#+ she's going to leave exactly for the time i need the room so she's not going to ask me to pay any extra for time i'm not using the room

[evansbby]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐕 - 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader, mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smutt, dubcon, daddy!kink, size difference, innocence kink, HEAVY MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL AND DRUG CONSUMPTION, mentions of depression, mentions of self-medication, seriously, if you're sensitive about that kind of stuff please do not read, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You're done with both Ari and Steve. But they're not quite done with you...

𝐀/𝐍: Here it is. Again, I'm putting up a disclaimer: Please beware of the strong mentions of irresponsible alcohol and drug consumption in this chapter. Also be aware of the depictions of depression in this chapter. Stay safe & only read what you are comfortable with. This is a dark story. This is chapter 4 of Wicked Games. It is 33.6k words. Enjoy, besties!

Steve: Hey. Look, I’m really sorry about what happened yesterday. Things got out of control and I really did not mean to scare you. Could we talk in person?

Steve: I did plan a date for us. I know you don’t believe me, but I did. For whatever that’s worth. Look, just text me back, okay? Or answer my calls.

Steve: Sometimes I just get like that. Even if you don’t understand, just reply and say you’ll talk to me. I’ll explain everything. Please.

Steve: Can’t you see I’m trying? I want us to work.

Steve: It wasn’t just about sex to me. I know that’s what it looked like but it wasn’t.

Steve: ?????

Each time your phone pings with a new text, you feel a stronger urge to just throw it out the window. Oh, why couldn’t he just leave you alone? You feel awful and on edge, the night’s sleep had done you absolutely no good. You’d tossed and turned the whole time, crying and feeling sad about how terribly your “date” had gone down yesterday. How you’d been used. How it was all just about sex for him, no matter what he claimed.

Your phone starts pinging again.

Ari: Are you okay?

Ari: You need to tell me exactly what he did to you. I’ll set him straight, I promise. I just need to know what he did.

Ari: You were really worked up yesterday so I gave you your space but I’m worried. And pissed off. Just answer me.

Ari: Pick up your phone.

Ari: I’m coming over.

No, no, no. You don’t want him to come over. You don’t want to see either of them. To hell with their mood swings and cocky egos and fake concern for you. Now you know there was only one thing that men like Ari and Steve truly ever wanted from you – sex. Fuck them both. If Ari came over now, you’d scream your head off and not let him in again.

You were done. Completely and irrevocably done. Not just with Ari and Steve, but with men and relationships in general. You were going to make a solemn vow to yourself that from now on, that–

A sudden knocking on your door interrupts your thoughts. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you feel the anger surge through you. Who the fuck was that? Ari? He’d only just sent his last message a minute ago – how was he already here?

A wave of anxiety overtakes you suddenly… What if it was Steve?

Another knock. But it sounds a lot softer than Ari’s usual loud banging – which was what he did on days where he’d forget your dorm key at home.

“Y/N?” You hear a faint, familiar voice from the other side of the door. “Are you there?”

Huh. That was definitely not Steve or Ari…

It takes you about five seconds to haul yourself off your bed and across the room. You open the door cautiously, only to find Sharon standing there. Her face is swollen, red and blotchy, her shiny and usually pristinely styled hair scraped back in a low, sad ponytail. Not a trace of makeup on her face, and she’s wearing a loose, wrinkled St. Andrews sweatshirt instead of her usual cheerleading uniform.

“Ari broke up with me!” She bursts into tears, pulling you into a hug that you have no choice but to return. And the guilt is immediate, spreading throughout your body, thrumming through your bloodstream along with dread. Of course, you knew Ari had dumped her… for you.

“Oh, Sharon…” you mumble against her sweatshirt, a huge lump forming in your throat, “I’m so, so sorry.” Sorrier than you realise…

Sharon sniffles, “I know we’re not really close, but I just didn’t know who else to talk to about this. All my friends are also his friends, or girlfriends of his friends, and…and…and I just needed someone who was my friend, and not his, and–” She breaks out into a fresh wave of tears, hugging you tightly again, burying her face in your neck as she cries. You awkwardly pat her shoulder, feeling like the world’s worst person.

“Come in,” you say reluctantly. Sure, you had your own problems, but you weren’t just going to leave her crying out in the hallway, were you? Especially not since you were basically the reason for her tears.

She smiles weakly, “Thank you.”

You manage to quickly type out a message to Ari while she isn’t looking:

Sharon’s here. Don’t come over. And stop texting me.

“It just came so out of nowhere,” she says, following you into your room and sitting on the edge of your bed, “Well, we weren’t having sex like how we used to but I just assumed he was stressed about basketball or something.”

“Wait, the two of you weren’t having sex?” You blurt out a tad too eagerly, but she doesn’t seem to notice. You sink down beside her, “I mean… wow… so you guys weren’t being – uh – intimate?”

Sharon shakes her head, using the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe her eyes, “Not for, like, the past month. But I really didn’t think he was cheating on me… But he basically told me he was dumping me because there was someone else.”

Your heart jumps up to your throat, “H-He said that?”

“Yeah. Well, at first, he kept saying the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ crap.” She snorts, aggressively twining a loose strand of her blonde hair round and round her pointer finger, “But I told him to be honest and just tell me straight up, and I was yelling and so upset and finally he said that there was someone else. Can you believe that?”

Your hands feel clammy, the guilt and anxiety churning around in your stomach like a witch’s cauldron. Should you tell her now? Tell her that you’re the reason her boyfriend dumped her? That you’d been sleeping with Ari behind her back for months? Oh God… You were an awful person, weren’t you? Well, you hadn’t known about Sharon at first… and back then you were innocent enough to believe Ari when he said he’d broken up with her. But you’d wisened up to that and still had sex with him at the party, hadn’t you?

You gulp, “Sharon, there’s something–”

“And can you believe that for a split second I thought it was you?” She says suddenly, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Your blood freezes, “I, I–”

“I know, I know… Totally ridiculous, right?” She laughs. And you’d expected her laugh to be all cute and twinkly and perfect how she is, but it’s low and hoarse and ironic. She squeezes your arm, “I hate that my mind even went there. I don’t know you that well but I just know you wouldn’t do that to me, Y/N.”

“Sharon–”

 “It’s just that one time, at that basketball practice when the ball hit your face. The way Ari carried you off… I just got this feeling in my gut, you know?” She laughs again, “But that was just Ari being Ari, stepping up and taking charge of a situation when no one else would. And it’s awful of me to even think you’d do something like that when you’d just got struck in the face and were probably in a lot of pain. Gosh, I’m so sorry for even thinking it!”

She hugs you again. You can smell her sweet perfume, and it goes straight to your head, making you feel sick. Or maybe it’s the guilt eating away at your insides that’s making you feel sick.

“There’s something I have to tell you–”

“–We were together for almost a whole year, you know?” Sharon cuts you off again. “I was gonna take him home for Thanksgiving and everything.” She’s still hugging you, and her cheek rests against the bare nape of your neck. You weren’t used to being this touchy with your girlfriends, but you continue to pat her back nonetheless, feeling like the world’s most awful person ever.

“He’s just the world’s most awful person ever!” She cries, “Like he threw our relationship away like it was nothing! And I was so good to him, Y/N!”

“I know, I know,” you say softly. You feel a wave of disgust for Ari overtake you, but the disgust you feel at yourself overshadows it completely.

“But maybe it’s for the best,” She sits up suddenly, her eyes wide and glistening, an almost daring look on her face, your hand still encased in hers. “Maybe me and Ari weren’t meant to be, and he was just a stupid phase in my life.”

“He’s just a fuckboy,” you agree truthfully, despite feeling rotten over your role in all of this. “You can do so much better than him, Sharon.”

She nods, “Yeah, I think so too. I mean, he’s super hot and all, but…” And then she pauses, looking at you with a curious expression. She bites her lip, still holding on to your hand. “Maybe this is too much information, but lately, even when I was, you know, taking care of myself… I wouldn’t think of him. I’d think of someone else.”

“That’s good!” You say enthusiastically. “Who were you thinking of? Like an actor or singer or something? Or a cute guy in one of your classes?”

She stares at you a bit longer, before suddenly dropping her gaze, “Yeah, something like that. Anyways, thank you so much for being there for me, Y/N. I know I just barged into your room unannounced.”

At that moment, your phone vibrates. Once, twice, three times. More texts. You’re thankful you left your phone facedown; in case they were from Ari and she saw.

“That’s probably Steve, isn’t it?” Sharon says.

You nod quickly, suddenly in a hurry to stop talking about Ari, “Yeah. They’re all from him. He’s been texting me nonstop since last night when me and him had a fight.”

“Oh no. Is everything gonna be okay?”

You shake your head tersely, not wanting to talk about the disastrous date. “No. Me and him are over. Forever.” And so are me and Ari.

Sharon nods, giving you another hug. “Men are trash. I’m so glad we have each other, Y/N. I’m so happy we’re friends now.”

You swallow harshly, hoping the guilt isn’t so evident on your face. Inside your head, there’s about a million different thoughts racing each other. Should you tell her about Ari now? Or wait till later when she was more distanced from the situation and less distraught? Oh God, it was like problems followed you wherever you went! First Steve, then Ari, and now Sharon was in the mix too. And the worst part was, how kind she was being. How genuinely good she was and how she didn’t deserve to be lied to in the least.

I’ll tell her, you promise yourself. I swear I’ll tell her soon…

***

“You need to stop moping around so much,” Wanda says as the two of you walk down the corridor after a lecture. Well, she walks. You just drag your feet. It’s been two days since the “date” with Steve and the subsequent scene with Sharon in your dorm room, and your emotions have been all over the place.

“Like okay, so the Steve thing didn’t work out. It’s not the end of the world, is it? Just get over it.” Wanda continues scanning the crowd of people in the hallway.

“I just feel like nobody wants a relationship with me, Wanda.” You say softly. “All they ever seem to want is sex.”

“Huh? Yeah, that really sucks,” she says distractedly, standing on her tip-toes to look over the sea of heads all milling around or heading to their next class. “Where’s Curtis? He agreed to meet me here.”

Your stomach drops. Curtis again? Oh, you hope Ari’s not with him! You’d successfully been able to avoid him since the night he’d left your dorm room, and you didn’t want to break that streak now.

Wanda spots her boyfriend a moment later and squeals, jumping up and down trying to get his attention. Thankfully, he isn’t with Ari. But he is standing in a cosy corner of the corridor, deep in conversation with a tiny brunette cheerleader. You watch as she laughs at something he said and puts her hand on his chest.

You glance warily at Wanda, but she still has that determined bright smile on her face as she charges over to him, pulling you along with her.

“Curtis! Hey!” She wraps her arms around his neck territorially, plastering her lips on his. The cheerleader smirks, and you see her wink at him before she leaves. Only then does Curtis finally give his girlfriend some attention. You stand there, awkwardly staring at your shoes for the next five minutes while they noisily kiss next to you.

“You still in a bad mood, sweetheart?” Curtis grins once the two of them finally break apart.

“She’s always in a bad mood,” Wanda interjects before you can respond, “Hey, Curtis, you wanna check out the new drive-in theatre downtown? I don’t have any more classes today and I know you don’t either.”

Curtis yawns, “I don’t know. I kinda just wanna chill today.”

“Oh. That’s fine too, I guess. You wanna just grab lunch on campus?”

“Nah. I think I’ll just head back home. I have stuff to do.”

Wanda nods, “Okay, can I come too?”

He shrugs, “Sure. If you must.”

They start towards the exit, and you have no choice but to follow them. But when Wanda stops to talk to one of the girls in her Philosophy class, Curtis shoots you a smirk.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come back to my place too?”

You frown, “What would I do in your room with you and Wanda?”

The spark in his eye is nothing short of devilish, “I could think of a few things the three of us could get up to.”

“You’re disgusting, Curtis.”

“You sure about that? I have some more of those magic pills you’re such a huge fan of. The three of us could have some fun.” His eyes rake over your body brazenly, and you feel the urge to throw up. So, it was true. All men viewed you as an easy hook-up. A slut. Ari, Steve, now Curtis too.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Wanda is your girlfriend and you should have more respect for her.”

He rolls his eyes, “You’re one to talk about respecting girlfriends.”

The jab stings, especially since it has a ring of truth to it. But you glare up at him nonetheless, “Fuck you.”

“Are you and Ari both perpetually in a bad mood these days or what?”

“I’m not speaking to Ari, so I wouldn’t know what kind of mood he’s in.” You answer curtly.

“He’s in a shitty mood, I’ll tell you that much,” Curtis snorts. “You’d think he’d be over the fucking moon after finally dumping Sharon, but now all he does is glare at his phone because you won’t answer his texts.”

Sure, Ari had been continuously texting and calling you for the past two days, but you’d gotten better at ignoring him. The last text you’d sent him was when you’d told him not to come over because Sharon was there.

“Are we ready to go, babe?” Wanda asks, waving goodbye to the girl from her Philosophy class.

Curtis stretches and grunts, “Yeah, let’s go,” He looks over at you, “You need a lift to wherever you’re headed?”

“No, she doesn’t!” Wanda interjects quickly, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the exit impatiently, “You wanted to be alone, didn’t you, Y/N?”

You shrug, “Sure.”

Watching them leave hand in hand, you stand there in a sea of people – and yet you feel more alone than ever. You know you need to snap out of this funk, but it’s so hard. Even now, as you look around, you can see about five different couples. All happily hanging out, talking, eating lunch together, kissing, holding hands. Would you ever experience anything normal like that?

You’re about to leave when someone grabs your wrist, yanking you sideways. You yelp, barely catching a glimpse of Ari’s brown waves before you’re pulled into an empty corridor.

“Ari! What the fuck–”

“Stop it with the ignoring my texts shit!” He spits out, eyes already blazing, “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Let go of me.”

Surprisingly, he does. But he blocks your path with his huge frame, stepping in front of you every time you try to push past him. This continues for a solid minute and a half before you finally huff and give up trying to escape.

“I went to see Steve that night.” Ari says finally.

Your stomach churns at the mention of the blonde’s name.

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“He wasn’t at home. And the other guys in his frat wouldn’t say where he was,” he runs a hand through his hair, “But I’m guessing he was probably hiding out at his parent’s house.”

That was exactly where he was. You knew that.

“Please tell me you didn’t go there.”

Ari regards you closely, as if you’re made out of glass and he’s trying to formulate his sentences as carefully as he can. “I didn’t,” he says finally, sighing, “I was about to, but–”

“Good,” you interrupt, “I don’t need you fighting him or whatever. Not on my behalf.” You narrow your eyes, “How do you even know where his parents’ house is?”

He hesitates, “I don’t know off the top of my head, but I would’ve found out.” He grabs your hands, his blue eyes looking earnest, which is a look you aren’t used to seeing on him at all. “He’s clearly avoiding me, but look, the sooner you tell me what exactly happened between you and him, the sooner I’ll deal with it.”

From over his shoulder, you see a group of cheerleaders walk by. In a panic, you snatch your hands away from him. Was Sharon with them? Had she seen you with him? No. She wasn’t there. And yet now you feel more paranoid than ever.

“We can’t do this, Ari,” you mutter, trying to sidestep him again, “We can’t be seen together now or ever again, so just move so I can leave–”

“No.”

“Yes!” you try not to explode or lose your patience, “This isn’t right, okay? You and me, we’re not right. Sharon doesn’t deserve us going behind her back, she doesn’t–”

“I told you, I broke up with her.”

“That doesn’t make any of this okay, so just move!”

He doesn’t. Instead, he grabs your arm again, tugging you somewhere deep into the corridor before you have a chance to stop him or finish your sentence. And he’s too strong to fight against, so you don’t even try it. The last thing you want is to put any more attention on you or him. Even if Sharon wasn’t around, one of her friends could see you with him and report back to her. And after everything that happened with you and Sharon, you wanted to come clean to her yourself, rather than have her hear about you sleeping with her boyfriend behind her back from somebody else.

“The supply closet? Really, Ari?” You plant your hands on your hips, watching as he shuts and locks the door of the dimly lit room.

He shrugs, “If it’ll get you to stop running away from me...”

“Well, why can’t you just get the message? I’m running for a reason.” You try to push past him, but the closet is way too small to allow that type of movement. He easily grabs your waist and lifts you back in front of him, making you scowl. “Look, I don’t know what you expected would happen between us when you dumped Sharon, I already told you we’re done. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Ari has the audacity to look confused, “Since when do you care about her?”

“Since I developed a brain and realised what we did behind her back for months was wrong!” You explode, hating the fact that you have to spell this out for him. “You know that she came to my dorm room the day after you dumped her? She was a mess, Ari! All because of us, and she doesn’t even know it!”

 He sighs, “If you want, I could come clean to her and tell her it was you who I was sleeping with. You shouldn’t have to deal with that, it’s my problem, anyways.”

“No, you don’t say anything, Ari! I’m going to tell her myself.” Soon.

“Okay, but trust me, don’t worry about her too much. She’s a strong girl, she’ll bounce back.”

You stare at him incredulously. Strong girl? Bounce back? Oh, he was infuriating!

“Whatever, Ari.” You mutter, once more trying to push past him but he places you back in front of him with such ease that it’s almost comical.

“What happened to you that day with Steve?” He asks again, his brow furrowed.

“It’s none of your business.”

He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “You came home in tears with your dress all torn up and you expect me to just go about my business as if all that was nothing?”

“Yes. It shouldn’t be too hard for you considering you’ve left me in tears yourself a couple of times.” You think back to the frat party, how he’d left you drunk, high and in tears in the bathroom. By the guilt that flashes in Ari’s eyes, he remembers too.

“I told you I was sorry about that.”

You shrug, “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways. You used me, and Steve used me too.” Your voice almost breaks but you clear your throat quickly, not wanting to cry in front of him.

“What do you mean Steve used you?” Ari grabs your shoulders with a note of urgency. “Did he do something you didn’t want to do? Did he fuck you? Goddamit, I told you not to speak to him!”

Shaking out of his grasp, you feel another flash of anger. The same flash you’d felt surge through you the night you’d kicked Ari out of your dorm room. A part of you wants to start yelling and screaming again, but you know you can’t do that here.

“What does it matter, anyways?” You snap, feeling the walls building up around you. Half of you wants to scream and the other half wants to curl up and cry. The two emotions swirl inside you like a whirlpool, making you feel lightheaded.

A handful of seconds go by and all Ari does is stare at you. You can hear him breathing hard, almost erratically, as if deciding his next move. Finally, he bends down so his face is level with yours, his hands leaving your shoulders to cup your cheeks instead. His eyes, so bright blue despite the dark mustiness of the supply closet, bore into yours so intensely.

“Did. He. Fuck. You?”

“No.”

“Did he hurt you?”

You don’t answer, instead staring at the dark nothingness beyond Ari’s shoulder. Maybe if you focused on it hard enough, you could dissociate and float away from this situation. Float away from anyone else who could hurt you or use you or manipulate you. Float away from the guilt, the shame, the sadness, all of it.

Instead, you feel the wind being knocked out of you as Ari roughly pushes you against what feels like a shelf. The wooden edges poke against your back, and your mouth curls in pain.

“Listen to me. I’m not fucking around anymore, okay? You need to tell me what happened right fucking now.” Ari growls, his face inches from yours. It seems like someone’s ignited a fire in his eyes, twin fires – one burning bright in each eye, and you can practically feel the heat of his anger radiating from his being.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry out pitifully.

Like a hot poker, Ari drops you immediately, regret seeping through his features before he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…” He pauses, and for a second his whole face screws up and contorts, like he’s inwardly examining every corner of his brain to conjure up the right thing to say. “Look, I care about you. A lot. And these past two days have been torture, knowing that he did something to you and I couldn’t protect you.”

He sounds sincere, but you know it’s all an act. He doesn’t mean it, he’s only trying to be nice so he can have sex with you later, the voice inside your head cackles.

“So just tell me what he did, and I’ll–”

 “WHAT PART OF IT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW, ARI?” You burst, “What part of the whole ugly thing would you like me to relive first? The part where he promised he’d take me out on a date but he took me to his bedroom instead?” You duck your head in shame, “I suppose I should be used to that by now, but I was stupid enough to let myself hope.”

Ari draws his breath but stays silent.

“Or would you rather I tell you everything he said? Down to the last fucking detail? How he basically implied that I was the world’s biggest slut?” This time, you can’t keep the tears at bay. “H-He said… He said I should stop acting like a nun because I had no problem with you fucking me at the party!”

You don’t mention the part where Steve had also said you’d had no problem spreading your legs for Steve too the night of the party. You have yet to come to terms with and address that little detail, and so you push it back to the depths of your mind for now. Ari couldn’t know about that, not when you didn’t know yourself.

Instead, your face crumples up, and before you realise it, you’re heaving with tears. Waterfalls pouring down your cheeks as you cry and cry. You don’t even notice Ari picking you up, you don’t notice him sitting down on a nearby stool and holding you in his lap. Carefully holding your head against his chest, rocking you back and forth as his other hand rubs up and down your back.

So much for all your bravado, so much for keeping up a strong front and resisting Ari at all costs. Here you were again, crying in his arms like you always ended up doing.

“H-He was so awful!” you sob, burying your head deep in Ari’s shirt, inhaling the manly scent of his aftershave, and it calms your hurting heart a little bit. But not enough. “He said all these mean things, and he…he wouldn’t stop, Ari! I k-kept saying no, but he wouldn’t listen at all! It was like something came over him!”

You fist the soft material of Ari’s jersey, taking comfort in the feel of his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. His familiar, manly scent and his soft hair tickling your face as he holds you carefully against him. And despite everything, you can’t help but note how strange this is. Of course, Ari had held you while you cried about a dozen times – but this seemed different. For one, he wasn’t cooing sweet manipulations into your ear. He was just… silent. You risk peaking up at him through teary eyes, to see him looking straight ahead with a grim look on his face, the beginnings of a sneer forming on his lips.

“It’s okay,” Ari says softly, his voice sounding thick as if there’s something stuck in his throat. Was this what true, earnest sympathy sounded like coming from him? Or was it all just an act? You’re too busy crying and seeking solace in his warm chest to really mull it over, and the beefy basketball player continues to stroke your back, “It’s okay, baby. He won’t hurt you anymore. I promise he won’t.”

“JUST SAY IT ALREADY! Just say ‘I told you so!’” You sob, “He didn’t care about me at all, Ari! Just like you said. He was just using me. He just wanted sex, or to get back at you, or both!”

He doesn’t say I told you so. Instead, his lips press down on top of your head, kissing you gently. And you know you should push him away, but you reason with yourself to hold on to him just for a little bit longer. Just till you felt a little bit better. Was that so wrong?

“He won’t hurt you again,” Ari repeats firmly, now cupping your face with both his hands so you look him dead in the eye.

“He scared me so bad, Ari!” you sniffle, “H-He punched a wall when I said I wanted to leave, and then…and then he wouldn’t let me go!”

Ari mutters something unintelligible under his breath, before using the corner of his sleeve to wipe your cheeks. “How did you get him to stop?”

“I couldn’t. But thankfully, his sister was there and she stopped him.”

Ari freezes, “His sister?”

“Yes.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Not really,” you look down at your hands. Recounting the whole horrific ordeal with Steve had caused them to start shaking, and you grip at your skirt to get them to stop. Before you know it, Ari’s larger hands cup your own, holding them in place on your lap, stilling them, calming you.

“Well, don’t worry,” Ari says firmly, “he won’t touch you ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”

His face looks earnest, sincere. A large part of you feels comforted by him, but there’s also a dwindling doubt in the back of your mind. A little speck of mistrust growing larger and larger, fuelled by all the times he’s hurt you. Fuelled by how Steve had hurt you. Despite the fact that you don’t want to, you snatch your hands out of his and shoot up off his lap as if he’s shot you. No. You weren’t going to do this again. You weren’t going to fall for his false promises. Not this time.

“Stop lying,” you say shakily, backing away from him slowly. “You don’t care about me so stop pretending like you do. You just want me for sex, and you’re angry that someone else got close to having me like that too. But you don’t actually care about me or how I feel, Ari, so just stop lying!”

He stands up too, frowning, “I’m not lying. I dumped Sharon. I’ve been texting and calling you this whole time. Hell, I’m standing inside a fucking supply closet just to get a minute alone with you. What part of that says I don’t care?”

“You don’t care,” you repeat softly, “It took me a while to realise it, but now I do. All I’m good for is sex.”

“That’s not true–”

“Yes it is!” You cry, “Remember all the times I begged to be your girlfriend and you came up with a bullshit excuse each time? It’s because you knew that I wasn’t worth anything more than a hook-up for you!” You shake your head bitterly, “God, you must’ve been laughing behind my back at how stupid and naïve I was for expecting more from you. Steve’s probably laughing too. You’re both the same and I’m not going to let you or him or anyone else hurt me ever again! So, for the love of God, just leave me alone!”

You turn to leave, but Ari grabs your hand.

“What’s it going to take to show you that I care about you? Because I’ll do it.”

You don’t turn back around, waiting two long seconds before you tug your hand out of his grip. But you do open your mouth to respond – except nothing comes out. Instead, you sigh. There was really nothing more left to say, was there? Except perhaps just one more thing…

“Nothing, Ari. People don’t just change overnight. Especially not people like you.”

You step out of the supply closet, carefully shutting the door behind you and finally walking away. And hopefully this time, it’s for good.

***

Ari: WTF. Why did you change your lock???

Ari: Stop avoiding me.

Ari: If you weren’t so hellbent on ignoring me, you’d know that I have changed. Just give me a chance to prove it to you.

Ari: ???????

Ari: Steve’s still dodging me, by the way. Me and Curtis went over to his frat house but he wasn’t there again. Clearly, he’s afraid of me, but don’t worry. I promise I’ll make him pay for what he did.

The days go by, and Ari continues to text you daily all while you lock yourself up in your room and pretty much avoid the outside world. And his last text makes you want to tear your hair out. Why couldn’t Ari just butt out of your life and stop trying to fight Steve on your behalf!? You’d never asked for that; you didn’t want that! You just wished the whole ordeal with Steve had never even happened, you wished you could will it out of existence.

And speaking of Steve, he still texted you too. Not as frequently as Ari, which made him better at taking a hint than he was at planning first dates. But you still received a message from him every now and again…

Steve: I get it. I fucked it all up.

Steve: I need to see you again. I’ll make it right. Please.

And sure, there was a tiny part of you that did want to hear Steve out. But you were afraid of him, afraid of what he’d do or say. Plus, he’d literally lied to you, pretended he was interested in having a relationship with you when really, he just wanted sex. So, who was to say he wouldn’t lie again? Oh God, everything felt so wrong, how could he possibly make anything right!?

And why couldn’t you just block them both and move on!? You wish you could, yet you can’t find it in you to block or delete either of their numbers. Not Ari’s, and not even Steve’s. Maybe it’s the naïve little girl inside you, the insecure little girl who wants to hold on to the only male attention she’s ever gotten – despite the fact that your relationships with both men had gone up in smoke. And so you settle with just muting and archiving their chats. Out of sight, out of mind – except not really. But it’s the best you can do for now.

And you feel more alone now than ever. With Wanda always preoccupied with Curtis, you had nobody to confide your heartbreak in. But ironically, you began to grow closer with Sharon. On the rare occasions you actually left your dorm room and made it into campus for your lectures, she always seemed to find you. You realised quickly that she no longer hung out with her usual cheerleader friends. Either she herself had opted to leave them, or they’d decided to leave her because she was no longer the basketball captain’s girlfriend. Either way, you didn’t ask.

“It’s probably one of them,” Sharon mutters darkly one day as the two of you walk past a gaggle of cheerleaders, “The bitch he was cheating on me with. It’s probably one of them.”

You gulp. You had yet to come clean to her – but you could never find the right moment. And as time went by and she started spending more and more time with you, it got even harder to just drop the bomb and be like, oh hey, by the way! That bitch who your boyfriend cheated on you with? That was me!

But apart from all that, Sharon was good company. Both of you were dealing with heartbreak (she seemed to be dealing with hers better than you were dealing with yours), and so there was a kind of understanding between the two of you. Not to mention, hanging out with her turned out to be useful in keeping Ari away from you. Any time he spotted you on campus, he’d start making a beeline for you before freezing when he realised you were with her.

“You know, I think I figured out why both Ari and Steve treated us the way they did.” Sharon pipes up one day whilst the two of you are leaving campus. “It’s because we’re too nice.”

“Hm?” You barely utter a word, just wanting to get home and wallow in bed. You hadn’t told Sharon the extent of what had happened between you and Steve on your “date.” All she knew was that it was over, and you never wanted to speak to him again.

“Yeah, it’s because we’re too nice. Bad bitches don’t get their hearts broken, but nice girls always do.” She says, unscrewing her lip gloss and touching up her lips. Unlike you, she’d gotten some of her pep back since her breakup. In a way, you were glad. You’d rather her be happy than you – she deserved it after getting cheated on. 

You manage to laugh cynically, which eggs the blonde on as she continues.

“I’m serious. From here on out, let’s promise not to take any shit from anyone. That way, no one can hurt us again.”

No one hurting you ever again? That sounded like a dream. You knew you could be naïve at times, especially months ago when Ari had first started hooking up with you. Back then, you really thought you’d hit the jackpot and found yourself the perfect boyfriend. Now, months later, it was like you’d mentally matured at rapid speed. Could you be tougher now? Stop being the stupid, naïve little girl that kept getting played by men?

“That’s easier said than done,” you remark softly.

Sharon shrugs, “It’s worth a shot. I think if you act like an ice queen well enough, people are gonna know not to fuck with you. So, like, next time Steve tries to approach you or sweet-talk you into taking him back, just act like you couldn’t care less. Keep a strong resolve, he’ll get the message.”

You think back to all the times in the past you’ve tried to keep a strong resolve. Not with Steve, but with Ari. And every single time, you’d ended up crumbling and crying in his arms. Giving him the perfect opportunity to manipulate you again. Would the same thing happen with Steve? Who could be extremely charming and angelic when he wanted to be? You hoped not…

Turns out you don’t have to wonder that for too long. Because as you walk up to your dorm building after parting ways with Sharon, you see Steve sitting on the stairs of the entrance. He stands up quickly when he spots you, and your heartbeat quickens. Oh no, why was he here!?

“I didn’t mean to ambush you,” Steve calls out when you stop dead in your tracks a few feet away from him. “But you wouldn’t return any of my calls.” He starts making his way over to you, and you remain frozen in place. Despite every cell in your body screaming for you to run.

“Please, stay away from me.” You mumble.

Steve stops short, holding his hands up defensively, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to apologise.” His face softens, and you notice how he’s got a bit of facial hair now, like he hasn’t shaved since you last saw him. His hair looks scruffier too. He’s also got dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept. In fact, in his black hoodie (the hood up) and black sweats, he looks about as depressed as you feel.

“Sorry, I’m not interested in your apology.” You stick your nose up and resume walking, trying your hardest to follow Sharon’s advice and be the stone-faced ice queen who didn’t let anything phase her.

Steve, of course, follows you up the steps and into your building.

“I wasn’t thinking straight that day in my bedroom. Sometimes I get like that.”

“I don’t care.” You try to sound nonchalant, but now you’re a bit scared. What if he followed you all the way up to your room? Forced his way inside? Locked the door and had his way with you like how he’d tried to last time? There was no Kira here to pacify him, either… Abruptly, you turn around, trying to keep your voice from shaking, “Steve, please don’t follow me inside.”

He bites his lip, looking every bit as handsome as he always did. Which sucked, because he deserved to have somehow become ugly after how horrible he’d been the last time you’d seen him. But no such luck, he still looked angelic. A bit dark and twisted and scruffy, but angelic nevertheless.

“But I need to explain to you why I acted the way I did.”

A bitter chuckle forces itself out your mouth, fear momentarily forgotten. “I know why you acted the way you did. You wanted sex, and you thought I was so naïve and easy, that I would easily provide it for you. And when I didn’t, you lost it.

“No, that’s not it at all!”

You jump at his tone, but try to keep your expression unfazed. “Well, I don’t care and I’m not interested.”

He clenches his fists, his jaw tensing too. But he relaxes when he notices the way your eyes widen in fear, and how you take a few steps back.

“Please, fuck, just don’t be scared of me.” He holds his hands up defensively again, and this time, you notice one of them is bandaged up. The one he punched the wall with. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No, you already did that, Steve.” You turn back around and continue walking up to your dorm room, trying so hard to appear nonchalant.

“I’m not the best at controlling my emotions, okay?” He calls out behind you, and the steady patter of his footsteps reveals he’s still following you as you go up the stairs of your building. “My parents, they’ve made me see a bunch of doctors for it, and lately I’ve been able to cope but I’ll admit, something inside me snapped that day, and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have, and–”

 “DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? I SAID I’M NOT INTERESTED IN ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY!” You reach your door before angrily whipping around, “Just leave me alone, alright? I don’t care if you’re sorry, it doesn’t take back the fact that you lied and made it seem like you wanted to date me when really all you wanted was sex! Not to mention, all the vile things you said and how scary you got. Now just leave me the fuck alone!”

Quickly, you slip inside your room and slam your door shut, locking it at lightning speed. Steve calls out your name, he knocks, he rattles your doorknob. And all you do is lean against the door, breathing fast and willing yourself not to cry. It was okay, he wouldn’t hurt you. There was a locked door between the two of you.

“(Y/N), please. Just give me another chance,” Steve knocks again, “I know I acted like a complete asshole, okay? I knew it the second I snapped out of it. And I really didn’t mean to say all those things.”

You feel that sudden flash of anger again. Bolting through you like lightning. After everything he’d said to you, after he’d forced himself on you… The best he could come up with was “I was an asshole and I didn’t mean it,”!? No, you couldn’t let him get off that easily. There were things that needed explaining and questions that needed to be answered.

Before you can think better of it, you throw the door back open. Of course, he’s still standing there, and you muster up the toughest, most ice queen-esque expression you can possibly make.

“Fine. We can talk.” You fold your arms over your chest, “But you need to answer me honestly. So don’t try to lie or manipulate me.”

Steve nods immediately, “Okay. Thank you.” He steps forward, as if he’s trying to get into your room. You quickly raise a hand up.

“No. Out here.” You don’t feel comfortable being in a bedroom alone with him. You take a deep breath, “You said that I spread your legs for you the night of the party. What did we do? And don’t lie.”

“We hooked up.” Steve meets your steely gaze evenly, before shaking his hoodie off his head and running a hand through his scruffy hair. It’s gotten long enough that the ends are starting to curl up, kind of like how Ari’s do – not that that was relevant at all right now. “In the cab when I was taking you home. We didn’t have sex, but we hooked up and I got you off.”

You wrack your brain, willing yourself to remember that night. But all you can muster up are fragmented pieces of memory. In the car with him, and you remembered how good he’d smelled. You remember his varsity jacket, and how it had somehow ended up around your shoulders. But… what else? Oh! You remember being in his lap, you remember the car hitting some bumps, and… Oh.

You nod slowly, “So then why did you lie? At the practice game, when you could’ve mentioned what happened?”

Steve exhales, “I did, but you were all confused. I thought you’d remember, but when I realised you didn’t, I just… Well, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I just… didn’t.”

For a guy who was so hell bent on explaining things to you, his explanations sure did suck.

You laugh bitterly, “No, you were too busy flaunting me in front of Ari’s face during that practice.” God, how could you have been so stupid!?

“Look, I said I’d answer everything and tell you the whole truth,” He shifts from one foot to the other, scratching his neck as if debating whether to say what he’s about to say, “And yes, I’ll admit that a part of me was using you to get to Ari.”

It feels like a punch to your gut. You’d suspected it, but the fact that he was so readily confirming it made it all the worse. With just a few words, Steve had confirmed all your insecurities. Not only did he not want to date you, not only was he just using you for sex… Oh no, as if that wasn’t enough, he’d also been using you as a pawn in whatever sick, longstanding rivalry he had with Ari.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

“Please don’t cry,” Steve steps forward, closing the gap between the two of you. And you’re so distraught by the bomb he’s dropped on you, that you don’t even try to run away from him. Instead, you lean against the door, breathing heavily, trying to keep your tears at bay.

He continues, “This is me being honest, alright? Something Ari never is with you. And yes, I wanted him to be jealous, I wanted to get a rise out of him, so I flaunted you in front of him. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you. I still care about you.”

“How can you possibly say you care about me after everything you’ve just admitted?” You manage to get out as you try to get your breathing back into order.

“Because I do care! I think I’d know what I’m feeling better than you would!” He’s growing visibly frustrated. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so bad at explaining shit.” He smacks his forehead hard several times and yet you don’t even have it in you to flinch.

“Goddamit, look, I’ll start from the beginning.” He takes a few, gulping breaths. “When I first saw you at the party, it had nothing to do with Ari, I didn’t even know that you knew him. I approached you that night because you looked cute and lost, and I liked how feisty and sweet you were–”

“That’s a lie!” You wipe at your eyes roughly, “That’s a fucking lie, Steve. Aren’t you forgetting what you said last time you saw me? You knew what Ari and I did that night, you called me a slut for spreading my legs for him in the middle of a party! And you expected I’d do the same for you.”

“No, that’s not it at all!”

He gulps as if trying to get his breathing even once more, and you realise that’s his way of calming himself down. And you can tell that he’s trying, that he’s trying so hard not to have a meltdown like last time, and you just look at him apprehensively. You know you could back away at any moment, slam the door in his face again and lock it and be done with him. And yet, your feet remain planted in place, as if a part of you just has to hear him out.

“I’m sorry I called you a slut. It’s all a big fucking blank in my head, like I blacked out and said all those things. And I never saw you and Ari fucking at the party or anything like that. I only found that out days later through the grapevine. But I shouldn’t have used it against you, that was wrong of me. I’m sorry I fucked it all up by saying that. You didn’t deserve it.”

You shake your head but he hurriedly continues, “I was always going to ask you out, Ari or no Ari. It’s only when I saw how jealous he got when he saw you with me, that I realised how much he liked you. That he liked you more than he liked his own girlfriend. That’s when I realised I could be with you and get back at him at the same time.”

Get back at him!? For what? Did you even care, at this point?

Anger. Fear. Confusion. Pure fucking discombobulation. That’s what you feel. So much so, that you don’t even know what to say or how to act.

Steve takes your lack of response as his cue, moving forward and reach out to cup the side of your face slowly. And you fucking hate how soft and warm his hand feels, how it’s bigger than your whole head yet feels gentle at the same time. Gentle, when the last time he’d had his hands on you, he’d been holding you down on his bed while he tried to force himself on you.

“But I like you too,” Steve says quietly, almost like a whisper, “I like you more than he ever could. And whenever I like something, whenever I have something good in my life, I always fuck it up. But this time, for once in my life I want to make things right.”

“I kept telling you to stop,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as the memories from that night barge their way back into your head. “Y-You ripped my dress.”

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

“You wouldn’t stop, Steve. It’s like you weren’t there, like something came over you and you weren’t there anymore.”

He nods fervently, his fingers stroking your cheek, “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t help that I’m like this, I really fucking wish I could be normal and react normally to things like how other people do. I wish it more than anything in the fucking world.”

It’s like he’s a completely different man from the one you’d first met and thought you knew. The man who’d been so shrouded in mystery, oozing with confidence and charm. His intense aura, the smoothness with how he’d spoken to you in the past. But in this moment, it’s like all of that had melted away. And here he was, stripped back. Rough round the edges with bags under his eyes, an earnest look on his face. And this time when you look into his eyes, for a moment it’s like you really see him; you see someone fighting to be normal, desperate for another chance. Oh, should you…?

And then you blink. And there it is again: Steve, the very same man, saying all those vile things to you. All because you wouldn’t fuck him. Him ripping your dress, him holding you down. Him losing his temper. Him punching the wall. The way he’d held you so hard, not letting you leave. That dark, faraway look in his eyes. How scared you’d been… And here you were, letting him cup your face and speak all tenderly with you!?

What if he got like that again?

It’s like a lash of electricity jolts through you. You push Steve away hard.

“Listen to me carefully, Steve, because I’m not gonna say this again. You’re not who I thought you were. You lied about what happened on the night we met, and you lied about your intentions with me. It doesn’t matter if you say you wanted to date me, because your past actions speak louder than whatever words you’re saying now.” You take a deep breath, “That’s why I want you to leave me alone. Forever. Just walk out right now and never look back. Because I’m done with you. And I really, truly mean it.”

He freezes, an unreadable expression on his face. A myriad of emotions flitter through his eyes. Shock, sadness, anger. Disbelief. Resignation. And then…

“And what about Ari?” He says quietly, “You’re choosing him?”

“No, I–”

Steve spits out a bitter laugh, as if he wasn’t gently cupping your face and promising you everything just five seconds ago.

“You don’t know him, (Y/N). Okay fine, I wasn’t completely honest with you and I guess that means I’ve fucked things up between us forever. But you think Ari hasn’t lied to you?”

“I know he’s lied–”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF IT!” Out of nowhere, he raises his voice. And it cuts you like a sword, reverberating off the walls. You flinch at the booming loudness of his words, the aggressiveness back on his angelic face and now he’s scaring you again. “You don’t know what he’s done, okay!?”

“You’re scaring me.”

You try to say it calmly, but your voice breaks right at the end. Steve blinks rapidly, several times. Breathing hard, he looks down at his fingers which are enclosed tightly around your arm. Just like that day in his room. Like a hot poker, he drops it immediately. And again, it’s like he’s waking up from some sort of a momentary trance. Or rather, a momentary wave of anger.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats in a low tone, “but if you knew the things he’s done, you wouldn’t have picked him–”

“I HAVEN’T PICKED HIM!” It’s your turn to explode. “I didn’t pick him, Steve. This isn’t about picking anyone. I’m done with you, and I’m done with Ari too. I’m picking neither of you. Goodbye.”

You turn around and slam your door shut before he can get another word out.

***

“It’s like, a fundraising gala type thing held at the Hilton. The money raised gets split down the middle, half going towards the basketball team and half towards the cheerleaders,” Sharon explains, twirling a piece of her blonde hair around her finger. “Which, by the way, I think is totally lame, because the basketball team doesn’t even need any more funding. Unlike the cheerleaders.”

She swivels around in your desk chair, her sock clad feet waving around in the air. Outside, the sun sparkles and a gentle breeze flows in through your window. The weather had been great lately, as if the atmosphere knew you’d finished the final chapter of the Ari and Steve saga and closed the book on both of them. As if nature itself was willing you to go outside and begin your new chapter, one where you were sexy and single and thriving.

So then why could you still not find it in you to step outside of your room on most days?

“I’ve been on the planning and decorating committee for the Athletic Society’s Annual Gala for the past two years,” Sharon continues, “it’s like, one of the biggest events of the year. All these important sports execs and school alumni show up, not to mention half the college. Wanda, I’m guessing you’re going with Curtis, right?”

“Huh?” Wanda glances up from her phone for a split second, looking as if she has not the slightest clue what Sharon is on about. Burying her nose back into her screen, her acrylics start tapping ferociously. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess who she’s texting. In fact, you were surprised when she’d showed up alongside Sharon outside your dorm room this morning. It was very hard to pin down Wanda lately, since all her time was devoted to her boyfriend.

Sharon raises an eyebrow before shifting her attention back to you, “Well anyways, I think this would be a great opportunity for you to get out of your funk, Y/N. We could go together! As friends, obviously.” She adds hastily.

You manage to muster up a smile, “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on! It’s been weeks since you ended things with Steve!” Sharon says, and you no longer shiver when his name is mentioned. It’s like the last confrontation you had with him cleared up the fog in your head a little bit. It still depressed you to the core, to know that you’d been used, but at least you didn’t flinch at his name anymore. That was something.

He’d also stopped texting you at all anymore. Which you should be happy about, and yet you still found yourself looking at your chat with him. God, what was wrong with you!? He’d finally left you alone just like how you’d wanted him to, and yet a part of you still felt like it was yearning for him.

“And I know how much you love dressing up and doing your makeup. Hey, we could even go shopping together for dresses!” The blonde claps her hands, clearly unaware of your current inner turmoil as she works herself up into a frenzy.

“We could make it into a proper girl’s night,” She sits on the other end of your bed with a bounce, “Hey, Wanda, why don’t you get ready with us too? You could always just meet Curtis there.”

Wanda scoffs, “Uh, no. I think I’ll go with my boyfriend, thank you very much.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “Ugh. Fuck boyfriends. I was gonna go with Ari, but that’s obviously not happening anymore. Plus, a girl’s night sounds a lot more fun.”

Your poor, gullible, traitorous heart jolts. “Ari’s gonna be there?”

Unlike Steve, Ari was still texting you and trying to somehow see you in person. You’d successfully avoided him since the supply closet meeting. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him either. God, were you just incapable of not thinking about the two fuckboys who had fucked your entire life up!?

“Yep, but it won’t bother me, I promise.” Sharon says determinedly, “The banquet hall is huge, so I’ll easily just avoid him. He’s probably gonna be super busy, anyways. Word has it that they’re giving him the Basketball MVP award this year.”

“Oh,” you breathe, before quickly clearing your throat, “I don’t know, Sharon. It sounds like fun, but–”

“Curtis says that he’s going to the gala with the basketball team, and that no one else is bringing dates,” Wanda interrupts you as she reads the latest text from her boyfriend. Finally, she looks up, “I guess I’ll go with you girls, then.”

“Great!” Sharon cheers, “You’re in too, right, Y/N?”

You smile, not really knowing what to say. Being in the same banquet hall as Ari and Sharon? At the same time? That was just trouble waiting to happen.

But is this how you were going to spend the rest of the college year? Letting your feelings towards Ari dictate where you went and didn’t go? You think about the old you, the one before Ari or Steve or anyone. The one who loved to dress up and go out to have fun. Before Wanda had got a boyfriend, the two of you used to go out all the time. Another girls’ night wouldn’t harm anyone, would it?

Sharon senses your hesitation, “Come on,” she urges, “It’s not like Steve’s even gonna be there. It’s strictly a St. Andrews’ event.”

You bite your lip. You doubted you’d ever see Steve again. Clearly, since he no longer texted you either. And a part of you is bittersweet as you think about what could have been. Absentmindedly, your eyes divert to your desk chair, where his blue and white varsity jacket still lies. You hadn’t even thought to throw it away. You bet it still smells like him…

Oh God, you had to get over him. Get over both of them and get the fuck out of this funk you were in. So what if Ari would be there too? This was your chance to prove to yourself that his presence didn’t make a difference in how you lived your life.

You take a deep breath, “Okay. I’ll go.”

***

 PART II

“Open up, sleepyhead. I’m not leaving and I’ll camp outside your door if you don’t open it.”

You’d woken up the next day to a loud knocking on your door. And you’d tried to ignore him. You really had. It was so much easier to just remain in bed, rotting and feeling sorry for yourself despite the promise you’d made yourself to get over the two men who’d betrayed your trust, and get out of the funk you were in. But the knocking was incessant, going from soft-knuckled raps to full on banging. You were sure he’d wake up your entire building, and then you’d have to pay a noise fine.

That’s why I’m opening the door, you think to yourself. Not because I actually want to see him.

And there’s Ari, standing outside your door with a picnic basket under his arm. And he looks kind of funny, his big athletic self holding such a dainty little thing. He also looks extremely pleased with himself, and you don’t even have the energy within you to argue with him or tell him to leave. You and him had gone non-contact ever since the confrontation inside the supply closet. Or rather, you’d gone non-contact whilst Ari tried to find ways to talk to you. He couldn’t corner you on campus anymore because you were usually with Sharon, and you’d changed your locks so he couldn’t exactly barge into your dorm room like how he used to.

“Go away, Ari.”

“Hey, nice to see you too. I come bearing food, because I know you haven’t eaten. And don’t ask me how I know, I just know.” Ari says breezily, and you frown at how chipper he’s acting. As if the last time you’d seen him you hadn’t stormed away and told him the two of you could never see each other again.

He follows you inside, and you quickly swipe Steve’s varsity jacket under your desk so he doesn’t see it. You don’t know why you still haven’t thrown it out but you really can’t be bothered to get into another fight with Ari over it.

Earlier in the day, Sharon had texted you asking if you’d wanted to hang out. You’d declined, finding the comfortability of your bed and the prospect of watching old reruns of trashy reality television much more interesting. What you hadn’t expected was Ari Levinson of all people showing up at your door, however. Although, you’re not too surprised. He was still texting you nonstop, wanting to show you how he’d “changed.”

Ari plops the picnic basket on top of your desk, and you sigh, sitting down on your desk chair while he grabs a stool. You already know how this is going to go. He’d tell you to open it, you’d say no, he’d say yes, you’d say no again. Then he’d open it and make you see the contents anyways. You decide to stop wasting either of your time and look inside the basket yourself.

“Cheese sandwiches?”

“Uh huh. And don’t knock it till you try one, sweetheart. My mom makes these for me.” Ari winks before flashing you a smile. And doesn’t contain even a hint of his usual cockiness or smugness – it’s just a regular little smile that makes his eyes light up all pretty too. And you’re not used to it at all, it looks almost displaced on his face. Was he being genuine? You can’t even tell anymore. But probably not.

You pick one up and eye it carefully, and your heart can’t help but throb at the thought of him standing in his kitchen making it for you. Big, bad basketball captain fuckboy Ari Levinson carefully cutting the sandwich into little triangles and packing it up for you in this little picnic basket. How had Ari even gotten hold of a picnic basket to begin with?

“So, it’s a family recipe?” You take a cautious bite.

“Yep. Passed down from generation to generation. Don’t ask me how you make it because it’s a Levinson family secret,” he grabs a sandwich of his own and wolfs it down in two bites, “I mean, you could always become a Levinson yourself and have my kid, then I’d tell you.”

Your cheeks heat up. Oh, a few weeks ago he didn’t even want a relationship with you and now he was joking about marriage and kids?! Would you ever understand him?

“It must be some recipe,” you remark, trying your best to keep your tone even and unamused. Instead of looking at him, you observe the sandwich. It tastes good – he’s used some type of expensive artisan bread and fancy cheese. A step above your average grilled cheese, and it tastes even better on an empty stomach since he was right, you hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

“It is. Have another one,” he thrusts another sandwich in your hand.

Your frown, “Ari, stop, I don’t want–”

“You haven’t eaten all day, (Y/N).” His tone drops, growing more serious.

“Well, stop acting like you care!” You shoot back.

But Ari looks unperturbed as he helps himself to a third sandwich (he was going through them remarkably fast), “I do care.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I fucking do,” he says, the slight sharpness in his voice taking you aback. “What other girl have I cooked for and lugged a fucking picnic basket halfway across campus for?”

You settle back begrudgingly, taking another bite out of the sandwich, “I’d hardly call this cooking.”

You know you sound mean and bitter, but it’s like you can’t help it. Like there’s a deep black hole filled with anger still swirling within you. Anger at both Ari and Steve and you don’t know how to sort through it or make it go away.

“Oh yeah? Well, you’ve never cooked for me so I’d say you’re hardly an expert on the subject.” Ari shoots back, grabbing another sandwich from the picnic basket as well as a can of soda. “You want a coke?”

“No.”

You start tearing your sandwich into tiny pieces just so you have something else to focus on and you don’t have to look at his face. Because you’re afraid this newfound earnesty of his, afraid it would reel you back in hook, line and sinker. Afraid he was just putting on an act to convince you he’d “changed.” That’s also why you’re being cold – you can’t let your walls down with him again. Not this time. Not when Sharon was literally your friend now.

“So, I was thinking we could catch a movie after we eat,” Ari continues talking all casually as if the majority of the conversation so far hasn’t been extremely one-sided. “Have you seen the new Godzilla vs Kong? Probably not, you’re not into stuff like that.” He pauses only to consume his sandwich in two huge bites, before grabbing another one. His voracious appetite almost makes you smile. Almost. The only other times you’d seen him look this starved was when he was going down on you…

No, stop! Don’t think about that!

“Sure, we could watch some girly movie instead, but you’d have to pick it because I have no idea about shit like that, obviously–”

“I told you; we can’t go anywhere that Sharon or someone might see us. Besides, the last thing I want to do is go out with you. In fact, you can show yourself out now because I’m gonna go back to bed–”

Ari slams his coke can down on your desk with a loud clunk. You jump, before narrowing your eyes at him. First, he practically broke into your room, then forced you to eat his dumb sandwiches. Now he was making obnoxious noises? Oh, you were just about done with him–

“That’s it.” he grunts, standing up to his full height. You gape up at him, suddenly nervous. You barely have the chance to yelp before he grabs your arm, yanking you up with him.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

He lifts you up off the ground with ease, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You start pounding on his back immediately, but you only hear him snort in return.

“Put me down right now, Ari! I’m not in the mood for this! Put me down!”

“I gave you a pass to be a little sassy, but you need to remember who’s in charge.” He starts walking across the room. And you may as well have been an insect on his back with how unbothered he was by you wiggling and trying to fight out of his grip. Oh god, what was he going to do?!

Panic bubbles up in your chest, your heartrate increasing tenfold in about five seconds flat. You struggle harder against him, before realising there’s no use. He was way too strong. You shut your eyes and brace yourself; any moment now he’d throw you on the bed and have his way with you just like he always did, just like how Steve had tried to do, and you’d be powerless to stop him because you couldn’t stop anyone, and they all just wanted one thing, and–

“Please don’t,” you whisper, on the verge of tears, “Please, I can’t have sex. I don’t want to have sex, please don’t make me. Please, please don’t make me.”

Ari freezes, and you wish you could see his expression but in your current predicament, dangling over his shoulder, you cannot. But then he starts walking again, and he goes straight past your bed. That’s when you notice the picnic basket in his other hand.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you.” He mutters.

Oh. But then what was he doing?

You get your answer less than a moment later, when he swings your door open and carries you outside. That’s when you start punching his back again.

“Ari, take me back inside! I’m serious, okay? Someone’s gonna see–”

“Then I suggest you stop making so much noise that’s gonna attract attention towards us.” He shoots back, giving you a reprimanding pat on your thigh. Not your ass, you note, but your thigh. Immediately, you shut up. But you fix a scowl on your face, vowing you’d keep it there permanently until he could see it.

A minute later, he dumps you unceremoniously into the passenger seat of his car. By the time you scramble into sitting position, he’s already in the driver’s seat. The doors, predictably, are locked.

“So, it wasn’t enough that you barged into my dorm room uninvited. You felt the need to kidnap me, too?” You snap, irritated yet at the same time slightly amused. But you can’t let him know that. No, you had to maintain your ice queen persona.

“Please,” Ari snorts, starting up the car. “You were talking about going back to bed. If anything, I’m doing you a favour. It’s a nice day, sweetheart, let the sun shine on your face for a few hours.”

You deepen your scowl, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not going outside.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m literally not, Ari. Because you didn’t even think to let me put my shoes on.” You wiggle your bare toes, suddenly feeling the strong urge to smile at the ridiculousness of your whole predicament. But you pout to cover it up, suppressing whatever amusement you’re feeling because you don’t want him to see.

“Don’t fucking pout, it makes me want to kiss you.” Ari murmurs, keeping his eyes on the road but you can see him licking his lips.

“Don’t.”

“Did I say I was going to? I said I want to. There’s a difference.”

Again, you want to smile. You quickly turn your head away, looking out the window instead, watching the trees and buildings roll by as he drives you out of campus. “Whatever, just stay away from me.”

“Don’t be a brat.” There’s a warning edge to his tone, one that you’ve come to know very well. But surprisingly, you don’t feel unsafe. For once, you feel like maybe he won’t just stop the car in the middle of nowhere and try to fuck you.

You’ve been in Ari’s car before, and you’re no stranger to how it always goes when you’re in here. Back in the early days of you two hooking up, he’d pick you up in the dead of the night. And you were so innocent, you’d think of these midnight drives as romantic, magical even. He’d have a cigarette in his mouth, his long hair either slicked back or flowing in the cool night air. A wild look in his eyes as he’d pull you inside and kiss you headily while still trying to focus on the road. And he’d have one hand on your thigh, squeezing it before pushing his fingers between your legs.

In his hazy, smoke-filled car, you’d always find yourself underneath him. Splayed out in his backseat while he licked his lips and loomed above you. His dark silhouette so handsome, and you remember thinking how he was such a bad boy, and you were such a good girl, and how hot it was. He’d tell you how much he loved the tight little skirts you always wore, and yet he’d always rip them in half and then laugh and kiss you when you pouted. Tell you how he’d been waiting all day to fuck you, how he just couldn’t wait now that he had you, that he’d been thinking about you and him, that he just had to have you now.

You remember feeling like such a little girl compared to him. Ari was a senior after all, and you only a freshman. Once, you’d tried to impress him by wearing red lipstick. That night, he’d pulled you over the console and made you suck his dick. Till your red lip prints were all over his fat cock, and he’d told you how you were such a good girl, and he loved how cute you were, and that he knew you were trying to impress him.

 All those nights in his car, and you remember each time you’d ask him if he’d broken up with Sharon, and each time he’d tell you that he was “working on it.” That he didn’t see a future with her, that you were so much more special. “I can’t stop thinking about you and I,” he’d say, blue eyes dreamy and you thought he sounded so earnest. And eagerly you’d say the same, excited that someone like him could ever be that interested in someone like you.

And then he’d push you into the backseat, or he’d stay in the driver’s seat and pull you into his lap. Or sometimes, if the place you were parked at was secluded enough, he would take you on the hood of his car. Fuck you in every way imaginable, use your body for his pleasure whilst also giving you the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt. And sometimes, the moonlight would reflect off his eyes and make him look like something so special, and you’d feel so special, and you’d feel like you were in a movie. You still remember it now.

You doubt Ari does, though. You doubt those nights were ever special to him.

“Where are we?” You ask fifteen minutes later when he pulls up somewhere. You peer out the window and see trees – a bunch of them. He’s parked in a clearing, only a single dirt road leading up to it and the rest of the area covered in a thick forest of trees. The sun sparkles through the leaves, and you can hear birds chirping louder than you ever do back in the city. “Are we in the woods?”

“Yep.” He’s out of the car in an instant, grabbing the picnic backet which he’d thrown haphazardly into the backseat before making his way to your door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“If you think I’m going to hike out into the woods barefoot–”

Ari scoffs, “Don’t worry your pedicured little feet off, princess,” he turns around, “Hop on.”

You eye him carefully, as if you’re assessing a threat. Going into the woods with Ari of all people may not be the best of gameplans for someone who was actively trying to avoid men in general. When Steve had forced himself on you, it had been in his room and luckily Kira had been nearby. The secluded woods, however, were a completely different story.

And yet, it’s like you know deep down that Ari won’t do anything. Not this time. Then again, you’ve been wrong about him before. Were you being naïve all over again?

Maybe you were, but you hop on to his back anyways. His muscular arms catch you easily as you wind your legs around his waist. Your arms lock around his neck and you nestle close to him instinctively. So close that you can smell his grape shampoo, and you admire how pretty his hair is, how it curls up slightly at the base of his neck like he’s a movie star or something.

You hate how you’re still so attracted to him.

He gives you a piggyback ride all the way into the woods, and it’s kind of neat being up so high. Ari was so tall, and with you on his back you felt like you were six foot six inches too. So this is what he sees, you think to yourself, finally indulging in the nature that surrounds the two of you. The way the oak trees soar up as high as skyscrapers, how the smaller trees sway with the breeze. The rustling of the leaves, and you think you hear a distant trickling of water, too.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” Ari breaks the comfortable silence, continuing to trek forward into the woods.

You’re about to heartily agree, before you remember the cold persona you’re meant to be adopting with him. So, in the dullest, most bored and nonchalant voice you can muster up, you say: “It’s whatever, I guess.”

He snorts.

You frown, “Are you laughing at me?”

“Nope.” He sounds amused.

“Yes, you are!”

“Well, it’s cute how you’re trying so hard to be something you’re clearly not.”

You’re thankful that he can’t see the way your jaw drops open, “And what exactly do you think I’m trying to be?”

He shrugs, inadvertently bouncing you up and down on his back.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I like this sassy side of you. Especially since I know you’re still the same naïve little baby on the inside.” He looks back at you, and you catch a glimpse of his glittering eyes, framed by those impossibly long eyelashes.

“I am not!”

Ari chuckles, “You can act as tough as you want, it amuses me how cute you look when you do it.”

You scowl, despite the fact that his constant flirting was starting to thaw you from the inside out, making your cheeks burn and your mind feel more muddled than ever. What was the truth and what was a manipulation? This was him just trying to win you over so he could fuck you, right?? Or maybe, maybe he genuinely liked you… Maybe–

You forcibly make yourself scowl again, “Fuck you.”

“Say that again and I’ll drop you,” He threatens.

“Don’t you dare!” You squeal, winding your arms tighter around his neck, almost choking him.

He snickers as if he’s cracked the funniest joke in the world, before continuing to walk. The two of you settle into another spell of comfortable silence. You take in all the bushes full of wild berries, the pretty flowers that are luckily in full bloom, scenting the air with a sweet fragrance that tickles your nostrils pleasantly. Another gentle breeze has you relaxing more against Ari, and you’re almost about to nuzzle your face against his strong shoulder before you catch yourself and freeze.

“I discovered this place last year,” Ari announces five minutes later, gently setting you down on a patch of vibrant grass. To your delight, only a few feet away from you is a stream! The water flows and sparkles in the afternoon sunlight, rushing over rocks and plants and making a pleasant trickling sound that has an oddly calming effect on you. And the grass feels nice against your toes, so much so that you don’t even mind your bare feet on the ground.

You don’t say anything, just watching as Ari settles down beside you with the picnic basket. You stretch your limbs out, secretly happy that he brought you out here, that you didn’t spend another day rotting in bed.

“I found this place last year,” Ari repeats, “A few of us were camping nearby and I hiked out further away to see if I could get cell reception. That’s when I found this place.” He leans back, lying down completely with his arms crossed behind his head, “It’s nice and private here, huh?”

A thought enters your head, jolting you down to the core, “Private? So, this where you brought Sharon? Or your other hookups?”

“No. You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here.”

The straightforwardness of his answer jars you, and you find you have no quip or jab to respond with. Instead, hesitantly, you lie down too. A few inches away from him, but he makes no move to grab you or pull you closer. A large part of you is relieved, but you want to strangle the tiny part of you that’s disappointed that he’s not touched you.

“It’s nice.” You say finally.

“Yeah, I come here sometimes. To admire the nature or whatever.”

That makes you pause, and you look at him incredulously. He’s lying there with his eyes closed, yet he’s got a completely straight face.

“You? Admiring nature?”

Ari scoffs, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, actually.” You can’t imagine Ari of all people, who only cared about basketball, partying and sex, to be one with nature. Unless it was weed. “What aspect fascinated you the most?”

There’s a long beat of silence.

“I don’t know, the plants and shit?”

You can’t help but burst out laughing. And it feels good, to just let go and laugh for a bit. To just forget about how shitty you feel and just laugh. Even if it’s just for a moment, to just forget about how awful Ari’s been to you in the past, how awful Steve turned out to be too, just forget it all and allow yourself to laugh. And you can’t even remember the last time you laughed.

“Haha, very funny,” Ari rolls his eyes, but you can see the slight smile playing on his lips before he clears his throat. “Alright fine, I couldn’t give a fuck about nature. But I do like this place, it’s good for when I need to think.” He hesitates, “When I was dating Sharon, I felt like I never had the space to really think, and so I’d come here.”

You cease your laughter immediately at the mention of her name. Now that you were friends with Sharon, it made it a lot harder to talk about her with Ari. Because now, she was actually a person to you rather than some distant illusion that you tried not to think about. And it wasn’t her fault that Ari felt he couldn’t think with her around. She wasn’t the villain here, Ari was.

You clear your throat, heart suddenly beating very fast. “C-Could I ask you a question? And please don’t lie, okay? Just be honest with me, Ari. For once.”

He nods, not saying anything else.

“Were there others?” You ask hushedly, your tone wavering slightly as you voice the thought you’ve never wanted to speak into existence, never even dared to wonder about. “Was I just one of many girls that you were cheating on her with?”

Ari sits up, rubbing his temple. You watch him carefully, watch how his eyes scrunch shut before opening. He blinks several times, his lips pressed into a thin line before they part and he exhales slowly. Then, he turns your way, looking you dead in the eye.

“No. There were other girls before you, but once I slept with you, it was only you from then on out.”

“Yeah, me and Sharon.” You say bitterly, although the guilt is eating you up inside. You feel guilty for even feeling hurt or bitter, because he was never yours to begin with. Sharon was the girlfriend – she had every right to feel hurt and bitter. You? You were just the other woman. All you should be feeling was guilt and shame. Especially since here you were, out alone with him again when you’d vowed yourself you wouldn’t do this.

You sit back up too, and he makes a move to grab your hand but you shuffle away quickly. You hug your knees, resting your chin against them as you huddle into yourself. You can feel his gaze penetrating holes into you, but you only focus on the steady flow of water in the stream.

“Even with Sharon, it didn’t feel right sleeping with her. Not after I’d been with you.”

 “Then why didn’t you break up with her?” Your voice breaks at the last second, and you turn away from him so he can’t see the lone tear that trails down one side of your face. Just a second ago you’d been laughing and now here you were, crying over the same question that had plagued your mind for months. The question that had been beaten to death, and yet you knew you’d never get a straight up, honest response.

Ari sighs, and you hear him moving closer to you. A second later, he takes hold of your chin, gently turning your face back to him.

“Hey, listen to me. I was an asshole, okay?” He sucks in a breath, closing his eye again for a handful of seconds. You want to look away but you can’t help but watch him, watch as he breathes, watch as he finally opens his mouth again. “Before you came along, I was this guy… This hotshot guy who could do whatever and everyone would just worship the ground I walked on. And, well, I guess I thrived on that. I liked how easily I could use women. I knew I had a girlfriend but I liked how I could get any girl to sleep with me–”

“I don’t want to hear this,” you mumble, pushing away from him.

“No, wait, I’m just trying to explain myself.” He runs a hand through his mane impatiently, “Look, I’ll admit it. All those times I strung you along, it was to feed my own ego. For a while, it felt like I was on top of the world, like I had two girls and neither of them knew any better, and–”

“Stop telling me this,” your voice hitches, more tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I was being a fucking asshole, that’s what I’m trying to say!” Ari grabs your hand as if to stop you from running away, a note of frustration in his tone. Or was it desperation? “I’ve never been good with voicing my feelings and all of that shit, but that’s what I’m trying to do right now. When I saw you with Steve, it’s like he was taking my girl, taking away everything I’ve always wanted. The night of the party, and then again at the game, when I saw you with him… It got me so fucking heated, and I’d never felt like that before. It felt like I was wasting my time in a relationship I clearly didn’t want to be in, and he was moving in on the girl I did want to be with.”

You look up at him, breathing heavily yet not daring to say a word.

“I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m sorry for using you. I’m sorry that it took you being with someone else for me to finally wake up and realise you’re the only one I’ve wanted this whole time.” His hand slips up to cup your cheek, and it’s like you’re frozen. You don’t know if you want to stop him or if you want to lean into his touch. You don’t know if this moment is even real. If this stream is real or if the woods are real or if Ari is real or if he really is saying everything you’ve ever wanted him to say.

“Why couldn’t you have said all this before?” You say shakily, afraid to look him in the eyes in case you see anything other than sincerity, in case you see even an inkling, even the tiniest spark of a hint that he was manipulating you.

“I was immature.” He continues to wipe your tears, before making you look up at him. “I was just so wrapped up in being the guy who could have any girl I wanted, but I promise you I’ve grown out of that now.”

“Really?” Your voice comes out so small, filled with hope mixed with a bit of hesitance.

Ari nods, “You said before that people don’t change overnight. But if you let me show you, I’ll prove to you that I have. And that I’m serious about us.”

Ice queen persona be damned. You feel more tears well up in your eyes. “Y-You are?”

“Yes. I wasn’t going to mention this but…” He runs a hand through his hair, brushing back a wayward lock that flops over his forehead, before taking hold of your hand, “There was an NBA scout at the last game. He said they want to sign me, that a lot of teams are eyeing me as a draft pick.”

Oh. The NBA. That put everything into perspective for you. He wasn’t like you, with three and a half years of college ahead of you. No, he was almost done… And then he’d be gone. You’re happy for him – the NBA was a huge deal after all. But you also feel a little sick, like time’s going by too quickly, like maybe you’re not ready to let go yet after all.

Your mind also briefly flits to Steve. Had he been approached by an NBA scout too? You think back to when you’d last seen him, outside your dorm room with the dark circles under his eyes, the withdrawn look on his face. He didn’t look like someone who’d just been scouted by the NBA. Oh God, were you feeling bad for him now?!

“Congratulations.” You say slowly, not really knowing how to feel. Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of Ari holding your hand, and now it’s like you don’t want him to let go.

“The reason I’m telling you this is because I have it all planned out. Our future.” Ari continues, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him look. “I know you’ll still be in school, but I really think we could make it work. And by the time you graduate, I’ll have made it. We could settle down together, and I’d make it all up to you. That’s how serious I am about us.”

You simply just stare at him in complete awe. Who was this man? It was like an alien from outer space had taken over Ari’s body. Because the Ari Levinson you knew was a manipulator and a cheater. A man who stayed away from commitment with a ten-foot pole, a man who had just now professed to you that he enjoyed two-timing his girlfriend because it made him feel like he was on top of the world.

And yet… And yet you’re only just a girl, and you can’t help but picture the story his words are painting for you. Just indulge yourself a little bit, just a tiny little bit… You know you’re teetering on thin ice, and you know how dangerous it is to allow yourself hope when it comes to Ari. Hadn’t he squandered your hope time and time again for all those months he never made you his girlfriend?

But you can’t help but imagine, can’t help but think maybe this time he means what he says…

“We could buy a house in the countryside?” You whisper.

Ari cracks a smile, “Sure. And you could pop out a few Levinson babies too, make cheese sandwiches for all of them.”

“I’d have to establish myself as a model or a fashion designer before that.” You say, feeling the corners of your lips twitch upwards as you dare yourself to dream.

He looks amused, “Fashion designer, yes. Model, no. Too many pervy photographers.”

“I’ll be a model if I want to be one!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No way.”

“Yes way!”

“Fine. I’ll be in the NBA and you can be a model. Maybe. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He chucks you under the chin playfully, like how he used to do all the time. And you giggle, feeling like you’re floating. Like the two of you are encased in a bubble and you’re floating and time’s standing still and just for this one moment you could pretend everything was alright and your future with him was as secure as he was making it out to be.

“And you’d never lie to me again?”

He nods, “I wouldn’t. Never again.” And then he takes a deep breath, “There’s this fundraising gala thing coming up, and I’m supposed to win an award. I’d love it if you could come with me as my date.” He says with a note of seriousness in his tone, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

But rather than let you answer, he instead cups your face with both hands, pressing his forehead against yours. Immediately, the smile on your face freezes, and now you can feel every pore, every muscle, every cell in your body screaming. Screaming for what? For him to kiss you? Oh God…

“Let me kiss you,” he breathes out of nowhere, sounding like he’s parched. “Please, baby. I know I’ve fucked up but I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

“Oh, Ari…”

“Please.”

You never thought you’d live to see the day where Ari Levinson was begging you for anything. It was such a stark contrast from how your relationship had begun, almost as if the tables had turned now. Were tables capable of turning that quickly? Or was this all part of an act? Oh, you’re sick of asking yourself that question! What’s real and true is that earnesty in his eyes, and you want to kiss him so bad too. So fucking bad.

He moves closer, and so do you. Inch by inch, almost like first-time lovers. His lips purse slightly, looking so warm and soft and inviting. Closer, so close that they brush against yours for a second, and you can hear him breathing and you know he can hear you too. You wonder if he can hear your heart too, hear how it beats louder for him than it does for anyone else.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmur, but your words are laced with doubt. Just one kiss, your mind cajoles you, just one kiss won’t hurt.

There’s a gentle breeze around the two of you, swirling softly. Rustling through his hair, feeling cool against your face. Encasing the two of you in a private whirlpool where it’s just you two, and the sound of the stream, and the beat of your hearts.

“I know, but I want to so bad,” Ari’s hands are cupping your face so tenderly, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he slowly angles your face upwards. “Please, let me kiss you. Just once.”

It’s like the breeze jostles you forward, as if the universe wants you to kiss him. Your willpower’s hanging on by just a thread, your mind swarming with memories of every time you and him had kissed in the past. How magical it had felt for you, how it felt like you could never find someone who’d kiss you like that again. Oh, fuck your willpower!

He surges forward one last time, but his lips have barely touched yours before you pull away, turning your head to the side. Breathing hard, the anticipation still burning through your body in waves. Heart beating like crazy, and yet you swallow and shake your head.

“Ari, we can’t,” you force yourself to say firmly.

Ari sits back, looking slightly dazed and yet running a hand through his hair in frustration. For a second, you wonder if he’ll be mad, call you a tease for leading him on. Call you a slut, tell you how the least you could do was kiss him in return for all he’d done for you today. But he just sighs thoughtfully.

“Not until I come clean to Sharon about everything,” You explain, “And I know about the gala, Sharon told me. I-I’m actually going with her and Wanda, like a girls’ night.”

He raises an eyebrow before nodding slowly, “Well, as long as I get to see you there when I go up on stage to accept the award.”

“Yeah, but we can’t talk or interact or anything. Sharon’s my friend now, and I owe her the truth before anything more can happen between us.”

Ari gazes at you carefully, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eye. “So, it’s just the Sharon issue then. You forgive me for everything else?”

You hesitate. Well, did you? Did you forgive him for leading you on? Lying to you multiple times? Manipulating you? Leaving you drunk and high and alone in a party bathroom? God, why did he have to remind you of the asshole he’d been all this time, up until very recently? It pops the bubble your mind has created right now, the one that you and him were encased in, in this little clearing in the woods.

“I don’t know if I forgive you.” You say honestly, hoping he doesn’t question you further.

To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he lies back down on the grass, stretching his long limbs out to make himself comfortable. You watch him as he lazily grabs another cheese sandwich from the picnic basket, wolfing it down before offering you one. Stifling a smile, you shake your head.

Ari shrugs, “Well fine, more for me.”

And it’s later, after the two of you sit there by the stream in comfortable silence for a little while longer. After he’s piggy-backed you back to his car, and after he’s driven you back home. It’s when he’s pulling up to your building, that he puts his hand on your knee to make you look at him.

“I know you said before that nobody changes overnight, but that doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying until you see that I have.” He says firmly, his hand feeling so warm on your leg, causing heatwaves to radiate up and down your whole being. “And I know you, baby. I know you like me too. I know you want this to work out between us too. And it will. Once you tell Sharon, and we’re free to be together, everything’s gonna work out. You’ll see.”

Oh, he was so cocky! And yet, it’s a different type of cockiness than what you’ve usually come to associate with him. It’s more of an honest sincerity, this confidence that one day you’ll be his. And oh, you want to believe him! You really do! You want to believe in a perfect world where Ari proves himself to be more than just a manipulative fuckboy, a world where Sharon understands and forgives you for everything.

A world where you forget all about Steve Rogers, and never find yourself thinking about him… Thinking about what could have been.

You say nothing, not until he’s carried you back into your dorm room. Not until he’s about to leave. That’s when you speak.

“Ari?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He looks surprised, as if he hadn’t really been expecting you to say anything at all after his whole speech. The truth was, you’d been silent for a while now, ever since the two of you had almost kissed in the woods. But there’s a newfound serenity inside you, a feeling that wasn’t there before.

“For what?” He asks, a shy little smile on his face. One you’ve never seen on him before.

For bringing me outside. For taking me to your special place. For not making a big deal out of it when I didn’t want to kiss you. For carrying me. For not losing your patience with me. For making me laugh. For making me smile again.

“For the cheese sandwiches.”

***

The night of the gala is cold for springtime, the blustering winds revving up and roaring to life. Looking outside your window, you can see the smaller trees swaying roughly against the unforgiving nature of what looks to be the beginnings of a windstorm. It gives you a peculiar foreboding feeling, listening to the ominous whistling of the winds, so loud as if they’re warning you. You back away from your window, and yet something inside you doesn’t close it and lock it as you know you should.

You float back over to your vanity table, feeling pretty in your new dress that you and Sharon had gone shopping for, just how she’d promised. You haven’t felt this pretty in a long time, and as you gaze at your reflection, you feel another pang of foreboding. Quickly, you busy yourself with powdering your nose and fixing your hair, wondering if maybe you should have agreed to get ready with Wanda and Sharon after all. You’d told them you wanted some alone time before the busyness of the gala. Some time to yourself where you could draw a bubble bath, and then shave and pluck and preen and pamper yourself till you felt somewhat ready for the big night out.

And it had made you feel better, your solo pamper session. Sure, your thoughts had spun into overdrive as they always did. Replaying all your recent interactions with Ari, with Steve, even with Sharon. The reflection made you chuckle at one point, because when had your life become so like a tumultuous soap opera? With secrets and lies and betrayal and deceit coming from all corners?

A loud gust of wind knocks you out of your reverie, and again you feel it. The feeling that something big is swirling up in the atmosphere, like the howling wind itself is trying to warn you that soon, it would all come to head.

“Fuck you! Try an’ scratch me again and see what happens!”

Your head snaps up at the sound of the familiar male voice. And it’s the proximity that makes your heart skip a beat. The voice sounded close, like it was coming from mere feet away from you. Fearfully, you look back at your window, only to see that same angelic face you know so well seemingly levitating outside.

“Steve?” You whisper, blinking several times. He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you wonder whether you’re imagining things. Slowly, you venture forward, back to your window which lies open. And that’s where you find him, standing on the ledge outside of your bedroom window which was two storeys high.

Steve whacks a wayward branch that looks to be tangled in his jacket. And his movements are oddly sluggish as he flips the bird at the tree adjacent to your building which the brand is attached to. “Damn stupid fuckin’ tree, tryna pick a fight with me,” he mutters before his eyes fall on you, and they brighten up instantly, “Hey, baby girl, fancy seeing you here!”

And then he bursts into a fit of giggles, while you just stare at him in awe, your mind still not having come to terms with the fact that Steve had somehow climbed all the way up to your window. In the dark. With the wind blustering insanely around him. Warily, you peek downwards, heart jumping all the way up to your throat when you see how he’s just casually balancing on the extremely thin ledge, the street below looking very minuscule with how high up your floor was.

“How did you get up here?” You breathe, still half in shock that he’s here that you forget how explosively your last encounter with him had gone down.

“Who, me?”

“Yes, of course you. Who else!?”

He shrugs, “Scaled that tree over there, then it decided to scratch me so I fought it off an’ jumped onto the ledge. Now here I am!” He ends his explanation with a flourish that causes him to stumble backwards. It almost happens in slow motion; you don’t even have a chance to react to what you’re seeing. But he catches his balance again just in time, grinning up at you mischievously.

“Whoops!” He laughs heartily, a type of laugh you’ve never really heard from him before. He shuffles along the ledge till he finds a spot he’s more comfortable with, leaning in through your window and shooting you a smile, “almost fell to my death there, didn’t I?”

“Steve, you need to get back down. You’ll hurt yourself.” You bite your lip, wondering whether you should let him in through your window just so he’d be safe. But the thought of being alone with him within the four walls of a bedroom again gives you the creeps, and so you refrain.

“Maybe I want to hurt myself,” he answers, staring at you almost quizzically. His lips are full, his cheeks flushed. His hair looks longer and even more unkempt than last time, that stubble still on his face, his eyes dark and unfocused. It was weird, because you’d always known Steve to be meticulously well-groomed and almost preppy with his clean-cut good looks. He was still handsome as ever now, but he looks darker, almost tortured, with dark bags under his eyes and even his cheeks looked kind of hollow.

“I’m serious, climb back down.”

“I just wanted to see you again,” he breathes softly, and his entire expression morphs to tender as he reaches out to touch your face. “And I knew you wouldn’t let me in the normal way.”

You can’t help but flinch away, and he sighs, bringing his hand back down to grip at your windowsill, “You’re so pretty.”

That’s when you smell it. Vodka. Suddenly, his erratic behaviour makes a lot more sense. His pupils are dark and blown out, and he’s swaying dangerously on the spot.

“You’re drunk, Steve.”

“Nah,” he bats his hand dismissively, but with such force that he stumbles forward. And again, your heart lurches in your throat, thinking he’s going to fall. But lithely, he grabs on to something or the other, regains his balance, and flashes you another smile, “okay, maybe a little bit. But being drunk helps.”

You frown, not knowing whether to feel scared or concerned, “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, “Helps to forget all the shitty stuff.”

A wave of anger passes through you, “Shitty stuff? You mean like all the awful things you said to me when you tried to force yourself on me?” Hell, maybe you should be the one drinking if it meant you could forget how he’d called you an easy slut.

Steve bows his head, still swaying slightly, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Stop it, Steve. I’m serious.”

He sighs again, “So am I. I hate how I lose control like that. It’s like I zone out, and something takes over me and I’m there on fucking standby. Watching this one version of myself lash out and say all these shitty things an’ I can’t do anything to stop it.  And when I zone back in, it’s too late an’ I can’t take anything back.”

He explains with surprising eloquence, despite being so drunk.  And God, why did he have to look all rugged and heartbroken right now? Dismissing him would be so much easier if he was ugly.

There’s an emotion swelling up inside you as you look at him now, but you try to suppress it. Instead, remembering your ice queen persona, you cross your arms over your chest and force yourself to narrow your eyes. “Is that your explanation? That you zoned out? Because honestly, the lack of accountability–”

“I don’t think you’re a slut,” Steve interrupts you, “you’re sweet, and beautiful, and innocent. That’s what I thought the night I first saw you. And sure, I guess I used you because I was trying to get back at him–”

You flinch. There it was again. The reminder that Steve had indeed used you. And you’d fallen for it… Hook, line and sinker.

“–but at least I’m honest enough to admit it. Doesn’t that count for something?”

He finishes, blinking up at you with large eyes framed with those impossibly thick lashes, as if waiting for you to respond. When you don’t, he sighs, swaying again as another strong gust of wind attacks from the outside.

“I like you a lot, okay? I know I haven’t known you as long as he has, but it doesn’t matter. I think what we have is special.”  He swallows, his eyes squinting as he searches across the plains of your face, either trying to gauge your thoughts or trying to come up with the right words to say next. “And I know I fucked it up because that’s what I always do. So fuck it, I don’t care anymore.”

He shoves his hand inside his jacket, conjuring up a glass bottle of Gray Goose vodka out of what seems to be thin air. Your jaw drops open as you watch him take a hearty swig from it – and it was already half empty!

“Okay, that was a lie. I do still care.” He wipes his mouth roughly, stumbling about and still very much on the window ledge. “There’s just so much going on inside my head,” he says, and he demonstrates by smacking the side of his head with his open palm, “School, basketball, taking care of Kira – all of it just keeps building up. And I try my best, okay?” He loses his footing and sways some more, “but it’s never enough, and all my thoughts get louder and louder, like voices fucking screaming inside my head, and then I just explode. And I get so fucking angry, and it’s always directed towards the wrong people – whoops!”

He slips. You cry out in terror and impulsively grab hold of his arm. But he regains his balance and barks out a laugh, as if he’s tripped whilst taking a simple stroll in the park and not currently balancing on top of a very high and very dangerous ledge.

“It wouldn’t matter if I fell, you know?” He muses, taking another long swig of the vodka. And he doesn’t even flinch as the bitter liquid goes down his throat, as if the taste no longer has any effect on him. “I mean, my life’s a fucking mess already. Basketball’s completely fucked, anyways…”

“What do you mean?” You ask, your heart pitter-pattering in fear. His overtly reckless behaviour is scaring you, and you realise you’re holding your breath as you watch him callously standing there.

Steve shrugs, “Got kicked off the team today.”

Oh. You feel a surge of pity. And you know you shouldn’t. Not after how he treated you. And yet you can’t help it. Tonight, Ari was going to win an award for being the best basketball player of the season, and in the summer, he was going to the NBA. You can’t help but feel for Steve’s starkly different fortune.

He takes another gulp of vodka, “Coach said I couldn’t control my emotions and I’d keep costing the team if I continued playing.” He gazes off into the distance, and you try to gauge his expression but it’s quite unreadable. He laughs bitterly and smiles again, but it looks more like a grimace, “Fuck him. He’s right, but fuck him anyways.”

“Steve, this is dangerous. You could fall–”

“Fuck basketball,” he continues swaying around like he hasn’t even heard you, “it’s not like I was ever gonna make it to the NBA, anger issues or not. No, I have to become a surgeon. Like my parents.” His words slur and ring with sarcasm, and he barks out another laugh, “If I don’t fuck that up too…”

“I’m sorry that happened, but–”

He scoffs, “Can’t even fucking imagine being a doctor. My patients would probably be scared of me, just like how you are.”

“Please, just get down–”

“And Kira…” His expression morphs from bitter to sad in less than a second, and he clutches your hand suddenly. The one that you hadn’t realised was still holding on to his arm. And you don’t pull away, almost like you don’t want to. Either that, or you want to keep hold of him so he doesn’t fall.

Steve coughs, “God, I wish I took care of her better. I feel so fucking guilty, living on campus while she lives by herself in our house. Our parents are never home, they don’t even know what she went through… How she doesn’t even speak to anyone but me, how she doesn’t go out anymore...”

Another long swig. It’s a wonder the bottle isn’t empty yet. You want to interject, beg him once more to climb back down to safety, or at least hand you the vodka so he doesn’t drink anymore. But he’s not done speaking, and cuts you off when you try to get a word in edgewise.

“My parents, the award-winning heart surgeons!” He raises the vodka bottle up in the air in a mock toast, “They’re here, there, everywhere around the fucking world!” Another swig, more swaying. “Everywhere except for at fucking home. So then I have to handle everything, don’t I?”

“Steve–”

“They don’t even know how bad she’s gotten, how their own daughter’s shut herself off from everyone.” Steve shakes his head in both resignation and frustration, “and I try so fucking hard, okay? Try to help her with her anxiety, help her make new friends. God, all I do is worry about her. And school. And basketball. While they jet across the world doing their fancy surgeries and not giving a damn about her or me. Fuck them!”

Whoa. Wow. Okay. Now, you look at Steve with new eyes – you had no idea there was so much going on in his life, in his head. It still didn’t excuse the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d forced himself on you – and yet… Yet you can’t help but feel another pang of sorrow and pity for him.

His eyes are dark and stormy as he looks out into the early evening sky, before looking back to you. His gaze falls down to your hand holding on to his arm, and he smiles softly.

“You were the only thing in my life that was good.”

You shake your head, your barriers going back up, and you try to pull your hand away, “No. Stop lying, Steve, just don’t even try it, don’t even–”

“No, it’s true!” He insists, holding on tightly to your hand as if he’s on a sinking ship and you’re his only lifeline. “That one week before I fucked it all up, that one week when we were just texting. I’d be on my phone, smiling like a fucking fool. You can ask Kira! She knew about you because I couldn’t stop talking to her about you.”

You bite your lip, and despite everything, you find yourself wanting to believe him so bad. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind has Steve clutching your hand even harder as he teeters on the ledge, bringing his face closer to yours, his eyes hooded and lashes fanning over those impossibly sharp cheekbones.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says.

“Don’t, Steve…”

He sighs, breaking eye contact as he plays with the glass bottle in his hand. But his other hand seems to move off its own accord, his pointer finger trailing up your bare arm. And it’s so intimate, that simple touch, leaving a trail of fire and goosebumps in its wake. Your skin feels like it’s buzzing, burning almost, as he traces his finger up your shoulder blade, as if he’s testing to see how much you’d let him touch you.

“I miss you.”

You feel your resolve crumbling…

“No, you don’t. All we did was text for one week. We never even went on a date, so you can’t possibly miss what you never had.”

“And yet I still miss you.”

He leans in, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips look so pink, so warm, so hesitantly inviting. Slightly pursed, as if he doesn’t know if it’s going to happen but he’s going to try anyways. Another sharp gust of wind blows past, almost pushing him into you as if even the universe itself is cajoling you to just give in to him. You can smell the alcohol on his pores, and yet you can also feel his warmth, his musky cologne, the way his breath hitches as if he can’t believe this kiss is actually happening…

Except you turn your head at the last second, and he sighs.

“Should’ve seen that coming,” he says to the evening sky, “lost my place on the team, lost my girl, I wonder what I’ll lose next? You wanna take any guesses? Hey, maybe I’ll lose my balance! That would be funny, wouldn’t it?”

You watch as he looks down, all the way down to the ground with a peculiar gleam in his eye. The type of gleam that reflects that he’s a man with nothing to lose. And it’s a long way down. What the hell was he thinking?!

“He really fucked her up,” Steve murmurs softly to himself, a whisper that almost gets lost in the great gusts of wind that swirl around the two of you. “And I tried to do something about it, tried to get back at him, but I fucked it up. I always fuck up. Maybe it’s best if I just–”

“Steve, stop it! Stop being so reckless!”

You tug hard at his arm, and at the same time a heavy wind blows. Steve stumbles again, but mercifully, he falls forward instead of back. Through your window and right on top of you. You both land on the floor with a thud, and despite how drunk he is, he manages to bring his hands out in front of him, preventing you from getting crushed by his huge frame.

“Whoops. Sorry, baby.”

He flashes you a cocky smile, as if he hadn’t just been teetering on your window ledge in the middle of a sad, drunken rant. The bottle of vodka is still snugly clutched between his fingers, somehow having also survived the fall onto your hard bedroom floor.

You open your mouth to tell him to get off of you, but the words die inside your throat. Instead, you look up at him, at his face so close to yours. So close that his nose is an inch away from brushing against your own. And his eyes, navy and blown out and yet still so pretty, blink down at you imploringly. The last time, when you’d been in his bedroom, they’d looked so stormy and far away. And here, now, he was drunk and yet he looked present. And you realise that you don’t feel unsafe at all.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” Steve says, slurring and stumbling over his words.

“Don’t.” You warn him, although you notice your own lack of conviction. In that moment, had he actually done it you don’t think you’d have objected too much. But you don’t want to give in to him, not after how scary he’d been last time. Despite everything, you still haven’t forgotten.

He nods slowly, “I know, fuck, I know…”

Shakily, he gets off of you, swaying slightly as he gets on his feet, and then he yanks you up too. Before you can stop him, he takes another swig of vodka before his eyes once again settle on you.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, biting his lip as his dark eyes drink you in. In your form-fitting emerald dress that wraps around your body like a second skin of smooth satin. The ruching which accentuates your curves even more, the delicate lace detailing, the smooth dip of your cleavage. The gleam of your bare legs that peak through the slit of the dress. The demure heels that makes them look longer than ever. And yet you can’t help but shift shyly under his intense gaze.

“You’re all dressed up,” Steve says softly, reaching out to touch you before thinking better of it, curling his outstretched hand into a fist and pushing it down to his side, “You look… incredible.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“You going somewhere?”

“Uh… yes.”

He nods before his brow furrows, “Is he taking you out?”

“What–?”

“Levinson. Is he taking you out? Are you two together now?” His tone hardens, and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. Oh, please let him not get all angry again like how he did last time!

“No.” You say firmly, “There’s this gala, this fundraiser thing at the Hilton Hotel. That’s where I’m going. Me and Sharon and Wanda.”

“No Levinson?”

You shake your head, “N-No, Steve.” It was only white lie, because you weren’t going with Ari and you probably wouldn’t speak to him tonight. It was a girl’s night out, if anything. Plus, you’re scared that Steve might flip out if he knew that Ari would be there too.

“You promise?” He looks at you meaningfully, and he’s got that same intense look again. The look you’ve grown to associate with him, that eery, almost glassy stare. “Promise me, Y/N. Promise me that you aren’t going out with Ari.”

You don’t owe him anything, certainly not any promises. And yet, yet you can’t help but nod, “I promise, Steve. In fact, Sharon and Wanda are on their way to pick me up.”

Steve nods approvingly, looking somewhere beyond you. His eyes look sad once again, and he takes another long, lingering sip of vodka. “Good girl. You stay away from him, okay? All he does is hurt people.” He shakes his head, his mouth pulling downwards in a grimace, “He hurt her so bad.”

You frown, “Hurt who? Sharon?”

The blond doesn’t answer, but he continues talking to himself. “What did she ever do to him? He didn’t give a damn about her, and now look at her…”

You feel an uneasy wave of guilt, “You mean Sharon, don’t you? I know…”

Steve frowns, opening his mouth to answer you before he grows distracted by something beyond your shoulder. A slow smile spreads across his face, and he stumbles over to your desk in the corner of the room.

“My jacket!” He grabs the blue and white varsity jacket he’d given you the night of the party, “You still have it. You kept it.”

“You can take it back!” You say quickly, a bit too quickly judging by how his face falls. Quickly, he drops the jacket as if it’s made of hot coals, a bitter look enveloping his features.

“You should throw it away. Or burn it.” He says simply, throwing his head back and taking a hearty sip of his vodka, “thought you would’ve looked cute wearing it to one of my games but I since I won’t be playing anymore, there’s no point anymore, is there?”

What follows is an uncomfortable silence. And oh, why was he making you feel bad for him now?! After everything he’d said and done? But then he’d apologised too… Were you being too hard on him? Now you feel more confused than ever!

You sigh, “Steve… Look, I just don’t know how to act around you. One second, you’re so intense, and you’re calling me a slut, and you’re being all scary. And then the next it’s like your entire personality changes. And I just… I don’t know what to believe, okay?”

“Why can’t you just believe that I’m sorry for what happened? I’m sorry for all of it.”

You shift uncomfortably, looking down at your heel-clad feet. You wrack your brain, trying to choose your next words carefully, “I… do believe that you’re sorry.”

He stands there expectantly, as if waiting for you to say something more, to say that you forgive him, perhaps? But you don’t think you do. Do you? A few more empty seconds pass before he clears his throat.

“They put me on some kind of medication. Added it to the ones I already take.” He volunteers, breaking the silence. He avoids your gaze now, instead focusing on his bottle of vodka, tossing it from one hand to the other and tapping at the glass. “For my anger and mood swings, or whatever.”

You nod, “That’s good, right? You saw a doctor?”

He snorts, “No. My parents just heard about me flipping out and contacted the family physician Got him to prescribe me all these different pills. But this,” he raises the vodka up in the air and waves it around, “This helps more than any medication ever could. It stops all the screaming in my head. And luckily, Mom and Dad left the house full of booze, so I’m all good to go.”

You nod slowly, furrowing your brow, “Steve, maybe you shouldn’t be drinking while you’re on medication–”

Your phone vibrates loudly from its place on your bed, the sound shaking you from the inside out. Even Steve blinks several times, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding as you make your way over to your phone. It’s like the bubble of intensity the two of you have been encased in has popped, and now you’re back in the real world. It was crazy, because being inside the bubble felt intoxicating, like everything was moving in slow motion, like you were in some sort of fairytale and the troubled prince had just climbed in through your window.

Your screen glows with a new text.

Sharon: We’re on our way! Wanda’s already so drunk lol we’ll be there in ten minutes!

Oh no. You’d rather your friends didn’t run into a drunken Steve Rogers when they came to pick you up. Especially not when you were supposed to have sworn off men anyways.

“Steve, you–”

“–I need to go,” he completes sombrely, picking at a piece of loose thread on the sleeve of his expensive-looking sweater, “I know, I know.” His eyes narrow, “That wasn’t Ari, was it? Who texted you just now?”

“No.” 

He relaxes, “Good. Okay, I guess I’ll leave then.”

You chew your bottom lip anxiously, “H-How will you get back? You didn’t drive here yourself, did you?”

He waves your question off as if it isn’t important, backing away towards your door, “You don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”

“Steve Rogers, don’t you dare drive back home in the state you’re in!”

He just stares at you, that same bittersweet look on his face. Finally, he nods, “I’ll be fine. I came here with Bucky.”

You nod, “Okay, then. As long as you don’t drive…”

Steve shoots you a sad smile, one that doesn’t really reach his eyes. His eyes that are still glued on just you, only you. He crosses his hand over his chest, “I promise I won’t. Scout’s honour… Although I was never a scout, so who knows if you can take my word. Ha ha.”

He finally makes it to your door, almost as if he’d been walking in slow motion, wading through quicksand. Why? Because he didn’t want to leave? And you feel a lump in your throat, one that won’t go no matter how many times you swallow. There’s an odd yearning inside you, like an itch on your hand. No, an itch in your heart. Your fingers twitch as if wanting to reach out to touch him. Did you not want him to leave, either?

You press your lips together, rooting yourself in place as you watch him go. At the last second, he turns back around again.

“I am sorry, okay? Sorry about everything.”

Once more, all you do is nod. The expectancy in his eyes fades away and he sighs, his hand resting on the doorknob as he goes to shut the door. 

A second passes. But it feels like the longest second you’ve ever lived. Like your heart seems to beat about a thousand times in that one second, like a drum reaching crescendo. Feeling like you’ve reached that part in the movie, that page in the book where the climax happens and then everyone can breathe again. Outside, the winds seem to be charging up again, readying themselves for an almighty, blustering blow. And you can feel the booming whistle of the winds ringing all around you, when you suddenly drop your phone on your bed and rush over to the door before you can think better of it.

“Steve, wait!”

You press your lips to his in a searing kiss, catching him completely off-guard. He stumbles back slightly, either by how strongly you’ve jumped on him or because of his own inebriation. Either way, he recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you against him as he reciprocates your kiss.

And you don’t know why you’re kissing him, but it’s like your body’s gone past the point of rationale. Like your lips and your limbs have a mind of their own and your brain is no longer part of the conversation. And Steve’s lips feel so soft, and this time you feel like it’s you in control. He’s too drunk to take charge, you suspect, as his lips move languidly against yours.

Your hands cup his face, his bristly skin pricking the pads of your fingers, and yet it doesn’t bother you. Not when he’s kissing so softly, so cautiously like he’s afraid he could hurt you again. It’s you who presses your tongue against his, stroking it, biting and nipping at his lips. He smirks at your overexcitement, finally injecting more passion into the kiss by tipping your head back slightly and pressing his lips harder against yours.

He tastes like vodka, but you don’t mind. He also tastes kind of sweet, kind of irresistible. And oh, you know this makes no sense! And you know you shouldn’t be kissing him! What about Ari? What about your own dignity? What about swearing off all men? What about–?

You pull away as abruptly as you’d kissed him, and both of you stand there breathless for a handful of seconds. Your lips still tingle pleasantly, and before he can say anything, you gently pry the bottle of vodka from his hand.

“I’ll keep this, okay?” You say softly, holding it behind your back. There’s still quite a bit left in it, and Steve looks like he’s one sip away from disaster. Or at least a very bad headache tomorrow morning. You pray it’s only the latter.

But he’s got a sparkle in his eye now, and he doesn’t spare the vodka a second glance, “It all went away for a second.”

“What went away?”

“All the fucking screaming in my head. All that pressure I was telling you about. Kissing you made it all go away. Your lips are magic, baby girl. Better than the vodka.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say, but you feel a lurching pull in your heart nonetheless.

“Yeah, like I’m numb to it all now. Comfortably numb. And it’s such a fucking relief.” He closes his eyes for a second, as if he’s savouring the feeling. You’re so intently looking at him that you don’t even notice when he grabs your hand, and his eyes flutter open, “So you forgive me?”

You hesitate, “Steve, I…I don’t know.”

His serene smile freezes on his face, and he drops your hand like it’s a hot poker. You feel it again in your heart, that lurching fee ling that you can’t place. You watch as his face falls, almost in slow motion. And it feels like you’re sitting front row in the cinema, watching his expression turn sad, his eyes clouding over once more like he was depending everything on your forgiveness.

“Okay. Goodbye.”

He stumbles out of your room, out into the stairwell where he trips before grabbing on to the banister.

“Steve, please be careful,” you say again, your tone laced with worry.

He glances back at you, that ever-charming smile back on his face. Back from when you’d seen it that first night when you’d met him. Almost like he’s put on a mask. He gives you a sluggish thumbs-up, “I’ll be fine. I’m comfortably numb, remember? I just hope it lasts…”

What the hell did that mean? Should you go after him? You hear your phone vibrate loudly, and you glance back at your bed to see it glowing with several new texts. But then you look back at the stairwell to find it empty. He was gone. Gone like a gust of wind. Gone like he was never there.

But he was. You can still feel him on your lips.

As if in a dream, you float back into your room and pick up your phone. Two new texts.

Sharon: We’re five minutes away! Traffic’s crazy lol.

Ari: Hey. I just want to say that I’m happy you’re coming tonight. Even if we don’t get to speak, just know you’ll be on my mind all night. Fuck. That was cheesy. Anyways. See you there :).

You sink down on your bed, already feeling exhausted and mentally drained. Despite the fact that the night was nowhere near over yet. In fact, it hadn’t even begun.

***

“Where’s Curtis?” Wanda wonders aloud, scanning the sprawling banquet hall and immediately grabbing a flute of champagne from an elegantly dressed waiter holding a tray full of them.

The banquet hall where the gala is being held at the Hilton is reasonably full, and you recognise a bunch of familiar faces from campus – both students and professors. Everyone’s dressed smartly – the men in tuxedos and the women in evening gowns and dresses. Sharon and the decorating committee have done a great job; each table swathed in ivory cloth, with red rose centrepieces and golden gilded chairs. Matching golden lights against an otherwise dark room gives an almost ethereal ambiance.

“He’s probably over on table 2 with the rest of the basketball team,” Sharon nods to a table at the front of the room near the stage. “I did the seating arrangements and the place-cards.”

Predictably, table 2 is the rowdiest table in the entire banquet hall. Clearly, the basketball team didn’t give two fucks about what was considered proper black-tie etiquette. You can see Ransom Drysdale and Andy Barber having some kind of a drinking competition, chugging down wine glass after wine glass as if they were cans of beer. Lloyd is acting like their referee, half on top of the table as he tries eggs them on. Colin is laughing his head off as he looks to be live-streaming this whole performance on his phone. And then there’s Ari.

And oh, he looks so breathtaking! Your heart physically skips a beat when you see him. His brown hair slicked back sexily, but the ends curling around his stiff white collar. His tuxedo looks well-tailored and expensive – Armani probably – and a white bow tie that makes him look more handsome than ever. He’s sat in the middle of his table, looking very much like the leader of his group. A smirk on his face as he watches his teammates horse around, but then his eyes meet yours, and the cocky smirk turns into the most adorably lovesick smile that does not look like it belongs on his face – only because you’ve never really seen him smile like that ever before.

“Oh gosh, there’s Ari,” Sharon says, coming up closer to your side and making you snap your eyes away from her ex-boyfriend immediately. The blonde takes a few deeps breaths to calm herself, “And he’s looking straight at me! Well, who cares? I’m not gonna let him affect my night. In fact, I’m gonna go over to him to prove how unbothered I am–”

Before you know what’s happening, she starts making a beeline straight over to table 2 – with you in tow! Wanda follows, her eyes still searching the room for Curtis as she downs her champagne quickly.

“Hello, Ari,” Sharon says stiffly, hanging on to your arm for dear life. You hope you don’t look as mortified as you feel, watching as Ari looks up at the two of you, his charming little smile still on his face.

“Hi.” He answers her, giving her a quick nod before his eyes shift to you, and you see them sparkle as he looks you up and down, taking in your emerald dress, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards again in another sweet little smile. Oh God, damn him for being so obvious!

“Well, I just came here to congratulate you on your award,” Sharon says, a determinedly happy-yet-nonchalant look plastered on her face. “So, well, congratulations.”

Ari nods again, physically tearing his eyes away from you, “Thanks.”

“Where’s Curtis, you guys?” Wanda interrupts the awkward exchange, looking expectantly at the basketball team. You watch as she grabs another champagne from another cocktail waiter who happens to pass by, downing it as quickly as she had the first.

Ransom snickers, “He’s somewhere around here, sweetheart. But I wouldn’t bother him if I was you, he’s kinda busy.”

Wanda doesn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before she’s off, weaving across the banquet hall at lightning speed. You watch her, mildly concerned as she grabs yet another glass of champagne, her previous one still in her other hand. She’d been antsy the whole ride over, because apparently Curtis wasn’t texting her back, and hadn’t since last night.

“She’s already a mess,” Sharon murmurs to you under her breath before smiling brightly at Ari, “Well, see you around, Ari.”

He nods at her for the third time, before his eyes rest on you once more. There’s a hint of yearning within them, and his lips twitch as if he wants to say something. Oh, when did it get so easy to read his expressions? Did you know him that well now? He gives you a soft, private smile – one you know is meant just for you. One that seems to convey a thousand words in just a single twitch of a muscle. You almost return it, before remembering who you’re with.

“Thank God, he didn’t bring her,” Sharon mutters to you as the two of you walk away from jock table.

“Huh?”

“The little skank he cheated on me with. I would’ve died if he brought her along as his date.”

You gulp, eyeing one of the champagne flutes yourself. After tonight, you absolutely had to come clean to Sharon. There was no other choice, you’d kept this secret long enough. And if it meant she’d no longer be your friend, then so be it. You deserved that. But no more excuses, you had to tell her tonight after this event was over.

And the event itself is fine. You hang out with Sharon while she makes small talk with a bunch of different people. You don’t talk much, simply staying quiet and observing. People’s outfits, their makeup, their shoes, everything. It’s nice to be out and about again, after spending what felt like an eternity rotting in your dorm room and feeling sorry for yourself. You even find yourself catching Ari’s eye every now and again, and each and every time he’d give you his sweet little private smile that made you want to die. You’d look away, of course, or busy yourself with talking to Sharon or someone else, just so you wouldn’t smile back. Even though you wanted to. You really, really wanted to.

You do get a handful of texts from him though.

Ari: You look beautiful.

Ari: I can’t take my eyes off you.

Ari: Seriously, I don’t think you realise how beautiful you look right now.

You don’t reply, but you know he can see you looking down at your phone and smiling like crazy.

About a half hour into the gala, the hosts beckon everyone to sit at their assigned tables because the award ceremony is about to begin. That’s when you notice that Wanda’s been missing for a while now. You scan the room while a retired basketball coach hobbles his way onto the stage, beginning a very long-winded speech on how he’d single-handedly led the St. Andrews’ team to victory back in 1993. Where the hell was Wanda? You realise you’ve been so wrapped up in the event and playing secret smiling games with Ari from across the room to notice that you hadn’t seen her since the three of you had arrived here.

Luckily, you spot her stumbling towards the bathrooms that are in a corridor off the main banquet hall. Stumbling being the key word, and you quietly curse yourself for allowing her to drink so much. God, Ari was just so distracting! Even when you weren’t even speaking to him, just his presence alone was making you forget about everyone else!

You tell Sharon you’re going to get Wanda before quietly sneaking away, hoping to discreetly bring her back before she wanders off somewhere else. You just hope

“Wanda, hey! Wait up!” You catch up to her, “Let’s go back to the banquet hall.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Leave me alone, Y/N. I’m looking for my boyfriend.”

Oh. She still hadn’t found him yet?

“C’mon, our table’s this way,” you try again, grabbing her hand, about to lead her away. Then you notice her eyes light up as she looks beyond your shoulder.

“Baby, there you are!” Wanda slurs brightly, snatching her hand out of your grip and making a beeline down the hall. You whip around to see Curtis closing the bathroom door behind him, his other hand wiping his mouth. His tie loose around his neck and top collar button undone. And you also see a tiny brunette in a silver dress slip out of the bathroom behind him, the dim lights of the hallway swallowing her up as she slinks away into the darkness, Wanda not even noticing her.

“Wanda.” Curtis blinks, looking entirely unperturbed. “You’re here.”

She hits him playfully on the shoulder, “Of course, I’m here. I came with the girls, remember? And I wanted to support you!”

He scratches the back of his head, “Yeah. Cool. Look, I’m gonna go back to the boys–”

“Great, let’s go!” Wanda links her arm with his, making his jaw tense and eyebrow raise. And you watch this whole ordeal with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Babe, remember how I told you this event was a no date kind of thing?” Curtis carefully peels himself away from her, making her pout. You cringe when she doesn’t get the message, grabbing his bicep again, her manicured nails like talons holding on with all her might.

“But I missed you, baby,” Wanda smiles up at him drunkenly. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”

Curtis visibly cringes, “Come on, babe, don’t be like this.” Again, he dislodges his arm from her grip, pushing her off of him not-so-gently. “I’m here with the team tonight, but I promise I’ll come by your room later. Maybe. Like way after midnight probably.”

You can’t hide your disgust, openly frowning and shaking your head at him. God, why did all men suck so much?

“Come on, Wanda,” You grab her hand once more, “You don’t need him to enjoy your night. Let’s go.”

“Um, fuck off, Y/N, I’m talking to my boyfriend right now.” Wanda pushes you off her before sidling up to Curtis again.

You gape at her, feeling a pang of hurt. She’s just drunk, she didn’t mean to say that…

Curtis sighs, rolling his eyes, “Listen to your friend, Wanda. I gotta go.”

“I’ll come with you!”

For a third time, she grabs on to his arm tightly. That’s when Curtis huffs, clearly annoyed.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is going on between us, but stop acting like we’re in some serious relationship or whatever.” He says, a frown bordering on disgust on his face as he shakes her hand off of him.

Wanda gapes, and even your mouth drops open. How dare he? How fucking rude!

“Baby, you don’t mean that–”

“I mean sure, we have fun together but please don’t get the wrong idea, Wanda. You can’t just chase me down at these public events like you own me or something. That’s not how this works. In fact, all it does is make you look kind of desperate.” He continues, getting his phone out and nonchalantly scrolling through it as if this whole painful conversation isn’t even worth his time.

How the hell was he speaking to his own girlfriend like that?

“I-I’m sorry for being desperate, Curtis,” Wanda says earnestly, her eyes wild and pupils dilated, “Please, don’t do this! Don’t break up with me like this!”

He rolls his eyes, “Do what? I’m not doing anything! I can’t break up with someone who was never my girlfriend to begin with. Sure, we had fun for a few weeks but it’s not like we were ever exclusive, let alone dating. You were too clingy for my liking anyways.”

“Curtis, that’s enough!” You admonish, your heart breaking for poor Wanda. Curtis was a joke.  You can’t believe he’s standing here denying he was ever in a relationship with her. Hell, you’d been a third wheel to them enough times in the past month to know the two of them had definitely been a thing. How the hell was he just so casually gaslighting her now, as if none of that ever happened? God, you would never understand men!

Curtis glances at you, a devilish twinkle in his eye before he turns to Wanda again, “Hell, I’m pretty sure I tried to sleep with your friend Y/N before I settled for you that night at the party.”

“Oh, you’re such an asshole!” You explode, pulling Wanda away, “Stay away from her, you piece of shit! C’mon, Wanda.”

What you haven’t noticed is Wanda standing deathly still. She snatches her hand away from you, a look of absolute loathing, shock and betrayal on her face. And a part of you wants to see her give an asshole like Curtis a piece of her mind. But then she turns to face you, her eyes drunk and accusatory.

“Y-You…” she points at you, swaying in her heels from all the alcohol in her system, “You slept with my boyfriend?”

“What? No, he tried to sleep with me, but I wasn’t interested. It really wasn’t a big deal–” You try to hold her hand to calm her down, hoping she doesn’t make a big scene.

“Later, ladies.” Curtis grins, squeezing past the two of you and strutting over to table 2 with the rest of his team. You watch him for a moment, slack-jawed at his nonchalance and how badly he’d just hurt your friend.

“I can’t believe you!” Wanda hisses, pulling away from you yet again. “I can’t believe you slept with him!”

You shake your head desperately, “No, no, no! I didn’t sleep with him! That’s not what he said!” You take a deep breath, stopping yourself from raising your own voice out of desperation to get her to understand. Instead, you speak slowly: “Wanda, I did not sleep with Curtis. Yes, he did try it on with me ages ago but nothing happened.”

“You’re the biggest bitch in the world, Y/N! I can’t believe you slept with him!” Wanda sputters, tears welling in her drunken eyes. It’s like her brain has only selectively heard what he’d said and is running with it, and she’s unable to compute what you’re saying to her now. “I knew you weren’t above sleeping with other people’s boyfriends but I never thought you’d do it to me!”

“No, please, just listen! You’re not understanding–”

“Let go of me!” She bats your hands off her when you try to grab her again, backing away and stumbling out into the main banquet hall. “Don’t even speak to me again, Y/N! How dare you sleep with Curtis?! When you knew how much me and him meant to each other!”

Helplessly, you watch her as she marches across the banquet hall, and you trail behind her with a lump in your throat. You’d have to wait until she was sober to explain things to her properly, which was another conversation you weren’t looking forward to. But for now, you just watch her, hoping she doesn’t injure herself with how determinedly she’s walking. You expect her to head towards Curtis’ table, which is why you freeze when she walks straight past him and up towards the stage.

The retired basketball coach is just about done with his speech, and you nervously rejoin Sharon who is also looking at Wanda climbing up the stairs of the stage with a confused look on her face.

“We need to go get her,” you murmur.

“Why, hello young lady,” the retired basketball coach greets Wanda warmly, “Are you here to present the first award?”

Both you and Sharon spot Wanda eyeing the microphone with a gleam in her eye, and the two of you stand up in unison, exchanging alarmed looks.

But Wanda is quick, bumping the retired coach out of the way with her hip. She grabs the mic, tapping it quickly many times in succession. A high-pitched feedback echoes across the room, and more eyes turn towards her from all the other tables in the hall. The retired coach gives her a confused smile before shrugging and slowly hobbling away. A number of stagehands look on in confusion, checking their clipboards to see if this was part of the show.

And that’s when Wanda starts talking.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an award of my own!” She grips on to the mic like a vice, teetering on the middle of the stage. Her hair’s messy, her face stained with dried up tears. The straps of her dress slipping down her shoulders, and the half empty wine glass still in her hand, the remaining contents of it sloshing out onto the polished wooden floor.

“What the hell is she doing?” Sharon whispers from beside you. All around you, everyone in the banquet hall is whispering amongst themselves, and now all eyes are glued to your drunken best friend on stage. The tables full of professors, coaches and alumni all look around in bewilderment, frowning as if Wanda being on stage is all part of some kind of skit before the award ceremony.

You glance over at the jocks on table 2. Ari shoots you a perplexed look, Ransom’s got his phone camera out, Andy’s grinning from ear to ear. Colin has the decency to look away, an embarrassed look on his face. And Curtis? Curtis leans back on his chair, an amused look on his face as if he’s ready to kick back and enjoy the show.

That means it’s all up to you.

“Wanda!” You hiss, glad that your table is close enough to the stage that she can hear you, “Wanda, you’re drunk. C’mon, let’s go to the bathroom so I can fix you up.”

She looks down at you and smirks evilly, before looking away as if she hasn’t even heard you. Instead, she once more taps the mic once, twice, three times. She giggles drunkenly, “Testing, testing, is this thing on?”

“Wanda, babe, come down please!” Sharon joins in, but she also gets promptly ignored. She bites her lip before turning to you, “God, how did we not realise how drunk she’d gotten? She’s gonna make a fool of herself.”

“Wanda!” You try again, raising your voice slightly, “Come down, Wanda, please! The awards ceremony is about to begin!”

“It’s already begun! And like I said, I have an award of my own,” Wanda says, looking beyond you but never fully at you. You can see her lip curled slightly, and either it’s a smile or a sneer – you can’t really tell. But it makes your blood run cold, and a strong sense of foreboding washes over you again, like how it had earlier in your bedroom.

Quickly, you make your way over to the stage, hoping to pull her off before she said anything to embarrass herself too much. And it’s when you’re climbing up the stairs at the side of the stage that she resumes speaking:

“I know you’re all here for some… some random basketball award,” Wanda slurs, “But I wanna get my award out of the way first. And it’s the award for St. Andrews’ college’s biggest fucking slut.”

You’re halfway up the stage by now, and it’s when you step up on to the polished wooden floor that you pause, her words sinking in and a horrific feeling dawning on you. Oh no…

“And look! Here she is, the slut herself!” Wanda cheers, pointing straight at you with an unsteady hand. She throws her head back and laughs, her other hand gripping on to the mic for dear life. “Everybody, please give it up for Y/N! She already knows she’s the winner, nobody else could ever compare! Y/N is undoubtedly the biggest fucking slut on campus, and she wholeheartedly deserves this fucking award!”

Pin drop silence. For the first second, that’s all you hear. Silence that’s so loud, it’s almost deafening. Ringing in your ears, closing in on you like a siren. Then, you feel the waves of heat. Red hot fire radiating all over your body. Your face, your arms, your neck. Everywhere. You can’t quite believe what’s happening, but you know there’s a banquet hall filled with strangers staring straight at you as if you’re swathed in a spotlight.

“Curtis, get your girl the fuck off the stage!” You hear Ari say somewhere in the distance, and you can see him getting to his feet.

“No fucking way, that bitch isn’t my problem anymore.” Curtis whispers back, a note of glee in his tone.

You remain frozen on stage, your heart thrumming up to your throat. Wanda cackles, drunkenly beckoning you closer. Someone – either a professor or a coach – tries to coax her off the stage but she bats him away as if he’s an insignificant fly.

“C’mon, Y/N! Don’t be shy, come accept your award!” Wanda holds up her now empty wine glass as if it’s a trophy, “Ladies and gentlemen, don’t be mistaken! Y/N isn’t normally this shy! I mean, she certainly wasn’t when she fucked my boyfriend!”

A hushed gasp fills the hall, followed by a host of whispers. There’s a tiny voice inside you, telling you to run. Just run, run, run away from it all. But your feet don’t move, firmly planted in place as your whole body buzzes with heat and the lump in your throat gets bigger and bigger. Why was Wanda doing this? Oh God, what was happening!?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ari scrape his chair back and stride over to the stage, a venomous look on his face. At the same time, you feel a warm hand on your shoulder as Sharon comes up the steps to stand beside you.

“Wanda, honey, that’s enough.” Sharon says softly, holding her other hand out to your drunken friend. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“Don’t you honey me,” Wanda spits out, “And don’t look at me as if I’m some sort of fool. If anyone’s a fool, it’s you, Sharon!”

Oh no. You feel yourself going light-headed.

That’s when Ari jumps up on stage, looking huge and menacing as he strides over to Wanda. He grabs her by the upper arm roughly, “Carla, shut the fuck up right now if you know what’s good for you,” He hisses.

“Well look who it is! Mister Knight in Shining Armour, here to save the fucking day!” Wanda laughs, and at least she’s not speaking into the mic anymore, but did it even matter? “Y/N doesn’t need your help, Ari! She’s a fucking slut who enjoys sleeping with other people’s boyfriends, and she’s proud of it! You’re proud of it, aren’t you, Y/N!?”

You’re in no condition to answer her question. Now, your body seems to be experiencing rapid hot and cold flushes. Icicles, then fire, then icicles, then fire again. And your face feels like it’s been stabbed by a thousand pins and needles. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before, almost like an out of body experience. Like you’re floating except it feels terrible instead of liberating, and there’s absolutely no way for you to escape the impending doom.

Someone’s directed the live band to start playing again, and the room fills with music to combat the earth-shattering silence. But you know everyone’s eyes are still on the spectacle that’s taking place on stage. Everyone’s looking at you. And it’s like all your insecurities from the past month had come back in full force. Except so much worse, because now everyone thinks you’re a slut.

To your horror, Wanda goes to speak into the mic again. But Ari quickly snatches it out of her hands, throwing it aside and shooting her a glare, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

“Okay, Wanda, you’ve made your point,” Sharon interjects gently. “I don’t know why you’d spread all these lies about your own best friend who’s been nothing but good to you, but it’s done now. Let’s just go.” Again, she reaches for Wanda’s hand, only for the latter to shoot her a sneer.

“Stop acting so holier-than-thou, Sharon. You’re not worth shit anymore, not since you got dumped,” Wanda laughs, suddenly aware of who exactly is on stage with her. She glances from you to Ari to Sharon, a look of evil glee spreading across her drunken features. “Why don’t you ask Ari again why he dumped you? Or better yet, why don’t you ask your new best friend Y/N?”

The band’s now playing an upbeat song, the lead singer urging everyone to get up on the dance floor in a bid to distract them. A few people do, but most stay planted in their seats, their focus still on the stage. Not that any of that even matters, not when Wanda’s words hit you like a ton of bricks. Out of your peripheral, you sense Sharon inhale sharply from next to you, and a deep feeling of dread starts spreading across your chest.

“Curtis, get the fuck up here and deal with her,” Ari seethes through gritted teeth. Curtis rolls his eyes, slowly making his way up to the stage like a panther going on a leisurely stroll.

“She sleeps with everyone’s boyfriend!” Wanda explodes, pointing another accusatory finger at you. “She doesn’t care about ruining relationships, all Y/N cares about is herself, Sharon! That’s why she’s been sleeping with Ari for months behind your back! And I kept her secret because I was being a good friend to her! Little did I know she fucked my boyfriend too!”

“That’s it, you’re fucking done,” Ari yanks Wanda off the stage, roughly pushing her down the steps all while keeping an iron grip on her forearm.

Thankfully, and yet a little too late, a stage hand drops the curtains. Dramatically, they fall down, shielding you from the stare and gossip of the audience. But you don’t feel any better. No, all you feel is pure, frozen shock. And the chaotic pantomime continues, even with the stage curtains now drawn.

“She’s been fucking Ari this whole time! She even fucked him out in the open at that frat party. In front of everyone, because that’s the type of slut she is!” Wanda cries out, stumbling over her words that act like bullets directed straight for Sharon. And, of course, you. “And she fucked Curtis too that night! Like the biggest fucking whore in the whole world! It’s true ‘cause he just told me! And God knows what she did with Steve, she probably let him smash too! As if slutting around on one campus wasn’t enough, she had to target a guy from a different college, and–”

She’s cut off by Ari plastering his huge hand over her mouth, all while she struggles and fights against him. He continues dragging her down the steps before throwing her into Curtis’ arms. Immediately, Wanda pacifies, grabbing on to Curtis for dear life while the buzzcut-haired man holds her gingerly.

“Get her out of here. I don’t care where the fuck you take her, I just want her gone.” Ari orders, narrowing his eyes when Curtis opens his mouth, “Don’t fucking argue with me, Everett. Go.”

Curtis rolls his eyes again, cautiously taking hold of Wanda who shuts up momentarily when she notices who’s holding her. She looks up at him with shining drunken eyes. “Curtis! You came back for me! Oh, I forgive you for fucking Y/N! I know she’s a huge slut and she probably seduced you! It wasn’t your fault at all, baby, I know that! Please let me be your girlfriend again, Curtis, please, I’ll do anything–”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Curtis grunts as he drags Wanda towards the exit. Thankfully, she’s docile enough in his arms, and easily goes with him.

Leaving carnage in her wake.

They all think I’m a slut, you think it again, still frozen in place. And I am! I am, I am, I am! I’m a backstabbing slut and this is what I deserve. Total public humiliation.

You pull yourself out of whatever catatonic state your body wants to shut you down into. The stage curtains are drawn and you’re protected from all the stares of the guests, and yet you feel like you can still hear the buzz of their whispers. The gossip formulating, your name on the tips of all their tongues. Spoken with disdain and disgust. Oh, you want nothing more than to just shut down and disappear. But you can’t. You can’t shut down yet, not yet. Instead, you force yourself to face Sharon head on, and come clean about what you should’ve come clean about ages ago.

“Sharon, please, just let me expl–”

“It’s not true, is it?” Sharon says slowly. Her cheeks look red, her eyes stricken, as if Wanda’s drunken bombshell has reached out and slapped her across the face. Her mouth downturned as if she’s about to cry, and yet she’s using every fibre of her being to hold herself together.

Ari chooses that moment to come up next to you, instinctively putting his hand on your shoulder. And Sharon looks from him to you back to him again. And then her face falls, and it’s like it’s all happening in slow motion and you’ve got a front row seat to someone’s heart being broken in real-time. Her face crumples as realisation dawns on her, and a whimpering sound leaves her mouth.

“It is true…” She breathes.

“I am so, so sorry,” You begin, not even knowing how to start. You feel numb and disorientated, like Wanda’s screaming expose has hit you like a freight train you may never recover from. And yet you know not to be selfish enough to make it all about you in this moment, not when Sharon looks so betrayed right in front of you. And yet a tear rolls down your cheek as you look at her, “Sharon, please understand how sorry I am. I know I should’ve told you before, there’s literally no excuse–”

“You’re right, there isn’t.” She cuts you off coldly, but the iciness doesn’t reach her eyes which shine with a mix of tears and betrayal. “How could you? You were supposed to be my friend. Th-This whole time I thought you were my friend…”

“Hey, leave her alone,” Ari interjects, positioning himself in front of you protectively. “If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at me. She’s already been through enough tonight.”

“DON’T YOU DARE DEFEND HER, YOU LYING PIECE OF SHIT!” Sharon bursts out in a blaze of fury, “For once in your life, show me a little bit of respect and don’t fucking defend the girl you cheated on me with right to my face! I was your girlfriend once upon a time, Ari. And you act like it meant nothing.”

Her voice breaks at the end, and she fiercely wipes away her tears. It smears up her makeup too, but she looks like she’s past the point of caring.

“All I’m saying is to leave Y/N out of this, Sharon. Whatever happened between me and her wasn’t her fault at all. You and I can discuss this privately.” Ari says, his tone hard and serious. He’s standing tall, as if being exposed for your joint betrayal has him completely unfazed. You, on the other hand, feel like you’re about two feet tall.

Sharon looks at Ari incredulously, before her eyes shift back to you as if she can’t help it. “I trusted you, Y/N.” She says brokenly, “I..I liked you. I liked you so much. You have no idea how much I…” Her voice trails off for a second before it hardens: “…and this whole time you were going behind my back.”

You swallow harshly, “I’m so sorry. Please, I know what I’ve done is unforgivable. But just believe me when I tell you that I’m so, so genuinely sorry. Wh-When me and Ari started… I didn’t even know you back then and I know that doesn’t excuse it–”

“IT DOESN’T EXCUSE IT!” Sharon screams, and beyond her shoulder you can see a few people peeping through the curtains as if to continue watching the show. “It doesn’t excuse it at all, Y/N! You had so many chances where you could’ve come clean to me, but you chose to lie to my fucking face.” She laughs bitterly, as if she can’t believe all this is actually happening. “Oh God, how stupid could I have been? All those times when I was crying to you about my breakup, or when I was trying to help you get through your boy troubles… All that time you were sleeping with Ari and I never suspected a damn thing?! Oh, you must’ve been laughing your ass off behind my back!”

You scramble to explain yourself, you want to say more, but it’s like your throat’s closing up now. Like you’re experiencing some type of allergic reaction. Your skin feels like it’s crawling, like your self-disgust has just boiled over the edge and you’re covered in the shame and guilt that’s been festering inside you. Except it’s now also mixed with the sheer humiliation from everything you’ve just experienced. What could you possibly say to explain yourself? She was right. She was one thousand percent right.

They were all right about you, the voice in your head cackles. Steve and Wanda and probably everyone else who’s thinking it right now. You’re a slut.

“Leave her the fuck alone, Sharon.” Ari threatens lowly, dropping his hand from your shoulder and taking a menacing step towards the blonde. “I mean it. Not another word.”

Sharon tilts her head, and you find her looking at you. Really looking at you. As if she’s searching the plains of your face to detect the level of your honesty. And you want to look away, want to look down because of how humiliated you are. But you look back at her meekly, feeling like a fucking backstabbing rat. Oh God, why had you not just come clean to her weeks ago when the two of you had first started becoming friends? Were you truly that spineless? Were you really that much of a coward?

“Get out.” Sharon says coldly, the hurt on her face now replaced with an impenetrable mask of stone-cold indifference. “Get out of here, Y/N. I don’t want to look at you. I thought we were friends but it’s like I don’t even know you. And I never knew you. So just get out of here. GET OUT!”

Her venomous words make you jump. Your lower lip quivers, and you feel like the dirt at the bottom of everyone’s shoe. Ari turns around, tries to grab your hand but you back away quickly. Your heel catches on something and you stumble. Regaining your balance, you see Ari coming towards you, and Sharon staring you down from behind him. The pity and concern in his eyes, the pure betrayal in hers. Oh, you don’t want any of it! You just wish you’d disappear!

You take off into a run, your heels clacking on the wooden floor noisily but you don’t care. You do exactly what Sharon’s told you to do – you run. Gathering up your dress so it doesn’t get caught in your shoes. Oh, and who cares if it did? Who cares at all? Certainly not you.

You run out into the full banquet hall, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze. Trying to block out what they’re whispering. You know they’re talking about you; you know they’re looking at you as if you’re the biggest backstabbing whore in the whole world. Which you are. Oh, how spectacularly everything had fallen apart!

Somewhere behind you, you can hear Ari calling out your name. But you don’t stop, don’t look back. Not this time. You weave through the crowd, your tears blurring your vision but you don’t dare stop. Out into the hotel lobby, down the marble steps adorned in grand red carpeting with gold tassels. Feeling like a warped Cinderella who wasn’t the helpless princess after all, but instead the backstabbing villain. Out the front entrance, and the doorman stares at you but you don’t care, and the outside cold hits you like a ton of bricks.

As if on cue, the wind roars loudly, slapping you in the face with all its might and fury. And you remember earlier tonight, when you’d wondered whether the winds had been trying to warn you about something. Oh, your intuition had been right! Why hadn’t you just stayed at home?! Now, the wind swirls around you threateningly, and you just stand there in the bitter cold, as if daring it to attack you. All around you, the grass rustles, the trees cower, the very ground seems to shake as gust after gust hits at you, and your hair comes loose, and you’re about to start crying in earnest, and–

“Y/N, wait! Stop!” Ari grabs your hand, his familiar warmth shooting through your entire body. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you fiercely. Your burst into ferocious tears that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in. Loud, wracking sobs muffled by his strong chest as he holds you close. “I’m so sorry that happened, baby. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I did!” You cry, another gust of wind hitting you like a wake-up call, and you push off of him with tears streaming down your face. “I did deserve it, Ari! I deserved all of it!”

There’s an invisible whirlpool around the two of you. Maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, but it’s like a swirling of energy, entrapping the two of you together on this stormy night. The wind howls around you both, ringing in your ears as if to warn you again, telling you this is all wrong, wrong, wrong!

And Ari looks at you like his whole heart’s in his eyes, and they glisten with emotion that you’ve never seen in him before. And he holds you close, and cups your face. He wipes your tears as if to soothe you, but how could you soothe someone who was so beyond repair that perhaps repair wasn’t even an option anymore? How!?

“Let me take you home,” he whispers, “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. Please, let’s just go. And I swear I’ll deal with everything; I’ll deal with all of them. I’ll make them pay for hurting you. Just please, stop crying and come with me.”

“No!” You snatch your hand out of his and step back, shaking your head fiercely. “Don’t you get it, Ari? We’re not right together and we never will be!”

“That’s not true–”

“Yes, it is!” You sob freely, “How many people do we have to hurt for it to sink in that we just don’t work?” Ferociously, you wipe at your tears, not that it matters when new one’s flow down your cheeks freely, “All we ever do is fight, Ari! We just run around in circles and fight and hurt each other and hurt everyone around us! And now I know it’s ‘cause we just don’t work, and we never will!”

“No.” Ari says firmly, “I’m the one who hurt people, okay? Not us. Just me. And you got caught in the crossfire and I’m fucking sorry.”

You shake your head, “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters, Ari. They all think I’m a slut and they’re all right! And I’ll never live this down and I don’t deserve to live it down! So just leave me alone, okay? JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“NO!” Ari roars, louder than the wind itself, and louder than you too. “No, I’m not fucking leaving you alone! I told you that I care about you, and I’m never gonna leave you alone. So just… just come on. Let me take you home, baby. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The blustering winds form an impenetrable current around the two of you, whistling and swirling with rogue leaves like a tornado that you seem to be trapped in with him. And in an ironic way, it perfectly encapsulates your relationship with him: a whirlwind. A tornado. A constant uphill battle filled with fights and arguments, always one step forward and then two steps back. Maybe it was time to just give up, to come to terms with how it just didn’t work between you and him.

You sniffle weakly, “Nothing can make this better. Whatever there was between us, it was never going to work. Not when it started out as a lie.”

Tenderly, yet charged with an electric emotion you can’t quite pinpoint, he cups your face again. Your freezing wet cheeks welcome the warmth they bring, despite everything.

“I’ll make it better,” Ari repeats, softer this time. He presses his forehead against yours. “You mean more to me than Sharon or anyone else ever did. And I know our relationship started out wrong because I lied to you. Constantly. I know that. But I promise you I’ll make it all better and you’ll never hurt again how you’re hurting now.”

You feel like you’re at a crossroads. You’ve gone through more emotional turmoil in these past few weeks than you have in any other point of your life. And each time, you’ve fallen back into Ari’s arms in a heap of tears. So, what about this time? Would you do the same thing again? Another circle? Another fight? Another heartbreak?

“I’m in love with you.” Ari breathes. And in that moment, even the winds stand still. And his eyes look like twin oceans with stars scattered inside them. And those stars in his eyes, those stars get bigger and bigger till they’re all you can see. And you can’t hear anything anymore, except for his breathing and yours. And you can feel only one thing, and that’s his hands cupping your cheeks as he gazes at you with a look of desperation mixed with something else. Something passionate. And honest. “I’m in love with you, okay? I’ve never been in love before but I’m pretty positive that I love you, and I promise I’ll protect you from ever being hurt again.”

In the distance, beyond his shoulder, a branch from a tree falls to the ground. As if unable to stand the wrath of the wind on this night. It crashes down, all the way down till it’s no longer a part of what it had once always known. You focus on it for a split second, before some kind of magnetic pull makes you look back to Ari.

“Why does it always take some sort of traumatic event for you to say these things?” You whisper, letting his words bounce off you. Not letting them permeate into your heart and set camp, not allowing them to let you hope. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted to hear from him!?

“I’ve felt this way for a while,” he says earnestly, “I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But I told you, I’m ready now. For everything. I love you, and I want everyone to know it.” He draws you closer, cradling your face in his warm hands. How are they so warm on such a cold night? How was he so warm when you felt so cold, cold, cold?! So freezing cold from the inside out?

I love you. I’m in love with you. I promise I’ll protect you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Oh, his words were finding their way into your heart! You take a timid step closer, allow yourself to look into his eyes. Everything was crashing and burning around you. Your life was ruined, and so was your reputation. Everyone thought you were a slut and you had no friends left at all. But Ari was here. Solid. Real. Right in front of you. Saying all the right things on a night that had gone so horrifically wrong. Should you allow yourself this? Did you deserve it? Did he?

His lips have barely brushed against yours when you hear a loud shatter right next to you.

“You told me you weren’t going to be with him tonight.”

Steve. Standing less than a foot away from you. A glass bottle lying broken by his feet, the smell of vodka strongly emanating from him. His hair falls over his forehead, swaying gently in the roaring wind. His eyes black, blown out, barely there. Hooded, like he’s sad. Betrayed. Oh, how did he even get here!?

Your jaw drops open, “Steve, I–”

“How fucking dare you show your face in front of her after everything you put her through?” Ari growls, pushing you behind him before squaring up to Steve. “Get the fuck out of here, Rogers. Before I break your neck.”

You swallow harshly, “Ari, don’t…”

Steve sidesteps Ari, and those sad eyes look straight at you. Penetrating down straight to your soul.

“You kissed me earlier tonight, but now you’re choosing him.”

He says it matter-of-factly, his words slurring slightly but still clear as day. You feel a pang in your heart. From your peripheral, you see Ari bristle at Steve’s words, clearly taken aback by what he’s just revealed.

You open your mouth, but it feels all dried up. Like you’re back in the middle of the stage with an audience of people watching you get exposed for your betrayal.

“You don’t have to answer him.” Ari says to you, quickly recovering and grabbing your hand protectively before turning back to sneer at Steve. “Get the hell out of here. Tonight isn’t the night for your bullshit.”

“He’ll only hurt you,” Steve says, ignoring Ari and looking directly at you. “I told you; all Ari ever does is hurt people.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Steve, or else I’ll–”

“Or else you’ll what, Ari? I don’t give a fuck what you do.” Steve finally looks at the brunet, squaring up to him till they’re both face to face. Each as big as the other, each as menacing as the other. But that’s where the similarities end. Ari looks wary, on edge. And Steve? Steve looks like he has nothing left to lose.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you’ve been dodging me all these weeks?” Ari barks out a laugh, but it sounds hollow, almost forced. And his eyes keep darting between Steve and back to you. “I’m telling you for the last time, Rogers. Walk away so she doesn’t have to see me kill you.”

“Stop acting like some kind of fucking hero, Ari. You of all people should know that’s not what you are.” Steve fires back, “You’ll hurt her, just like you hurt–”

“My car’s parked around the corner. You know what it looks like. Go, I don’t want you to see this.” Ari says to you, his hand dropping yours as he keeps his eyes on the blonde in front of him. You watch as his fists clench by his sides.

There’s a pause before Steve laughs. And just like Ari’s from earlier, Steve’s laugh sounds hollow too. Like neither of them are enjoying this confrontation. And neither are you, and yet your feet remain planted to the ground. The winds are still howling around you, encasing the three of you in a whirlpool. And within it, you sense the strongest feeling of foreboding you’ve felt yet.

“You still haven’t told her, have you?” Steve accuses.

A dark, anxious feeling pools inside your chest, twisting your veins, reaching straight for your heart. More secrets? “Tell me what, Ari?”

“Go to my car, I’m serious.”

“I heard your little speech from just now. I heard all your promises. How you’ll never hurt her again,” Steve shoves Ari. And it’s a drunken shove, but a hard one. “How you’ll protect her,” another shove, “How you’re in love with her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve. You have no idea what you’re–”

“Tell me, is that what you told my sister too?”

Everything stops. Even the wind, with how fierce and mighty it had been all night, comes to a screeching halt. It’s like the grass stops rustling, the trees stop swaying. You think your heart has stopped too. Steve’s sister? Kira? Ari knew her? The dark, anxious feeling doubles up, multiplies in a millisecond. You feel like your insides have turned to tar, and your blood freezes in the worst way possible.

“Wh-What’s he talking about, Ari?” Your question comes out soft, timid. As if you’re afraid of the answer.

Ari’s head whips around, and his cheeks are flushed. His jaw tensed, his eyes wild. Quickly, he shakes his head, “He doesn’t know what he’s saying, okay? Clearly, he’s drunk, and high off of something, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying–”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID KIRA EVER DO TO YOU, ARI?!” Steve erupts, making you jump. Ari flinches too, but Steve closes in on him, his dark eyes blazing. “What did she ever do to you? Except trust you?” He laughs bitterly, “Maybe that was her mistake. Trusting someone like you.” And then he looks straight at you, “Don’t make the same mistake, Y/N. He’ll run you out of this place just like he did my sister.”

Your lower lip quivers, “What do you mean?”

Ari grabs your hand and pulls you back, “Let’s just go. He doesn’t know what he means. He has no fucking clue what he’s talking about.”

Like it’s a hot poker, you pull your hand out of his grip, staring up at him incredulously.

“I have no fucking clue, huh? As if I haven’t been in the same house as her, watching her lock herself up in her room and cry for the past fucking year!” Steve says, and this time he squares up to Ari again, grabbing the brunet’s collar to make him look at him. “As if I haven’t watched her become a fucking shell of her former self, as if I haven’t watched her lose her smile, lose her personality, lose her fucking will to interact with anyone. All because of you!”

Now it’s Ari’s turn to shove Steve, and he does it with full force. Steve stumbles backwards, and Ari looks at him in fury. And yet he doesn’t say anything, nothing at all. And the sticky black tar coats your heart and starts seeping into your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe. Making it hard for you to make sense of what’s going on. Oh god, what exactly was Steve saying?! And why wasn’t Ari denying anything?!

“You can’t even deny it anymore, can you?” Steve spits out, “And now you’re out here actin’ like a fuckin’ superhero, promising Y/N the entire world. Well, why don’t you answer my question, Levinson? Is that what you promised Kira too? Is that what you fucking promised her before you spread those pictures of her to every fucking person you know?”

That’s when you feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. You feel faint, dizzy. Like you’re no longer real. Ari turns to look at you, and you can’t even begin to decipher his expression but it’s like you no longer want to look at him. Pictures? Like nudes? Ari? Spreading private pictures of Kira around campus??? You shake your head, willing him to say something, to deny it all vehemently.

“She’s my sister,” Steve’s voice breaks, an outpouring of emotion that you’ve never ever seen from him. His face red, his fists clenched but not in anger, more so in desperate sadness. “She’s my sister and you were my friend and you fucking broke her, Ari. She couldn’t handle it, everyone talking about her, laughing at her. You ran her out of school, and you broke her. And now you’re gonna do the same thing to Y/N too.”

Ari swallows, looking stricken how you’ve never seen him look before. He sucks in his breath, and when he speaks, it sounds like it’s a stranger talking: “Don’t even act like you have Y/N’s best interests at heart, after what you did to her. And you have no idea what you’re sayi–”

“This is who he is!” Steve erupts again, this time looking straight at you, “My sister was so fucking trusting, she did whatever he asked her to. She sent him pictures that were supposed to be private, all ‘cause he told her to. She never should’ve trusted an asshole like him but she did, she trusted him with everything she had, and now look at her.” He shakes his head, his entire body shaking from either anger or grief or both. “And Kira, she was so broken over it, she told me never to mention it again to anyone, she made me promise not to. But you need to know who he really is. He’s a fucking asshole who’ll hurt anyone! He hurt Kira, he hurt Sharon, and he’ll hurt you too.”

“Let’s go,” Ari says to you, gathering himself and grabbing your hand, “Let’s just go and I’ll explain everything.”

For the second time, you snatch your hand away from his and shake your head, your mind racing and you think you’re going to be sick. Oh God, how many more times would Ari lie to you? “Don’t touch me.”

“Baby, I said I’d explain–”

“You knew Steve’s sister this whole time?”

“Yes, but–”

“Wh-Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you mention it even once?” Your voice sounds high, like you’re about to start crying from shock. And betrayal. You suck in your breath. He’d been hiding this from you, so what else was he hiding?

He tries to grab your hand again, but you take a step back in disbelief.

“Don’t you dare touch me. Y-You’re a liar! You lied again. You told me you wouldn’t lie to me but you lied again!” Oh, you feel like you don’t even know him anymore! Did you ever truly know him to begin with? You think back to Kira, so anxious that she couldn’t even look you in the eye. Had Ari really hurt her so badly? Spread around nude pictures of her and ruined her life and then continued on with his own as if none of it had even happened? “H-How could you do that to her? How could you–”

Ari opens his mouth to speak, but that’s when Steve tackles him. You scream, caught off-guard as the two behemoths fall to the ground. The wind resumes its wicked gusts, and this time it’s like it’s taunting you. Taunting you for forcing yourself time and time again to live in this fairytale utopia where Ari and you could ever possibly work. Each slap of cold air on your face reminding you that nothing, nothing in the whole world, could ever make the two of you work.

And maybe it was written in the stars, maybe this fight was bound to happen between the two of them. And yet you can’t make sense of it, watching with stricken horror as Steve grabs Ari’s collar again.

“You sick, twisted bastard! Fuck you for ruining my sister!” Steve punches him, but Ari quickly dodges it. And Steve’s movements are slower, sluggish. You feel sick thinking of how much he’s had to drink tonight. He was already drunk hours ago when he’d showed up at your dorm room, but now? Now he looks doubly wasted, teetering on the verge of no return and completely past the point of even caring about it.

Steve’s fuelled by alcohol and a tragic rage. No, rage was the wrong word, because the anger he was exhibiting now was nothing like when he’d punched the wall or when he’d lost his cool at basketball practice. Now, it felt different. Like he was charged by his own sadness, and an underlying sense of resignation. Like a part of him didn’t care what would happen to him by the end of tonight. Like he was getting all his punches in before he… before he…

“Stop!” You finally find your voice and yell out, but it doesn’t carry, your words getting lost in the wind. Ari shoves Steve off of him, dragging both of them to their feet. Steve throws another punch, and Ari dodges it just in time so instead of his fist connecting with his jaw, it slams painfully against his shoulder. But Ari doesn’t flinch.

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about!” Ari snarls, drawing his fist back to punch back. That’s when you throw all caution to the wind and run forward, coming between them.

“Don’t, Ari! He’s drunk, and he took all this medication, and…” your voice trails off, but the worry is evident in your tone as the realisation hits you. His medication for his mood swings. How much of it had he taken? Ari pauses, still glaring daggers at Steve, who looks back at him just as venomously.

“HIT ME, LEVINSON! DO IT, JUST HIT ME!” Steve shouts, louder than the wind itself. “It’s not like I’ve got shit to lose, so go right ahead! I’ve said what I had to say and now I’m fucking done.” His face twists, veins popping in his forehead, his blonde locks brushing over his wild eyes as they rest on you. His gaze softens somewhat, like a drunken, tragic hero. “I’m done, Y/N. It’s okay, I’m done. And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for scaring you. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Why was he talking like that? You have no time to contemplate his words, however. Because Ari steps forward in front of you, his fist clenched to his side. And you’ve never seen him look this angry, and once more he draws his fist back, and you try to find your voice to stop him but nothing comes out. And the wind hits its crescendo, and there’s a clap of thunder serving as an exclamation point to this disastrous evening. Your entire body jerks, as if expecting something terrible to happen, and you close your eyes and you brace yourself…

A loud thud. You open your eyes, a scream getting caught in your throat when you see Steve on the ground. Motionless.

“Ari, what did you do!?” You cry.

Ari turns to you, breathing hard and yet he’s got a confused look on his face. His fist is still clenched but he shakes his head in shock.

“Nothing. I swear I didn’t do anything, he just… He just collapsed.”

You run over, crouch down next to Steve, trying to survey any damage. Sure enough, his face looks pristine, apart from a bluish-purple hue to his pale skin that you hadn’t noticed before. No signs of having been punched, however. But it’s his eyes that catch your attention, stricken and looking straight up. Almost like he’s unresponsive, when just a second ago he’d been on his feet and just fine.

“Oh god, oh my god. Steve!?” Your voice goes high with panic. With trembling hands, and quick, flurrying movements, you shake his shoulders. But all that does is make his head loll back, and he’s still staring up at the sky with a glassy look on his face, not reacting to you at all. Almost like he’s on another planet. Trying to keep your panic at bay, you quickly try and feel for his pulse, and that’s when you really start to lose it.

“Oh my god, Ari, he-he doesn’t have a pulse! I can’t find his pulse, I c-can’t– ARI, DO SOMETHING!”

Ari, who up until this moment seemed to be frozen in shock, staring at his still clenched fist as he stood over the two of you, seems to finally snap out of it. He springs into action, pushing you aside and crouching down next to the blond. He grabs his wrist while you look on, horrified beyond belief over what exactly was happening in front of your eyes.

He knew that mixing alcohol with his medication was dangerous, you think to yourself, another bout of sick realisation dawning on you. He’s pre-med, he’s studying to be a doctor. Of course, he knew! Had he… had he meant to do this? Oh God…

“He’s got a pulse,” Ari mutters, “He’s got one but it’s weak.”

Tears gather in your eyes as your head starts to spin, “H-He was on this medication, he told me earlier F-For his mood swings or something. And he was drinking too, and he probably took his pills and he drank and, oh God, I should’ve done something! I didn’t think it was that bad, I didn’t–”

“We need to call 911.” Ari says firmly, and you’re relieved that at least one of you is keeping their wits about them. You don’t know whether Ari’s just good under pressure or whether he’s in genuine shock too, judging by the frozen look on his face. Nevertheless, you watch him as he stands up, getting his phone out of his pocket and dialling the number.

And, almost like in cruel irony, the howling winds that had been swirling around you have now gone silent. Deathly silent. It’s like the three of you are in a vacuum, and yet you can barely even hear Ari talking on the phone. All you can hear is your fucking heart in your chest, and the racing of your own thoughts: this is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fault…

“Come on, Steve!” You urge, grabbing his hand and almost recoiling because of how limp and cold it feels. He’d been so warm when you’d kissed him hours earlier, so warm and soft. And it seems like lightyears ago, that kiss followed by the breathless silence. How you’d noted how he looked like he was one sip away from disaster. Oh, why hadn’t you done more? You could have sobered him up, but you’d been so wrapped up in your own problems. And now?

“P-Please, don’t do this. Just wake up. Or say something, just please!” And you don’t know why you’re having such a reaction – wasn’t it you who’d told Steve hours ago how you and him barely even knew each other? How there was nothing between the two of you? How he’d ruined all of that? Then why, why, why was your heart burning up right now? Like a ball of fire deep in your chest, waiting to explode. You tap his cheek desperately, noting the blueish tone of his lips, wondering why you hadn’t noticed that earlier. Beating yourself up over it.

“They’re coming,” you hear Ari say behind you, “An ambulance is on its way. It’s gonna be okay.”

But you don’t even hear him, too busy thinking back to when Steve had been in your dorm room earlier tonight. The sad look in his eyes as he’d turned to leave after your kiss. You can feel your tears soaking up your freezing cold cheeks now as you squeeze his hand.

“I forgive you, okay? I forgive you! Just wake up, please! Steve, just wake up! Didn’t you hear me? I forgive you!”

Your tears blur your vision, and his face becomes a pale blur. Fiercely, you wipe your eyes with your one free hand. And vaguely, you can feel Ari’s hand on your shoulder. And his is so warm. And Steve’s is so cold. Hot and cold. Cold and hot. You don’t even notice when you feel your own hand being squeezing lightly.

“That’s good,” Steve says faintly, his lips barely moving. You gasp and move closer, hoping you haven’t imagined it. His eyes flutter gently, like he doesn’t want to keep them open anymore. But his face looks relaxed, so relaxed that it’s scary, and it feels like you’re looking at a ghost. Those blue lips part once more. “Don’t worry about me. I’m comfortably numb, remember? I think I finally made it last…”

“No, no, no, no…” you scramble, watching as his eyes slip shut. You squeeze his hand again, shake at his shoulders, tap his cheek. Oh no, no, no, no. And all around you, the trees start swaying once more. The great gusts of wind continue, almost like they never even stopped, and another branch falls to the ground. The grass rustles beneath where Steve lies, and the moonlight shines on his face, making his pallor look a deathly kind of beautiful. Like an angel.

And it reminds you of the first night you’d met him. The night you’d dreamed of him. He’d looked like an angel in your dreams too.

The wind whistles with great might, and it sounds like a cackle. As if it’s mocking you. And Steve is still, and Ari’s still holding firmly on to you, and you can barely hear the blare of the siren as the ambulance slowly approaches.

A/N: .....did Steve just.... OH MY GODDD. Well, if you made it this far then congratulations!!! I really hope y'all liked it. I'm so scared it didn't live up to expectations. I KNOW there was no smut but you guys I tried my best to see where I could fit it in... I just couldn't justify putting it in anywhere in the story and it actually making sense, pls understand! UGHHH I'm just so insecure about this chapter, but if you liked it PLESE PLEASE let me know what you think! Any thoughts, comments, feedback would genuinely be appreciated SO much like SO SO much omfg. Like any favourite parts etc? I really wanted to focus on romantic scenes between reader and the two guys and i hope i showed that! BUT YEAH PLS LMK WHAT YOU THINK ILY ILY.

Okay and as usual, here are some questions!! (y'all don't have to answer them, but just in case anyone does!!!)

Which romantic scene did you prefer? Steve coming up reader's window or Ari taking reader on a picnic? OR NEITHER???

What are your thoughts on Carla Wanda after this chapter??? LMFAOO.

Why was Sharon more upset with reader than with Ari? Hmm.....

Did Ari really spread Kira's nudes around :( ?? Or do you think there's more to the story?

TEAM ARI OR TEAM STEVE? ( if he's okay that is damn )

AND THAT'S IT! Hope y'all enjoyed it! I'm gonna stop yapping now bahahaha byeee ily ily ily

#ari levinson x reader #steve rogers x reader #ari levinson #steve rogers #wicked games

[amongemeraldclouds]

consequences

No plot, just smut. You’re welcome.

Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader x Theodore Nott

Warning: threesome, piv, unprotected sex, oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), v!fingering, praise kink, one use of y/n. Characters are aged up.

Author’s note: I consider this the prequel to all night where it’s briefly mentioned you had a threesome with Enzo and Theo the week before. Both don’t have a plot though so you can read it as a standalone.

✿ Masterlist | 2.4k words

You savored the delicious friction building inside you as you rode Enzo’s cock. His hands gripped your waist, guiding you as you repeatedly took him deep inside you. The room was filled with grunts, heavy breathing, and the constant slap of skin on skin. You could already picture his fingers leaving bruises on your hips to remind you who you belong to.

Enzo felt your walls squeeze him, signaling your near release so he moved you faster against him. The sudden increase in speed and intensity sent you over the edge, squirming and writhing against him, euphoria washing over you in waves. “That’s a good girl,” Enzo cooed as he guided you through your orgasm.

“I’m so close, love,” he said in between labored breaths.

“I need to taste you,” you replied and he nodded. You rose up and moved lower, settling in between his legs. You took his hard length in your hands, stroking him before wrapping your lips around him, tasting both Enzo and your own liquid heat. He looked at you admiringly and scooped up your hair in his hand, moving it away from your face.

You bobbed your head up and down, enjoying the familiar way his cock filled your mouth, taking him deeper down to your throat. Mouth stuffed, you licked the base of his cock, exactly the way he liked it. You were rewarded with a sharp intake of his breath as he gripped your hair tighter, his other hand grasping the sheets.

“So good, love,” he praised as you continued at a steady pace. With your free hand, you played with his balls, making him moan loudly as pleasure coursed through his veins, spurting white hot liquid into your mouth. You swallowed his load and enjoyed the way he tasted.

You licked the rest of his spilled seed until he was clean. “Such a good girl,” Enzo said and you grinned at him, moving closer to cuddle with him. He wrapped his arm around you, drawing lazy circles along your back. “Are you ready for Theo to join us?” He asked.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, nervous at the thought of being taken by two guys at the same time. Yet you couldn’t help the liquid heat pooling between your legs, which is exactly how you agreed Enzo could share you if he lost a silly bet he was playing with his friends, which he inevitably did. It was now time for consequences and you just knew it was going to be good. After all, their reputation precedes them.

Enzo stroked your hair patiently, waiting for you to answer. “It’s okay if not, we can always reschedule,” he said. He was so gentle with you that you didn’t see any reason to feel unsafe. Steeling yourself, you replied, “no, it’s okay. I want to.” You looked up at him and found him smiling at you. 

“Good, because he’s already on his way here. Just don’t forget who you you belong to,” he said, a low warning registered in his voice.

“Only you, Enzo,” you said, sealing your words with a kiss to his lips. He ran his hand through your hair as he kissed you back so tenderly, soothing over the ache and soreness you felt from your pregame sex.

“Am I late to the party?” Theo asked, closing the door behind him. He took in the view before him, paying careful attention to your naked figure as lust burned in his eyes and his trousers got uncomfortably tight with his growing bulge. 

“You’re right on time,” Enzo assured him, “just needed to remind y/n who she belongs to.”

“As if I could forget,” you gave Enzo another quick kiss before turning your attention to Theo. His intense gaze focused on you was enough to quicken your heartbeat, anticipation building in the base of your stomach. You only ever knew him as your potions partner and Enzo’s good friend. With his subtle smirk and messy hair, it was easy to see him in a new light. No wonder so many other girls wanted him to do unspeakable things to them. You nearly tipped over at the thought that he would soon be doing those to you.

“Hi,” you managed to speak with a low breathless voice.

Theo’s smirk grew to a full grin as he approached the bed. He could see the effect he had on you and it just fed his already gigantic ego. “Hi y/n, ready to have fun tonight?”

You nodded, sneaking a nervous glance at Enzo who nodded encouragingly as he shifted in bed to make space for Theo. When Theo sat on the bed across you, you caught a whiff of cigarettes and expensive cologne. He held his hand out to touch the side of your face, it was so tender, filled with unspoken promises he would take care of you and make you feel good. “Do you trust me?” He asked softly. 

“No,” you said honestly. Even though you worked well together at class, you could always sense something dangerous hidden beneath his quiet confidence. Something calculated that could sneak up on you when you least expected it. Yet somehow, it made everything even more exciting.

“That’s probably wise,” he chuckled, agreeing with you. “But if Enzo says it’s okay?”

“I’ll be a good girl, you can have me,” you declared. Only because you trust Enzo. Not that he was any better than his friends, but he was the mess you wanted to get tangled up in. He’s the heaven and hell you chose for yourself and you were going to make the most of it.

With a devilish grin, Theo closed the distanced between you, taking your lips in his. You reminded yourself to breathe as you kissed him back. Small jolts of electricity pulsed through you, sweet desire rousing your body as Theo continued holding your face with one hand, the other moving around your waist. His fingers snaked past the marks Enzo’s fingers left just minutes before and you were already hungry for more.

“Good girl,” Enzo praised as he moved behind you, his hands wrapping around you to play with your breasts—teasing and pulling at your nipples, making you moan against Theo’s mouth. He took the opportunity as your lips parted to let his tongue explore your mouth.

“Take his clothes off, love,” Enzo commanded as he started trailing kisses down your neck. It was almost too much, being kissed at the same time, you had to remind yourself to calm down. Things were just getting started. Without leaving his lips, your fingers undid the buttons on Theo’s shirt. As soon as his shirt was free, he slid it off his shoulders and you traced his toned figure, feeling his muscles flex beneath your touch.

“You’re not yet done,” Theo whispered in your ear, breaking the kiss as he guided your hands to his trousers where you started undoing his belt. You felt him twitch against you as you moved his zipper down, which encouraged you to stroke him through his clothes. He grew even bigger beneath your touch and you whimpered at the thought of taking it all in soon.

Theo kissed the opposite side of your neck and you leaned your head back, allowing them more access. His kisses were curious and exploratory whereas Enzo knew just where to kiss you to draw the loudest moans from you. Each kiss from them shot flames from your skin down to your core as you felt your arousal soaking the bedsheet beneath you.  

You closed your legs together, trying to soothe your aching core. Enzo noticed, ever so tuned in with your needs, as he moved your legs apart so he could play with your folds as you leaned into him, bodies melting together. He drew lazy circles around your clit, eliciting low moans out of you. Theo shifts to remove the rest of his clothing as Enzo grabs your chin with his free hand. “Watch Theo undress love. You want that cock inside you, huh?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said in between whimpers. “Couldn’t hear you,” he said even though he did, his fingers getting rougher as he presses his hand down your greedy cunt, rubbing it ferociously. “Use your words. Louder, darling.”

“Fuck,” you exhaled, swallowing before you tried speaking again. “Yes, I want Theo’s cock inside me!”

“Such a good girl,” Theo cooed as Enzo slipped two fingers inside you. “Not yet,” Enzo teased and you couldn’t help but whine. “You’re a greedy girl,” Enzo chuckled. “Don’t worry love, you’ll be so satisfied when we’re done with you, it will be hard to walk the next day.” You clenched your walls around Enzo’s fingers and he loved how eager you were for them.

Theo followed the curve of your figure and he moved closer to you again, kissing your breast while his other hand teased your nipple, getting them taut. With Enzo pumping his fingers in you and Theo sucking on your breasts, you were being pleased at your most sensitive spots. The pressure in the base of your stomach was getting too much to handle. 

“Don’t fight it, love,” Enzo encouraged as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting your g spot directly and taking the sensations to the next level.

“I want to see you come, bella,” Theo encouraged as he moved his fingers to your clit. He rubbed and pinched it in alternating motions that had your head swimming and vision blurring in pleasure as Enzo picked up his pace inside you, fingers moving just where you needed him. It was enough to send euphoria erupting through you as you cried out, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you.

You rest your head against Enzo’s shoulder, trying to recover your breath. “You’re so pretty when you come for us,” Theo praised, trailing kisses down your neck. 

“Lay down, love. Let Theo taste your perfect cunt,” Enzo commanded as he guided you down. Theo moved between your legs. You felt his hot breath on your cunt and the aching need ignited within you again.

“Yes,” you exhaled as you felt his tongue across your slit, lapping up the slickness from your orgasm. You gripped his soft hair in between your fingers, encouraging him to keep going. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he sighed, looking into your eyes before he returned to your core. His tongue expertly licked your clit just gently enough to send electric jolts without overstimulating you.

You licked your lips when you saw Enzo, “you like me being a slut for you and your friends?”

“How did I ever get so lucky?” He asked, moving to kiss your forehead.

You chuckled, “come on, I miss having you in my mouth.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, moving to position himself against your mouth. You took a few moments to stroke him, planting lazy kisses before he gripped your hair, taking control as he slid in and out of your mouth. You loved it when he used you like this, he fit in your mouth and everywhere else so perfectly. You clenched your walls involuntarily as you choked against Enzo’s cock. You felt the rumble of Theo’s snicker against you, “I think she’s ready for me.”

You made a muffled noise that they both took as agreement, while Enzo closed his eyes, enjoying the vibration you created. Theo straddled you, brushing his tip against your slit. You were already so wet, it would be so easy to slide into you and so he did. You whimpered against as he filled you, pleasure heating up your core. 

“Sshh, it’s okay,” Enzo assured you as he slid outside and watched you take Theo, running his fingers through your hair.

“You can take it,” Theo said as he slid out and returned. You nodded, feeling your walls stretch for him. It felt even better than you imagined. He groaned when his tip kissed the end of your walls, you felt so tight and wet against his hungry cock.

Desperate, filthy moans filled the room and Enzo took this opportunity to grip your hair again, returning his hard length into your mouth. It was starting to get overwhelming again, now that you were filled with both cocks. Each thrust creating delicious friction as they chased their release. Everything else was also in motion from the rapid beating of your hearts to your labored breaths, and the way your tits bounced in sync with their movements.

It didn’t take long until Theo increased his pace, his full length now slippery inside your dripping cunt. Your fingers twisted in the sheets, trying to ground yourself against the hazy pleasure overtaking your mind. Your back arched, letting him thrust deeper into you.

You enjoyed the way Theo said your name as he continued his relentless pace. “Look how well you’re taking us, I’m so proud of you,” Enzo said as he continued fucking your throat, making your eyes water. Your muffled noises against his hard length added more vibrations that sent Enzo over the edge.

“Take everything, love,” he said as you tasted him again for the second time that evening. You swallowed as much as you could and when Enzo pulled out, he ran his thumb along your lower lip, pushing back everything else that spilled out. You took it all in and sucked on his thumb as he watched in amazement. 

His hand moved lower down to your sensitive clit, rubbing and teasing it, while Theo rammed into you faster. Your legs tensed and tightened along with your core. Everything blurred in the haze of pleasure until it all erupted in waves of ecstasy that sent you writhing against them. Your release triggered his as he cried out your name and you savored his white hot spurts inside you. He rode you both through your orgasm.

You found yourselves smiling at each other, faces flushed and breathless. Enzo laid beside you and held you once again. “You did so well,” he said before peppering your face with kisses.

“You’re amazing,” Theo praised you as he laid on your other side, drawing lazy patterns on your arm. 

“Only because I had great partners. Thank you,” you said, kissing each of them on the cheek. “Perhaps we can go again?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Enzo smirked, kissing you once again.

✿ Masterlist

#lorenzo berkshire smut #theodore nott smut #enzo berkshire smut #theo nott smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire imagine #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fic #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #amongemeraldcloudswrites #amongemeraldclouds smut

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

He's My Man (Part 2)

Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff

A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!

__________

Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.

You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.

“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”

Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.

“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”

Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing. 

“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.

“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”

“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.

“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”

“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”

“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”

“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.

But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…

Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.

“Do you like your job?” he asked. 

“S’complicated,” you whispered.

“How complicated?”

“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”

Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”

“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”

“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”

“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”

Late Evening

Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.

“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.

“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.

“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.

“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”

“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”

“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”

“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”

“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”

“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”

Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap. 

“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle. 

“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”

You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves. 

“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.

“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”

“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.

“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment. 

“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”

You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”

“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”

“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”

He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”

“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.

“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”

You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.

“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”

“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.

“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”

“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”

“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”

“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”

“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”

Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”

“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”

“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”

“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”

“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”

“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.

“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”

“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”

“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”

Four Hours Later

“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV. 

“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”

You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.

“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.” 

“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”

“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.

“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest. 

You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped. 

“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.

“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee. 

“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer. 

A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.

You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie. 

“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.

“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.

“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”

“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds. 

“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”

“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.

“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.

“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”

“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”

“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”

Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. 

“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.

“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within. 

“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”

“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.” 

“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”

“I’m good at reading people is all.”

“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.

“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”

“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”

You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.

Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington

“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”

“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark. 

Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.

Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.

“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”

“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.

Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people. 

“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”

“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by. 

If only it were that simple.

It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion. 

“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”

“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground. 

“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”

“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”

“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”

“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”

“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”

“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“How-”

“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”

You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.

Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.

Russ

P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.

You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed. 

Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.

No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.

“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.

He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.

And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.

Fuck.

__________

A/N: Part 3 coming soon!

#russell shaw #Russell Shaw x reader #russell shaw fanfiction #Tracker Fanfiction #Tracker #Russell Shaw x you #Russell Shaw Series

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Twenty - The sisters

You step out of the carriage and look around you. The first ball of the season was always a grand affair. This one in particular as the queen had not yet chosen a diamond.

Last season, Lady Whistledown called Daphne Bridgerton a diamond of the first water, which made her stand out in the ton. Now, the queen was expected to choose a diamond every season. One lucky debutant would sparkle among all the others.

You take your mother's arm and head inside. Many were already present. Lots of lovely young ladies looking for partners for the evening. Your mother leaves your aide to go speak to some of the other mama's.

You stand alone near the entrance and look around. You couldn't spot anyone you knew. You decide to take a walk around the room.

Nerves were setting in. It was strange. You felt like you were doing all of this for the first time again. A few gentlemen glance at you as you pass by. You smile. They smile back. You keep walking.

As you make a turn about the room, you spot the Bridgertons arriving. You see Eloise dressed in a beautiful gown, yet looking uncomfortable. Violet looks very proud and excited. Then there's Benedict. Handsome and smiley.

You move quickly out of sight to avoid him. The way he had sketched you yesterday and what he had said had caused butterflies to rise in your stomach. You're not sure what to make of him right now.

While you try hard to avoid the gaze of the Bridgerton family, you do not escape the sight of Lady Danbury. As she sees you loitering around corners, she calls your name. Startled, you turn quickly in her direction. With a beck of her finger, you make your way over to her.

"Lady Danbury."

"Allow me to introduce you to my guests this season. Lady Mary Sharma and her daughters. Miss Kathani Sharma and Miss Edwina Sharma."

"Delighted," you smile at them.

Mary smiles politely at you. Her daughters do, too. Edwina, in particular, shares a striking resemblance to her mother. You take a look at the two sisters. Kathani is taller than Edwina, who is rather petite. Both of them have eye that sparkle in the lights of the ballroom. Their smiles are kind, though you sense a little nervousness from Edwina.

"A pleasure. You must call me Kate," the eldest of the two says, stepping forward ro greet you properly.

"Kate. I am looking for friends this season, I would be delighted to help make you both feel more comfortable this season if Lady Danbury agrees?"

Lady Danbury gives you a nod with an amused glint in her eye.

"I would be delighted. As would my sister, I'm sure." Kate turns to look at Edwina.

"Very much so." Edwina smiles.

Edwina's voice is higher than Kate's. She speaks softer, too. There are clear differences between them, but at the same time they are rather alike.

You smile at them both.

Lady Danbury comes up beside you and leans in rather close. "Avoiding your friends?"

"Not exactly."

"No? It looked to me like you were hiding." She chuckles.

"I was merely taking some time to myself. I need to get back into this. Last year did not quite go to plan." You avoid looking at her.

"Good things come to those who wait. I recommend branching out and growing your social circle. Miss Penelope Featherington could perhaps use another friend."

You look in the direction Lady Danbury is looking. Penelope stands among mamas gossiping, no doubt. You get the hint and make your way over there, hoping to spend time with the Sharma sisters again soon.

Perhaps this year is, in fact, a good time to make mkre friends. It gives you an excuse to avoid Benedict for a while, too.

"Penelope," you greet her softly.

"Oh, hello." She smiles shyly.

"May I keep you company a while?" You ask.

"Would you not prefer being among the others?" She asks in return.

You glance around the room and then back at her. "For tonight, no. I think I would much prefer to be a wallflower."

Penelope smiles slightly.

"How are you?"

"I am well." She nods. "Just... biding my time, I suppose."

The truth was that Penelope was watching and listening. Though she couldn't quite tell you that, or for what purpose. You would never believe her anyway.

"Is that Lady Mary Sheffield Sharma?" Portia asks, watching the Sharma family walk by. Kate smiles at you as she passes. You smile back at her. "I can't believe she would show her face here again," Portia continued.

"A scandal, mama?" Cressida asks her mother.

"Lady Mary was the incomparable of our season, until she fell in love with and married some kind of clerk, I hear. The two of them absconded to India, thereafter."

"A maharajah I would have understood, but the man was no more than a common worker who already had a child." One of the other mamas chimed in.

"That must be her. The older one," Portia points out toward Kate. You look at her from beside Penelope. There was no denying Kate was gorgeous.

"Lady Mary's parents, the Sheffields, never lived down the shame, did they?"

"Too ashamed to show their faces in London."

"If only every family could be as respectable as ours. Yes, Lady Featherington?" Lady Cowper chuckles softly.

You don't see Portia's response, too focused on watching Kate and Edwina.

You turn to Penelope. "No luck for you either?" You ask softly.

"Hm? Oh. No..." Penelope looks down shyly. "Excuse me." She leaves your side and walks away. You sigh softly. You ignore the chuckle of Cressida behind you and walk off in the other direction.

You have so far managed to successfully dodge Benedict, and for that you feel great relief. He must be preoccupied elsewhere. As you walk about the room you spot Edwina being asked to dance by Lord Corning. He's a tall handsome fellow with a good background. Edwina dances elegantly with him.

"Do you know him?"

You turn to find Kate looking at you. You smile and shakes your head. "Not personally. I know of him. He's very kind."

Kate watches her sister quietly.

"Are you not dancing?" You ask.

"I am here for my sister. Hers is the only match I care about. What about you?" She asks in return.

"Oh, no. I don't think I fit into society. It's too busy, too wanting. I don't think there is a perfect match for me. I got close last season, but it did not work out."

"What of him?" Kate nods across the room. You follow her gaze and find Benedict looking at you. He makes his way over once you spot him.

"I must go," you excuse yourself and flee.

Kate watches you go, and then watches Benedict follow the path you have taken. She wasn't sure what that was about, but she felt inclined not to intervene.

You find refuge in a dark corner behind some flowers. You sigh as you lean against the wall. Dodging Benedict all night was going to be harder than you thought.

"Are you hiding from me?"

You jump and turn to see Benedict looking at you. "No."

"It seemed like you were."

"I just need some space. All that dancing..."

"I didn't see you dancing." Benedict reaches for your dance card. "Your card is empty."

You take your hand back and sigh. "I'm sorry. I was just... confused."

"About that?" He asks.

"Forget about it. Why aren't you dancing?" You ask.

"I'm avoiding the mamas."

You chuckle softly.

"Dance with me?" He asks.

Your heart skips a beat. He offers you his hand and you know you can't really say no without making him worry. You take his hand and let him guide you to the floor. You join in with the dance.

Benedict looks at you as you both dance. "So tell me, why have you been avoiding me?"

You know he's not going to let this go. "I was embarrassed, I suppose."

"Embarrassed? Why?"

"Can I ask you something?" You ask softly.

"Of course."

"What do you see when you look at me?"

Benedict is struck into silence. He wasn't expecting that question from you. He has to remind himself that you're both dancing and take care not to step on your toes.

"You're beautiful, kind, honest, smart. You brighten up a room just by being in it. Your smile is genuine. You worry a lot, but I like that about you. It shows just how much you care about things and people. If I like you, other shall surely adore you."

You feel breathless. Benedict always knows just what to say to send you into a tizzy, but his last few words stung. He likes you, but not like that.

You put on a brave smile.

"Thank you, Benedict."

You both finish the dance, and he escorts you over to the refreshment table. He grabs you a glass and takes one for himself. You both sip your drinks. Before either of you can pick up the conversation, Violet comes over and leans into Benedict's other side.

"Have you seen your sister or your brother?" She asks, looking rather flustered.

"They managed to escape you? Good for them." Benedict smiles.

You nudge him harshly with your elbow. Benedict lets out a quiet ow and walks away, leaving you with Violet. You turn to her with a soft smile. "I'm sure they're not far."

Violet smiles softly and nods. "Have you two made up then?" She asks, referring to you and Benedict.

"Made up?"

"I was under the impression something happened." She looks a little confused.

"All is well. Your son has helped me see something in me I hadn't noticed before. That's all."

Violet smiles and then shifts her gaze as Lady Danbury approaches. You greet the other woman and she nods at you with a pleasing smile.

"Lady Danbury. Splendid evening," Violet comments.

"For the most part. There are a few guests whose absence I might not have regretted."

Lady Bridgerton laughs. "I do hope I'm not one of them."

"You and I have common interest this season, it seems." Lady Danbury tells her.

"I heard. Your wards, I look forward to meeting them."

"I met them earlier," you chime in. "Two very beautiful ladies."

Violet seems pleased by your words.

The two ladies talk away, and you find this a good opportunity to sneak away. You miss Kate and Edwina leaving rather quickly from the ball, unaware what had occurred between Kate and Anthony in the garden.

Benedict finds you again rather quickly. He comes up beside you and looks around. "Has my mama ended her pursuit?"

"I don't know why you're worried. She has her hands full with Eloise and Anthony. I don't envy her position with those two."

Benedict chuckles. "Is my mama not helping you, also?"

"She has offered her assistance, yes. Yet, I do not expect to come first. Her own children are her priority, and for that, I understand. I think I shall push the subject to the back of my mind for now."

Benedict regards you quietly and then nods.

The rest of the evening passes in quiet company with the second eldest brother. He sees no reason to leave your side when he's finding himself enjoying his time so much.

He even escorts you outside at the end. Everyone is too occupied with themselves to pay any attention to you two.

Benedict sees that you get in your carriage safely and bids you farewell. You wave as the carriage leaves. He watches you go before joining his family again.

Another season, another opportunity for chaos to arise.

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

[jrow]

May Prompts (25)

Day 24 here. Start from the beginning here.

Intuition

He may not be Sherlock Holmes, but he trusts his intuition.

In fact, right now his intuition is probably a hell of a lot more reliable than Sherlock’s. He’s seen what Sherlock will do when blinded by anger.

It’s time for Captain Watson to take control.

“Don’t look out the window,” he hisses through a smile. “Keep looking at me or Rosie. Look happy.”

“But John—“ Sherlock argues, gesticulating wildly.

“Sherlock. Trust me.” He knows his tone leaves no room for argument. Even from the great Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock freezes and then starts fidgeting slightly awkwardly. He seems almost … flustered. But then he gives a tiny nod and plasters on a fake smile while keeping his eyes firmly on Rosie.

“Good. Now, you are going to get up and go order two coffees. And I am going to call Mrs. Hudson and ask her to pick up Rosie from here.” He looks at his daughter who is happily scribbling with the crayons and blank paper they brought. He thinks maybe he can see some hearts among her chaos of lines. “We aren’t doing anything until we get Rosie out of here.”

That seems to get through to Sherlock. “Right. Of course. Coffees.”

They proceed with their tasks and soon are back at the table, pretending to have a normal conversation while they wait for their landlady. It’s excruciating.

“Who is he?” Sherlock asks, leaning back in his chair, the picture of relaxation.

“I don’t remember his name but he was on the scene at the … Smith abduction case maybe? Something around that time.” He takes a drink of coffee. “And the bastard has been one of the constables assigned to my room too. Changed his hair and shaved off his moustache but definitely the same guy.”

“Of course, I should have known. No man in their right mind would dye their hair that colour. He’s hoping you won’t make the connection,” Sherlock says, picking up one of the crayons and drawing a happy face beside Rosie’s scribbles. She giggles and snatches the crayon from his hand, having decided she needs the yellow at this very instant. “He seems to think he has a lot to lose. I have no doubt he’s planning an escape—somewhere in Europe most likely.”

To anyone else, he’s sure Sherlock sounds calm, but he hears the quiet fury lacing every word.

He doesn’t know what to say, so they sit in silence for a moment. He drinks his coffee and Sherlock and Rosie play a game of keep away with the crayons.

“I wonder how Larkin got mixed up in all this. Hate to say it, but I feel a bit sorry for the guy,” he finally says, mostly to pass the time.

“That’s easy,” Sherlock says, keeping his focus on Rosie. “Constable Needs-to-Die happened upon Mr. Larkin in the midst of some crime. Something serious that would come with significant jail time. The constable looked the other way in exchange for a major favour, which he called in when he decided he needed to get you out of the picture.” A pause. “Feel no sympathy. Robert Larkin got exactly what he deserved.”

That rather somber sentiment is quickly dissipated by Rosie’s squeals of delight and calls of “Nana” that announce Mrs. Hudson’s arrival. She’s trying to jump down from the booster even before Mrs. Hudson made her way through the door.

“What did you tell her?” Sherlock asks quietly, leaning close.

“Just that I … errr… just that I was hoping to have a little extra time alone with you,” he says, feeling the heat in his cheeks rise. It’s not that far from the truth, really, but feels like a confession of sorts.

Mrs. Hudson swoops in and hugs Rosie before Sherlock can respond. “There’s my little princess, let’s get you in your pushchair. We are going to have so much fun!” For a woman pushing 80, Mrs. Hudson is impressively spry. She quickly gets everything together (eschewing all help), including getting Rosie all buckled in without a fuss.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock says, his voice neutral but his toe tapping rather aggressively.

“It’s my pleasure, boys. You two have fun,” Mrs. Hudson replies with a wink. “Don’t get into too much trouble.” Her words are light but there’s a look in her eye that makes him think she understands the urgency. In a flash, she and Rosie are gone.

He tries to pick up his coffee but his hands are shaking in anticipation of what’s to come. And relief that, whatever happens, Rosie is safe in Baker Street. Where she belongs.

It’s also relief that he is here with Sherlock, about to do … whatever it is they are about to do. Together. It’s where they belong.

“John,” Sherlock says, forcefully. “Rosie is safe. It’s time to do things my way now.”

Time to follow intuition once again.

“Dear god, yes.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

#johnlock #wip #may prompts 2024

[maxillness]

FU In My Head || MV1 x Perez!twin!Reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap, Google translated Spanish, yearning, oral (m)

Wordcount: 1.4k

He knew it was wrong. He knew he had to stop, but god did it feel so good

Imagining her body while her jerks off, was the worst sin he’s done to date

Imagining it was her hands on his cock on his own

Imagining her mouth on his cock as he comes

Imagine getting fucked by her as he laid in his bed, coming down from his orgasm

It didn’t help she showed up at the garage or motorhome, he couldn’t exactly tell her to leave, he couldn’t actually tell her anything, as he would stutter rapidly every time he caught her scent in his nose

“Good job, Max” She said, coming up behind him, touching his waist softly, making him turn his head towards her

“Thank you” Even just the two words he couldn’t get out, stuttering too much

“You seen my brother?” She leaned her head closer to his ear, the talk of engineers and mechanics filling the motorhome

“He’s in his drivers room” Surprisingly he could get his words out in an understandable voice

“Thank you” She let go of his waist, walking towards Checo’s drivers room

“¿Alguna vez vas a hacer un movimiento?” Are you ever going to make a move?. She slid down the wall of the drivers room as Checo spoke to her in that loving brother tone

“No pienso” I don’t think so. She said taking a sip of the water bottle he had given her

“¿Por qué no? Obviamente le gustas” Why not? He obviously likes you. He sat down on the couch opposite to her, leaning back

“Lo sé, pero quiero ver cuánto tiempo le toma a él mismo hacer el movimiento” I know, but I want to see how long it takes for him to make the move himself. She sighed, putting her head against the wall

“Eso nunca va a pasar y lo sabes” That’s never going to happen, and you know it. He said, chuckling, almost laughing

“Si quiere meteres en mis pantalones, tiene que decirlo él mismo” If he wants to get in my pants, he has to say it himself. She said smiling, sliding her legs up to her chest

“Eres algo tuya” You’re something of yours. She didn’t listen to his comment when she heard small whines from the other side of the door

She knitted her eyebrows together as she listen “Please. Fuck, yes” Followed by a small moan

“¿Qué?” What?. He asked, seeing at her confused eyes

“Nada” Nothing. She looked back up at him, picking another subject to talk about than the previous

She tried focusing on the conversation with her brother, but she could still hear into the room behind her

“Please, fuck. Yes, just like that. Y/N…” The moan that came from his lips indicated he came with her name rolling off his tongue

“¿Quieres que te lleve de regreso al hotel?” Do you want me to take you back to the hotel?. He asked standing up from the couch

“No gracias, primero necesito hacer algo” No thank you, I need to do something first. She said, standing up as well, groaning slightly at the pain in her lower back

She waited until Checo had left before she knocked on Max’ door to his drivers room

He opened the door, his face turning all shades of pink as he saw her standing there with a slight smirk on her lips

“Can I come in?” She asked, thickening her accent purposely, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he sank

“S-sure” He said, opening the door wider for her to enter

“Did you have a good wank?” She asked, sitting on the small table in the room, watching the way the blush turned deeper

“Did you hear that?” He asked, almost impossible to hear his words

“All of it, darling” She smiled, crossing her ankles, pushing her chest out, looking at him with eyes filled with filth

“All of it?” His eyes looked into his shoes, hands into his pockets of his jeans

“Get over here, amar” She said, spreading her legs, giving him space to stand in between them

She slowly walked over to her, never once looking up at her. She hooked her finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at her

“If you wanna get in my pants, tell me” His hands was placed on either sides of her thighs, too close for him to think straight

“What?” His words were stuck in his throat, hurting to get out

“Tell me. Tell what you’re thinking about when you’re alone” Her hands was placed on his waist, pulling him closer, lips almost making contact

“I won’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what you need” She said when he didn’t speak

She leaned in, lips so close of any of them spoke, their lips would graze each other

“Please… I want you so bad. Thinking about you every time I’m alone” He almost let out a whimper when their lips touched

“Good boy” She leaned in, their lips colliding.

He kissed back immediately. Her hands went to his jaw, pulling him into a rougher kiss, his own hands coming to rest on her waist

She forced his lips apart with her tongue, making him gasp slightly. He whimpered at the feeling of her tongue against the walls of his cheeks

Her hands traveled from his jaw, down his torso and landed under his shirt, making him shiver at her cold fingers

They only parted when she pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it at the ground

She went back to kissing him, but this time at his neck, drawing on low moans from him

“I-i can’t keep- Shit… Quiet” He let out a quite louder moan when she started sucking at his skin softly, making him cover his mouth with his hand

“You fucking better” She got off the table, grabbing his wrist, taking his hand away from his mouth “I don’t know how many people are left” She smiled, guiding him back towards the couch

“Sit” She forced him down on the couch, drawing out a huff from him “Buen chico” Good boy. She said, going down on her knees in front of him

He held his breath as she unbuckled his belt, looking up at him through hooded eyes, pure lust in her eyes

He lifted his hips so she could pull down his jeans, his boxers as well, helping him step out of them, throwing them with his shirt

“Tan bonito” So pretty. She said, kissing his inner thighs, making him spread his legs apart, giving her access to scoot in between them

“Please” He pleaded as she grabbed his hips, pulled him closer to the edge, her face just in front his rock hard cock

“Patience, chico” He whined, but it was soon replaced with a moan when she softly licked the tip of his cock “Quiet” She said, voice stern

“Jus’ feels so good” He grabbed the edge of the couch, knuckles turning white from the force as she drove back to lick softly at him

Her nails was digging hardly into his skin, surly making marks for him to see tomorrow, for him to feel tomorrow

He tried keeping his hips still, but he felt the need to buck them once her tongue started swirling around his tip

“Please… Stop teasing” His eyes was shut closed, mouth hanging silently open, head thrown into the back of the couch

She gave in, hollowing her cheeks, taking all of him in, making him hit the back of her throat, gaging around him

He shivered at the vibrations, feeling the pleasure in all of his body. The moan he tried to hold in, came out as a whimper instead

“Please… Feels s’ good” His thighs shook, almost trapping her body between them

She sped up, holding her hair away from her face with one of her hands, the other still roughly around his hip

“Fuck, please… Y/N, please” His words were breathless as he started twitching in her mouth

“‘M close” He managed to keep his sounds at bay, only letting out small whines

Her tongue dragged up his vain as she went up, which pulled him over the edge, whole body shaking as he shot his cum down her throat, barely able to contain his moans

She helped him down from his orgasm before popping off him, swallowing his cum and standing up

“Are you okay, cariño?” She asked, kissing his forehead, the sweat covering her lips

“Mhm. Fine” He opened his eyes, taking her hands and kissing the back of them “Thank you”

“Anytime, bebé” She smiled, helping him getting his clothes back on

#Spotify #smut #formula one #dom!reader #Max Verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x reader smut #sub!max verstappen

[holylulusworld]

Unworthy

Summary: Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother.

Pairing: AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader, AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader (platonic/best friends)

Warnings: past addiction, mentions of drug abuse/addiction (Loki), angst, classism, Thor being an ass, BBF trope, mentions of spiked drinks

Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother and won’t stop telling you, his parents, and Loki so. 

You’re not rich, and don’t come from a wealthy family. You’re just you, and that is not enough in Thor’s eyes.

“How can you believe she wants to be your friend,” Thor’s voice booms through the hallways. You sigh and try to focus on work, not the fact that the brute is yelling at your friend again. “You’re blinded by lust!”

“Y/N and I are only friends. I know you cannot be around a woman without getting between her legs, but I cherish my friendship with Y/N. Stop trying to ruin our bond.”

“Bond,” the blonde snorts when you step out of your office to come to Loki’s aid. “Ah, there she is. The she-devil.”

“What is going on here?” You glare at Thor, not afraid of the tall man. He’s much taller than you and easily towers over you. “People try to work here, Mr. Odinson.”

“He tried to ruin our friendship again,” Loki defensively says. He moves closer to you, seeking your closeness. He’s still not out of the woods, and the confrontations with his brother do him no good.

You straighten your back and try to look taller while glaring at Thor. “I know you cannot understand that people want to be friends, but this doesn’t mean you can argue with your brother about our friendship all the time. This is ridiculous. Why do you hate the fact that Loki is my friend? There is no harm in being friends with me.”

“Says you,” Thor huffs as he eyes you up and down. “I know exactly what you are up to. Loki is just too blind to see who you truly are.”

You gently take Loki’s hand when he starts fidgeting next to you. He needs someone to help him with his insecurities and not fall back into old patterns.

Drug addiction is a dead end. If you don’t find a way back out, you are stuck. Loki is doing well. You’re a big help and the constant he needs to stay clean.

Thor doesn’t get that you are Loki’s anchor when the world gets too much again.

“How about we get you something to eat, darling,” you wrap one arm around Loki’s shoulder to guide him toward your office. “My office is a haven. Don’t worry. You’re safe, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Thor watches you guide his brother away from him with angry eyes. One day, he’ll find a way to get rid of you.

He doesn’t care that Loki and his father think highly of you. Thor Odinson swore to himself to remove you from his brother’s life, and he won’t stop until he succeeds.

“Son, I won’t argue with you again. Y/N is a hard-working woman. She’s smart, eloquent, and always professional. Stop trying to make her a bad person,” Odin warns one last time. Thor tried, once again, to get you fired.

“I do not trust her. Father, she’s not like us. I know there is something wrong with her. Why would she want to be friends with Loki during his darkest times if not to take advantage of him and his vulnerability.”

“I’m right here,” Loki rises from his seat to glare at his brother. “I’ve been clean for almost a year. Y/N was one of the reasons I did not have a relapse. She’s a good person and a kind soul. Stop being a classist!”

“I’m not a classist!”

Loki pants heavily. “YES YOU ARE!” 

“Sons!” Odin slams his fist onto the table. “Thor, stop right there. Do not go any further.” Odin’s features soften seeing Loki’s hand tremble. “Loki, we believe you. Y/N is a good person and she’s always welcome here.”

“Thank you, father,” Loki nods before he turns to leave the room. “Please excuse me. I lost my appetite.”

“Morning darling,” you try to cheer Loki up. He told you about the scene Thor made during dinner. “I got you breakfast and the tea you like some much.”

“You’re the best,” he grins and takes the offered tea. “I’m sorry for chewing your ear off last night. I know I can be…too much.”

“Loki,” you cup his chin with one hand, “let me stop you right there. We are friends. You’re never too much. If you want to talk, even if it’s two am, come over or give me a call. That’s what friends are good for.”

Thor watches you run your hand up and down Loki’s arm. He squares his jaw and huff.

“Only friends. Who are you trying to kid, woman…”

Thor feels like he defeated a dragon. He crosses his arms over his wide chest and smirks as he watches your downfall.

Odin didn’t waste time. He’d do anything to protect Loki. Even if it means to fire one of his best and most reliable employees. 

It took one old picture to ruin your life. Thor didn’t let up until he finally found something he could use against you.

A snapshot of you, stoned and barely awake as you hold a drink in your hands. To anyone else, it’s a girl partying during college. To Odin, it’s a picture of a woman bringing drugs and alcohol into his drug-addicted son’s life.

Your ears ring from the yelling you received from Odin. He called you an addict, and a bad influence. You don’t care that you lost your job. The only thing that pains you is that Odin forbids you to see Loki again.

“Are you done?” You coolly reply. “If so, you should know that I do not drink and that I didn’t take drugs. That’s a very old picture taken by someone I didn’t even know.”

“I cannot have someone like you near my son or at my company,” Odin regrets his harsh words, but Loki is more important than an employee.

You angrily wipe your eyes while Thor watches you clean out your desk. 

This is it. He made it. You not only lost your job, but your friendship with Loki is over too.

His father will not allow you to keep in touch with his son. Not after his golden boy made him believe you’re a bad person. You knew the first time you met Thor Odinson that he would be your downfall.

“I knew you’re a bad influence,” he sneers when you look at him with teary eyes. “You’re tears and pout won’t work on me. I’m not my unstable brother eating out of your hands.”

“Do you think I care?” you choke on your tears. “Did you…” You take a deep breath. “Did you dig a little deeper? Did you find out that the picture was taken after some rich, entitled frat boy spiked my drink to show the poor and shy girl what happens when she turns his advances down?”

Thor blanches at your words. He doesn’t want to believe you, but your eyes give the truth away. “I—” It’s the first time the tall blonde is at a loss of words. He doesn’t have an answer or a comeback. 

What if he just destroyed your career and friendship with Loki over nothing? 

He was so blinded by his ignorance and jealousy that he did more than damage your career. Thor Odinson destroyed you completely. Your reputation and career lie in ruins all thanks to him. Everyone saw the picture you desperately tried to forget.

What’s past is past you told yourself whenever the memories flash back up. You tried to move past what happened back then and you believed, at least for a while, that you succeeded.

“Did you find out that I ended up in hospital, and that I only got lucky because a friend found me before that very same frat boy could finish his plan?”

“Why would he do this to you?” Thor’s tone is softer now. 

“Well, he was just like you. A rich boy who never heard the word no,” you throw the last knick-knack into the box and pick it up. “He believed he can tell me to suck his dick and I’d happily oblige. That guy didn’t get that I’m not the kind of girl seeking attention from guys like him.”

“Wait—if that’s true,” Thor touches your arm, but you shake his hand off. “I talk to Father and explain my mistake. We can figure something out.”

“Save it,” you huff. “He didn’t believe me. I was nothing but loyal to your father and the company. All I ever wanted was to do a good job and be a good friend to Loki. Just you know, I stopped Loki from taking drugs anytime life dragged him down. I hope he finds help soon.” You sniffle. “I’d hate to watch him fall for the poison again only because you made it impossible for me to be there for him.”

Thor swallows thickly when you storm out of your office. You brush past Odin and Frigga who heard every word you threw in Thor’s direction. They feel as guilty as their son when their eyes meet Thor’s blue ones.

“Is that true, son?” Odin questions while you walk away, holding your head high. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you ever did was to support Loki.

“I don’t know yet,” Thor hastily says. “I’ll find out and then…” he trails off watching you walk past your co-workers. None of them even says goodbye, even though, you’ve been there for them whenever someone needed help. “I’ll make amends.”

Tags in reblog.

#thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #loki laufeyson #au!thor odinson #business au #thor x reader #thor odinson x you #thor x you #Unworthy

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (26) Manipulate

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 26)

Summary: Rosie finds an unmarked box in her wardrobe. When John scolds himself for lacking as a parent, Rosie sets things straight.

Twenty-Six Years Old

Six months after my return to London, I was moving out again. The internship at the ministry of justice paid surprisingly well. I couldn’t help but think that a certain uncle had been using his manipulation skills again… In addition to my wage, the generous inheritance from Nana and Timothy’s income from his published novel, were more than sufficient to buy a decent flat in Stockwell. 

Nana had clearly wanted that 221 Baker Street was well looked after, and gifted it to her two boys, and insisted in her will that if Deidre, or Dee, as she preferred to be called, needed a home, 221A should be hers. And for the last two years, 221A had been occupied by Dee. My parents got along with her like a house on fire.

“It’s like having a younger version of Hudders down there,” Papa stated.

“Agreed. The sassiness runs in the family, I presume. Dee’s skills in the kitchen are sadly things she did not inherit from her aunt, though,” Dad said.

“Definitely not! She almost sat the flat on fire when she was boiling eggs,” Papa filled in.

***

Moving out the first time, had been poles apart to this move. That time I was going on an adventure, and I knew it was for just a period. When I moved in with Timothy, it was forever, and that was more bittersweet than I’d anticipated.

Moving to Paris, I had only taken clothes, some books, my laptop and the like. Stripping my room bare, was something entirely different. There were so many memories, and I knew I had to get rid of some of them because the flat wasn’t exactly big, and there were Timothy’s things to consider as well.

Over the next weeks I felt that I lived inside a cardboard box. They were everywhere, even downstairs to let me have some room to move around upstairs and leave the bed free to sleep in.

On the floor inside my wardrobe, I found an old box that had remained hidden behind clothes, rucksacks, shoes and a bag with blankets. It wasn’t marked and I couldn’t remember having placed it there. I opened the flaps and gasped in surprise.

“How are you getting on?” Dad called from the stairs and seconds later he entered my room.

I looked up at him with a stunned expression. When he saw the box, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily.

“Right. I’d forgotten all about that one,” he said sheepishly. “I’ve failed to keep her memory alive for you, haven’t I?”

“Dad,” I scolded him. “You had far more important things to cope with when she died. Raising me with Papa is the greatest gift you could’ve given me. Never be sorry for that. I don’t remember her at all. From what I’ve gathered she did some horrible things to you both. No, stop. She did. I may not know the full extent of it, but it doesn’t matter that she was my mother. Remember what Papa said about extended and chosen family. They can be way better than the biological one. Not that I would want to replace you, mind.”

We both looked down at the photo of my mother and Dad on their wedding day. I didn’t recall when it had been replaced with the wedding photo of Dad and Papa. It felt strange and a bit eerie to look at Dad embracing another person like that. I took it out and placed it in the box that was going to the bins.

“Rosie!” Dad exclaimed, more out of shock than anything else.

“It’s wrong, Dad. I don’t need that. To me she’s the one who gave me life, but she was never in it when it mattered, and I’ve never missed having a mother. I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world having you and Papa as parents. You’ve done a great job, and uncle Myc, Nana, Molly, Granny, Pops, and uncle Greg have been brilliant carers as well. Now, what else is in here?”

I found Ted, still stained with tomato sauce, a white baby blanket with a bee pattern, tiny boxes containing a curl of my hair, my first tooth, a book where my growth, my first real meal, my first words, my first steps, my first trip, (to Barts), my favourite toys and books were painstakingly written down in Papa’s handwriting. My eyes filled with tears when I realised how much love lay behind those notes.

“He didn’t let me near that book with my horrible handwriting,” Dad said in a choked voice, clearly as emotional as me.

Another book caught my eye. The one uncle Greg had mentioned. A book with children’s names. It was worn, and I didn’t know whether that was from Papa searching for male names starting with a G, or my mother’s search for names meant for me.

“Did you…”

“No,” Dad cut me off. “She’d already decided on a name once we got back together. After…”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence, and I’m glad he stopped himself. Just thinking about it made me nauseous. 

I hadn’t told Timothy about her yet, but I knew I needed to. He would eventually ask. The lack of photos of her would ensure that. I reminded myself to ask uncle Myc how much I could reveal. Not that I knew more than half of it myself.

After I’d put the box aside, I leant into Dad where he sat beside me and placed my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and pulled me in for a hug.

“I’m so glad you decided to move back here with me after she died,” I murmured. “We would’ve been miserable without him.”

“Yeah, two years was enough for a lifetime,” Dad said and drew me closer, kissing the top of my head.

“I bet Papa is relieved that he can walk around in just a sheet now that I’m moving out for good,” I quipped to brighten the mood.

Dad chuckled and he was unable to hide the glint in his eyes at this prospect.

Also available on AO3

All the love to the other magnificent participants <3 Thanks to everyone for the endless support and especially to those who normally don't read parent!lock, but despite that are walking the extra mile. I'm in awe!

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies

#may prompts 2024 #may 26: manipulation #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter Four - Discordant

Summary: Morpheus seems to take a turn for the better, but a person cannot change overnight. How does it feel to finally give him a taste of his own medicine? How does it feel to go back to square one, once again?

Notes: ~6.1k words, Please don't stare at the eclipse with your blind eyes, I just didn't know how to write protective solar glasses into this AU ok

Warnings/Tags: Morpheus is trying, it's not working, two deaths of side characters, miscommunication/misinterpretation (?), reader gets their feelings hurt again cause I can't stop writing angst

Tag list is open! Just let me know :)

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Discordant (adj.) - not in agreement or harmony, to be at variance

How do you face Morpheus again after that? The simple answer is you don’t, well you try not to. However, when you go to breakfast the next morning, it’s a surprise to you that Morpheus is there waiting for you. Breakfast is less formal than dinner, yet here you were, sharing a meal with him right by your side. 

Tension is thick in the air, the only sounds are that of cutlery on plates. You chew your fruit slowly while consciously trying not to look at Morpheus. This was horrible; you need wine, or something to dull your mental ability so you didn’t have to be fully here. 

Your throat was still raw from the day before, and the food only seems to make it worse, scraping itself down your throat as you swallow. 

“I’m finished,” You rasp and go to stand from your spot.

“Wait,” He stands abruptly, the glass on the table rattling with the sudden movement. You’re determined to leave but his fingers grab onto your wrist.   

“What?” You frown at him, the warmth of his fingers spreading across your arm. 

“There is a gala coming up. The Summer Eclipse Gala, please will you attend with me?”

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. Instead you stare at how he gently holds onto you. His thumb smooths across the tender part of your wrist when he answers. 

“Not really,” He says in a low voice. There was some regret laced in his answer, but you didn’t want to pay attention to that. 

“Then that is my answer.” You sigh as you turn away. Morpheus’ hand is still around your wrist and even with a slight tug, he doesn’t release you. “Let go.” 

“Should we… talk about yesterday?” He says hesitantly. “What is there to say?” You reply back, your voice losing itself again at the very end. When your husband doesn’t answer, you pull your arm away more forcefully. This time, he lets you go. “Precisely.” You leave, your heart pounding as you so easily defy him. 

The rest of the week was spent doing exactly what he had been doing to you for the past couple of months. Which is to say, avoiding him at all points possible. You try to hide in the library, but that proves futile as he easily seeks you out there. The studio and many bookshelves do little to hide you, ironically.

The only place he doesn’t dare find you is your garden. Even he could understand the importance of that sanctuary to you. And though the flowers certainly seem to enjoy the summer sun, you couldn’t say the same. The heat had started to become unbearable and it had been days since your last visit there. 

When he asks for you to dine with him, you decline and lock yourself in your room. Your stomach rumbles until Matthew sneaks you a leftover biscuit, but it was better than confronting him. At a certain point, embarrassment of letting your true feelings show turn to resentment once more. 

Why did he suddenly feel entitled to your time? 

“The King brought you this, Your Majesty,” Agnes says one morning as she enters your room. One of the maids holds a large box, decorated with a beautiful red bow. 

You take a hold of it, albeit a bit hesitant, and unravel the gift. When you lift the lid, you’re greeted with something you have never seen before. The dress was a beautiful golden yellow, with gems that represented the sun inlaid amongst the sweetheart bodice. Lacey loops come off the bodice in a delicate design that would wrap around your upper arms. The bottom skirting was decorated with glittering swirls and the fabric soft to the touch. 

“Oh! It looks lovely,” Agnes compliments with a soft gasp. She’s looking over your shoulder as you continue to stare at the dress. 

“Hmm, I can’t deny it either. It looks beautiful,” You sigh as you run your fingers through the soft fabric. Your fingers come across a piece of paper with a note. 

Please do me the honor and wear this tonight. Written in Morpheus’ handwriting. 

“And so shall you, your grace, when you wear it today,” Your lady’s maid hums.

Right… the gala is today. It seems your plan of avoiding Morpheus would have to come to an end. But, you still have the rest of the day to yourself, best to start savoring it. You start with a bath, with extra Natterhorn milk per your request, and something else to calm your nerves. After which, Agnes starts pampering you to get you ready for the event. 

Hands are grabbing at you at every angle, tugging, brushing, wiping. You felt like a marionette puppet as they direct you on where to step, where to hold your hands so that they may dress you accordingly. 

“Agnes,” You gasp as she gives you another sharp tug. “I request you loosen this horrid corset for my sake.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” She says, giving one last tug and tying the knot, more than less ignoring your request. 

In the end, both you and Agnes are huffing and puffing when you’re finally done. You watch as Agnes puts on a pair of white cotton gloves and reaches into a wooden box you didn’t have the liberty of noticing before. From it, she produces an ornate crown. 

It pairs with your dress nicely, a warm gold with white gems. The points of the head piece  were a bit excessive, but your inner judgment was cut short when you realized it was supposed to represent the sun. When Agnes places it on your head, you grimace at the weight of it. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it is part of the uniform,” Agnes apologizes once again as she notices your contorted face. 

“It is not your fault, do not fret. You did well,” You grunt as you step away from the mirror. Agnes is positively gushing as she looks you over. Her beaming increases as you give your compliments to her hard work. 

Despite the heavy crown, the dress itself was light and made for easy movement. Agnes opens the door and you follow the entourage of silver knights as they lead you from the comforts of your bedroom. Matthew’s presence settles your nerves a bit as you feel his protective presence three paces behind. 

“Are you excited, boss lady?” You hear him ask with a smile hidden behind his helmet. He had recently polished his black armor and you’re sure if you turn around now, you could see your reflection. 

“In all honesty, Matthew? For the event, yes. For seeing my husband again, no.” You pause as the unified metal footsteps descend to the first floor of the castle. “What of you?”

“If I get to see Jessamy again…” He says beneath his breath, quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it.

You can see the sunlight from the entrance and you’re about to ask Matthew to repeat himself. However, the silver knights stop on the final set of stairs, leaving you standing at the intersection that leads to Morpheus’ wing. He comes down in time with your steps and meets you in the middle.

Morpheus is dressed in his typical black, simply more detailed than usual. He switches his flowing robe for an off shoulder cape that only reaches his mid thighs. His black tunic and pants were dusted with silver and dark blue, giving the illusion of the night sky at certain angles. Sitting comfortably on his head was a crown: silver with curving onyx gems that resembled the moon. 

He’s close enough now to take you in your full glory. The dress he bought for you was the correct choice. It hugs your figure in all the right places; the dress was, after all, altered to your size. When the fleeting rays of sunlight come through the large window, it reflects off your dress and illuminates you. The Sun only shares a portion of His light, but you’ve managed to take it and make it your own. 

“You look radiant,” He breathes the truth as he comes closer to you. You notice his finger twitch as he resists the urge to touch you. 

“Save your falsities for someone else,” You snap, surprising yourself even. The crown was way too heavy on your head for pretenses. 

“Very well… but we should at least pretend to like each other for the guests tonight.” Morpheus offers his arm to you and turns, the breeze from the entrance coming through the hallway. 

“Then let us begin,” You reply as you hook your hand to his arm. 

Crossing the castle threshold, the eclipse was already beginning to start. The trees rustle in the gentle late spring wind, its shades creating crescent shadows on the ground. You’re able to enjoy it from afar as the two of you walk the distance to the grand ballroom. 

Slowly, daylight surrenders to night and the nocturnal critters emerge from their slumber. Crickets chirp, fireflies float around you, and moths fan their wings in the moonlight. The smell of petrichor turns heavy once more as you reenter the castle, the doors opening wide with an announcement of your and Morpheus’ arrival. The silver knights part, Matthew leaves your side, as does Jessamy, as Morpheus leads you to the center of the ballroom. 

“Welcome, esteemed guests of the Dreaming. Tonight, we shall once again celebrate the astral lovers of Sun and Moon,” An announcer bellows into a horn. Cheers and unified clapping follow. “During Totality of the eclipse, we welcome you to witness the first dance of the night, to be shared with King Morpheus and Queen Consort Y/N.”

A fanfare plays and the crowd turns to the open ceiling, watching with shielded eyes as the moon slowly clips into place. Night dominates the sky, the moon blocking the sun except for the defining ring around it. Footmen scurry around as they quickly light the abundance of candles and chandeliers they could reach. 

The grand ballroom gleams with the light of a thousand crystal chandeliers as you and Morpheus turn towards each other. The light fractures and creates halos across the marble flooring and stone pillars. Morpheus bows and you curtsy low, and the action reminds you of your wedding night. Slowly, he clasps his hand over yours gently and a firm arm wraps around your waist. 

The string ensemble starts and you try to fight the smile that creeps on your lips as you’re easily pulled in time with his steps. Morpheus smiles as he studies your face closely. You're dancing once again.

The candle light seems to be absorbed into your figure as you glow under its warm light. Spinning hand in hand with your husband, you’ve long since given up holding back your smile. You’re grinning, radiant and warm like the sun. 

You and Morpheus glide across the ballroom floor, floating like stars amongst the clouds. He is fluid in his movements and leads the dance easily. You hold on tight as the lights begin to blur together, all together have you forgotten how heavy your crown was. To onlookers, the two of you were beacons of elegance and the definition of harmony. 

The music stops and you’re face to face with Morpheus, breathing hard. The sound of applause is muffled in the background of your mind. Morpheus looks pristine as well, perfectly composed as he softly gazes at you through starry eyes. You’re the first to break eye contact, the raw emotions he tries to show you too much for now. You can see that he is trying to be better, but after months of neglect, one dance is hardly enough to make up for it. 

Morpheus doesn’t try to hide his emotions, and with deflated shoulders, leads you quietly to the matching thrones at the front of the ballroom. There, they stand high and mighty, dark, and carved with intricate designs of stars and ravens. You see Jessamy and Matthew waiting for the two of you there and some relief returns to you knowing that Matthew would be there to watch over you. 

The roofless ballroom makes it hard to believe that it is only noon. Save for the ring of sun, the sky was casted in perpetual night. The stars make their appearance, as they always do, and accompany their moon, twinkling with admiration at viewing the people of the Dreaming early today. Even the critters of the night came out from their slumber, and if you listened carefully enough, you could hear their chirps and songs of night past the orchestra. 

The throne is stiff and uncomfortable to sit in. When you glance over at Morpheus, he takes to it easily, spreading across the throne like a lounging cat. His presence fills the space and it’s easy to see how he is so perfectly fit for this role. 

An emissary comes before you and bows, the lady on his arm following suit. He wears his best for the ceremony and when he speaks, it smells of rich alcohol and fruits. 

“Congratulations on your marriage, Your Majesties. As emissary of the Kingdom of Kreya, we wish you a wonderful Solar Eclipse celebration,” The man smiles at the two of you and you smile back.

You take another glance at Morpheus and see his jaw ticking in the low candlelight. A second passes and he still doesn’t respond. 

“Thank you, we hope to visit Kreya soon,” You reply instead. It has been long since you’ve heard a rumor of your failing marriage. At the very least it’s good to know that to people looking in, there was nothing wrong between you and Morpheus. 

This is what he wanted, was it not?

From his perspective, your urge to take control basked you in a new light that he’s never seen before. Your response seems to snap him out of whatever deep thoughts he had and a cough brings him back to the present. Or, if he wanted to be honest with himself; your presence brings him back to the present. 

Others follow in his footsteps, giving their congratulations, their salutations from their kingdoms, and other comments they wished to address to you. Morpheus and you take turns responding, each one vague and surface level. 

The last emissary was a face you knew all too well. Soft brown curls wrap around a kind face. She dawns on flowy fabric of white and gold and a cape made of olive leaves. Calliope smiles when she sets her eyes on you, and you hear Matthew’s armor clink as he attempts to move from his post. The promise he made early into your relationship is evident in his mind. 

A subtle hand rise from you was enough to stop him and the black knight settles back. The tension remains thick as she ascends the steps. She bows and speaks. 

“I congratulate the King and Queen of the Dreaming on their union. From Boeotia, my sisters and I give out blessings for a bountiful year.” Calliope speaks to you specifically, and even when there is no ill intention written on her face, something ugly deep within you dares not to look at her. 

The pain and suffering you had to endure, half of the reason is because of her. Your anger and despair leave you and instead reveal itself as its true form. Is it jealousy? Perhaps. You’ve long since stopped fighting it. Your bracelet tightens around your wrist once more, as it’s always done when it doesn’t agree with your thoughts. 

“Thank you…” Morpheus responds to her. It was your turn to respond, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to speak to her. 

Calliope opens her mouth again, as if to add something else, but stops herself after some hesitancy. It’s not before long that Calliope accepts the short answer and leaves you. An even shorter amount of time for a footman to come to you and Morpheus with goblets of wine that you all too eagerly grab at.

If it weren’t for your position, you’re sure you would be drunk beyond comprehension. It is a tradition of the celebration: to relieve oneself from their physical bodies and dance amongst the Eclipse. And you can only do that by drinking until your body can’t understand the physical world anymore. 

The dark wine glitters as you swirl it around in the silver goblet, and you feel the tingling sensation as it goes down your throat. Other nobles mingle with each other, the occasional ping of glasses touching echos in the large room.

Squinting, you notice a certain blond standing alone in the corner, his dark glasses still covering his eyes. He is talking to some other man, his charismatic smile never disappearing, even when he takes another sip from his glass. As if sensing your gaze, he turns to you and raises his glass in your direction. You were the first to break eye contact, taking another sip of your own drink. You see Lucienne and Hob enjoying themselves at the snack table, watching as Lucienne looks away when Hob stuffs several cookies into his coat pocket. 

The alcohol was potent, leaving you feeling light and dizzy, but a sudden commotion on the other side of the room leaves me sober. Yelling and clashing of metal against metal piques your interest as the ballroom doors slam open. 

“I apologize, we-we tried to stop him!” A silver knight huffs out, chasing after the man who barged in. 

A calm hand from Morpheus quiets him and the knight stops. The elderly man is still charging towards the two of you, dancers parting quickly from the marble floor as they watch. 

“Where is she?” The man asks—or demands, more accurately, standing strong in the center of the dancefloor. He wears red, unblemished armor that stands out like a sore thumb against the Dreaming’s more subtle colors. 

“Whoever you seek is not here, stranger,” Morpheus’ voice booms across the room. 

“You, Teleute, will bring back my dead son. I will kill you if it means I will get him back…” He bravely points at your husband, completely ignoring his statement. 

You and Morpheus share a quick glance at each other. Yours is riddled in confusion, what could this random man possibly want with his sister? Morpheus shares with you a more concerned look as he finally pieces together the information.

He recalls the conversation he had with the Corinthian under old moonlight about a madman named Rodrick Burgess. Briefly, his eyes meet with Corinthian on the far end of the room, who seems all the more pleased that his target has waltzed right into his grasp. The Corinthian had taken a small break in his chase so he could attend the festival. In the end, it seemingly works out for him anyways. 

“Are you challenging the throne?” Morpheus accuses, looking down at him. You hear the shifting of feet as Jessamy and Matthew squirm with anticipation. 

Morpheus remembers once more of his nightmare regarding this specific man and you. How you laid cold in his arms, blood blemishing each portion of your body. That no matter how much he wipes away at it, the blood continues to seep and stain into your clothes. His hand slowly ghosts over yours and covers your fingers. He feels the quickening pulse underneath his fingers and allows himself a moment of peace for your still beating pulse. 

“I am challenging Teleute,” Rodrick repeats. 

“Death of the Endless is not here. I will accept your challenge in her stead.” You’re not sure where the courage was coming from. Perhaps it is how Morpheus is gently holding onto you. Or, more likely, how the alcohol is coursing through your system. That seems to be the more logical reason… right? “Who do you wish to be your champion?” 

“I am my own champion, the Great Magus Rodrick Burgess.” He brings forth his sword, covered in elaborate jewels. 

“Sir Matthew?” You call, head held high. The weight of the crown is no longer an issue for you. 

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Matthew responds immediately. 

“You will be my champion.” You declare. “You will not disappoint.” It is your first order as queen. 

You watch with fixed eyes as Matthew crosses to the dance floor. The white marble is a stark contrast against his black armor. Your hand turns and interlaces with Morpheus’ as Matthew draws his sword.

It’s longer and broader than Rodrick’s and even before the fight begins, you know Matthew would be slower than his opponent. But your belief in him is strong and unyielding. 

The two knights face each other, their stances ready. Murmurs from onlookers hush around the room, the tension as thick as the wine they drink. 

Rodrick moves first, his impatience showing easily as he lunges for Matthew’s heart. Your champion gracefully steps to the side, bringing up his broadsword in a low arch to parry the attack. 

Blade against blade, the metals gleam in the low candlelight. The symphony changes from a string quartet to that of steel. The two knights dance around each other in the intense duel as both display their mastery of the blade. 

An unhonorable heavy strike to the head from Rodrick leaves Matthew dazed. It’s enough for the blunt of his blade to strike at the young knight’s helmet. You watch with an agape mouth as the force is enough to knock off Matthew’s helmet, the helm flying across the floor. Your grip in Morpheus’ hand tightens as the anticipation grows. 

Matthew is quick to be back on his feet, his black hair tousled from the fight. You catch glimpses of his determined face as he returns to the duel. Each block that Matthew predicts, each strike that he parries leaves Rodrick flustered.

Matthew notices, and when Rodrick was starting to lose strength, he advances with a series of long arching and forceful blows. You and Morpheus watch as Rodrick meekly holds his denting blade up in defense.

With a powerful kick to the chest, the Great Magus crashes to the ground, his sword falling from his hand as the last of his energy leaves him. Matthew advances still, dragging his broadsword on the ground. The teeth-grating sound of metal on marble igniting sparks. 

Your knight points the sword at Rodrick’s throat, panting from exertion. “Yield,” Matthew commands.  

“I will not!” Rodrick spits at him, pushing the imposing blade away from his throat.

“Yield!” Matthew shouts, bringing the blade back and pushing pressure onto the side of his neck. A thin string of warm blood follows the cut.

Rodrick looks around the room, conscious of how the people around him start to whisper about his loss. He makes eye contact with you and glares at his defeat. 

“I yield,” He says hesitantly as his eyes remain on yours. 

You swallow thickly as silver knights drag him out of the ballroom, your eyes following him. Rodrick was glaring at you until he could no longer see you, his cheeks still flushed from the duel and from the embarrassment of losing. 

You let go of Morpheus’ hand, wiping your palm against the softness of your dress to get rid of the excessive sweat that started to accumulate. You go to grab at your wine again, finishing the rest with large gulps to calm your nerves. The alcohol is quick to work its magic as it seeps into your system.

“Congratulations on your victory, champion,” You grin when Matthew comes back to your side. “Where’s your helmet?”

“I, uh, can’t find it…” He mutters, embarrassed. He scratches at his hair as his cheeks flush red. 

You smile once more as Matthew’s true personality shows itself again. He was quite young to be a knight, and his face had left the battle without any scars; a testament to his effectiveness. A server comes by and tops off the goblet with more glittering wine. 

Morpheus hovers a hand over his own cup as a silent decline for more alcohol. Meanwhile you were more than inclined to continue drinking. The excitement of the day is already taking its effect on you. When you set your drink back down, you notice that no one is enjoying the gala anymore.

They stand to the side, muttering to themselves behind open feather fans. No one is drinking, or feasting, and they share unsure glances with each other. The duel was a mood killer for the festivities. 

You take another slow sip from your wine, what should you do? You watch through slightly lidded eyes as Morpheus stands from his seat. His hand falls before yours in a silent invitation of another dance. Baffled, you silently stare at the upright hand. Morpheus wants another dance?

Should you? When a bird has been locked in a cage for so long, even when presented with the opportunity of flight, it often finds itself staying. It takes comfort in what the bird knows. The outside world is dangerous, after all. 

“Please,” He whispers when he notices you hesitating. You see his other fingers twitch against his leg, a tic that you’ve long since noticed he does whenever he is nervous. You place the goblet down and grab onto his hand lightly. One more dance wouldn’t hurt. 

Before you leave, you turn to Matthew with a smile. “You should go dance, too. You’ve done well to deserve it tonight.” 

Matthew all but perks up at your invitation, his eyes darting to Morpheus, who simply nods in approval of his request. 

The two of you take to the floor and amidst the onlookers and mutterers, for once, you only notice Morpheus. “I trust you,” You say slowly.

Morpheus nods before he places a gentle hand on your waist and leads the dance once more. The music is romantic somber as the two of you glide across the floor. 

Nobles and invitees around you stop whispering amongst themselves and enjoy the spectacle. Soon enough, more and more couples return to the dance floor. 

The orchestra is quick to change its tune and an upbeat swell of strings has everyone clapping and jumping around in a country dance. Your smile brightens your face once more as you witness how your small dance was enough to bring people together. 

You part from Morpheus as a new dance partner whisks you away for the next portion of the song. You grab onto your dance partner as you watch Morpheus spin with a new partner of his own, a soft smile gracing his lips as he witnesses your lingering gaze.

“Enjoying the ball, Your Majesty?” The new voice interrupts your thoughts. Your head turns to your new dance partner and you feel yourself jump in the middle of a spin. 

“Corinthian,” You greet curtly, smile dropping. 

“Hello again, Your Majesty.” He grins down at you, sunglasses still on. A silence follows and you’re desperate to change partners again.

“It seems you and His Majesty have started to become amiable with each other. I heard rumors that your marriage was in rocky waters.” He whispers into your ear as he spins you again. 

“They’re just rumors,” You lie again. 

The Corinthian hums, easily reading between the lines of your statement. “Well, well, would you look at that?”

Corinthian focuses his attention behind you and you turn to match his gaze. Couples waltz around you, but your eyes immediately seek out Morpheus. Your newly healed heart shatters as you watch Morpheus and Calliope spin across the dance floor. The two of them look beautiful together, her light colors clashing with his darker ones is a sight out of the romances you’ve read in your books. 

Were dance partners always supposed to be that close to each other? Their gazes lock with each other as they share private words amongst themselves. Morpheus says something that causes Calliope to smile, something that lights up her entire figure in delight. 

“Perhaps the rumors are quite true,” Corinthian chuckles. 

You let go of him as if he suddenly caught on fire. “I need some air… Please excuse me.” 

The Corinthian doesn’t try to stop you as you weave your way through the dancing couples. Before you leave the ballroom, you briefly overhear a conversation between Mervyn and Matthew. 

“Huh, I thought you were some beast with how you were swinging that piece of crap around. But you’re just some normal kid,” Mervyn scoffs as he lights another cigarette. 

Matthew scratches his head in confusion, the refound helmet rests between his arm and torso. It is liberating to not have to wear it for a while, and he can smell the food more clearly like this.

“Actually, I’m 1/16 pure Ravenfolk on my mother's side. Not so normal now, huh, Mervyn?” Matthew brags with a high head. 

“Pah!” The pumpkin man scoffs again, a cloud of smoke following him. “And Jessamy is pure Ravenfolk so what you got to say about that!”

You’re sure you see smoke steaming out of your knight’s ears and his face turns bright red. It’s a conversation you would have loved to entertain, but in your emotions, you don’t linger long. The door is right there and you escape from all the distracted gazes.

By muscle memory, your feet take you to your garden sanctuary. The summer sun is no longer an issue for you as the night wind calms your fraying nerves. You run your fingers along the petals of night flowers and watch as they sway in tandem with the tides. 

You take a seat on a nearby stone bench, watching the eclipse reflection in the small pond of your garden. An uncomfortable feeling like stone settles in your throat as you push down a hiccup. Silent tears still make it past your eyes. 

You wipe away your tears with the back of your hand as you silently berate yourself for always crying. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to relax your over eccentric heart. The rustling of leaves and citrus smell of flowers calm your nerves quite well. 

You hear a rustle that feels out of place and a presence behind you and you sigh deeply. 

“Not now, Matthew. I really just want to be alone,” You indirectly ask your knight for solitude. 

“Not Matthew,” The presence spits out the name and you gasp as you feel the cold metal of his blade against your throat. 

Rodrick.

How could you forget his voice? You don’t move as you watch him circle in front of you. The point of the dagger in his hands remains pointed at your throat. You swallow your nerves, the slight movement enough to scratch your skin against the sharp blade. 

“You embarrassed me. In front of all of your citizens,” Rodrick begins to monologue. It’s hard to make out his face in the dark light and the angle at which you sat, but the glare he emitted was easy to feel.

“No, you embarrassed yourself. Who told you killing someone else would bring back your dead son?” You ask to distract him. Your eyes dart around your space as you try to find a path to run away from him, or something that can hinder him while you find help. 

“The ruler I serve said so. And I believe in their word.” He continues.

“Who? Desire of the Endless?” You scoff as you look at his red armor. The lustful color and crest he bore on his chest plate was easy enough to piece together. “Have you ever considered your ruler is merely using you as bait?”

“They would never,” Rodrick says back in disbelief. The blade dips slightly for a moment as he backs away. 

You take that slight moment as your chance, grabbing at the layers of your dress and sprinting back towards the castle.

“Matthew!” You scream at the top of your lungs and you pray that it's heard past the music. 

Hedges and thorned flowers scrape at you and get caught in your dress. The sound of pounding feet catches up to you and a yelp leaves your lips as Rodricks tackles you to the ground. Your crown dislodges itself from your head at the impact and you’re screaming as you fight back as best as you can. 

His hands come around your throat and you grab at his wrist in panic. Rasping breaths leave you in huffs as he squeezes harder and harder. The edges of your vision start to go black as the lack of oxygen leaves your body wanting. 

“M-Morpheus,” You call out weakly. 

“No one can hear you now, you pathetic queen. No one can help you—”

The weight is lifted off of you abruptly and you turn on hands and knees as you intake as much air as you possibly could. You turn back around and stand on wobbly legs and watch as two silhouettes fight each other. One, you knew to be Rodrick but the other was new. The person was armor clad in silver, so it was neither Morpheus nor Matthew. One moment, Rodrick was standing, and the next he fell to the ground in a slump. 

“Come, let’s get you back to the palace, Your Majesty,” Your savior comes closer to you. The dagger that Rodrick had threatened you with is still in her hands. 

“Who are you?” You ask as she takes your hand and begins a fast walk away from the dead body. 

“You may call me Gault, Your Majesty.” Her pace is faster than yours and in your still shocked state, you fall to the ground. Gault turns around quickly and bends to help you up from the elbow. 

“Jessamy, subdue her,” You hear Morpheus' voice nearby. The sound of armor accompanying him. 

“What?” You question as you fall back to the ground. Matthew is by your side in no time, holding you up steadily. 

You watch with confusion as Jessamy holds both of Gault’s hands behind her back and kicks her knee in so that she kneels to the ground. 

“Forgive me, for not coming sooner,” Morpheus whispers to you. He unclips the half cape he wore and drapes it over your shoulders. Your abrasive run through the gardens leaves you more exposed than what would have been considered appropriate. 

“Wait, no, stop,” You interject as he returns his attention to Gault. 

Morpheus ignores you, insisting to himself that your ramblings were from shock. It’s obvious to him that Gault was going to hurt you. As soon as he noticed that you weren’t in the ballroom anymore, he was quick to leave the dance and come looking for you. 

To find you being hovered by one of his own soldiers with the weapon in her hand was evident enough in his eyes of treason. You looked horrible, your dress in shambles and thin cuts scattered across your body. 

“I was protecting the queen,” Gault states the truth slowly. “I had no intention of hurting her. I merely wish to keep her from harm.”

“Listen to her, my lord. Please, I beg you, she is speaking the truth,” You plead once more. The hold that Matthew has on you shifts from protection to restriction as you try to fight against him. 

Morpheus ignores you once more, and while your cries hurt him, bringing you justice will satiate the pain. “You do not get to decide what I saw with my own eyes. How do you think you should be punished for the attempt on my queen’s life?”

Gault pushes her head up higher even as the realization dawns on her. “I am not afraid.”

“You should be.” Morpheus stalks closer to her.

“I will rather die afraid than knowing I lived without truth, my lord.” You hear Gault whisper. 

Morpheus doesn’t bother with a response. The shadows of the eclipse seem to elongate his shadow as he paths closer to her. Your pleas once again fall on deaf ears and tears sting your face red. Your screams have turned raw in your throat as you helplessly watch.

In the darkness of the eclipse, you barely register the sound of Morpheus unsheathing Jessamy’s blade from her scabbard. You don’t see it, but you feel it—the sticky warmth of blood splattering across your face. The iron taste rests heavy on your tongue as your mouth falls open in a gasp. It mixes with the wine and creates a concoction that makes you dry heave in the grass. 

You hear it, too. As Gault doesn’t die from the first strike and her blood effectively drowns her as she tries to breathe. Morpheus swings again and the head thuds to the ground, her body following quickly after as Jessamy lets her go. 

Your scream echoes across the vastness of the night.

Ah, Morpheus you walking red flag you. Also, I'm not going to lie, idk how to redeem Dream boy over here after this chapter cause wtf is this bitch on (I know I wrote him but what the fuck?)

Someone tell me I did good, it's summer and I no longer get academic validation

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart @acdassenza @ella33 @karma-is-a-god @bluespecs14 @boo8008 @dragon-kazansky @i-voluntears @deniixlovezelda

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #destined dreams of love

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 28

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

Violet, Rhiannon and I shuffle into our shared room for our time here at Monsterrat. The room is furnished to the bare minimum. A bunk bed and a single bed pushed up against the walls, and dressers for each of us shoved up next to the door. Least our window gave us a good view of the mountains around us. Violet and I share a worried glance. Despite my signet, I could tell Rhiannon was off even before we got here. She had seem shaky and nervous as we readied to leave in the flight field earlier today. And now its like those feelings had amplified. Her nervousness ebbing off her in waves

Violet finally hitting the limit of what she can take of Rhiannon’s behaviour as she stuffs her pack under the bed and turning to face us as she checks she has all her daggers.

”You going to tell us what’s up?” She asks, her tone slightly annoyed, but also worried for her friend.

I note the slight tremble to Rhiannon’s hands as she straps her sword to her back. “Do you know where we are?”

Violet’s brow furrows as she thinks. “We’re about two hundred miles from the coast.”

And then it hits me. Rhiannon is from this area. Her village would not be far from where we are. She had only mentioned where she was from a few times, but with how nervous she is it all clicks into place.

”You’re village is nearby.” I blurt out.

Rhiannon looks over at me and nods, and I feel all her emotions hit me at once. So strongly I’m surprised I don’t stumble back. “My village is less than one hour away on foot.”

Violet walks forward and takes Rhiannon’s hands in hers as a lay a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t even have to say what she wants to do. Violet and I already know. I know if given the chance I would want the same. Hell I had known that feeling. Had for the two years I knew Xaden and Garrick we’re so close. So I knew exactly where she was coming from.

”Don’t tell anyone,” Violet whispers even though it was only us in the room. “We have six days to figure it out and we will.”

I nod in agreement and I feel Rhiannon’s shift in emotion as she relaxes knowing she may have a way to go see her family. A loud pounding on the door startles us all.

”Let’s go, Second Squad!”

Fucking Dain Aetos.

Two days later the three of us climb out the window of our room. Luck must have been on our side when assigning our rooms as we are on the first floor. Violet had insisted on tonight as Mira was to be out on patrol. Key word is meant to be. I reach out to grab Violet and pull her back, but its too late and she runs right into Mira, bouncing back into my arms as I steady her.

”Shit!” Rhiannon exclaims as I step back into her.

”Don’t you at least check the corners?” Mira lectures Violet, he arms folding over her chest as she stares down at Violet before it shifts to Rhiannon and I.

”In my defence, I didn’t think you’d be there because you’re suppose to be on patrol.” Violet states as she steps out of my grip.

”You we’re acting super weird at dinner.” Mira’s head tilting to the side as she studies us. “So I switched shifts. Do you want to tell me what you’re doing outside the walls?”

Violet glances at Rhiannon and I but we both shift our gazes, the wall and ground suddenly becoming the most interesting things we have ever seen.

”None of you? Really?” She sighs before pinching the bridge of her nose. “You three need to sneak out of a heavily fortified defensive position because….?”

I step forward next to Violet, Mira’s attention shifting to me. I hadn’t formally been introduced to Mira today, but I could tell from the way her eyes flicker to my hair and the relic mark peaking out of my uniform in the same way Xaden’s does that she knows exactly who I am. Her whole body going slightly rigid as she assesses me. As if trying to decide if I am a threat to Violet or not. But as if seeing how comfortable she is next to me, she relaxes.

”We’re flying to Rhiannon’s village to see her family.”

Mira goes pale. “You think you’re what?”

”We’re flying to her village. It’s like a five minute flight, according to Tairn and-” Violet starts before Mira cuts her off.

”Absolutely not.” Shaking her head at us. “Nope. You cannot fly off like you’re on vacation. What if something happens to you?”

”At her parents house?” I ask her slowly. “Because there’s definitely some major ambush planned just for us on the off chance we might decide to visit?”

Her eyes narrow at me. “I never know with you Riorson’s.” Her tone slightly venomous. Nothing I’m not use to.

Violet pushes between us, as if trying to protect me even though we both know out of the two of us I’d have the better chance on taking on Mira. “We’d be in less danger visiting her parents than we are at Basgiath.” She argues back to her sister.

Mira purses her lips and sighs. “Fair point.”

”Come with us.” Violet blurts out as Rhiannon and I look at each other wide eyed. Not part of the fucking plan at all. “Seriously. Come with us, Mira. She just wants to see her sister.”

As Violet explains the situation to Mira, I feel her change of heart. Violet winning her over in an instant. And before we know it, Violet Mira and I are sat on cushioned benches, watching Rhiannon rock her nephew by the fireplace, lost in conversation with her family. This was worth it. So fucking worth it. To watch Rhiannon get the reunion I will never fully get. But I had a new family now. Yes I still had Xaden. But without our parents or any relatives, we had formed our own family with the other marked ones. And one day I hoped we could have something similar.

”Thank you for helping us.” Violet says to Mira.

Mira smirks. “You would have done it with or without me. Figured this way I’d know you’re safe. What other rules have you broken sis?”

”Where do we start?” I say with a chuckle as I sip the wine Rhiannon’s family had given us.

”Maybe a few here and there. I’ve gotten very good at poisoning my opponents before challenges.”

I choke back a laugh as Mira nearly spits her wine everywhere. Definitely not what she expected from her sister. But I could tell she was proud of her. So proud of all the odd’s her sister at defied, all she had achieved. Violet should not have survived the riders quadrant or be thriving in it like she is. But she was. She was defying all the odds that we’re stacked against her.

”Speaking of sticking away from offspring off the that traitor, I see you’ve managed to acquire another one out of nowhere.” Mira states, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I meet Mira’s gaze. Watch as she takes me in. Her eye’s lingering longer than necessary on my green eyes and paler skin tone, which had actually gained some of its natural tan back since being in the quadrant. A far cry from those of my brother and father. Hell I would be better off passing as a sibling to Imogen. Her brows furrow as if also coming to a similar conclusion.

”Technically not out of nowhere. She was at the college with me.” Violet states bluntly.

Mira looks over and Violet, narrowing her eyes at her. “You know what I meant. None of us knew who she was. Though I won’t lie, didn’t pick you to be a Riorson.”

”Is that meant to be an insult or a compliment?” I ask, challenging her.

Mira chuckles and shakes her head. “Compliment. You don’t remind me of your brother.”

”She’s more like him than you think. And he isn’t that bad once you get to know him.” Violet adds, Mira turning to her, narrowing her eyes again. Definitely not the right thing to say....

The two sisters start bickering so I tune out and leave them to it, turning my attention back to Rhiannon and her family. As risky as tonight was, it was worth it to see this. To watch Rhiannon get some peace. Something that was a rarity at the college, and something I knew we wouldn’t get for a while. Mira motions for us to get going, us three leaving Rhiannon to say goodbye to her family without us there. One last moment before we all head back, and she would have to wait till her letter privileges came into effect in a few months time once we hit second year.

”Have you been stationed with any riders of mated pairs?” Violet asks as we walk towards the door.

”One.” Mira replies as we step outside. “Why?”

As soon as I step over the threshold I feel him. I might not see him, but I know he’s there. Turning I see a patch of shadows larger than what should be there despite how late it is. If Violet’s about to ask what I think she is, she’s about to get her answer in the flesh.

”I’m just wondering how long they can be separated.”

”Turns out, about three days is their max.” Xaden says as the shadows dissipate to reveal him leaning against the wall.

Fucking. Mated. Dragons

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#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x oc #fourth wing x reader

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 38 of????

2634 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

You wake up to the same squeezing feeling settled around your chest, although that could also be the weight of Jungkook's arms as the bunny holds you tightly even in his sleep. 

All things considered, you had slept quite soundly, you just wish someone had told your body that as it tries to tell you how exhausted you are. 

You do your best to worm your way out of the youngest's embrace, disturbing him only slightly before he turns around and gathers Jimin into his arms instead. You take one more look at their sleeping forms before tip-toeing out of the room. No one is sitting in the living room making your escape easier as you slip silently through to the front door. 

You aren't really sure where you are going, you just know one more minute in the house is going to make you combust. So you walk for a while, you pass your old office, pass the restaurant you went to the day you met  Jimin, pass Hobi's karaoke shop. You continue going until nothing around you is familiar and then your stomach starts to growl. 

You walk into the first cafe you see and sit yourself in a booth at the back, taking a deep breath as you finally take stock of the position you are now in. The cafe is mostly empty with one other customer in the far corner and two waitresses who look more than a little annoyed that you have invaded their space. The elder of the two hands you a menu and waits to take your order. You barely take any notice, pointing to the first thing under the breakfast title. 

With nothing left to distract you from the fear, it starts creeping back in; A remnant phobia from the hybrid genes mixed with your sheltered childhood. An instinct that tells you to disappear before you're trapped again. 

Your mind runs through the previous day countless times. How ready you had been to fight for Taehyung and his freedom, only for his solution to be to trap you with him. The logical section of your brain tries to remind you that he is not trying to collect or ensnare you, that this may be his best shot to stay with you and the other members of your relationship. 

The emotional side of you however can't quite get over how much your new life has come to resemble your previous one. Living in someone else's home, no career to call your own, and now a convenient trophy on the arm of another rich man... 

A stack of pancakes is placed in front of your face bringing you out of your miserable monologue but instead of finding the aging waitress, you find Noelle beaming down at you.

"Y/N! Long time no see," She smiles.

The mouse hybrid invites herself to sit with you, sliding into the booth opposite.

"Although it feels like I'm all caught up with the amount Jimin talks about you at the shelter," 

She reaches out and takes a berry from the side of your plate. You do your best to smile in return at her, before today you may have actually been thrilled to see Noelle since she was right, it had been a long time. But right now didn't feel like a socialising time.

"Perhaps I'm not all caught up judging by that sour look in your eye... Maybe a new set of ears can help?" She offers.

"I don't know. It's a lot, I'm not sure I fully understand my issues, I wouldn't want to burden you,"

"You're my friend Y/N, you could never be a burden to me. And if you're not at home talking this out with the seven wonderful men that dote on your every whim, then I think you need the outside ear... Am I wrong?" 

Noelle takes your hand from the table and holds it in her own, doing her best to reassure you. 

You ponder it for a moment, but she is right an outside opinion might help your brain to rationalise, although perhaps you should think about booking your own session with Dr. Triever instead...

Still, you relay the entire situation starting from your 16th birthday all the way up to today. And she listens to you patiently, not interrupting once even when you stray from the main subject on to distracting details, although she does steal a few bites of your breakfast. 

"And so I've landed at the point where I know I have to marry Tae, and I love him so that's okay! I'm just having a lot of trouble getting my instincts to retreat. My hackles raise every time I think about it, and honestly it's making my back start to ache."

"Have you considered not saying yes to marrying Tae?" Noelle suggests.

"Of course not. If I don't marry him then he and that poor girl are going to be forced together. I know what that's like and I won't let it happen to someone I love." 

"No, you'll just let it happen to you a second time," She rolls her eyes. "Okay, let's start with an easier part of the equation. Jimin said you had put a lot of the funds behind the new renovations, doesn't that make it your house, not just theirs anymore?"

"I mean, I guess? But it's not what I had in mind. My name isn't on any of the paperwork for the land, and I really did think I was going to live all on my own in the world."

"Living on your own is not all it's cracked up to be, trust me. I'd give anything for a cuddle some nights, especially during storms," She shudders dramatically. "And you gave up your job yourself, but I'm 100% sure we could get you another one if that is an issue, but I think your brain is just searching for reasons to run. Really think about it, how much do you mind not working?"

You do think about it. And maybe spending your time in the house was far more satisfying than going to your nine to five. But it's still the principle of the matter. You had promised yourself that you were going to do it on your own. Now you've failed.

And that's really the crux of it. Not that you're living with the boys, not that you've dipped into your money, not that you find yourself suddenly betrothed. It's the fact that you have perceived yourself as failing. Unable to prove that you could take care of yourself in the big bad world that your parents worked so hard to protect you from. 

You let Noelle in on your thoughts as she finishes off your breakfast for you.

"The way I see it, you haven't failed yourself. You've just found something more suitable instead. But if your stomach is still in knots about it, it's better to run now than on the day of the wedding," She shrugs. 

"You make an excellent point," You concede.

________________

With the food gone, and your heart somewhat unsqueezed, you and Noelle head back into the world. You walk her back as far as the shelter. You intend to leave her at the door, but Jimin sees you through the window before you can make your escape.

You contemplate running, pretending you didn't see him. But a confrontation is on the cards either way and it's probably better to get it over with than let Jimin drive his colleagues insane through the course of the day. Plus the man is far faster than he looks and he is stood in your path before you would've been able to escape anyway.

"Where the hell did you go?" The redhead tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks in the middle, your heart along with it, "You didn't wake anyone, you didn't answer your phone, you didn't even leave a note. Why?"

"I couldn't breathe, I didn't really think about it, I just knew I had to move," You answer honestly.

He sighs and glances around you, noticing the audience that seems to be gathering in the windows

He wraps an arm around your waist pulling you into him, and his other hand lands in your hair smoothing it down. He shuffles the two of you into the shadows of the building instead of standing out in the open where anyone can look out and see you there.

"Obviously you're not okay so I'm not going to ask you that... Are you... Is there anything I can do?"

"No, it's not your problem it's mine."

"Was it the proposal? I think that caught us all off guard and Taehyung doesn't expect you to go through with it."

A dry laugh escapes your mouth before you can stop it. Jimin takes a step back and meets your eyes.

"You don't believe me?" 

"I believe you that he doesn't expect me to go through with it, but I think we all know that I have to... and I want to! honestly, I do. I'll do anything so you guys don't, so we don't, lose Taehyung. I just need to get my head around it."

"I think you should go home Y/N. Talk with Jin or Namjoon, although maybe avoid Kookie and Taehyung until you can lie more convincingly than you did to me just now," He pecks your forehead and lets you go fully, "I'm so glad you're safe."

He sends you away with a promise to text him when you return home. You drag your feet the entire way knowing that Jimin is right and you need to talk through everything with a voice of reason. Jin might be the obvious choice, while a clown the majority of the time, his clinical doctor side allows him to separate emotion from sensitive topics. Something tells you that he isn't what you need right now. 

So when you reach the main house you walk inside the unfinished building and straight into Namjoon's new office finding him sitting at his new oak desk, just stroking the wood. He startles as your hand lands on his shoulder. 

"Shit Y/N, where did you come from?" He clutches at his chest dramatically. 

You flop down onto the new armchair as you wait for him to recover from his mini heart attack. He sits silently observing you for a moment too long until you start to wiggle uncomfortably.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" He reaches out a hand and places it on your knee. 

You thought you were, but the concern in his voice makes you hesitate. You just shake your head in response instead. 

"Okay, then let's not talk. Stand up." He stands too. 

He switches places with you sitting down in the armchair and pulling you back into his lap. He manhandles you until you're curled up on his knees with your face nuzzled into his neck. His fingers trace patterns along your thighs and the two of you sit in silence. 

The tightness in your chest is still there, curling up in Namjoon's arms is doing nothing to assuage that feeling but it still feels nice everywhere else. You think about what Noelle said about finding a new goal for yourself and you let yourself sniff Namjoon's comforting firewood scent. 

"I missed you this morning," He whispers in your ear. 

 "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be sorry, you needed space and that's okay. I just wanted you to know I missed you," 

He pecks your cheek and you continue sitting in silence. The rope around your heart seems to release, just a little as you allow yourself this comfort. 

"I love you," You whisper.

"I love you too," He confirms.

"I love all of you,"

"But you aren't ready to marry Taehyung, or any of us for that matter." He guesses

"I don't think so no... But I can't let Taehyung leave. I know better than anyone how it feels to be in a marriage you didn't choose. And it's so much worse for Taehyung, no one ever threatened me, I didn't have anyone I loved that I had to leave."

"We can think of other solutions for Tae Y/N. We aren't going to let you put yourself in a situation you don't truly want ."

"You don't know families like Tae's, families like mine. There isn't another option. I'm just going to suck it up and marry Taehyung."

"Ah yes, what every man wants to hear his fiance 'suck it up and marry him'" Namjoon chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his unserious response and start to wonder whether you should have gone to see Jin instead. 

"Look, this whole situation sucks for all of us, but there are other options we need to consider as a family, this burden doesn't lie on you. Now tell me what else is going on, because the proposal may have been a catalyst but it isn't the whole problem, I can see it in your eyes." 

"It's nothing," You sigh 

"If it's something, then it's everything. You listen to all our problems so often but won't let us listen to yours." He chastises.

"That's because you guys have real problems, I have stupid insecurities that have no basis in reality. There is no point in me bothering you with superficial issues."

"if it bothers you then it's not superficial and you should be talking to one of us. It doesn't have to be me, but I would love nothing more than for you to be able to confide in me."

"Really Joonie it's silly." You assure him.

"Tell me anyway," he insists. 

You contemplate confessing more of your issues. Realistically you know that he does actually want to help you but you also know the burden he already holds, having everyone else's concerns on his shoulder, you want nothing more than to lighten the load for him, not pile more on. However, you also know he won't drop it. 

"If I tell you, you have to promise you won't make a big deal out of it. It's my issue and it's something I will get over by myself,"

"Scouts honour," He crosses his heart.

"I'm fairly certain you weren't a scout," You raise an eyebrow.

"The sentiment still stands," He shrugs, "Now tell me."

So you tell him what you told Noelle. He listens intently to each minor problem, each insecure thought, and he doesn't say a word. But you can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to come up with solutions. As you finish speaking, you hold a finger up to his lips.

"But I..." He tries to speak around your finger but you just press harder against his lips.

"You promised," you chastise. 

He smirks and your finger slips past his lips and onto his tongue. 

He pulls on your wrist to remove the digit from his mouth but not before licking along the length.

"If you really don't want my opinion I won't give it... but I would love for you to sign your name on the lease." he suggests

"That sounds like a solution I didn't ask for," You complain.

"But it's an easy solution that makes so much sense, don't you think?"  He sounds far too excited, probably because he is right.

"Maybe... but I still need to come to terms with all these issues on my own Joonie," you enforce the boundary.

"And I will let you... if you let me distract you from those issues for a little while." He says suggestively.

"And how do you propose you do that?" You ask innocently.

He responds by replacing your finger in his mouth and using his now free hand to trace back up the inside of your thigh.

Next

Masterlist

#bts fic #bts smut #kpop fic #kpop smut #namjoon smut #bts imagines #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #jin smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #bts hybrids #hybrid v #hybrid bts #bts x yn #bts ot7 #ot7 x reader

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep3 Musings - Loumand

Last post, I promise; I needed another nap; this ep's a freaking rollercoaster. And these two queens nearly gave me a stress ulcer!

DEBATABLE, Louis. I can think of FAR worse vamps than you, love.

Why're y'all having this whole conversation where anyone can hear?

They got Sartre's wall-eyes down; good makeup this season, team! 👌

DreamStat's a Loumand bed-death truther, jfc. 😭

I wanna know EXACTLY what Armand sees--or "feels"--whenever DreamStat pops up in Lou's head. Cuz he clearly knows precisely where Les is; he looks right in his direction. But does he HEAR Les too? (God I hope not, this song would've had me SEETHING--Back to Hell with you! 😅)

"Oh dear" indeed; I was HOLLERING.

SAM WAS DEVOURING THIS SCENE HOLY GOD GO AWAY DEMON

Armand looked PISSED, I was scared for Louis' life! And he DOES know, actually, yes Lou. I can almost GUARANTEE that he knows PRECISELY where Lestat is AT THIS VERY MOMENT, yes Lou.

If only you knew.... 😬

Claudia's suffered more than Christ. And nice cut to Daniel sneaking around with Raglan James as Armand talks about Furies punishing "human wrongdoing." It's really interesting that Armand told the lawyer that LOUIS is the owner of the paintings. Is he the owner of the penthouse too? HOW MANY DEEDS DOES HE HAVE, ROLIN?

I wonder what AMC might be saying about Loumand's art collection, not just wrt what we know about art heist!Armand (which we'll likely see a nod to in Ep4 at the Louvre); but also wrt what we know about Dubai's godawful neocapitalist hellscape economy, and Loumand's "moralizing" about Parisian black markets in S01E02.

I wonder if that's the excuse Armand'll give the coven when Louis shows up for dinner in Ep4--very much NOT dead; and rips out Santiago's tongue.

WILD voice-over, cuz you KNOW that's what Santiago was thinking, too, LOL. (You wish, Francis.) But yes: Louis' finna end your whole career. XD

Another TERRIFYING jumpscare from the coven, like in Ep2 with Annika. Louis, I am shocked & appalled--can you not HEAR all these vamps planning your bloody murder around you? CLAUDIA! WTF!?

But this is how you know Armand's true personality--he hates getting his hands dirty. He kills all the time, but he makes his victims' deaths pretty. He'd rather sit back & let Lestat/Louis come in and wreck his whole coven, even though he has the power to just light those mofos up all on his own! I wish AMC emphasized a bit more that Armand not only writes/directs the plays--he's an ACTOR, too. And istg he's an expert at PRETENDING to be helpless, meanwhile he's the strongest vamp that's NOT one of the Children of the Millennia (thanks to how well Marius made him).

Armand, that is LOW; waiting until Claudia's stuck under the oaths b4 you tell her she's guilty of breaking Great Laws she doesn't even know about yet. WTF?

How TF you gon' hold Louis accountable for following the Laws when he wasn't even allowed to be in the effing room when they were read!? He's not even a member! WTF! (I get it--any rogue vampires are subject to death, yadayada; we know it's a stupid policy.)

I love how he plans to leave by himself here--it had nothing to do with picking "another one" over Claudia. He just didn't want to hold her back anymore. And his presence was causing problems. 😭 It's so cute that Louis' stipulation about London was that if it's "too large" he'd leave and go to Ireland (?!?)--he's become agoraphobic or something? He just wants to be alone in his hermit hole--MOOD. 😭

Good to get confirmation that the Fire Gift here is Armand and blessedly NOT Santiago--so why's he zooming around in the sewers?

Look, sometimes folks make terrible first impressions--Lestat was being hella racist, Louis' always playing defense, Armand was finna kill Louis in a gay public park. It happens.

Foreshadowing like crazy, as usual.

WILD thing to say. I'm gonna cry, please stop.

(What kinda hypocrisy is that, when you were made young your dang self!?) She's already 30+ years old--maybe she'll last a little longer if y'all (read: sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, etc society) don't eff around tryna make her life even harder! But AMC's deliberately cutting Claudia's life in half, compared to the books, cuz misogynoir's real and Claudia gets NOTHING out of vampirism, not even a fair chance. And y'all let her into the coven KNOWING how much she loves y'all, and KNOWING y'all were gonna kill her. EFF THIS WHOLE COVEN, ARMAND INCLUDED. (Lemme calm down--this kind of betrayal is exactly how Lestat must've felt in S01E07; I get it; they're getting a taste of their own medicine. But LESTAT EFFING HAD IT COMING. The coven should've just told them: y'all got til sunrise to GTFO our territory, you're not welcome here. This whole bit's unnecessary.)

THE PARALLELS ARE PARALLELING

SKILL ISSUE. Cuz Louis' got the least power, and he's finna clear that whole bish out in just a couple episodes. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Louis, love, ARMAND DON'T GIVE A EFF ABOUT RAISING SOME OTHER MAN'S OFFSPRING. This is the call of the wild, as Alphas KILL the children their stolen Omega brides had for other Alphas/Betas, so he can restart the gene pool with HIS DNA instead. I know y'all had National Geographic back then already--READ A BOOK, Louis, it's what you're best at.

Incredible. After all of that Louis said Lestat never broke him. BENT BUT NEVER BROKEN, that's right! 💪😤

Boy, we're not talking about some little (unrequited) CRUSH over a man you only knew for a few months (which you've CLEARLY not gotten over yet). Louis was MARRIED to the man for 30 YEARS. This is his MAKER. Lestat knew his whole family; went to the Black cookouts and everything! They literally built a home AND business together! They raised a child together! WHATCHU KNOW ABOUT THAT!?

And that's LESTAT'S DAUGHTER TOO--how much can you possibly love EITHER of them while planning to knock her off!? I can't listen to too much more of this. *hands Louis the torch and scythe*

Beautiful end of this STACKED episode. Incredible work, AMC! Jacob acted his PANTS off; he excels at the trembling voice, agonized facial expressions, and utter mental breakdowns. He's pulling DEEP within him, holy god; it's so raw, it's almost hard to watch. EMMY WHEN?!

#interview with the vampire #loumand #the vampire armand #iwtv tvc metas #must see tv #the hype is real #the feels #THE FEELS I TELL YOU

[mean-vampyre]

And when s3 episode 8 drops and cressida is in a nightgown looking tired and pacing the room with her hair down, crying with a broken heart after failing to secure a match and dreading the fact that she will be married off to an awful man in no time, and eloise bribes her maid to sneak in while everyone is away at the last ball of the season because she was worried she had not seen cressida in a week, and then cressida goes on a rant about how after three years of trying she is not good enough to fool a stupid man into marrying her despite trying her best, and how untalented and ugly she must look in comparison to all the other dumb girls who got engaged easily, and eloise tells her that she must be the dumb one if she thinks that she is ugly and untalented because she can be so interesting when she's not trying to act the way she thinks a man wants her to act, and even in her hermit state she is the most beautiful woman eloise has seen and it's not her fault the men in the ton are too blind to see how lucky they would be to have her as a wife, and cressida says shyly yeah right but I'm still going to have to marry a man I don't want to so it doesn't matter I'm doomed to be unhappy and it's all my fault, and eloise is like perhaps not, your parents can only force you to marry becuase you depend on them to provide financially and a husband to take over that duty, but if you are in no need of financial care then you don't have to marry, and cressida is like yeah well miss bridgerton not all of us can have loving fathers and brothers who will allows us to have financial means to avoid marriage, and eloise is like you dummy I'm telling you exactly that, you don't need a husband because I can use my family's money to help you and take care of you, and cressida is like oh so you are offering to be like my husband? and eloise is like y-yeah if you want to call it that, you don't have to, I'm not expecting you to be like my wife, you wouldn't want that, and cressida is like perhaps I would, you would be twice as good as a husband as any other prospect I had and that would be something i actually enjoy, being married to you, and they go reeeally quite for moment because the obvious is out but then there is a knock in the door, and eloise is like oh right, I told the maid to alert me if someone was coming, quickly get your things, only the essentials, i have a carriage waiting outside and we need to leave before your parents come back and we lose the chance to get you out of here unwed...to a man, and cressida is like oh so you planned it all to snatch me away in the middle of the night? and then what? ride all the way to gretna green? and eloise smiles and says if that's what you want then that's where we will go, wife

#creloise #bridgerton #nooo the lesbian brain worms have me #help me jesus

[butmakeitgayblog]

how often do you think clarke catches lexa staring at her because we all know lexa doesnt think shes getting caught all the time. how do you think it would go after the billionth time lexa is looking but shes trying to be suttle about not looking/ being caught so much and titus has been a nasty shit all day to her about love is weakness and she really just needs clarkes love but just wont ask for it verbally.

Oof well, I think the answer to this depends on what time period you're talking about. Because ... Lexa was always keeping Clarke in her sights when she had the option to. Like 🥴 I mean I'm sorry but the girl was not subtle. At all. She never was. To the point Azgeda's own ambassador or messenger or whatever he was called her out on her preoccupation and somewhat deferential treatment when it came to Clarke immediately.

Granted, what'd she do about that?

Exactly

Sidenote also I love all the other ambassadors being like

Aldjdlslkafshkjaldffksjjslk

But I digress

Given that information and just how aware Clarke was - aware and observant - I think it's pretty safe to say that she knew every single time Lexa was looking at her, and why.

And to be honest, I think she welcomed it.

Now. Do I think she ever really admitted it to herself at the time?

Absolutely the fuck not. Absolutely. The fuck. Not.

Certainly not when she first got to Polis and was at her angriest with Lexa. I think in that time period more than any other she did genuinely resent Lexa's attention and presence (to a degree). But the thing is, other than their initial meeting in the throne room and when Lexa came to Clarke's room the first time, Clarke STILL didn't turn her away. Because for Clarke, when it comes to Lexa, the thing is that she herself was always drawn to Lexa as well. She sought her out too. In crowds, in Lexa's private quarters, in Polis, in war camps. More often than not she allowed Lexa into her space with very little fight, and other times she herself turned to Lexa and sought her out instead. Always watching her. Taking in her every movement and decision and word, even when she didn't feel like she could trust Lexa anymore. Even when she was still angry about the betrayal.

So to be completely honest, I think Clarke "caught" Lexa staring at her quite often... and did absolutely nothing to stop it. In fact, I'm hesitant to even use the word caught in this instance at all, because I don't think Lexa ever really tried to hide those feelings from Clarke. I think she looked and wanted and yearned without apology. I never got the impression that Lexa did anything other than just be open and respectful as she patiently waited at arm's length for Clarke to decide what she wanted from all this, but she was still always leaving the truth of where she stood on her own feelings right there for Clarke (and anyone else in the general vicinity) to see.

And Clarke, for all her anger and all her resentment and all of her justified mistrust, really didn't do or say anything to make her feel the need to stop...

#anon #clexa

[quitealotofsodapop]

Okay, headcannon for how Shadowpeaches met:

After Wukong git back from training with Subhodi he found that his monkeys had been kidnapped by the Demon King of Havoc, so naturally he goes and rescues them. Except.... there was an extra?

Macaque, who had run away from home after feeling smothered by Chang'e (who may or may not have been chanelling her grief over her husband into how she was raising her baby monkey bro) ran away from home to show her he could take care of himself!.... and was captured by a demon king. But he was FINE, he totally could have escaped on his own and didn't NEED to get rescued, thank you very much! But... he doesn't exactly have anywhere else to go so could he stay on the mountain please? Just for a bit, he'll totally leave soon after he gets his feet back under him.

Wukong, meanwhile, thinks this new guy is really pretty in need of his help, so lets him stay and offers to train with him (which has NOTHING to do with wanting to show off his new magic powers or spend time with the new guy, obviously).

And the rest is dubiously cannon history.

ooo this is a cool idea.

Chang'e I feel was a little over-protective of MIhou when he was a baby because he was one of her few companions on the Moon. Chang'e had dreamed of having children with Hou Yi, so she did her best to spoil her little moonstone. Ultimately she could only raise him as just one Celestial castaway, not as a troupe of monkey demons as he should be. So when Mihou came to her one day saying that he heard the sounds of "people that were like him!" on winds from Flower Fruit Mountain; she knew that MIhou would be happier learning from a troupe on Earth. Plus not a lot of babysitting or teaching opportunities up there on the Moon.

I doubt Mihou would have left without hugging his big sis goodbye, but he would have left without telling her. He runs up to her, gives her a quick hug, and by jumping on a magic wind (or magic wind bag "borrowed" from a god); he propels himself towards Earth to finally meet others of his kind. Chang'e cries obviously. But she knows it's for the best.

Sadly, although the monkeys on FFM did resemble Mihou superficially, they were cautious around him. And even a little scared of him. And none had ears like his.

Then as Mihou finds himself moping alone, a flash of orange fur crashes into him. The orange thing hoots excitedly and playfully nips Mihou's fur.

Think the scene where Bambi met Flower;

Shihou, pointing to the new monkey's ears: "Flower!" Mihou: "Me???"

Thats how Shihou and Mihou meet for the first time - for the first time.

Mihou managed to get to know the Elder Storyteller before he sadly passed. But he and Shihou didn't really get a chance to know each other better before the orange monkey left to study with the humans. Mihou had been sad obviously, as he felt like even on the island that he was Other than the rest of the monkeys. With Shihou he didn't feel that way so much.

With both the Elder dead, and the closest thing to a leader being an absent monkey cub - the cruel Demon King of Havoc muscled in and declared himself the King of Flower Fruit Mountain. The monkey troupe disagreed and what amounts to a miniature civil war breaks out across the archipelago.

MIhou is caught up in the drama of the Demon King's regime. His appearance making him a rare oddity that the King of Havoc decides to keep around as an ornament. As long as MIhou kept his head down, looked pretty, and told the King stories, he and the other captured monkeys would be safe from harm.

Suddenly one day; the walls of the Havoc's throne room burst open, revealing a slightly older orange-furred monkey cub. He seemed to levitate on thin air as he wielded an iron pole, demanding the return of his people.

The Demon King of Havoc scoffed and ordered the floating monkey to do his worst. Within seconds the Demon King of Havoc was no more.

As the returned monkey counted those missing from the troupe amongst the Demon King's staff, his eyes fell upon the striking moon-white fur and lotus-petal-shaped ears of the court jester.

Sun Wukong: "Flower?" Macaque, amazed that Shihou remembered him: "Me."

The connection is instant. Wukong stumbles over his words as he reintroduces Mihou (now nicknamed "Macaque") to the troupe, and to the Demons he'd befriended in proving himself as the King of Flower Fruit Mountain.

Macaque is confused. Shihou wanted him to stay?

"Of course!" the orange monkey smiled, as if it were obvious. "You are a member of this troupe no matter what! The others told me of how you'd protect and comfort them while you were all captured by the King of Havoc. I'd be honoured to have you stay."

And thats how Macaque found himself the new Storyteller of the troupe. And how a certain romance blossomed between two stone monkeys.

I hope you enjoyed this <3

#sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #shadowpeach #lmk aus #jttw aus #lmk #lego monkie kid #journey to the west #jttw

[cowboylikelyric]

crystal (journalist!harry x gogo dancer)

Summary: Harry, a serious journalist, is taken to Club Chrome and becomes captivated by a dancer named Clara, known on stage as Crystal. Despite feeling out of place, Harry's flirtation leads to a deep connection and an invitation to walk her home. Their chemistry intensifies, revealing a side of Harry that contrasts with his usual nature.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving)

A/N: i know this isn't harry x reader but it was something that i really loved writing and i hope that you guys enjoy reading it. it isn't something that i've ever read before so i hope that you love it. let me know if you enjoy this because i'm thinking about making it a series.

---

April 10, 1962

I step into Club Chrome and immediately I feel a heat rush over me. People crowd everywhere around and Will nudges at my back to push me further in. 

“C’mon, man,” He takes a grab at my shoulder and directs me toward the bar, “I needed a drink yesterday.” Will wears his shirt barely buttoned and his corduroy flares tight to his thighs. His hair looks like he hasn’t styled it in a week. I look down at my brown suit and tie with my quaffed hair. I’m completely in the wrong environment. I follow William to the bar, not aching for a drink in the slightest. 

“Let me get two Old Fashioneds.” He slaps his money on the bar top and turns to watch the stage, or hanging platform rather.

The lights blare on the high stage, twinkling against the dancers. Do You Love Me by The Contours is the soundtrack to the three dancers' moves. Two of the girls stay in cages as they dance to the beat, while one of the girls remains free swaying her hips devilishly. She wears a silver bodysuit with glittery fringe dangling against the very tops of her thighs. She’s electric as she grabs one of the bars of the other girl's cages, slowly dropping her body down it.

William slaps my side. “What a fox, am I right?” He points to where she shimmies in her knee high gogo boots. Will hands me a drink, “You’re welcome, stud.”

My brows pull together in confusion. “And what exactly would I be thanking you for?”

“Getting your ass out here tonight.”

5 HOURS AGO

Sighing, I stretch against the office chair and drop my pen on my desk. I grab my mug and take a sip of my coffee, trying to find any motivation in the world. 

At 7:30, I hear my apartment door slam shut, shortly followed by the yell of my best friend.

“Har?!” 

“In the office, like every other time, Will!” His footsteps track toward the room until he’s standing at my doorway. He sees my notebook on my desk and that I’m still in my work clothes, his expression automatically dropping.

“Does work turn you on or something?” He shakes his head. “‘Cause I just don’t get your constant need to fuck your social life over.”

I turn my back to him, “Some people like to pay their rent, unlike you William.” 

“Oh, my rent’s paid, Harold,” Not my name, “The ladies pay real nice.” He winks at me.

“Even better, “ I smile with sarcasm, “You’re a whore and a jobless loser.” Sadly, this doesn’t even discourage him, instead he just smirks.

“Being a man of the night, while uncommon, is still a job, Harry.” Yeah, my best friend’s a prostitute. Where have I gone wrong? “Besides the point, you need to get out of that chair and go somewhere that exercises your sex life.”

“I’m not practicing your lewd ways, Will.” I drink the rest of my coffee. “And even if I did want to leave the house, I’m not going because I need sex.” Sex wouldn’t hurt.

Will scoffs, “Well, then get your ass up for a drink, you look tense.” I grind my teeth. It’s not respectable to punch your best friend, it’s not respectable to punch your best friend. 

“If I go, will you shut up?” A smirk paints his face again. Impossible. He nods quickly. I point past the doorway. “Fine, but get out.”

“Perfect, I’ll be here at midnight.” He slaps his own ass before leaving.

“Jesus Christ.”

NOW

“Whatever,” I scoff. I take a sip of the drink and feel the burn down my throat. I don’t fancy drinking, but I suppose some whiskey won’t hurt. Drifting closer to the stage, I leave Will behind. If I’m here against my will, I’m at least gonna try and enjoy it.

The lady on the stage’s eyes scan the crowd while everyone continues to dance and pay no mind to the beauty of the women on the platform. But when she finally meets my eyes, there’s a spark and my stomach drops. A wicked smile graces her face and she tiptoes herself to the edge of the platform.

She shouts down from her spot, “And who might you be?!” The corner of my mouth ticks up.

“Harry!” I yell up to her. She stops her dancing, which saddens me a bit, but she begins talking to me instead.

“You new around these parts, Harry?! Don’t think I’ve seen ya before!” I can’t stop focusing on the way the light bounces off her incredible body suit. She sits herself on the edge of the platform, coming closer so that we don’t have to shout.

“No,” I admit, “This just isn’t my scene.” 

She laughs. “Baby, this is anyone’s scene once you’ve had a few drinks.” She extends her hand out to me. “Clara, but everyone here knows me as Crystal.”

I take her hand in mine and shake it. “Like Clara Bow.” Her smile twinkles.

“Exactly.” 

I point to her fellow dancers beside her. “How come they don’t put you in a cage?” This sinister smirk spreads across her face at my question.

“Nobody puts Crystal in a cage.” Just the way she says it sparks something within me, making me want to reach forward and pull her off that stage and take her home. Clara runs her hands across the bedazzled fringe that covers her thighs. “How could I shimmer behind bars?”

“That’s a good question.” I reach and grab the heel of her white boot. “I guess we’ll never know.”

She smiles. “I like you, Harry.” Clara pokes my dimple that makes a rare appearance. “You’re different from these other fellas.”

“Oh yeah?” I hand my drink to her and let her take a sip of it. She hums and nods. “And how’s that?”

“Well, for starters, most of them are the fuzz and they’re all trying to cheat on their wives.” Then her eyebrows raise. “Please say you aren’t married,” Clara grabs my hand, “don’t be all show and no go, Harry.” 

I raise my left hand and wiggle my bare ring finger. “Nothing to worry about.” She lets out a sigh of relief.

“Phew,” Clara pretends to wipe sweat from her brow, “I didn’t want to have to shoot you down.” I chuckle and she sets my drink down beside her on the stage. “What do ya say we cut outta here?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be dancing?” She places her hands on my shoulders, beginning to slide off of the high stage. I grab her waist and bring her safely to the ground. 

“They won’t mind.” She grabs my hand and starts pulling me further into the club. At some point, I lock eyes with Will and he sees Clara, offering me a wink. When I look back at her, Clara’s blinding me with a smile as she pulls me. “Hurry! Hurry!”

“Why in such a hurry?!” My shoulders keep knocking against others as we finally approach this door in the back of the club. 

“Time is of the essence, Harry!” She pushes the door open and the cold air outside slaps us. Clara finally quits her pulling and lets the door shut behind us, leaving us outside. She reaches her hands up to grab my face, pointing it down toward her. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet, Harry?”

My breath catches in my throat. I rest my hands on her hips and press my forehead to hers. “Wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

“Of course I want you to.” She presses her lips to mine and my tense body automatically relaxes. I pull her in closer by her waist and she wraps her arms around my neck. Her lips taste like cherries, making me groan.

“Taste so good.” I growl as her tongue skates across my lips, getting access to my mouth. She moans against my lips and I feel the sound in my cock. I try to gently back her up against the brick wall of the building, lifting her leg to wrap around my waist as I grind my hips forward. Clara gasps at the feeling, pulling away from the kiss. She has that sweet as sin smile on her face again.

“We shouldn’t do this out here.” She pushes at my chest before sneaking around me and walking forward along the sidewalk. “Now be a gentleman and walk me home, Harry.” Clara looks back over her shoulder. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

I jog up to her and wrap my arm around her shoulder as we continue to walk in the cold night. In return, she wraps her arm around my waist. 

“So what does a man like you do for work, Harry?” I notice how she likes to say my name at the end of every sentence. It makes me smile. 

“I’m a journalist.” When she looks up at me, Clara gives me an amused look. “I know, go ahead. Call me a square. Will does all the time.”

She shakes her head. “No, you aren’t a square. It just makes perfect sense.” She leans to press a quick kiss on my shoulder. “Who’s Will?” 

“The bane of my existence.” Her brows scrunch in confusion. I offer her a smirk. “Kidding. Unfortunately, William’s my best friend.” 

Clara giggles beside me. “And what does Will do that’s so much more exciting than journalism?” 

I clear my throat, not expecting her to ask that question. “He’s, um, a… man of the night per say.” My cheeks burn as if I’m talking of myself. Her brows rise a touch before she bursts out in laughter at the color of my cheeks I assume. 

“Why so flustered, Harry?” I watch as she shivers just a touch. I peel my suit jacket off of my shoulders and drape it over hers before holding her again as we walk.

“Not sure.” I look down and her beauty strikes me in the gut. “You just make me so nervous.”

When she tips her head up to catch my eyes again, something in her gaze digs so deep into my soul. “Well, you make me feel brand new.”

“Brand new?” Clara nods. “In what way?” She stops walking and turns to face me.

“No part of you seems to be bothered by my work.” Her dancing. 

“That’s because I’m not.” I grab her cheek and bring my nose to hers. “Your dancing amazes me.” Her eyes sparkle.

“That.” She emphasizes. “You’ve just made me brand new.” Clara pecks me quickly before looking past my shoulder. “This is mine.” 

I turn around and try my hardest to not let my jaw drop at the house before me. No, the mansion in front of me. 

“Yeah, trust me, I get it.” I look back at her and she nods at my expression. 

“This place is…” 

“I know.” She looks down at her feet. “I live alone.” She pulls my arm to follow her up her driveway. Clara sighs. “Daddy doesn’t really approve of my work, so he pays for me to live somewhere separate.”

“You live alone?” I could never live in a place like this all on my own. Too much of everything and not enough people. She nods softly. 

“Yeah, it has its ups and downs.” When we reach the front door she turns back to me and presses her lips to mine quickly in a soft manner before turning back to lead me inside. I feel a flush on my face at her gesture. 

“What are the ups?” I ask, not seeing how it could possibly be enjoyable to live in a house this big all on my own.

A wicked smirk spread on her face. “I get to be as loud as I like and no one can hear.” She wiggles her brows in a suggestive gesture. 

My cheeks heat as we enter the house and I have to stop myself from gasping. Above us is a large, glittering chandelier and around us is a space larger than my entire apartment. 

But when I look back down to Clara, she’s looking up at me with the same expression. 

“What?” I ask. She shakes her head with a smirk.

Taking a firm grip of my shirt, she pulls me into her. “Nothing. Now kiss me you hunk.”

And of course I can’t say no. I grab her chin harshly and pull her lips to smash into mine. Clara moans against my lips as I migrate my hands to her hips and then her ass, squeezing.

She sheds my suit jacket from her shoulders before running her hands all over my body, all while kissing me. Clara began pulling me toward the couch, pushing me onto it. Before I know it, she's climbing onto my lap and connecting our lips again.

Clara takes complete control over me, and I can’t say that I hate any of it. In fact, I think that it’s making my cock throb even more. 

Her fingers work at the buttons of my shirt as she presses continuous searing kisses on my lips. As soon as she’s got it unbuttoned, she’s throwing it behind her. However, she pulls from the kiss, groaning, when she realizes I’ve got on an undershirt.

“Are you trying to kill me, Harry?” She giggles into my shoulder. 

“Never,” I say, sitting back a bit to peel the tank top over my head, tossing it beside me. “Better?” 

Clara bites her lip with a smile, nodding, “Much.” She runs her fingers over my abdomen, a darkness tinting her eyes. They run all the way up my chest until her fingers grab at my chin, tilting my head to look at her. 

Her eyes are this intense shade of blue that I’m sure only exists in the deep depths of the ocean. They punch me in the gut, rendering me speechless. 

Clara smirks at the look on my face, I’m sure. She then takes my hands and leads them to her back where there’s a zipper waiting for me.

“Be a doll and unzip me, would you?” I nod like a helpless puppy, running my fingers over her skin before reaching for the zipper and slowly trailing it down her spine.Once it’s down far enough, I slide my fingers to the straps, slipping them down her shoulders. Clara helps me out, tugging down the front of the bodysuit, rendering me speechless as her breasts come into view. 

Her tits sit up nice in front of me, her nipples flushed and hard as I reach for them. “So pretty, baby,” I whisper as I pinch her nipple between my calloused thumb and pointer finger.

A sweet moan leaves her lips, making me yearn for more noises. I lean forward and bring my tongue to her chest, licking my way all around her one tit, still using my fingers to stimulate the other. My lips wrap around her nipple, sucking in hopes of hearing more of her pretty noises.

“Harry,” A gasp leaves her throat as she tangles her fingers in my hair. 

“What is it, baby?” I tease before switching my mouth to her other nipple. Her hips have a mind of their own as they begin grinding against mine, causing me to groan against her. Clara uses her hands that are in my hair to pull me from her chest. 

Taking them out of my curls, she uses her hands to push herself off of the couch, before pulling her bodysuit the rest of the way down her body and stepping out of it. My cock twitches as I get sight of her fully naked body, the only thing left on her body is her gogo boots.

I reach forward and grasp the back of her upper thigh, pulling her directly in front of the couch. She looks down with a genuine smile, her hands resting on the sides of my face. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper. 

She snickers, “Quite the language you’ve got there.”

I shrug, “Can’t contain myself around someone as stunning as yourself.”

It was sweet, if you wanted to know the truth. The way we sat here in this comfortable silence after meeting only an hour prior. Sweet and sultry. 

Clara takes my hand and pulls me from the couch, before turning her back to me and leading me through her house. It gives me the perfect opportunity to lower my eyes to her perfectly rounded ass. The way she sways her hips as she walks leads me to believe she knows exactly what she’s doing. I can barely pay attention to where I’m going with that thing in my face.

“Right here,” Clara drags me out of my daze as we enter what I assume is her bedroom. It’s a spacious room with not much in it beside a large bed pressed against the wall, an armoire, and a side table. “It’s not much I know, but I don’t need much.” 

I look at her with a smile, placing my hands on her hips, and pressing my forehead to hers. “You know, it’s funny that you say that, because neither do I. Just need you in this moment.” And because I’m too impatient, I lock my lips with hers and begin pushing us in the general vicinity of the bed. Eventually we make it there and Clara tips back as her calves hit the edge. She laughs and pulls from the kiss, pushing herself up the bed. I kick off my shoes and shed my trousers before following after her.

She rests back on her shoulders, her chest rising as she breathes deeply. I unzip her boots and throw them beside the bed. I sit on my knees and rest on my calves as I let my eyes run up and down her dancer body. 

“Hey, baby?” The word makes my heart jump.

“Yeah?”

She drags her foot down my chest to my boxers that hold back my very evident erection. “M’feelin needy.”

I grab her ankle and crawl closer to her, wrapping her leg around my hip. I offer her a faux pout, “Need me do somethin’ about it, baby?” 

Clara nods. I smirk and take her hips, lifting them up abruptly. She squeaks at the movement, soon moaning out as I plant my mouth directly on her sopping pussy. I drag my tongue up her folds, huffing out a laugh. 

“Shoulda told me you were this wet, honey,” I mumble against her cunt. Her chin is dropped to her chest as she watches me lap at her arousal. Bringing my lips around her clit, I suck on it making her groan. 

“Oh my g- goodness,” Her teeth chatter as she speaks out. The desperate tone in her voice makes me thrust my hips against the mattress, looking for friction of any kind. I notice her hips start to grind against my face, moving them to her liking. 

Bringing my fingers to her center, I run them up and down her folds, hearing her gasp. “Want my fingers?” 

She nods, insistently, “Mhm!” I press one into her slowly and her back lifts off the bed, arching. 

“Yeah?” I give her a second one and she’s squealing into a moan. I allow my tongue to continue working on her nerves as I fuck my fingers into her. Her cheeks are flushing as her eyes begin to shut and god, is it a sight to see. 

I curl my fingers inside of her and feel around for the spot within her that will drive her crazy. When Clara gasps out suddenly, I know I’ve found it.

Her legs begin to shake and her cunt squeezes my fingers like a vice. “Gonna cum, Clara?”

“Yes, Harry,” Her eyes wired shut, “Yes!” 

“C’mon, baby,” I keep my fingers at their pace, my tongue flat over her clit so she can ride it herself.

She lets out a stretched out moan, her back arched beyond belief as her hips continue to grind against my face through her orgasm. It has got to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Her cries only get louder as my fingers continue to fuck her through that high. When it becomes too much, she grabs my wrist, pushing my hand away. 

I crawl up over her, softly kissing her cheek then down to her lips. “Feel good, baby?” 

She nods and lifts her arms to pull my hips closer to her. “Very good.” Her sneaky fingers tug at the waistband of my briefs.

I pull my face back a touch. “What’re you up to, crazy?” 

Clara bites her lip, trying to hide her suspicious smile. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

I grab her wrists and pin them above her hand, placing my lips beside her ear before whispering, “Oh, trust me, I’m gonna feel real good when my cock is drowning in your pussy.” 

She gasps into my ear, but when I pull back to watch her face, she’s got a wicked smirk on. “Such naughty things you say.” 

“I’m a journalist, baby.” I smile. “Wide vocabulary.” 

I peel my briefs down my legs, kicking them from my feet. I sigh at the relieved feeling my cock experiences as it’s freed. When I look back up to Clara, she’s got wide eyes and blushed cheeks.

“I- I, uh,” She shakes her head, “I don’t know if that’s going to fit in, um, me.” 

“It’s okay,” I bring my hand to my cock, giving it a few strokes with my that’s soaked in Clara’s arousal, “We’ll make it fit.” 

She gulps in the way a cartoon character would, where you can watch the bump travel down her throat. I run my opposite hand up and down her hip. 

“Relax, baby,” I kiss her cheek again.

Clara nods and brings her hand in front of her face, spitting on it, before wrapping it around my cock to join my own. A deep groan travels up my throat as she squeezes it slightly. 

“Perfect,” I growl, “You’re perfect.” 

She shakes her head, “Not a singular person is perfect,” Clara brings my tip to the mess of her wet cunt, dragging it through it, “But together, we could be perfect.” 

She lines me up before I nudge my hips forward, slowly feeding my cock into the tightness of her pussy. Her jaw drops as she lets out a sound I haven’t heard from her yet. 

“Fuck,” I whine out as I continue to slip into the wetness of her. Her arms reach up to rest on my abs while her legs wrap around my waist. 

When I give her the last bit of my cock, submerging myself fully, her nails dig into my abdomen and her voice turns shaky, “Oh my- you’re so deep.”

I took a firm grasp of her hips and started to give her gentle thrust, not trying to overwhelm her too quickly. But, god, was it hard to hold back.

“You feel so good, baby,” I whisper beside her ear, “Nice and wet for me, squeezing me just right.” 

Her face screws up in pleasure as she whines, “More, please.” And of course I can’t say no to her.

I pull my hips back until all that’s left inside her is the tip before thrusting back into her. She cries out, her hips grinding up to meet my thrusts. I move one of my hands to her ass cheek, giving it a tight squeeze as I give her harder thrusts. 

Clara starts laying kisses on my neck, her tongue dragging against the spot beneath my ear, making me growl, “Driving me fuckin’ crazy.” 

She giggles, quickly cut off by a moan, “Good, I like my men wild.” 

“Yeah?” I tease, taking the back of her thigh to push her knee to her chest, putting us in a position that allows me to slide deeper. “Well, I like my women tight and dripping so I guess we’re both in luck.” 

Her brows furrow as uses her fingers to tweak her nipples, moaning softly. 

“Be loud, baby, wanna hear you.” I pick up the pace of my hips and she sure does let go. Her cries grow louder and longer, especially when I reach my thumb down to rub over her clit. 

“Oh sh- shoot!” She shouts, squeezing her tits. I laugh at her choice of words. 

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” She nods desperately. “Won’t even swear while I’m inches deep in your pussy.” 

She whimpers as I press my thumb firmer to her clit. She also clenches around me and I nearly cum right there. It’s then that I think about the fact that I’m fucking her bare. Fuck. 

Clara’s walls continue to flutter around me, signaling to me that she’s going to cum again. So I keep my pace steady and keep pinching at her clit. 

“I’m gonna-“ Her eyes squeeze shut and her fists clench beside her. 

“Give it to me. And I want you screaming my name when you do.” And scream she does. We may be alone in this huge mansion but I’m sure someone miles away could hear how loud she’s being.

“Harry-“ Her thighs start to shake and I feel a certain feeling climb up my spine as my thrusts begin to lose rhythm. Her back arches as high as it can with her knee still to her chest as I continue to pound her through her high. 

“That’s it, baby,” I talk her through, feeling as my high starts to make its way to the surface soon after hers. My chest rises and falls as I try to control how fast it comes on to me. But it has been months since the last time I had sex, and my hand can only get me so far. 

When her orgasm recedes, I pull out of her, giving my cock the proper strokes as she lays there is a post-orgasmic bliss. “Where do you want my cum at, darling?” She’s a bit slow to answer, saying nothing, just opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. My cock twitches in my hand at the sight in front of me. “In your mouth?” 

She nods with a smile on her face, tongue still out. I grab the back of her head and lean her face closer to my cock. She touches her tongue to my tip as I stroke it and something about the way she looks up at me with a sweet look in her eyes has me done for.

“Shit, Clara,” I groan as I shoot ropes of cum onto her tongue. She snickers as I do and it drives me insane. I milk out every last drop into her mouth and watch as she enjoys every bit of it. I tap off any last drops then pull away as I start to slowly soften. Clara closes her mouth and swallows my cum before smiling. I lazily lay my body on top of hers, burying my face in her neck. 

She rubs her hands up and down my back, speaking up, “Harry?”

“Mhm?” I barely hum out.

“My leg’s starting to cramp. Could you move it please?” Oh, yeah. I still had her leg folded like a pretzel against her chest. 

“Shit, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t even think-” I pull away from her, an embarrassing flush coating my face as I let her leg down to hit the mattress. She gets a smitten smile on her face.

“It’s okay,” Clara reassures, “Don’t get all shy on me now, you’ve already done me in.” That is what I’m going to guess is her clean version of saying I’ve already fucked her.

“I know,” I put my face back in the crease of her neck and shoulder, “Just feel like such a square around you.”

She laughs, “Nothing about what you just did to me was square, Harry. And maybe I like squares. Did you ever think of that?” I shrug, wrapping my arms around her waist to pull myself closer to her.

“Explains why you brought me home.” She scoffs, but doesn’t continue the conversation any further. We bask in this comfortable silence for a good while. A romantic silence even. Clara has her hands in my hair, massaging my scalp, and I have my hands rubbing her hips. How come I’d never experienced this before? Every other time I’d been sexy with a lady, she’d kick me out immediately, embarrassed, I assumed. But Clara was in no rush for me to leave.

“I’d like to see you again, Harry.” She breaks the silence. “I’d like to see you a lot.”

I huff out a chuckle, assuming she’s joking until I hear no laugh from her end. I pull my face from her neck to look at her. “You serious?”

She bristles at my question. “Of course, I’m serious. I’m no jokester.” 

My brows furrow, “Well, why’d you wanna see me again?”

She rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious, “Because I told you, you make me feel brand new. Like I-” She takes a deep breath, “Like I can be who I wanna be.” She bites her lip, getting visibly nervous. 

“Shouldn’t everyone make you feel like that?” I ask.

“They should, but they don’t.” She frowns.

I close my mouth and stare into her eyes. I run my hand up to her cheek, brushing hair from her face. “Then, yes, I’ll see you again. I’ll see you a lot.”

A bright smile takes over her entire face as she plants a peck on my lips, “Cool.”

I nod, “Cool.” 

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