but they had to do something to entertain themselves during the lull, namely when people tried to nicely unwrap the gifts instead of tearing through the wrapping paper like heathens. Instead, they clinked the rims of their glasses together every time it was someone else’s turn to open a gift, blowing through a few more glasses between the two of them before the circle finally came around to them.

Momentarily, Kiernan forgot that she was the one who had given Liam his present, blissfully unaware while she took the last sip in her glass of red wine. There weren’t many gifts left in the pile, but there were still enough people left in the circle where she thought he might not get it right away. It’s not like it was an inside joke between the two of them, or at least she didn’t think it was. His home state was common knowledge and anyone who had ever been to his apartment would have known what kind of coffee he had, right?

“Hmm,” he hummed, his eyes scanning over his name written on a sticker on the front of the box. He didn’t tear through the wrapping paper and make a mess, but he certainly wasn’t as careful as everyone else had been in trying to get to the present. He pulled the candle out of the large box first, taking a second to recognize the state printed on the label. With his other hand, he pulled the coffee out, balancing both of the gifts in his hands.

“Don’t burn the apartment down with that candle this time,” Liam’s roommate Zane said.

“Ooh, guess! Guess! Guess!” Lydia cheered, clapping her hands together.

“I mean, I’m not sure this is fair because I recognized her handwriting from the box but…” he paused, setting the gifts back into the box before he turned to his right to look at Kiernan. “I’m not sure what Minnesota is supposed to smell like, but thank you Kier.”

“You and your Midwest pride, what can I say?” she replied with a small shrug. “Please don’t burn your apartment to the ground though, now I’m worried that I should’ve gotten you a fire extinguisher instead of a bag of coffee.”

“A bag of my favorite coffee is much, much more important than fire safety,” he replied. “Thank you, Kier.”

“No problem,” she replied. “So, I guess it’s my turn, huh?”

Kiernan ended up getting a bottle of red wine that wasn’t from Trader Joe’s, which meant it was much nicer than she usually treated herself to and a set of glasses that she recognized from Anthropologie. It turned out that Carmen had tipped off one of their mutual friends Ilya. They had been in the same circle of friends since freshmen year but they probably only hung around in larger groups, which is why she finally just had Ilya reveal himself instead of embarrassing herself trying to guess.

By the time Secret Santa finished, the Christmas music was back on and blaring and everyone had dispersed with their gifts. Kiernan hid hers from herself, placing them in the canvas bag she used to carry Liam’s present and putting it near her jacket at Niall’s front door. Besides, she still had some spiked egg nog that was calling her name despite not needing another sip of alcohol to keep herself going for the rest of the party. She was already sufficiently buzzed and Liam didn’t seem too far behind if he wasn’t already at her level.

Kiernan was in the kitchen pouring herself a small cup of eggnogg when she felt an arm around her waist. She didn’t have a chance to turn around before they grabbed the cup from the counter and took it for themselves. She recognized the watch on their wrist, realizing it was Liam a second too late

“Dammit Liam, get your own egg nog,” she complained.

“I’m not sure you need any more,” he told her, setting the empty cup back down.

Kiernan turned around with his arm still around her waist, leaning her back against the edge of the counter. “I would’ve shared, but you just went on ahead and declared that glass as your own, now didn’t you?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“It’s very loud in here,” Liam pointed out, pointing towards his ears. “Couldn’t quite hear ya. Did you say ‘I’ll share with you any time, Liam?’”

“You’re irritating,” she muttered.

“What?” he asked, cupping his hand around his ear, leaning down closer to Kiernan’s face. “Come to the bathroom, I wanna talk for a second.”

Keirnan didn’t even question it, she merely nodded and waited for him to lead the way. The door to Niall’s bathroom was wide open thankfully, leaving them to slip right in instead of waiting outside and drawing attention to themselves. Anytime the two of them slipped away, she could practically hear Niall, Lydia, and Carmen’s meddling from wherever they were. It was all in good fun, but sometimes it drove Kiernan nuts.

“So, what’s up?” Kiernan asked, wandering over to the sink. She hoisted herself up onto the counter around the sink, the back of her feet immediately swinging back to hit the cabinet doors underneath.

“I just wanted to thank you for the gift,” he replied. “It was really thoughtful, that’s all.”

“Am I supposed to bring Ilya into the bathroom to thank him for my wine too?” Kiernan asked, quirking her brows at Liam. “You’re welcome, Liam. I saw it and thought of you. Probably would’ve gotten it for you even if I wasn’t your Secret Santa, so this game really saved me some money this holiday season.”

Liam rolled his eyes, still laughing at her comment anyways. “Strongly considering not sharing the coffee with you next time you come over to my place and want some.”

“Well that’d be rude,” she replied. “You would never deprive me of that. You love me too much.”

Either Kiernan was way too drunk or time seemed to freeze in the room. Kiernan folded her hands in her lap, lips frozen in a faint ‘o’ while she waited for Liam to say something.

It turned out that Liam didn’t really have much to say at all. Instead, he took a short step forward until he could slide his leg between Kiernan’s. There was no hesitation on either side after he placed his hand on her cheek, drawing her face closer to his until their lips met. It had been months since the last time Kiernan was this close to Liam, her arms draped loosely around her shoulders while she ignored his stubble brushing roughly against her chin and cheeks every time their lips moved against each other.

It was irresponsible and just a terrible idea but every time Liam pulled gently on her legs to bring her body closer to his, Kiernan forgot for a split second that what she was doing was unbelievably stupid. There wasn’t a single thing bad about kissing Liam, aside from the sinking feeling she got in her stomach when they finally pulled apart. Someone was knocking loudly on the door and Liam tried to ignore it by kissing down Kiernan’s neck but the knocking just kept getting louder.

“Fuck,” Liam swore, letting his forehead rest against Kiernan’s.

“This didn’t happen,” she said, placing her finger under Liam’s chin. “Okay?”

He didn’t even respond with words, merely nodding before taking a step back to give Kiernan her space.

* * * * * * *

Kiernan and Liam hadn’t spoken at all since their makeout at the Secret Santa party. She tried not to dwell on it because she knew that he had gone home two days later for the holidays, but it didn’t make her feel any better about the situation. Other than a ‘Merry Christmas, Kier’ text from Liam, it had been radio silence between them and it was driving her crazy. It was silly, she knew that, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she was too harsh or if she just should’ve stopped it before it could even happen.

Still, even on New Year’s Eve, Kiernan felt even worse when she was drunk on champagne with her chest pressed against somebody else’s. She vaguely knew him as a friend of a friend, but his name escaped her. It was either Brad or Bruce or something that began with a ‘B’. He seemed nice enough and was one of the only people at the party that was somewhat interested in talking to someone who didn’t go to the rest of their colleges or run with their crowd all of the time.

They didn’t share a particularly amazing kiss at midnight, but it didn’t seem fair to Brad/Bruce when she just kept replaying her kiss with Liam in her head instead. He was fine at kissing and it felt nice to be wrapped in somebody’s arms, but she knew the feeling in the pit of her stomach was guilt and she couldn’t shake it. Brad/Bruce looked disappointed when Kiernan broke away from their kiss and excused herself, making a lie up about having to go to the bathroom.

It wasn’t until she was walking out of the apartment and out into the hallway that she saw a text from Liam, a simple two sentences that made her eyes watery.

Happy New Year, Kier. Miss you & can’t wait to see you next week.

She didn’t tell anyone about it, but even if she did, she just would’ve blamed it on the champagne. Always blame it on the alcohol whenever possible. Always.

* * * * * * *

The thing that Kiernan learned about both she and Liam is that they were both resilient. Or at least, their complicated relationship was. She tried to convince herself that their friendship wasn’t complicated, not in the slightest, but there was only so much pretending that she could do. Going from friends to friends with benefits to friends who saw other people to teetering on the edge between friends and not-just-friends was starting to become more than she could handle without faltering and needing some space.

But not seeing Liam for nearly three weeks throughout the holidays was too much space, not that she’d ever admit it to anyone. Everyone had gotten together for pizza and movies (no wine, just beer which Kiernan detested), the perfect buffer for the two of them being face to face again after not talking about the fact that they made out at their holiday party and didn’t seem to hate it.

They made it through both movies without Kiernan feeling uncomfortable for a second, not even when they hugged goodbye and Liam’s arms seemed to linger a second too long around her frame. Not even when one of the movies that Niall no doubt chose on purpose was No Strings Attached. And definitely not even when someone made a comment about Liam not following Kiernan to the bathroom this time when she left between movies to pee.

They couldn’t spend the rest of their time constantly surrounded by other people, especially when they spent so much time during the semester just the two of them, whether it was studying after classes or meeting up on their simultaneous lunch breaks from their respective jobs only a few blocks apart. So when Liam asked what Kiernan’s hours were at the office job she worked, she didn’t lie and pretend she was swamped with work. In reality, she never really was. A friend of her dad’s was doing her a favor and keeping her semi-employed so she could save money to move out and for her inevitable student loans.

Kiernan started babysitting for family friends when she was around 15 and did it on the side until she was 21. She only lasted two years in retail before she got fed up with rude customers and got paired up with a friend of her father who needed help filing papers and just general administrative tasks at his office. Sometimes she organized his office and helped clear it out of decades worth of documents that he kept and assumed were important (she wasn’t sure how important blank cards were, but she never brought it up). Work wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but she would happily take the opportunity to not eat lunch at her desk and see Liam instead.

She met Liam outside at 12 on the dot, wasting no time as she not so casually rushed out of the office with her faux fur teddy bear coat and purse. It was the perfect day in January, for New York at least. It was chilly, but there was no wind in the air and the sun was consistently shining, a rarity in the winter as of late.

Liam was waiting outside with his hands in his pockets and headphones still in. Kiernan tried not to startle him when she walked out of the building and placed a hand on his arm, trying to get his attention without jumping in front of him or saying his name loudly to get his attention over his music. He didn’t seem to flinch, slipping his headphones out of his ears and tucking them into his pockets.

“Hey Kier,” he said, enveloping her into a one-armed side hug. “Usual place for lunch?”

“I’m fine with that,” she replied. “It’s funny, I really like it there but I only go with you. Feels wrong walking in by myself and getting it to go."

“Weirdo,” he replied, playfully nudging her in the side. “Let’s go, it’s cold in the shade.”

“Wear a scarf every once in a while,” she joked, tugging on the shearling cuff of his worn out aviator jacket. “That should solve your problem.”

“At least I don’t look like the mascot for a detergent brand,” Liam countered.

“Did you just accuse me of looking like the Snuggle Bear?” Kiernan asked. “Rude!”

“But accurate,” he replied, looking over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s try to beat the lunch rush.”

They only had to walk two blocks to get to their usual café, but it tended to get crowded during lunch with students and workers from the area, meaning they wouldn’t get a good table, or really any table. It was a small place and sitting anywhere but near the windows was just a bummer, especially on a sunny and somewhat warm day.

“In my defense, it is considerably warmer here than it is in Minnesota so this feels like a heatwave,” Liam said, swerving to the right to avoid colliding with someone walking between the two of them. “In fact, I should be in shorts and flip-flops right now.”

“That would be offensive to the eyes,” Kiernan said, scrunching her nose. “Nothing says heterosexual like that ensemble during the winter.”

“The shit that comes out of your mouth sometimes, I swear,” Liam said, shaking his head at Kiernan’s comment. He still laughed though, which made Kiernan smile. “I got almost three weeks without being bullied by you.”

“Oh come on, I do not bully you,” she argued. “And don’t use your usual ‘people in the Midwest are just so much nicer than people in New York’ line on me. You’ve been using that for the past three years, it’s lost its charm.”

“I forgot how easy it is to rile you up sometimes,” Liam said. “It is nice to be back though.”

“Well, it’s nice to have you back,” she replied, rounding the corner on the block the café was on. “The city is kind of lonely when you guys are gone.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Well, someday we won’t have as much time off as we do now to be home for weeks at a time.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she groaned, lingering outside of the café with Liam. It looked fairly empty inside, they could afford a few minutes outside to finish their conversation. “This time next year we’ll be like eight months out of college doing god knows what.”

Liam sighed, his warm breath blowing out into the cold air. “Weird,” he said. He let his comment linger before he finally opened the door to the café, holding it for Kiernan before following closely behind her.

It was significantly warmer inside than it was out on the street, the two of them shedding their coats the minute they walked in. They both gravitated towards the same two-seater table near the window, draping their coats over the back of the chairs. It was quiet for a weekday afternoon, but Kiernan always noticed that it was much less crowded when the weather was cold or rainy, most people deciding to just stay inside during their lunch hour rather than venture out.

“Do you want to sit and I’ll order?” Liam asked, pulling his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Well hold on, let me grab some cash–“

Liam interrupted her before she could even begin to rifle through her purse. “It’s my treat,” he replied. “Don’t you even dare Venmo me your portion either."

“This is unnecessary but I’m only agreeing because I’ll just get you back sometime soon for drinks or something,” she said, slumping down into her seat. “Mark my words though, I will be getting even.”

“This sounds so much more like a threat than you just paying me back for one measly lunch,” Liam said. “Do you want your usual?”

“Of course,” she replied, sliding her phone out of the back pocket of her purse. “Thanks, Liam.”

“Anytime,” he said, maneuvering through the cramped tables while he made his way toward the counter.

Kiernan mainly scrolled through Instagram, replying to a few stray texts from her friends that she got in the morning and hadn’t had a chance to get to while she was at work. She knew her boss wouldn’t care, but she felt weird slacking off when she was lucky enough to have a job that kept her off of the floor at a store and far away from customer service. Besides, in reality, it was a few hours of peace in her day, even if those peaceful moments were spent near a computer or filing cabinet.

Kiernan had gotten sucked into watching 60 second makeup tutorials with the sound off, letting Instagram autoplay one video after the next. If Liam hadn’t plopped back down into the seat across from her with their tray, she’s not sure when she would’ve put her phone down.

“Instagram black hole?” Liam asked, nodding towards her phone.

“You know it,” she said, locking her phone and placing it face down on the table. “Did you switch up your order today? What the hell?”

“You know, I was just really feeling soup today, what can I say?” Liam replied, grabbing his bowl and bread from the tray before pushing it closer to Kiernan so she could grab her sandwich and iced tea. “Still can’t get over the fact that you like iced drinks during the winter.”

“What am I supposed to eat with a sandwich? A hot coffee? That sounds vile,” she replied. “Besides, it’s cold outside, not inside. Let me enjoy my iced drink in peace!”

“As I do recall earlier, you said that it was nice to have me back,” Liam said, stirring his plastic spoon around in his bowl. “Do you retract your statement?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I take it back, all of it. Who’s the bully now?”

“Still you,” he replied. “But that’s okay. I still lo–”

Liam paused mid-sentence, his mouth still agape while the rest of his statement hung in the air. I still love you for it. It was the very word that got them into trouble the month prior. Kiernan told Lydia and Carmen that she loved them all of the time. Hell, she constantly joked with Niall that her quirks were what he had to love about her. Liam was just as much of a friend to her as anyone else she said it casually to, and yet every time it came out of their mouths, it felt different, like it had an entirely other meaning.

It didn’t though. It couldn’t.

* * * * * * *

“It’s so weird seeing you some place without Lydia and Carmen,” Niall commented, filling up Kiernan’s wine glass nearly to the brim with rosé. At this point, Kiernan thought her friend group just wanted any excuse to drink during the week without just going on a random Thursday night binge so instead they planned a Valentine’s Day party for all of the single friends in their group to get together and apparently drink their sorrows away. Nobody at the party seemed particularly upset about being single though. In all fairness, she was one of the two girls at the party and she hardly ever hung out with the girl that was there. Tish wasn’t a huge fan of Lydia, Kiernan knew that much, but she typically steered clear of the three girls just out of their association with her.

“They just had to go on and get boyfriends that they’re actually happy with, what a drag,” Kiernan joked, taking a long sip of her wine. Even if it was an entirely male party (essentially), she made sure that everything was pink and red, toxic masculinity be damned. Liam let everyone come to his apartment, mostly because all of his roommates were single so nobody needed it to woo their significant others, so Kiernan set up all of the bottles of rosé and candies before everyone arrived. Liam had even instructed the pizzeria to make the pepperoni in the shape of a heart, which in theory would have been cute if it wasn’t for what Niall called an “Anti-Love Party.” Kiernan knew he was just particularly bitter because he had gone on a few dates with a girl he was super into who then got back together with her ex instead of continuing to see him.

“At least we have each other, right Kier?” Niall asked, slinking an arm around her shoulder.

“I’m not having drunk pity sex with you, Niall,” she replied.

He merely laughed, bringing the rim of his beer bottle to his lips with his free hand. “I wouldn’t dare come between you and Liam, anyways,” he said before he took a sip of his drink. “It’s inevitable.”

“It is not inevitable, it’s impossible,” she replied. “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink during your self-proclaimed Anti Love party, Ni.”

“Sober, drunk, I’m right regardless,” he said with a shrug. “You’ll see. And now I must go before you beat the shit out of me in front of all of my friends. Besides, I see a slice of pizza left that’s calling my name.”

“Get outta here, Niall,” she replied, jokingly shoving him towards the pizza.

“Just remember what I said!” he yelled over his shoulder.

Kiernan just rolled her eyes at him, turning on her heel to survey the rest of the party. In reality, it was just a bunch of twenty-somethings procrastinating whatever assignments they had due and drinking while they could still get away with it. Not that this reality would have stopped her, she was in the same boat. Graduation was impending and the only thing Kiernan knew that would happen after she walked across that stage was a dinner with her family.

Everything else was a blur and she tried her hardest not to let that bother her every single day. Some days it was easier to ignore than others, but without Carmen and Lydia by her side, it made her wonder if this is what things were going to be like after college was over and everyone went their separate ways. She knew she was staying in the city, but everyone else’s plans were up in the air, all dependent on where the job offers were coming from.

“Hey Kier, you look like you’re worried or something,” Liam said, walking directly in front of her.

She blinked a few times, snapping out of whatever daze she’d gotten herself into. “Ah yeah, sorry just got a bit distracted,” she apologized, immediately taking a sip of her drink. “This party is kind of weird. And sad.”

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding as he watched everyone chat in their designated groups of three. “Seems like a weird reason to have a party and Niall’s name for it doesn’t help.”

“Well, that’s just him being bitter, that’s all,” Kiernan said. “I’m just here for the wine, so.”

“And here I thought you were just really excited to come to my place and see your good ole pal Liam,” he replied. “I’m hurt, truly.”

“You’ll get over it,” she said. “Come on, I see an opening on the couch and I’m getting too lazy to stand and wander around any longer.”

He merely shook his head, following Kiernan’s lead over to the empty sofa. He sat down in the corner, Kiernan plopping down next to him, close enough for their thighs to touch. She shifted back and forth, pulling down the hem of her heart-printed skirt until she got comfortable. She fought the urge to let her body rest against Liam, keeping her back almost straight against the back of the couch instead. It was uncomfortable, but every time she got this close to Liam, things always tended to cross the line one way or another and it was far too cliché for it to happen on Valentine’s Day.

She tried to shake Niall’s comments out of her head, but the word inevitable keep surfacing. The more she drank, the more she thought about it. She mentally cursed Niall for plaguing her mind with thoughts of her and Liam. It was hard enough to fight her subconscious. She couldn’t control her dreams at night and every time Liam popped up, she felt like she didn’t look at him the same the next time that she saw him.

“I think we spent last Valentine’s Day like this,” Liam commented, resting the bottom of his glass on his thigh.

“There were considerably less people, if I remember correctly,” Kiernan replied. She shouldn’t have played along, but she was starting to feel the wine and Liam’s subtle cologne was intoxicating enough on its own. “You even cooked, mostly because neither of us could afford takeout.”

Liam laughed, bringing a hand to his chest while he seemed to sink back into his seat. “My culinary skills are lacking but at least I know how to make pasta,” he said.

“With your pasta and my mashed potatoes, we could have a full carb meal,” Kiernan replied. “Such a balanced diet.”

“The poster children for health, right here ladies and gentlemen,” Liam joked. “In the moment, you seemed slightly impressed.”

“Nobody had ever cooked for me before,” Kiernan admitted.

“Well, I was glad to be the first,” he said. “Hopefully the experience didn’t scar you forever.”

“It was probably one of my best Valentine’s Days,” she replied, regretting the words before they even left her mouth. “Besides that time in fifth grade where Freddie Lucas gave me my own valentine, a piece of chocolate, and a big ole smooch on the lips after lunch.”

“Well I mean, how could I ever compete with Freddie Lucas and his incredibly smooth moves?” Liam replied. “I’m just happy I’m even ranked.”

“I mean, it is one of the highest honors,” Kiernan said.

“Oh, I’m fully aware,” Liam replied. “I would never take it for granted.”

Kiernan laughed, her body curling towards Liam until she nearly tucked her face into his neck. “I’m happy we have this established now,” she said. “What was your best Valentine’s Days?"

“I mean, I didn’t ever get to kiss Freddie Lucas so I guess it has to be last year’s,” he replied. Kiernan wasn’t sure when he had slipped his arm around her shoulder, but she certainly didn’t push him away when he gently nudged her body closer to his. “But I guess the one thing Freddie Lucas can’t do is kiss you right now.”

“And what makes you think that you can?” Kiernan asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t do anything that you didn’t want,” Liam replied.

Why was it always what Kiernan wanted? She didn’t know what she wanted. Did she want to be just friends? Or did she want to take Liam back to his bedroom and pretend that there wasn’t a party happening just outside of his door? She knew she couldn’t have both, but in the moment, she thought maybe, just maybe she could get away with it and nothing would go wrong.

“I think in order to do what I want, we might have to find a change of scenery,” she finally said. “Just don’t make eye contact with Niall.”

“Same goes to you,” he replied. They lingered in their embrace on the couch for a few more moments, but not long enough for Kiernan to regret what she had said. She merely followed Liam’s lead, keeping her head down so she didn’t have to see Niall’s smirk. Maybe it was inevitable, but at least it was by her stupid choice. She wasn’t sure she could blame it entirely on the alcohol this time. She would have to take responsibility, something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

“Is your room ever not tidy?” Kiernan asked, her perfect view of Liam’s room immediately cut off by his face. He inched forward, leaving Kiernan to close the door to his room with her back. His hand glided against her hip, brushing past her body to turn the lock on his door before it settled onto her hips.

“Your fascination with my clean room never fails to amuse me,” he murmured, brushing her hair off of her shoulders with his free hand. Kiernan tilted her head back in anticipation, her lips left parted while they basked in the moment. Liam followed her cues, pressing his lips gently against the skin of her neck. They had a perfect system, yet Kiernan had never gotten bored of his teasing. “I’ve missed you, Kier,” he said, his warm breath spreading across her skin.

“Will you show me too?” she asked, grinding her hips forward. She could feel Liam’s laughter, his chest pressed tightly against herself.

Liam’s fingers disappeared under the hem of her skirt, toying with the lace edges of her underwear. With his fingers hooked around the left side, he started to tug them down gently, always careful not to rip or tear anything after an incident during one of their first hookups. Kiernan spread her legs to make his job easier, the fabric gliding against the skin of her thighs until they got stuck around her knees. She shimmied her legs, letting them fall to the floor, still hooked around her ankles.

Kiernan initiated their kiss, placing one hand on his cheek and the other on the back of his head. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently to keep his mouth anchored to hers. This was different than their kiss back in December. There was a sense of urgency like never before, their bodies melding against each other after almost a year apart.

“Bed,” Kiernan muttered between kisses, breaking apart only for a split second before she trapped Liam’s top lip between hers again. He obliged without question, taking short steps backwards until the back of his shins hit the edge of his mattress. With an arm wrapped around Kiernan’s waist, Liam started to fall backwards, using his free hand to feel for the mattress beneath him. Even when he was trying to be gentle, the two of them still fell against the mattress with a loud oof, Kiernan’s body draped limply over Liam’s.

“That wasn’t as smooth as I would have liked,” Liam groaned.

“It’s fine,” Kiernan said, adjusting her legs until they were placed on either side of Liam. She bent her knees slightly until she was straddling his waist. Her fingers trailed down his chest until they touched the bare skin of her legs. With Liam’s eyes on her every movement, Kiernan tiptoed her fingers towards the hem of her skirt, pushing it further up her legs until it barely concealed any of her thighs.

“Kier,” Liam said, his voice low and gruff.

She pushed her hair behind her ears, her hands now resting gently across his chest. Her lips were curled into a faint smirk when she looked down at Liam, planning what her next move would be. That was, until she saw the look on his face. Liam’s gaze didn’t falter from Kiernan at all, his lips left slightly agape while he waited to see what she wanted to do. She swallowed the lump in her throat, the smirk slowly fading from her lips.

Kiernan couldn’t ignore the look in his eyes. It wasn’t the way that someone looked at their friend and it certainly wasn’t the way someone looked at their hookup either.

“I…I don’t think I can do this,” Kiernan said, pushing herself away from Liam. He seemed stunned for a moment, unmoving as she struggled to get off of the mattress and back onto her feet. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I…fuck where are my underwear. Shit, shit, shit.”

Liam watched wordlessly as she swore, spinning in circles around his room until she found her underwear crumpled up on the floor near the door. She didn’t even check to see if they weren’t turned inside out before she slipped them back on, using the door as support while she balanced on one leg at a time. She didn’t have the heart to turn back and look at Liam. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t do it, not when he looked at her like that.

She had seen that look once before. It was late in the summer and they were sitting on her building’s rooftop with spiked lemonade. They were just sitting and talking, not a single physical thing happening. But there was nothing more intimate than the way Liam looked at her when the sun was setting, like there wasn’t a single other thing around him that deserved his attention. She knew he almost said it then, those three little words that people longed to hear. She could feel it because she wanted to say them too. Instead, she just pointed towards the sunset and made a comment about its colors, ruining their moment because she couldn’t cross that line.

Kiernan ignored Niall when she left, barely taking the time to pull on her boots and grab her coat. She wanted to call Lydia or Carmen, but they were both enjoying nights with their boyfriends. The only other person she would have called was Liam and she couldn’t exactly talk to him about something that directly involved him. She felt pathetic shivering on the sidewalk alone, trying to call a Lyft to get her home before she started to cry in public.

Part of her thought Liam might chase after her. That’s what happened in the movies, anyways. Liam would come outside in the cold without a jacket on and maybe she’d cry and admit that she was done playing her stupid little game and they’d kiss and everything would fix itself. But that’s not what happened in real life. Liam’s job wasn’t to come in and fix everything when Kiernan pretended that her feelings didn’t exist. It wasn’t only up to him, but she couldn’t muster up the courage to go back inside and talk to Liam face to face. So she stood outside alone in the cold and cried to herself, waiting for her Lyft to come whisk her away from the mess that she caused.

* * * * * * *

Four weeks and three days.

That’s how long it had been since Kiernan and Liam had last spoken. Liam tried to call twice, right after Kiernan stormed out of his apartment on Valentine’s Day. He tried twice more the next day, but Kiernan skipped class and stayed in bed all day with the blankets over her head until she felt sufficiently numb. She didn’t blame him for not putting any more effort into it after that. It would have been pointless. She was impossible to deal with. She could barely even put up with herself, why would she expect anyone else to?

Lydia and Carmen could barely get a word about it out of Kiernan. She was so upset after that night that all she wanted to do was surround herself with her best friends and let everything spill out of her. But, like clockwork, Kiernan did was she did best–she bottled everything up and pretended it never happened. They didn’t have a moment. Kiernan didn’t feel anything in the pit of her stomach when Liam’s arms were around her. Kiernan didn’t feel anything because there was nothing to feel. They were friends, strictly friends.

Her friends were patient for the first month. They didn’t mention Liam or try to push or pry when it wasn’t welcome. As much as they enjoyed making their comments in the past, Kiernan knew that Lydia and Carmen would never make a situation worse by trying to rush it. But they also knew Kiernan all too well, enough to know that sometimes they had to push her boundaries to knock some sense into her. She was stubborn in her ways, keeping herself guarded to save herself the heartbreak in the end. But what use was it staying so guarded when she still felt hurt after what she had done to Liam?

The trio skipped a party at Liam’s apartment to have a girls’ night in at Carmen’s place while her roommates were out. They were in almost identical ensembles, a pair of black leggings and various oversized sweatshirts that they had all nicked over the years from the men in their lives. Kiernan’s thankfully wasn’t Liam’s, but she had trouble remembering which ex she had stolen it from.

“It’s been so long since it’s just been the three of us,” Carmen gushed, plopping down onto the small arm chair angled towards the couch that Lydia and Kiernan were sharing. “I missed my girls.”

“I thought the last semester was supposed to be easy,” Lydia complained. “Or do they make it harder just to see who they can break right before graduation?”

“That’s what it feels like,” Carmen said. “Kier, I swear, I’ve never seen you work harder on something than your capstone project. You’re always in some coffee shop or the library!”

“Just trying to keep myself busy, that’s all,” she replied. “I’m so used to procrastinating that it feels nice to get some of it out of the way, even if I’ll still probably be scrambling to get everything put together at the end.”

“Ah, the beauty of college,” Lydia sighed. “Are we going to miss it when it’s over?”

“Probably the parties over the schoolwork,” Kiernan replied. “I don’t know how much longer you can get away with binge-drinking on Wednesday nights, unless you’re a finance bro or some shit.”

“True that,” Carmen said. “So, you’ve just been working really hard on your capstone project? Come on Kier, last time we talked you just let me and Carmen talk about Shiv and Julian the whole time and barely chimed in with anything of your own.”

“Guys, I know what you’re alluding to but I’m really not–”

“Really not in the mood to talk about it, we know,” Lydia said, finishing Kiernan’s sentence. “Kier, we’re honestly not trying to push you but we’re also kind of trying to push you. Okay, I’ll admit it. But it’s not to tease you or to be like, malicious with it. It’s truly out of love and concern for our best friend who clearly just doesn’t know what the hell is going on. Which is fine! None of us do!”

“Lyd, look, I appreciate it but I just…I can’t talk about it,” Kiernan said.

Lydia sighed. “Kier,” she said softly, shifting her body so she was facing Kiernan. “You don’t have to pretend with us, okay? Just for once, can you let yourself have feelings in front of other people instead of waiting until you’re by yourself? It doesn’t have to be as lonely as you make it.”

“I don’t even know if they’re feelings,” Kiernan replied, looking towards the ceiling. She ran her fingers through the hair near her temples, pulling it upward until it fell in frizzy waves against her cheeks. “I just don’t know anything at all.”

“Welcome to the boat,” Carmen said, chiming in from her seat. “Kier, I don’t know where you’ve been, but nobody has their shit together. Not you, not me, not Lyd, not my thirty-year-old neighbor, not a single person. If everyone had the answers to everything, then what would the fun or challenge be in life? How dull would every day be?”

“It’d be a hell of a lot less painful,” Kiernan said.

“It hurts because you’re trying to keep everything in,” Carmen replied. “And because you already have a predetermined idea of how everything is going to play out. For someone who is fairly optimistic, you don’t see your own relationships longterm and it’s upsetting. Just because you don’t 100% see you and Liam going the distance for whatever reason, you’re afraid of being with him except you really want to be with him so you try to find loopholes where you can have him in your life as a friend but also get to like see him naked and shit, I don’t know what gets you off, that’s your business.”

“It’s not that,” Kiernan tried to defend herself, but it was a weak argument.

Carmen wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t necessarily correct either, but that was partially because Kiernan couldn’t even keep her reasoning straight. She spent the greater part of the past three years trying to figure out where she and Liam stood without ever including him in the conversation. They never had “the talk” or really pushed each other to making the move. It genuinely was, from the outside at least, just a perfect scenario of friends who also had sex purely out of convenience. It was what was beneath the surface that would tarnish the pretty exterior. The jealousy (Kiernan would deny it until the day she died), the secret pining, the feelings, everything in the equation did not add up to platonic, no matter how hard Kiernan tried to make sure it all made sense.

“Then can you please tell us what it is? We’re just as lost as you, Kier, but we want to help,” Lydia asked.

“It’s…I don’t know, maybe it is all of that,” she said, finally giving in with a huff of frustration. “I’m not like, guarded because an ex-treated me like garbage. I’ve had exes and no we’re not friends but in the grand scheme of things, they were okay guys, things just didn’t work out. But with Liam…I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m afraid of losing him as a friend or just don’t think that I deserve someone like him.”

“Kier, that whole ‘someone like you is too good to be with someone like me’ mentality is Hollywood bullshit,” Carmen said. “It is. Total BS. You’re an incredibly gracious friend with a warm heart and Liam is equally as gracious and warm except he is a bit tidier than you are.”

Kiernan couldn’t help it, she snorted at Carmen’s comment before she could even open her mouth to reply. “I just…he’s just…it wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she finally said. “It was a perfect system.”

“It was a flawed system,” Lydia replied. “You two were fucked from the start. And not in a bad way. It’s just…you two were never going to be just friends. I think eventually you two were going to come together–not like that, but also like that–with time. You guys just kind of complicated it by fucking on the daily and pretending like you two were just best friends who weren’t doing kinky shit behind the scenes with each other. And now here you are years later trying to sort out three years’ worth of complicated feelings that you’ve been convincing yourself didn’t exist when they like, very clearly did.”

“It’s really not that kink–okay, that is beside the point,” Kiernan replied, choosing her argument wisely. “I just…look, I’m just afraid that if one day down the line if either of us decide that we’re sick of each other then that’s it. It’s over. We can’t just go back to us being just friends who are now exes who were formerly just friends with benefits who were pretending they didn’t have feelings for each other the whole time.”

“Kier, that’s just what happens in life sometimes,” Lydia said. “Not to play devil’s advocate, but whether or not you and Liam decide to figure what the fuck is going on with your emotions, you’ll be friends. You’re either going to be whatever weird version of friends you are now or you’re going to decide to just do the damn thing and be together and still be best friends. You could lose him either way. People have friend breakups all the time, just like they have romantic breakups. Does the possibility of having a friend breakup stop you from making friends?”

Kiernan knew it was a rhetorical question, but she answered it for herself in her head.No, of course not. “Why are feelings so complicated?” she asked.

“Because they are, I don’t know what you want me to tell you, babe,” Carmen replied. “Listen, this is the last thing I’m going to say, okay? I don’t know about Lyds, but this is it for me. You and Liam separately are great people and together, even just as friends, are incredible. I think–and have always thought–you two would be great together, but understand that sometimes things need time. The two of you have zero plans of leaving the city after graduation. You say you don’t know what you want, which is fine if you truly don’t, but don’t try to bottle up your feelings if you’re having them, okay? Holding them in makes something that’s not supposed to be painful hurt. I don’t want that for you. Lydia doesn’t want that for you. And Liam most certainly doesn’t want that for you. So for once, just don’t bottle these things up. Let it out, Kier. You’ve been keeping it all in for so long. Just do it when you’re ready. Only you will know when the time is right, but you know damn well the two of us will try to nudge you along.”

* * * * * * *

Lydia and Carmen were true to their word. They didn’t push or nudge Kiernan before she was ready to face the truth. She needed more time. This time, it wasn’t to try to talk herself out of it. She just had to think everything through. She’d already fucked it up twice (more times than that, if she really thought about it). She wasn’t sure how many more times they could go through the motions just for one of them to back out last minute, too afraid to make the arbitrary next step.

She missed hanging out with Liam one on one. She spent a lot of time at home studying rather than holed up in their favorite coffee shops around the city. They saw each other still at parties and out at bars, but things weren’t like they were before Valentine’s Day and Kiernan wasn’t sure they could ever go back to normal until she made sense of what was going on in her head.

There was only a month left in the semester and Kiernan was focusing mainly on her capstone project and getting through her last couple of finals over anything else. Schoolwork was the perfect distraction, something she had never said throughout her entire college experience. Spending time in the library was the easiest excuse to get out of things, even if she didn’t feel proud about doing it. Part of her felt like she was ignoring the issue, but even Carmen said only Kiernan would know when the time was right. She was just having a hard time deciding when that was. Would there ever be a perfect time to do it or did she just have to rip the band-aid off?

Kiernan knew she could reach out to Lydia and Carmen again, but they couldn’t make decisions for her. They could just listen and try to guide Kier as best as they could. No matter how many conversations she had with her friends, the only person who could make the decision was Kiernan. She just had a hard time admitting it to herself.

Maybe it was just best to go back to the beginning, back before everything got convoluted with time and feelings.

It all started with a text message. Well, it really all started with being lab partners in their required biology class during their first semester. They exchanged numbers on the first day and Kiernan didn’t really expect much out of it besides having to work together on things throughout the semester. Then she ran into him at a party with Lydia and Carmen at the end of September and she got a text from him the next morning asking if she could help work on a lab report with him.

It hit her on a Friday night. She chose to stay in rather than heading out to a few bars in the East Village with her friends. She couldn’t get in the mood to go out, too unmotivated to change out of her leggings and loose sweater ensemble that she sported anytime she was in the comfort of her own home.

She wasn’t sure what came over her, but she certainly didn’t stop herself when she found Liam’s contact in her phone. She barely hesitated when she tapped the message bubble, opening up their previous text thread.

Hey Liam, are you around tonight? I’m not going out with everyone else but need some motivation to work on my capstone.

The blue bubble lingered in sight, her finger tapping the screen every time it started to dim. She knew she shouldn’t have obsessed over it, but the nerves were starting to set in. Maybe it was too soon or maybe she had missed her chance, taking too long to start to sort everything out.

Kiernan tried to distract herself. She pulled out her notes for her capstone project, her eyes glazing over while she read the same paragraph over and over. It was pointless to even try, her mind was still focused on the fact that her text still went unanswered. She knew it was ridiculous to assume that he was waiting by his phone, eager for a text from the girl who has been confusing him incessantly since they first met.

She was embarrassed to know that it took thirty-five minutes to finally hear back from Liam. She all but jumped when she saw her screen light up again, a new message notification in the center of her screen.

I’m just at home studying. The guys are all gone for the weekend so I figured I could attempt to get something done. Do you want to come by?

Do you mind? Only my dad is home and he’s watching basketball really loudly in the living room.

Of course not. You know the code, come over whenever you want.

Cool, thanks Liam.

Kiernan didn’t bother with changing her outfit or her hair. She merely gathered up her books, tossed her laptop into a tote bag, and all but rushed out of the apartment before she could talk herself out of it. There was no use in prolonging it anymore. She just couldn’t think about it. The more she stayed in her head, the easier it was to talk herself out of it. She wasn’t sure that was an option anymore.

Even still, she could barely keep her legs from bouncing while she sat on the subway, letting her eyes wander around the train car in search of any distraction. There was a baby in a stroller, someone balancing their guitar case while the track rocked back and forth. She counted every single stop, anxious to get off and make the three block walk to Liam’s place. She wasn’t even sure what she was going to say or when she was going to say it. Kiernan was just really banking on Carmen’s assurance that she would know when the time was right. She just had to hope that she could follow her own cues instead of forcing something to happen when it wasn’t ready yet.

Her legs didn’t stop shaking by the time she got to the front stoop of his building. She lingered on the front steps in the brisk night air, pulling the lapels of her jacket closer together while she took a few deep breaths. She was already there and told Liam she was on her way, going back now would make it look suspicious.

She felt like she was floating when she walked up the two flights of stairs to his apartment, her mind wandering at every opportunity to switch topics from Liam. She tried to think about her capstone project, what her plans would be for the next day, literally anything that could come to mind to keep her from obsessing over the one thing that she kept coming back to.

There was no turning back when she was face to face with the door to his apartment, her hand already curled into a fist and lingering over the wooden surface. Once she knocked, something had to happen, whether it was the conversation she was planning all along or an awkward night in with Liam. Either way, she knew standing outside of his apartment door wasn’t the way to go about it, so she finally just knocked, two soft raps against the door.

It didn’t take long for her to hear footsteps on the other side of the door, but she still felt her heart start to beat faster as the locks clicked. Kiernan saw a sliver of the inside of Liam’s apartment before she saw his face, her nerves settling momentarily until her eyes landed on his face.

“Hey,” Liam said, opening the door wide for Kiernan to come inside. “Is it still cold outside? I’d be lying if I said I left the apartment today.”

“It’s pretty nice, still kind of cold though,” she replied, letting the door close softly behind her. “In all fairness, I barely left the house today as well though. Wasn’t really up for it.”

“Well, I’m glad you decided to venture out,” he said. “Do you want anything to drink? I think I have wine around here somewhere…”

“Water is fine, honestly,” she replied, earning a quirked brow from Liam. “Wine and studying don’t mix.”

“Right,” Liam said, nodding at her explanation. “Well, I’ll get you some water then. Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I mean, not that I have to tell you that but…”

“I know the drill,” she replied. “Blanket Hog Reid is back in business.”

Liam laughed, shaking his head before disappearing into the kitchen. Kiernan kicked off her sneakers at the door, dragging her bag into the living room. She grabbed the knitted throw blanket off of the back of the sofa, draping it over her legs while she settled into the left side of the couch, setting her bag down on the floor.

When he came back into the living room with two glasses of water, he didn’t seem surprised at all that Kiernan had claimed the only blanket as hers, merely setting the glasses down onto the coffee table before he took a seat on the center cushion. “On a scale of one to ten, what are our chances of actually getting schoolwork done?” Liam asked.

“I’m 99% sure that everything in my bag right now is merely just a prop,” she replied. “I thought the word ‘study’ was just our code for hanging out.”

“One of these days I thought we might actually get some work done, but I guess we only need to worry about that for another month,” Liam pointed out. “What’s going to be our excuse when we graduate?”

“I don’t know, maybe we should just stop pretending that we need an excuse,” she said.

“I think that could work too,” Liam replied. “Probably should’ve done that all along so we didn’t seem so lazy.”

“Well, you know, everything seems like a better idea in retrospect,” she said with a shrug. “Not sure when it started or why it stuck. Well, I mean, I guess I know why it stuck but–”

“You really don’t have to…we don’t have to…” Liam stuttered, interrupting Kiernan before she could finish her sentence.

“But we should,” Kiernan said. She tried to seem calm, but her insides felt like they were twisting in knots. Her cheeks were no doubt flushed, the heat running from her chest straight up to her head. “I...I missed you, I guess? Is that a stupid way to start?”

“Kier, it’s me, you can just…talk,” Liam told her, sliding his hand across the sofa so it was within arm’s reach.

She sucked in a deep breath, letting it out in one long sigh. “Sometimes I think I don’t know how to act around you anymore. Which like, doesn’t have anything to do with you and has everything to do with me. Which is so fucking cliché but…sorry, I’m rambling. Am I rambling?”

“Kier,” Liam said, flipping his hand so his palm was facing up. She looked down, her eyes scanning over the faint lines in his skin. Without hesitating, Kiernan slid her palm into his, letting his fingers close gently around her hand.

“I don’t know what I want, Liam,” she said. “I don’t know what I want in life, in anything, but…I just don’t want that getting in the way anymore.”

“Of what?” he asked.

Kiernan was almost laughing, every single kind of emotion expelling from her. “Of us, of life, of anything,” she explained. “I’m sick of second-guessing everything I do around you because I’m afraid of making a mess out of our lives. Or rather, even more of a mess. I mean, what the fuck was Valentine’s Day? Or Christmas? Or that time on my roof over the summer? We get so close just to have me fuck it all up in the end. It’s just…it’s not fair.”

“I don’t know why you’re blaming yourself for anything, Kier,” Liam said, keeping his voice low. Kiernan’s shoulders were starting to shake, her breath becoming more sporadic. She didn’t want to make a big scene, but everything she tried to bury started to surface and she wasn’t sure she could control it anymore.

“Because if I don’t blame myself for anything, then what was all of this for?” Kiernan asked. “Why have we spent the past three years doing everything in our power to be together but also not be together?”

“Because we weren’t ready, Kiernan,” Liam said. “We needed time to just...be.”

“But what makes now the right time? How do we…how do we ever know?” she asked.

“We don’t,” Liam said. “But you’re here and you’re actually talking about it instead of running away so I mean…I’m taking it as a good sign.”

Kiernan couldn’t help but chuckle, using her free hand to dab under her eyes. “For fucks sake, I’m crying,” she swore, trying to stop the tears before they fell. “I was just sitting home alone and I just…I don’t know, I guess I just finally needed to let it out…let you know…whatever this is.”

“Come here,” Liam murmured, pulling his hand back. He held his arms open for Kiernan, adjusting his legs on the couch so there was room for her.

She merely nodded, leaning forward until her knees were pressed into the cushions of the sofa. She crawled forward, letting herself fall into Liam, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist. Kiernan’s chin rested on Liam’s shoulders, her face tucked into his neck while she tried to catch her breath.

“I think…I’m just tired of pretending, Liam,” she said, letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m just tired.”

“I know,” he replied, smoothing out the end of her hair with his palm. “Kier I just need to know if this is going to stick. I can’t…there’s only so many times I can do this.”

Kiernan nodded, taking in one last deep breath. Slowly, she slid her hands from his chest up to his shoulders. Her fingers bunched together the fabric of his sweatshirt, her head slowly raising out of the crook of his neck. This wasn’t new for them, but Kiernan hadn’t felt this close to Liam in a long time.

“This isn’t like the other times,” Kiernan murmured. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. The tip of Kiernan’s nose brushed against Liam’s, her right hand sliding off of his shoulder towards the back of his neck. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You’re not going to mess anything up,” Liam told her, rubbing gentle circles into the small of her back. Liam’s eyes were closed when Kiernan finally leaned down, angling her head so their noses didn’t bump. “Kier…” he murmured, his hand now firmly pressed against her back.

There wasn’t any time for talking when she finally gapped the distance between their lips. The last time they had each other like this, they were urgent, like it was something that might not happen between them again. This time, everything felt raw, less calculated, like she wasn’t afraid of everything she was feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Would it…be wrong…to ask…if we could…move to…your room?” Kiernan asked, breaking their kiss to try to spit the question out.

Liam didn’t bother to respond with words. He merely planted his feet firmly on the ground, holding tightly onto Kiernan’s waist while he stood up. She squealed when he hoisted her up higher, her legs wrapping around his waist while he started to stumble through his apartment.

“Thank god we’ve practiced this part,” she joked, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes.

“Thank god indeed.”

* * * * * * *

Kiernan was certain if she tried to unload more one cardboard box, her arms were going to fall off. She knew how much of a nightmare moving was from Lydia and Carmen but she didn’t realize how sore she was going to be just after two days of trying to make her apartment livable. All she wanted to do was unpack her clothes and books and have something to sit on, but all she accomplished was filling her room in with boxes and creating a mess with the belongings she managed to get unpacked without realizing she had nowhere to put them.

“Liam, I think I’m dying,” Kiernan complained, kneeling down on her mattress on the floor before collapsing onto her chest. “Who let me decide that moving out was a good idea?”

“I believe that person was you,” Liam pointed out, breaking down the box of books that he just unpacked onto part of her IKEA shelf. “You were very adamant about moving after you got that job offer.”

“It was stupid,” she groaned, her voice muffled by the mattress. “I’m going to be poor and sore.”

“We were already poor before you moved into your own place,” Liam pointed out. “And the sore part? Well, that I can’t really help you with.”

For as many things that Kiernan didn’t know in her life, things had a way of falling into place after graduation. She upped her hours at the office while she tried to sort out the details of her professional life, saving up every cent for the day that she was ready to leave the nest and live away from her parents for the first time in twenty-two years. She could only assume an act of god helped her get an entry level job at an agency at the end of July. It took her two weeks of working full-time to realize she couldn’t live the life she needed to while she was living at home.

Kiernan, admittedly, spent a lot of time after (and before) graduation at Liam’s place, but she didn’t want to rely on his apartment solely for a moment of privacy. At least, privacy away from parents and siblings. As much as her parents loved and adored Liam, she wasn’t sure their change in relationship would make the situation any different.

The second act of god turned out to be one of Lydia’s friends that Kiernan knew only by association and running into her at a few parties. She needed a new roommate at her apartment in Williamsburg near the bridge. It had no elevator and they lived on the third floor, but Kiernan was just excited it wasn’t on floor six. There were only three girls in the apartment including Kiernan and at one point or another, they had all met and drunkenly complimented each other, which automatically meant they were suitable to live with.

“Stop being productive and come lay down with me,” Kiernan said, rolling over onto her back so she was no longer struggling to breathe with her nose pressed against the thin fitted sheet she put on her mattress so it wasn’t just bare on her floor.

“Fine, but I’m all sweaty and you’re going to complain about it,” he replied. Kiernan braced herself for his landing, knowing he was going to do the same thing he always did. Without fail, Liam pretended to fall forward onto Kiernan, sticking out his arms at the last second to catch himself.

“You’re annoying,” she said, pushing his shoulders so he could roll over onto his back next to her rather than straddle her while they were both hot and sweaty. “But I still love and appreciate you anyways for helping me move and for building furniture in the near future when it all arrives.”

“What good would I be as a boyfriend if I didn’t at least help you try to furnish your room?” he asked. “Though, I would like to state on the record that even if we weren’t dating right now, I would still do it for you because you’re my friend and that’s just what friends do.”

“Well, that’s very sweet, Liam,” she told him, using the back of her hand to pat his chest gently. “I think I’m already ready for a break and we’ve only been unpacking for a few hours today.”

He chuckled, his shoulders brushing against Kiernan’s. “At this pace it’s going to take you two months to move in,” he pointed out.

“Then so be it!” she replied. “You’ll still be here to build whatever I need.”

“In two months? I sure as hell hope so,” he said.

“Good,” she replied. “Glad we’re on the same page then.”

“Finally,” he added, nudging her in the side.

#1dff #exchanges

115 notes · View notes