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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.2k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fxf smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically a mff threesome

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and with a special appearance from eight special guests

A/N: due to burnout, i’m unfortunately putting tgm on hold and logging off of tumblr for a little while, so there will be a bit of a wait before you get the new chapter. i’m going to log back on after 48 hours when the vote is done, because i’m considering putting the results behind a ‘read more’ option so that if you don’t want to wait, you can choose to reveal who is being voted out, otherwise you have the freedom to wait for the chapter. i have a post coming out explaining why i’m going on hold and what that means. please keep an eye out for it xx

ELIMINATION

The vote has closed.

DAY TWENTY-ONE

Your ass is still still a little sore the next morning, and having Hoseok smirk at you every time you shifted is a special kind of torture in and of itself. Waiting for everyone to gather, you’re one moment away from begging Taehyung for a massage right then and there before Sejin finally enters, rapping awkwardly on the doorframe as he steps in.

Skipping the pleasantries, he hunkers down on the coffee table in the middle of the couches, gesturing for you to join.

You swallow, aware of the attention on you. “Can I just stay on the couch?” You stubbornly avoid Hoseok’s gaze, leaning further back into the cushions, Taehyung’s arm wrapped around you as you tuck your head against his shoulder. Maybe you’d ask for that massage later, you reason, massages are platonic, right?

“Sure,” Sejin allows after a moment, eyes softening in sympathy. You flush at the unspoken reminder that he definitely saw the footage, but the producer powers on. “Let’s get started, then, we have quite the day ahead of us.”

Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. You’d been chatting earlier this morning over text with your friend, who was already on a train on his way here. You wonder how the boys will react to Eric. Part of you had worried, but you’ve yet to meet a single person that didn’t like him. It would be good to finally catch up.

The other guys don’t seem suspicious about the news, but before you can dwell on it, Sejin is clearing his throat and lowering his voice into the announcer-like tone he used for the meetings. “This week’s theme was Work Hard, Play Hard. According to the Bangasm Bomb, Week Two’s fan favourite Yoongi was allowed to distribute them. Instead of asking Y/n to guess, I want the players to each say whether they were happy with Yoongi’s choice or not. Starting on the right with you: Jin.”

Perhaps due to their splitting up yesterday morning - you hope their conversation went well in the end - Jin and Yoongi are on opposite couches, and Jin is a little subdued when he speaks to Yoongi. Not necessarily sad, just calmer than normal, like they were old friends. “So, Yoongichi gave me foodplay. As much as I appreciated getting the prompt, and I had a wonderful time with Y/n, never fucking again will I use something so messy. I swear to god, there’s still caramel in my hair, and I don’t think it’ll ever come out.”

You wince at the description, jostled slightly by Taehyung’s laughter rocking his body. Sejin confirms that he’d successfully fulfilled his prompt, and moves along to Namjoon, who looks about as red as a fire hydrant.

“Mine was ageplay,” Namjoon explains, voice dipping so quiet that you can barely hear him, before he clears his throat and glances up again. “I enjoyed it a lot, if I’m being honest. Um- thank you, Yoongi. I’m a little concerned that you knew to give it to me, though.”

“Come on,” Jin jibes, punching his shoulder lightly, “you’re absolute Daddy material. When it doesn’t look like you crawled out of someone’s pocket, at least.”

Namjoon frowns down at himself, the denim overalls rolled up at the ankles, mismatched socks and a t-shirt with a little embroidered sun on it. “Was that a compliment?”

Jin sends him a solemn, meaningful look. “It’s whatever you need it to be.”

“Anyways,” Sejiin jumps in, “congratulations, Namjoon, you’ve avoided the bunks again. Following on, we have Jimin. Go ahead.”

With legs that look a mile long in some skinny black jeans, Jimin winks across the room to Yoongi. “I got breathplay,” he explains, “which I’ll admit isn’t my favourite prompt out of them all, but I still had a really good time. Though I did try and go a little easy just in case.”

Your eyes widen, remembering ringed fingers around your throat and his cold smirk which contrasted with the heat of him inside you. “That was going easy?”

Jimin shrugs. “I’ve barely scratched the surface, Y/n,” he states vaguely and sits back, tilting his head to Sejin to indicate he’s finished.

The producer quickly informs him he was successful, and moves onwards. On your couch, the only active player is Hoseok, who sits on the opposite side to Taehyung. He sends you a mischievous grin before leaning out to face Yoongi. “Wax play for me,” he reveals to the group, “which was an absolute delight. I’m very glad I got this one, just for safety reasons. It sounds like some of the prompts this week were a little more intense.”

He sits back, but Sejin doesn’t move on this time. “Hoseok, unfortunately you failed your prompt this week.”

Hoseok blinks, brows lifting. “But there are cameras in that bathroom! I checked.”

“That’s not the issue,” Sejin explains with a sympathetic smile, “it’s that you directly revealed to Y/n what your prompt was. Now-” he begins, seeing Hoseok’s clear disappointment, “I had a talk with some of the editing and producing teams on this, as well as the higher-ups. Because we understand and appreciate that you revealed the prompt for reasons related to safety and wellbeing, we’re going to change things up a bit. You have a choice. Either you take the penalty and stay in the bunkrooms, or you stay in your own room. The caveat is that you randomly have to draw a name, and that person will join you.”

Hoseok winces. “God, this feels like a variety show,” he complains, “but I’ll risk it and take my bedroom. At least I’ll be comfy, and I’m fine sharing a bed with most of you anyway.”

Sejin’s already prepared, nodding and retrieving seven strips of paper from his pocket, all folded in two. The rest of you hold your breath as Hoseok’s hand hovers over the splayed-out options, finally tugging one out from the bottom. He takes it, flicks it open, and immediately deflates with a frustrated groan.

“This is fucking rigged,” he protests, ripping the paper into two, “I pick the bunkrooms.”

Sejin patiently holds his hand out for the torn shreds, reading them over. Is that a smile on his lips? “Jung Hoseok, you’ll be staying in the comfort of your bedroom with fellow contestant Park Jimin until the date of the next Sunday meeting.”

“Hey!” Jimin shrieks. “I did my prompt! Do I get no say in this?!”

“You don’t, unfortunately,” Sejin replies promptly. “Next up is Jungkook.”

Jimin squawks, collapsing back onto the couch with his arms tightly folded and his mouth screwed up into a scowl. Across from him sits Jungkook, clinging to Yoongi. With his legs tucked under him and his sleeves balled in his hands, the youngest gentleman is reminiscent of his subbier side when you played with him. “I got anal play,” he declares proudly, “I can’t believe it took me three weeks to get pegged. Shoutout to homeboy for sending that prompt my way.” He punctuates the comment by gently bumping his head against Yoongi’s shoulder, like a cat on its owner’s leg. Rather than sitting up, he stays there.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, finishing off before Sejin can even step in. “I was cumplay,” he states plainly, “so of course, I took that. Who needs to fuck around with wax and food and shit when you can stick to the basics?”

The producer nods formally, tapping his shoe against the carpet. “And the two of you both successfully completed your prompts, congratulations. That means nobody will be staying in the bunkrooms this week. Taehyung,” he turns and fixes the boy with a warm stare, “you’re welcome to go back to your room for the rest of the competition.”

Taehyung beams, a boxy grin and crescent eyes. “Noted, sir,” he says with a chirp. “Do we get to find out fan favourite now? I know who I’m rooting for.” Taehyung sends Jimin a shy smile, and the older boy winks at him fondly.

“Yes, of course,” Sejin allows, clearing his throat. “As usual, we tallied up the results from the voting page on our website. I’ll say the top three. Third place this week was Jungkook. Congratulations.”

The youngest man sits upright suddenly with a wide-eyed look. “Seriously? I didn’t even dom! Oh, wow, uh-” he cuts himself off and looks around, finally fixing his sights on one of the cameras near the roof that are streaming to the fans. He pumps his fists with a little cheer, then folds them together and bows. “Thank you! I’ll do even better next week.”

Yoongi’s cheeks go pink as he tries to act like he isn’t cooing over the boy, reaching out to ruffle his ever-growing hair. “Good job, kid,” he compliments shortly.

“Second place,” Sejin continues, “Seokjin.”

It seems as if the therapist hadn’t seen it coming at all. A picture-perfect expression of shock blooms on his face before he lets out a bright peal of laughter, clapping his hands together with a single smack. “I did it! Ah, I knew I still had it in me. Old age won’t stop me yet, see. Everyone should learn from this.”

You shake your head with bemusement, lifting your brows at him. “Silver medal and it’s already going to your head, huh? The fans have created a monster.”

“The fans have seen the light,” Jin corrects placidly, before a line forms between his brows. “Wait. Who got first, then? Who outdid me plus caramel sauce?”

“In first place, and winning the chance to spend an evening outside the Villa with Y/n,” Sejin starts, before pausing for dramatic effect, “is Hoseok. You’re having quite the emotional rollercoaster this morning, Mr. Jung.”

Instead of a hooting cheer, a smug grin, or even disbelief, perhaps the one thing you didn’t see coming was Hoseok blinking quickly, before pressing the back of his hand to his nose. You don’t have to be watching a 1080p close-up to see his eyes misting.

Taehyung immediately croons, throwing his arms around the dom in a tight hug, wiggling in place as Hoseok laughs tearily. “I’m so proud,” you hear Taehyung say, muffled in Hoseok’s shirt.

“I- Goodness, I’m sorry- I really just wasn’t expecting that,” Hoseok admits, tilting his chin up to stare into the ceiling light. “That means a lot. Phew, wow, the audience are some kinky fuckers,” he finishes, relieved when the strange atmosphere splits into easy laughter.

Heart warm, you reach over and squeeze his arm. “I’m really happy for you, Hobi,” you say in a soft voice. “You deserve it.”

“Where will you take her tonight, hyung?” Jungkook chimes, teeth poking out of a teasing grin. “Is it ‘take your fuckbuddy to work’ day at the Red Room by any chance?” His comment rouses whoops and whistles around the room, Taehyung giggling and pinching the dom’s cheek.

“Ah, about that,” Sejin jumps in quickly, a hand held out to settle the noise, “the reward won’t be scheduled for tonight, unfortunately. We’re going to put it on Monday night, since today - as I’m sure you all know - we have some special guests.”

Your brows lift. Guests, plural? Maybe you weren’t the only one who was asked to contact a friend. Your heart skips a little faster at the prospect of being exposed to close friends from the boys’ real lives. What if they didn’t like you? Would it even matter?

Sejin isn’t done, standing up from the coffee table to give the announcement on foot. “A few days ago, you all received text messages from me with some instructions to find a close friend, colleague, or family member to join you on the show. This was up to your discretion, as long as they agreed to a quick police check, however there was one condition. Y/n; you were asked specifically for a male friend. The guys were asked to bring a female friend.”

You suck in a gasp. After three weeks being surrounded exclusively by dudes, you’d suddenly have seven new ladies to talk to. “Just for the day, right?” you question, knowing the plans you’d had to make with Eric.

Sejin’s lips quirk up. “For most of the guests, yes. However, for one lucky lady, they’ll have the opportunity to stay for a full week. At any point today, Y/n, you can draw a name from this box-” he pauses, glancing down at his again-empty hands, “-I’ll, uh, I’ll bring the box out in just a moment. But you’ll be able to randomly draw one name, and if the recipient agrees, they’ll be staying in the bunk room for seven nights. Questions?”

Taehyung raises his hand tentatively. “Hypothetically, would we be allowed to have sex with the guests?”

Sejin sighs. “All but two of them signed a contract in which they consented to the possibility of sexual interaction, yes. But none of them will be required to at all.”

You bite your lip. When talking with you, Eric had mentioned the contract, and stated that since it was just one day he’d rather not offer himself up for that. One of the girls must have done the same, then, but that still left six people who were joining for a day - or a week - willing to consider having sex with the others on the show. Perhaps you were raising your sex drive being on the show, or maybe you just missed the company of women, but that thought excited you more than anything.

“When do they come on?” Yoongi asks with a grimace. While the others are practically vibrating with the anticipation of being reunited with their friends and meeting new people, Yoongi seems begrudging, and you can’t help but wonder what girl in his life he asked to join him.

“They’re waiting outside right now,” Sejin reveals, “we’ll bring them in one by one to introduce themselves. As they come in, I want the person who invited them to get up and stand on the side with them until everyone’s paired up.”

Taehyung’s hands slip into yours and Hoseok’s, gripping them into tight fists with a hoot of excitement. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you sit up straighter, eying the doorway. “Do you think there’ll be a game?” the masseuse hisses, positively wiggling in his seat.

On the other couch, Jungkook’s eyes widen comically. “We’re doing a game? Oh, hell yeah!”

Sejin, who had been sending a text, glances up quickly. “The game isn’t ‘til the eve-” he cuts himself off, but it comes too late. “Ah, dammit. Anyways, please give a warm welcome to our first guest. Please come in.”

Before the person even rounds the corner, you hear an excited squeal. A slender girl with toffee-coloured hair and bright features careens into the room, her giddy smile widening as she lands her eyes on Jin.

If you had pictured someone to be friends with the therapist, it probably wouldn’t be this boisterous woman in tiny shorts and strappy sandals that’s currently cannon-balling onto him, but he lets out an oof, wrapping his arms around her with a fond smile.

Sejin clears his throat. “Could you please introduce yourself?”

“Oh!” The girl sits up, elbowing Jin in the stomach as she gets up to smile at everyone. She looks gorgeous in a summery red lipstick, and the voice that comes out is just as sweet. “Hi everyone, I’m Hyuna, Soogie’s better half.”

Rubbing his hip, Jin scoffs. “You’re my sidekick at best.”

Ignoring the person whose lap she’s sitting on, Hyuna beams. “If he’s been cool on this show at all, it’s my positive influence.”

“Thank you, Hyuna, the two of you can go stand to the side,” Sejin deigns, glancing towards the doorway. “Next?”

In this way, all the guests appear one at a time and pair off. Eric’s next in, and you rush up to give your old friend a tight hug, grinning as he immediately stands beside Jin and Hyuna and begins to schmooze, making the two of them alike fawn over him.

“Hi, everyone,” he announces in a cheery tone, “I’m Eric, longtime friend of Y/n and aspiring Gentleman. Pleased to meet you all.” Sejin nods at him, and Eric’s smile turns down a few watts to sober up. “Also, I didn’t sign the contract, so if there’s any funny business, feel free to not invite me.”

Unlike the first two, the third person that enters the room is shy, a reserved posture and sweet smile. She dresses in a corduroy dress and long-sleeved shirt, her dark hair up in a ponytail. Introducing herself as Ji-eun, she explains that she, too, chose not to sign the contract for sex, blushing at the word.

Equally blushing is Jungkook, who repeatedly bows to her as she comes in, hand hovering over her waist as he leads her to the side. You and Jin share a bemused look as the girl introduces herself as a family friend and Jungkook’s old babysitter.

Picking up the energy, the fourth guest is someone you actually recognise. Jessi, a Bangasm powerhouse in every right that Jimin is, turns the corner with a sultry look, sidling up to Sejin playfully before tugging Jimin up from his seat.

“Jessi, as most of you are probably aware,” she introduces, looking insanely stunning in a fitted crop shirt, high waisted shorts and eyeliner to kill. “Come on, Park; you’re with me.”

As he stands up, letting her ruffle his hair and gushing over his choice of earrings, you marvel at how different he appears around her. In the industry, if you’d heard of Jimin, you’d heard of Jessi. She started a few years before him, met him on a shoot, and the two were practically a power duo ever since. From the videos they had together, they portrayed an image of the King and Queen of porn, always working with each other whenever they could. But now, instead of some sex-crazed couple, all you see is Jimin being fussed over like a younger brother, leaning into Jessi’s fond yet teasing touches.

The two of them sit beside you, and your cheeks can’t help but burn up when she pokes her tongue out between her teeth and flicks you a wink, turning to Jimin and giving him a meaningful nod.

So far Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi remain on the couches, and when the next girl rounds the corner, you just about think you must be seeing double.

With a black bob of hair sharper than her jawline, perfectly arched brows and a pouty mouth, an absolute copy of Min Yoongi scans the room. Her face changes, turns mischievous when she spots a begrudging Yoongi, and jerks her head. “I’m the hotter twin,” she announces, “Min Yoonji.”

As Yoongi huffs and gets up to join her, you watch with wonder as the two lookalikes stand together. She mumbles something low, ruffling his hair as he desperately tries to duck away, and the twins settle on the far side of you, beside Jungkook.

Quickly, another raven-haired girl steps in, barely even looking at you as she takes in the decor. “Fuck, this place is nice,” she mutters, before her eyes look directly ahead of her, maroon lips stretching into a smile, “Joon-ah, you’ve been here rent-free for the past month? Holy shit.”

Namjoon winces, bowing awkwardly to her, and you tilt your head. Why does it seem like they barely even know each other? Sejin must hear your internal monologue, as he clears his throat. “Could you please introduce yourself and state your relationship to Namjoon?”

“Oh, my name’s Sunmi,” she says with ease, “Namjoon and I are...” She trails off, looking to him for help.

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he blurts, “best friends!” before going bright red. “Uh, we’re, um, we’re best friends.”

Sunmi beams, nodding matter-of-factly to the rest of you, before walking forward to pinch his cheeks and wiggle his face back and forth lightly. “Oh, yes,” she coos, “we go way back.” Letting go, she takes his hand and guides him to the side of the room where everyone but Taehyung and Hoseok are gathered.

You try to send Namjoon a questioning gaze, but he avoids everyone’s gaze but Sunmi’s, nodding shyly at the things she tells him quietly.

Luckily, the second-to-last guest takes up your attention fully. With velvet boots that reach the middle of her thighs, and a black shirt that reaches just as low, she’d look cute and preppy were it not for the black harness that brackets the shirt, reminiscent of Hoseok’s leathers, the sharp smokey eye and a red lipstick so dark it’s almost black. It doesn’t take you much to work out which of the remaining boys she’s accompanying. “Thank you to Hope for inviting me,” she begins, and your eyes widen at how silken and sweet her voice is, a total 180 from the typical dominatrix stereotype, yet it seems to fit her perfectly. “I’m Bee, I’ve worked at the Red Room for several years, and been friends with him for just as long.”

The two share a light hug, but you can see the affection there as his eyes crinkle and her beam widens. She hooks a finger around one of Hoseok’s belt loops and follows him to stand beside Jimin, barely enough room for them as it is.

Lastly is Taehyung, who’s already on his feet by the time a gorgeous blonde enters. Before you can get a good look at her, the two are bear-hugging, Taehyung lifting her off the ground for a moment as he grins so widely all his teeth are on full display. It warms your heart to see, and even when she settles back on solid ground, the two are attached at the hip, his arm tightly holding her to him.

“This is Chungha, my best friend,” Taehyung announces proudly, “we met at work when I was a trainee.”

“Aren’t I supposed to do that?” she questions with a throaty laugh, but still gives a warm smile to the rest of you. “But yeah, that’s me!”

They go to move over to the crowded corner, but Sejin steps in, clapping his hands once to gain everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone!” he declares. “Welcome to all our new faces! You’ll have until 10pm tonight to socialise, have fun. For lunch today, we’ll be having a barbecue and picnic outside, but after then, you’re free. Be sure to respect Ji-eun and Eric’s choice not to partake in any sexual activity. And Y/n, I’ll be right back with the box. Make sure you pull a name before 10.”

Once he leaves, you let out a dramatic breath, collapsing into Eric’s side. “Today is gonna be busy,” you anticipate, “so many pretty girls to talk to. So little time.”

“Hey!” your friend protests, wrapping his arms around to trap you against his front. “Forget about the girls, you should be hanging out with your best friend! I’ve missed you, lest you forget!”

Suspicious, you wiggle around to face him, narrowing your eyebrows. “You just want me to be your wingman,” you accuse, “who is it? What guy here are you crushing on?”

Eric scrunches his face up, clutching at his chest in offense. “I am not crushing on anyone,” he insists, before glancing over to Hyuna, Jessi, and Sunmi have gathered around Namjoon like a flock of seagulls, cooing over the little embroidered patches on his overalls. “I just want the Iron Giant over there to crush me.” Squinting his eyes, he inspects the room until he locates Yoongi, who’s pouting like a wronged child as Yoonji makes herself at home in the kitchen, pulling out drawers and cabinets like she’s searching for something.

“He’s the doctor, right?” Eric asks of Yoongi. You nod, suspicious. “He likes to eat cum, I have cum to spare… I’m no mathematician, but x equals sex, you know?”

You wince. “Not your best line,” you say in a disappointed tone, “but anyways: I thought you told me you didn’t want any funny business? You didn’t sign the contract.”

Eric’s eyes skirt over you, taking in the seven men as he shakes his head slowly. “I was young then. Foolish. I know better.” Suddenly, he grips your shoulders and ducks his head to look you intensely in the eye. “Take me to Sejin’s office. I have a contract to sign.”

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and an even more beautiful day to watch the muscles in Jin’s back flex under his t-shirt as he mans the barbecue.

Sharing the same sentiment is Jessi, who sighs dreamily at him, sitting beside you on the sun-warmed grass with her legs stretched out in front of her. “They don’t make men like those anymore,” she muses, “face of a fucking god. You get to fuck him?”

You chuckle at the abrupt question, quickly learning that Jessi wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Generally once a week, yeah. Unless I vote him out, I suppose.”

“God, please do,” she enthuses, “save some for the rest of us, you know?” Suddenly she sits up straighter, glancing around to take everyone in. “You know, when I heard about this, I thought for sure they’d either get a bunch of porn-addicted dweebs who jack off into crusty socks or all the airheads in the industry would sign up for a vacation. I guess they really filtered out the duds. I’m impressed.”

“They did good,” you admit, smiling fondly as you watch Taehyung jump around a small cross-legged group on the picnic blanket, holding out handfuls of beads. The masseuse had discovered Hoseok’s penchant for jewellery-making somehow and had demanded a tutorial. Jungkook and Namjoon look like two flustered schoolboys as they quietly help their respective friends, and Yoongi has his sister in a headlock as he tries to tie a bright pink and green bracelet around her wrist. Hyuna and Chungha are practically in each other’s laps, giggling as they wind delicate anklets onto each other.

Some of the others hang around Jin as he cooks. Bee is chatting up a storm with him, hip propped against the edge of the barbecue, and Jimin steals pieces of caramelised onion, sneaking glances towards you and Jessi. Your heart warms at his inquisitive look, the look of happiness and relief on his face when he sees the two of you getting along.

So caught up in your observation of the group, you don’t realise you’ve been silent too long until you get roughly punched in the shoulder. “Holy shit!” Jessi declares. “You like them!”

“Who?” you counter defensively.

She laughs, her whole face lightening up. “Fuck, maybe all o’ them. Is there anyone you don’t have a crush on? Anyone that doesn’t make you feel all giddy and happy?”

You’re stumped at that. For a long time, you’d been seeing having a crush as some grand, dramatic realisation. Realising you liked Tae and Jimin, and then more recently being confronted with your feelings for Jin, those romantic notions seemed so loud and all-encompassing. But the guys making you feel giddy and happy? Their presence cheering you up, missing them when you spent time on your own? It was a lot easier to admit to yourself that perhaps all seven of them fit within those constraints. “I… I hate to say that you have a point.”

Jessi squeals, briefly attracting the attention of the haphazard circle of jewellery makers. “I knew it! Oh my goodness, isn’t this so exciting? Have you had an orgy yet?”

You gape. “Jessi!”

“What?” she asks innocently. “If you’ve been here several weeks and you still haven’t had an orgy, you’re wasting your time, girl. Get onto that.”

“I have, actually,” you admit with firing cheeks. “Before Tae got eliminated.”

“The puppy?” When you send Jessi a bewildered look, she just shrugs, tipping her head over towards the barbecue where Jimin has taken to kissing the back of Jin’s neck and shoulders, standing up on his tiptoes to try and bribe the older man for some food. His friend sighs at his antics. “Park told me,” she explains in a matter-of-fact tone, “said he was an absolute delight to play with when he’s got his collar on. Fuck, and looking at him now really solidifies the image, you know? I’d love to make him beg for a treat.” Your face must sour, because without a pause Jessi is cackling, poking you lightly in the cheek. “Oh my goodness, you’re jealous! You can’t fuck him anymore so you don’t want me to!”

“It’s not that,” you protest, not wanting to expose that selfish desire.

“It’s fine, I get it! I’ll keep my distance,” she allows, rolling over on the grass to lean in, chin almost resting on your shoulder as her voice deepens to a conspiratorial tone. “But if I’m honest, you should just fuck him and take the penalty. I know I would.”

You bite your lip. “What if he accidentally touched me? He’d be sent home. It’s such a risk.”

She just shrugs, leaning back to watch him as he sits in the middle of the group, Chunga reaching out to playfully ruffle his hair. “Tie up his hands,” she deflects easily, “there are always solutions, you know? And if you really like him, I kinda think he’d appreciate you making the sacrifice to be with him.” Sighing out one last time, she stands up, brushing off her pants. “Food for thought. And speaking of food, there’s a big hunk of meat over there that isn��t on the barbecue.”

As Jessi makes her way over to Jin with a heavy swing to her hips, you decide to join the group. There’s a small gap between Ji-eun and Jungkook as they keep a respectful distance, so you wedge yourself in with a few muttered apologies.

Up close, Ji-eun is gorgeous, rosy features and kind eyes. It’s no wonder Jungkook looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. Perhaps you’d normally feel jealous, but you get it. “So,” you start, reaching out for a cord to begin a bracelet, “the two of you are family friends?”

Jungkook nods hastily. “Our parents went to high-school together,” he divulges, fiddling with his finished bracelet to look busy. “And since my mom and dad both worked full-time, noona babysat after school.”

You coo, tying a knot at one end of the waxed cord so the beads don’t fall off. “That’s so cute, oh my goodness! Ji-eun, was he a troublemaker as a child? I bet he was.”

“Hey!” Jungkook protests, but the older girl just chuckles, sending you a genuine smile.

“Gukkie was actually a sweetheart,” she admits, “always super polite. He was cute, too, had this coconut haircut and the roundest eyes, little tiny hands. Not like now.”

Jungkook gasps again, clutching at his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. “How dare you! I’m still cute!”

You hum in an unconvinced way, turning to poke at his cheeks, tapping his button nose. “You’re a little bit cute,” you allow. “Though I bet you were cuter with the bowl cut.”

The camboy’s temporary pleased look vanishes and he abruptly stands up. “This is slander, it was not a bowl cut, I just have a very round head! I’m going to find Yoongi-hyung, he respects me.”

You glance around the group in confusion, but Yoongi isn’t in the immediate vicinity like he was earlier. In fact, the group has dissolved into a few stragglers finishing off their bracelets as most of the gathering emigrate to the sheltered patio. “Oh shit, is lunch ready? I’m starving.”

“Looks like,” Ji-eun chirps, but once the two of you stand up, she hooks her hand in your elbow, preventing your departure. “Before we go, I just wanted to say,” she begins, eyes earnest as they lock onto yours, “thank you for making Jungkook so happy. I know it’s not like it’s just you, and I’m going to try and thank everyone in due time, but he speaks so highly of you especially. He’s really coming out of his shell here, I can see it now.”

Your heart swells, instinctively turning to seek out the black and red hair in the crowd. Jungkook has slipped a glove on one hand and is cutting up pieces of meat with tongs and a pair of kitchen scissors, a broad grin on his face as he hands them out. “I’m really lucky to have met him. You helped raise him well.”

She beams at that, tugging on your arm as the others call out for you to join them. “It’s not me. That’s all just our Jungkookie.”

Throughout the lunch, you can’t help but think that every time you look at him. Our Jungkookie.

Much like Taehyung, Chungha is very generous with her hands.

The offer comes quickly after lunch. Most of the guests and guys are still outside socialising (Eric has managed to con a bunch of them into playing a rather hands-on game of football on the grass), but while you were inside getting a drink, both massage parlour workers joined you, Taehyung’s arms naturally slipping around your waist for a lazy back hug.

“Pour us one?” he requests casually, his voice like molten brown sugar. “I want you two to get to know each other. Maybe we could go upstairs for a bit?”

Beside you, smiling with her eyes as well as her baby pink lips, Chungha pats your hand. “I’ve heard so many good things,” she assures. “But Taehyungie is so disappointed that he can’t take care of you anymore.” Your heart freezes in your throat when she comes in close, smelling like cherries. Her voice dips so that only you and Taehyung could hear, the latter nuzzling his nose against the back side of your neck. “I could take care of you for him, if you want?”

You turn around in Taehyung’s grasp, seeking out his confirmation. He smiles, nods, and lets go to take the two extra drinks you’d poured. It’s only lemonade, but he takes an indulgent sip as if it were champagne.

Without another word, he begins to make his way to the stairs, glancing back to make sure you’re following. You think back to Jessi’s words, of showing him that you cared. It seems like, in his own way, he’s reaching across that divide and showing you he cares too. Chungha’s fingers winding between yours, you follow the two masseuses upstairs.

Perhaps it’s their job experience, or maybe just their sweet, puppy-like personalities, but being near them both feels so comforting and relaxing. In Taehyung’s bedroom, he sits on a chair, as close to the bed as he dares. Chungha tugs you directly onto the mattress, and you gasp as a slight push to your shoulder sends you collapsing backwards, head on the pillow.

She looks divine above you, smiling down as her pale golden hair hangs down and brushes against your collarbones. With a knee on either side of your hips, she straddles you and leans in closer, lips barely brushing. “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Your heart thuds strongly against your ribs. You nod, feeling dizzy as the pressure on your mouth increases and her hands slip into your hair. Her lips and fingers move in sync, massaging your lips and scalp indistinguishingly. Perhaps she’s even a better kisser than the others on the show, or perhaps it’s that the touch of a woman after three weeks of men feels like pure oxygen, like eating with a gold spoon after years of stainless steel.

Her fingers slide further, molten relaxation with every stroke. Soothing your temples, the crown of your head, the nape of your neck, she keeps you feeling warm and light, even a little hazy. Lips parting from yours for just a moment, Chungha whispers to you, her fingers playing with the waistband of your pants. “Will you let me taste you?”

Arousal thrums hot between your legs, but something makes you hesitate. Or, rather, someone. You shift your head on the pillow, looking past the curtain of Chungha’s hair to where Tae sits, cross-legged, on the armchair.

His eyes widen, soft and concerned. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Y/n,” he assures.

Chungha pulls up at that, sitting back against her heels again. Losing the closeness makes a whine catch in your throat. “It’s not that,” you confess quietly, “I just… I don’t want you to feel left out.”

The blonde masseuse straddling you coos as Taehyung turns pink, and she beckons him closer. “I don’t feel left out,” Taehyung assures you as he tentatively perches on the edge of the bed, tugging your hand gently to clasp between his own. “I can’t touch you like you deserve, at least not now. But Chungha can. If you want this, I want you to have it, Y/n.”

Your hand feels so warm between his smooth palms, but your heart feels even warmer. “I do want it. But… Stay close to me.”

Taehyung laces his fingers through yours, holds your hand up, and delicately presses a kiss to the back of your hand, making your breath catch. Afterwards, his eyes dart accusingly to the cameras recording your every move and sound. “That was technically platonic contact,” he insists quickly, “they do it in movies all the time.”

You laugh softly, but it quickly mutes into a silent gasp as Chungha suddenly moves down, hooking her fingers into your waistband and undressing your lower half as she goes.

Spreading your knees and sinking to her chest between them, her perfectly manicured fingers run teasing lines up and down your bare thighs. “Just relax,” she coos, “just let yourself enjoy it.”

Her hair, like spun gold, tickles your thighs as she lowers her face closer. So light you can only just feel it, she presses a kiss into the seam at the top of your right leg, so close yet too far from where you need her. Doing the same to the other side, she begins slowly trailing them closer to your core, giggling onto you when your breath hitches in impatience.

Taehyung shifts, situating himself behind you so that your head lies back and rests on his lap. With the same hand that holds yours, he takes the other, holding both of your wrists together in less of a restraint and more of an embrace. Together, him and Chungha bracket you in this cocoon of gentle touches, and as his other hand begins taking over the scalp massage Chungha had started earlier, you can’t help but let your eyes slip shut.

It’s because of this that when she finally licks a bold stripe up your folds, it catches you by complete surprise. You squeak, jolting between them, but Taehyung just tugs on your hair lightly, shushing you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Taehyung asks softly, bent over so he can speak lowly.

Chungha, now that she’s started, uses her tongue and lips just as expertly as her fingers, marking Taehyung’s question redundant. You nod anyway, and are rewarded with the subtle vibration of her chuckling, lips wrapped around your clit.

There’s something inherently different about the way Chungha eats you out, that’s clear even with your eyes shut. Her lips are plush like Jin’s, her cheeks soft like Yoongi’s and her tongue roving deep like Jungkook’s, but with every second that passes, it feels like she’s explored your pussy a million times before. Each swipe and suck and nibble seems practiced, learned, and in mere minutes your thighs are trembling.

She alternates attention to your clit with fucking you on her tongue, and Taehyung’s hand never ceases its languid journey through your hair. The two poles of pleasure have you unable to catch your breath, unable to even open your eyes as every movement makes the lids heavier.

Two separate people, yet they work in unison. When Taehyung presses behind your ears, Chungha flattens her tongue on your clit in a slow drag. When that muscle becomes pointed, flicking over you to make you jump, Taehyung’s fingers curl so that the nails run over your scalp. Each nip of Chungha’s teeth is punctuated with a tugging of a lock of your hair, and caught between these tides, the only things that feel incomplete are your lips. What you wouldn’t give to have Tae bend a little lower and brush his mouth against yours, even for a moment.

Instead, you slip your bottom lip between your teeth, occupying them needily. A coil tightens in your stomach so slowly, like a gentle bubbling simmer, but it isn’t until you feel two slender fingers sliding inside you that there’s a tangible shift in pleasure. Like taking an exit on a highway, you feel a distinct change of path, like you’re now moving directly towards your orgasm. Driven by that desire, you rock your hips, moaning as her mouth hones in on your clit and her fingers curl, seeking out that spot inside you.

Unsurprisingly, she locates it with ease, and before you can even catch your breath she’s massaging it without mercy, twisting her fingers inside you with every audible thrust so that the pleasure is inescapable. You writhe, but she still has an arm free to throw over your stomach and hold you down.

Taehyung is still deliriously in-sync, and you can’t hold back a moan as his fingers press harder and nails drag stronger. Eyes rolling back, you feel that crest build, so close you can taste it, and your moans become desperate.

The two of them read the signs and up the intensity one last time. Taehyung drops your hands so that both of his can bury deep in your hair, and Chungha switches to three fingers inside you, scissoring and grinding them against your g-spot.

You come with a broken cry, seizing up as the pleasure wracks your body. While Taehyung stops his massage to brush your hair back, carding his fingers through it comfortingly, Chungha fucks you through it without mercy, sucking harshly on your clit and spreading you open on her fingers.

It’s not until your whole body is shivering and you try anad wriggle out of her hold that she finally lets up, leaving you boneless in Taehyung’s lap.

Far more full of energy than you are, Chungha straightens up with a satisfied sigh, licking her lips. As you fight to catch your breath, she runs a hand up and down your thigh. “You’re a fucking gorgeous specimen,” she compliments warmly, “when you get out of here, come by anytime.”

Suddenly Taehyung’s arms wrap tightly around your arms and chest, chin tucked onto the crown of your head. Even as you can’t see him, you can hear the pout in his voice. “When she gets out, she’ll be coming by for me,” he protests sweetly, “but I’m sure we could invite you too if she wanted.”

You laugh tiredly, leaning your weight back against Taehyung. “I’m definitely not turning that down, holy fuck.”

Chungha giggles prettily, chin still glossy from going down on you, though it doesn’t seem to bother her. “Won’t you give me one last kiss before we go clean up?”

You can’t deny her sweetly batted eyelashes, though you wouldn’t even want to. Once Taehyung begrudgingly lets you go, you lean forward and meet her halfway, tasting yourself on her tongue. It’s filthy but chaste, a quick swipe of her tongue into your mouth, a peck, and she’s pulling away with a wink, jumping off the bed.

Once she prances into Taehyung’s bathroom and closes the door behind her, Taehyung goes slack, winding his arms around your torso from behind and tucking his face into your neck. “I hope you liked it,” his voice comes out, muffled and shy.

You ruffle his hair fondly, wishing you could do more than that. “It was perfect,” you say without a doubt. “Thank you, Tae. I-” There are words that you can’t say, shouldn’t say now. “I like you a whole lot.”

If it’s possible, his hug tightens. “I like you a lot too.”

The rest of the day goes without hiccups. You spend your time getting to know the girls - albeit in less intimate ways than you had with Chungha - and slowly the idea of pulling a name out of the box becomes both exciting and worrying.

Hyuna brings out a new side of Jin. He looks more unburdened with her than he has the whole time on the show, and their vibrant energy together is contagious. Jungkook acts like a smitten schoolboy around Ji-eun, and she’s so patient and endearing that you can’t help but sympathise with him. It’s very clear Namjoon and Sunmi don’t actually know each other very well, but fuck you could watch their awkward banter and dynamic for hours. Sunmi is a relentless, unflappable tease, and Namjoon eats it up with a nervous laugh and bright eyes. Chungha seems more interested in the other girls than she is with Taehyung, but they’re never far apart, sharing countless meaningful stares between conversations. Bee is much like Hoseok, in that she’s so sweet and bubbly when she doesn’t don her dominant persona, and quickly she wins you over, her kind words and cheerful laughter a highlight of the evening. Jessi seems like the type of bossy but protective older sister that seems perfect for Jimin, whose usually-concealed soft interior lifts closer and closer to the surface with every minute spent in her easygoing, boisterous company. And finally, Yoonji is an absolute enigma, commanding attention with ease but seeming entirely disinterested with it. The moment a conversation bores her, you watch her eyes shift, inspecting some person or other like they’re a science experiment. You’ve been under that gaze yourself, and you practically feel the heat of the magnifying glass. But at the same time, when she does get engaged and speaks up, she’s just as articulate and sharp as Yoongi, and you can’t help but hang off her every word.

After relaying all this information back to Eric, who seems equally supportive and bemused, the only conclusion you can draw is that it would be entirely preferable to have all seven of them stay.

“Goodness, you insatiable minx,” your best friend teases with a mock look of disapproval. It’s 9:58pm, and the two of you have been stuck in the living room for almost the whole hour, staring hopelessly at the box. “Seven men is good, but fourteen people is better?”

“It’s not that,” you defend with a whine, “not that I would protest. No, it’s just- I wanna get to know them more, you know? And I feel like I’m learning more about the guys while they’re here, which is going to prove very important for tomorrow’s decision. And once I pull a name there’s nothing separating me from elimination, and I have no fucking clue who to eliminate, but then at least-” You huff, unable to articulate it. “I’m procrastinating.”

Eric grimaces, nodding. “It took you roughly fifty-nine minutes to come to that conclusion, but I’m glad we got there eventually.”

You kick your feet up over his lap, throwing yourself back onto the couch in despair. “I could’ve been out there researching this whole time, why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, bouncing his knees so that your feet are jostled off. “I thought you wanted to work it through and that explaining every vivid detail of the past three weeks was necessary. It was riveting, by the way,” he adds in a drawl, “I’m certainly relieved you felt it pertinent to describe exactly the size and appearance of all the cocks in this house.”

You jump up, kicking him in the shin. “Hey! Don’t be sarcastic, I’m in a crisis!”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Eric defends, brows lifted. “I’m doing my own research. Taking into account the past several hours, as well as the interesting mental pictures I’ve now been able to make, I’ve decided I wish to become the sexy meat in a Namjoon and Hoseok sandwich. Do you think it’s feasible?”

You open your mouth instinctively to protest, but then you stop, mulling over the combination. They had spent a lot of time together…

Eric claps his hands together with a victorious cheer. “You considered it, that’s basically a yes! Anyways, I hate to say it,” he digresses, quickly sobering up, “but it’s time to draw a name.”

Nerves immediately alight down your spine, but you fight them off. “Fuck, okay, I guess it’s random so it doesn’t matter, right?” Before you have the chance to second-guess that statement, you lean forward and plunge your hand into the circle-shaped slot in the box, feeling sharp edges of paper bumping against your skin.

Managing to close your fingers around a slip, you pull it out, opening the fold. Two words, three syllables. Eric and you read over it in silence for a moment, before you let out a amused chuckle. “Yoongi’s going to be pissed, huh?”

ELIMINATION

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candy-and-writing · 4 years

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Not About Angels

Summary: while on a mission to take out a HYDRA base, the Avengers find someone they never expected to. She's scared, traumatized, and helping her seems almost hopeless. But two certain supersoldiers won't give up on her

Not About Angels by Birdy

Series Warnings (more to be added): PTSD, non-con, torture, rape, past rape, smut, Steve x Reader x Bucky, stucky x reader

Chapter Warnings: allusions to rape, allusions to and mentions of PTSD, allusions to and mention of torture, abuse, sex slavery, soft! Bucky, hurt reader, emotional abuse, fingering

This is for @crushedbyhyperbole 's 200 follower challenge! I picked the prompt "darker than the devil himself." The prompt is in bold

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

You wake to the sound of an explosion. It rattles the solid concrete walls, causing the old metal bed frame you're laying on jostle. You can hear gunshots, people yelling in both Russian and English. You go to move off the bed, but are stopped by the chain around your wrist.

Shit.

The shouting gets louder and louder until a gun goes off in front of your room, the bullet breaking the lock off the door. The metal door is pushed open and a man marches in, gun in hand and a stern look on his face. You've seen him before, you realize, a long time ago. With his long dark hair and striking blue eyes. The soldier with the metal arm.

His shoulders relax as he lowers the gun, his gaze fixed on you as his eyes soften in confusion. You stay rooted on the bed, your knees drawn up and your hands at your sides.

"You aren't a soldier, are you," he says like he already knew the answer to the question. You shake your head carefully, your eyes wide as you watch him approach you. You're tempted to move back, but you don't. Something—against your better judgement—keeps you rooted in place. You watch him grip the chain connecting you to the bed and snap it, letting you free. "C'mon, we don't got a lot of time. You got a coat?"

You shake your head again and he sighs, grabbing the thin blanket off your bed and wrapping it around your shoulders. He takes your hand, pulling you out of the room.

There are bodies everywhere. Blood everywhere else. You step in it, your bare feet trailing sticky red footprints in your wake.

You had never been to this part of the base before, so close to the entrance. Your room was far below ground and you only left to take a shower. It was cold up here.

You stop at the threshold of the base, watching the man with the metal arm step out into the snow. He stopped when he realized you weren't following him.

"What's wrong?" You looked uncertainly down at your feet, then at the snow before you met his eyes. "Oh."

He started marching back towards you and your heart skipped a beat, knowing you had done something wrong. You took a quick step into the snow, the cold biting at your bare toes.

"Hey!" The soldier scooped you up into his arms. "You're not wearing any shoes, doll. You're gonna give yourself frostbite."

The soldier was warm, unnaturally so, in the cold weather and thick tactical gear. You hugged the blanket tighter over yourself, trying to make yourself smaller in the larger man's arms.

He carried you to a large jet and marched up the steps. You felt eyes on you once you entered the ship and you curled into the crook of the soldiers arm, attempting to hide yourself.

"Oh, look," a voice scoffed. "Barnes found a pet."

"Clint," a woman hissed.

"Buck, what's going on? Who is she?"

"I don't know," the soldier said. "I found her locked up in the lower part of the base. I think she—" he paused, looking down at you. "She's scared."

"Set her down," another man said.

You were shaking as the soldier carefully put you down on the ground. You took a quick look around the ship and saw that you were surrounded by people. A man in a metal suit stood out the most.

You clutched to the soldier's arm as he crouched down next to you, trying to hide yourself behind him.

"Where did you say she was?" a woman asked, her hair a fiery red.

"Behind a locked room in the lower part of the base," the soldier said, looking behind him at the woman. She watched you as you kept your eyes on the floor, not daring to look at them.

"The poor thing looks like she hasn't eaten in days," another woman noted, her accent thick.

You almost looked up at her, the soft tone of her voice surprising you. You don't remember the last time someone had spoken so softly to you like that.

"Her blood pressure is dangerously high," a man said, stepping closer to you. Your breath caught in your throat as he reached out for your arm. You knew the drill better by instinct than by actual will—don't move until you're told to, don't speak unless permitted, don't make eye contact unless they want you to.

A whimper escapes your lips as the strange man grabs your arm. "Soldat," the broken cry slips passed your lips before you could stop it.

That caught the soldier's attention. He held his flesh hand out, his brows furrowed, stopping the man. The man let go of your arm, stepping away from you as he apologized. "Do you know me?"

He stood in front of you, trying to coax you to look at him. You refused, locking your gaze on your bare feet.

"It's okay," the soldier said gently. "We're not gonna hurt ya, okay? You're safe, I promise. I just need you to talk to me."

"Я не разрешаено," you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

"What'd she say?" someone asked.

"She said she's not allowed," the redhead translated.

"You're allowed," Bucky assured you, "I promise you. You can talk to us, we won't hurt you."

You swallowed thickly, your hands shaking as you clenched them tightly into fists. They didn't like it when you were scared.

'Don't talk to him,' a voice in your head rang.

'He won't hurt you, he hadn't before,' another reasoned.

"Do you know English?" You nodded. "Can you speak in English? So the others can understand you?"

"They told me not to," you rasped. Your accent was think, you wondered if they could even understand you.

"Who?" the woman asked. Her arms were crossed, as though she were disappointed.

'You said the wrong thing. She's mad at you.'

You shrunk in on yourself, hugging yourself as you stared at a line in the flooring.

"Hey, don't close up, doll," the soldier said. "Talk to us. What's the matter?"

You stole a quick glance at him before answering. "Она рассердилась на меня."

"Who? Natasha?" He looked over his shoulder at the redhead before looking back at you. You nodded.

"I'm not angry with you," the redhead—Natasha—said, stepping closer to you. "I'm just. . . trying to figure you out."

You frowned, swallowing a shuddering breath. "You are Natasha Romanova, the Black Widow?"

"You know me?"

You shrugged. "The men talk about you. You are the Avengers?"

The soldier nodded. "We are."

"What men?" Natasha asked.

"T-The men that came into my room. Sometimes, if there were more than one of them, they would discuss things. Their work."

"Do you know who they are?" the man with a shield asked. You swallowed thickly, nodding.

"One of the men was on the floor." You dared to look at the soldier. "You killed him. . . didn't you."

"What's your name, doll?" the soldier asked you, changing the subject. Though the guilt in his eyes gave you the answer you needed to know.

You frowned at that, unsure. No one had called you by name in. . . since HYDRA had taken you. What was your name?

It was on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far away.

You were hesitant when you told him, still so unsure.

He repeated your name, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue. "That's a pretty name. I'm Bucky."

Bucky. That's a funny name.

Your eyelids started to feel heavy. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling taking over.

"We should let her rest," Natasha said. You nodded, hugging the blanket tighter to your body as you laid on the floor, curling your knees to your chest. You jolted when you felt fingers brush against your wrist.

"Relax, doll," Bucky said, "I'm just gonna look."

You let him take your wrist in his hand. His fingers gently brushed over dark purple bruises that encircled your wrist. You winced, trying to pull away from him.

"It's okay, doll, it's okay. I'm gonna put some salve on it and it'll help it heal, okay?"

You nodded, watched him as he squeezed a little dollop of gel on his fingertips, rubbing it into your skin. It was cold, freezing your skin so much you shivered.

"How long were you tied up like that?" Bucky asked.

You shrugged simply, not actually knowing the answer. It could've been a few hours, or it could've been days. You never could tell.

You let yourself relax. You closed your eyes, exhaustion crashing over you and it wasn't long until sleep took over.

You had been prepped beforehand. Given a cold shower and a brush run through your hair. The simple cotton nightgown was thin and barely reached the middle of your thigh. The artificial slick the man had spread in between your legs was cold, as it always was. You think you would get used to it by now. You sat obediently on the edge of the bed, hands folded in your lap.

When the door opened, you perked up, but didn't dare look. You heard footsteps, then the door closed.

"Your reward, Soldat," a man spoke, his English almost foreign to your ears.

A reward. . . . Is that what you were? You didn't feel like much of anything.

The handler left, leaving you and the soldier alone. He stalked toward you; you kept your eyes downcast as he stood in front of you, thumb and forefinger cupping your jaw with a surprising amount of gentleness.

"Посмотрите на меня," he said. Look at me. You obeyed, your eyes meeting his carefully. He was large, his shoulders wide as he stared you down, his features expressionless—all but his eyes. His eyes were dark. Demented.

Haunted.

"Улечься," he instructed. Lie down.

Your back hit the mattress before you finished contemplating his words. You bent your knees together at an angle, hands resting at either side of your head. You watched him, not daring to blink.

His flesh fingers grazed up your legs, pulling your knees apart. The chill of the air brushed against your bare center, a shiver dancing down your spine.

The soldier's gaze darkened in the shadows of your quarters. In the shadows, his eyes seemed darker than the devil himself. He hiked your gown up past your hips, his flesh fingers delicate as he inserted two fingers into your cunt. He spread the slick around your lips, glancing up at you when you let out a whimper.

He seemed to hesitate when his hand reached for his belt. He saw the fear in your eyes, the way your hands shook. He blinked—once, twice—like he woke from a trance.

"Вы боитесь," he muttered. You are afraid. What could you say to that? The men never liked it when you were afraid.

When you didn't respond, guilt seeped into his eyes.

"Вы боитесь меня." You're afraid of me.

You shook your head. "Нет, Солдат." No, Soldat.

He got up then, crawling off the bed. You sat up, worry alive in your veins. You had to fix this. If he left without having you—oh, God, you could only imagine what would happen to you.

"Подождать—" You tried to get up, to reach out to him, but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. Wait—

"Спать," he said. Sleep. You frowned. You didn't want to sleep, you wanted to do your duty.

"Вы не хотите. . . ?" your timid voice was barely above a whisper. Doesn't he want—?

"Спать," he repeated.

You gave up, laying back down as the soldier pulled the blanket up to your chest. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes as the soldier sat at your feet, his shoulders rigid. You turned on your side, letting yourself relax in the soldier's presence.

"Спать. Я не буду вам больно." I will not hurt you.

His presence was eerily calming. You were able to fall asleep quickly despite the anxiety biting at your nerves. When you awoke, the soldier was gone.

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mashedpotittiess · 3 years

Text

Games of Tomorrow

Header created by my muse and bb R. Title: Games of Tomorrow. Pairing: Taehyung x Reader. Mentions of: Hoseok, Jin, Subin (Victon) and OC’s Summary: A simple game of beer pong stirred up some not so innocent feelings between you and the man you held much disdain for. After all, he was your enemy. The person you couldn’t seem beat when it came to grades. You were never enough for the rich and popular but maybe just maybe you’d show them what you were all about. Words: 13k Rating: M Genre: Enemies to Lovers!au, College au!, Smut, Fluff, Angst.

This was all inspired by this photo which I just edited (color, background and the text)so all original photo credits go to the owner.

A/N: What started as a simple short drabble ended in this much longer than intended fic. This is my first pic so pls be gentle. I am but a noob to tumblr writing. I hope you enjoy this craziness <3 this fic is dedicated to my friend who picked Tae to be the first character I wrote about and sat there and listened to me freaking out cause the fic kept getting longer. Ily R. This is Un-Edited so i apologize in advance for the mistakes. I’ll re-read it and fix mistakes as i come across them. Tags/Warnings: Smutty smut smut, Jealousy, Drinking, Mention of Marijuana, Oral (female receiving) Fingering (female receiving), Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids) Fluff, Angst, Size kink, Tae mentioning his DIG BICK, semi rough sex (not really though).

Fic inspired Playlist Link:

spotify:playlist:77Hd51hVnDHe8Q9JaLxGbD

Taglist: @a-mess-of-fandoms @dnyad

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“Absolutely not” you said calmly into the cellphone receiver. “But y/n! You need to let loose once in awhile, and no I’m not talking about sitting on your couch eating bowls of Ramen and cheese popcorn while watching re-runs of Boy Meets World with a big glass of too much Whiskey” Layla practically whined. She had been trying to convince you to go with her to Seokjin’s party on Saturday for an entire hour. She was right, you knew this coming weekend you’d be plopped onto that same blue couch in your big band t-shirt and fuzzy socks doing exactly that. “I’ll think about it” you finally mumbled out and could practically hear the smile in your best friends voice as she exclaimed a ‘woot woot’ “Okay Hot Stuff, i’ll text you later, gotta get to Volleyball Practice” with that she hung up and you continued your walk to what you’d call a ‘Headache’ of a class. It’s not that you hated Econ per say, it’s that you studied your ass off, completed extra credit assignments with a flourish and took wonderfully color coded notes (if you say so yourself). But yet, HE still scored higher than you (even if it was just by one point) and what’s worse is that he NEVER seemed to study, never seemed to care. Trudging into class you took your usual seat in the second row close to the middle. Organizing your laptop, books and assortment of pencils and pens on the table. As Professor Carmine began his lesson writing “Principles of Economics” onto the whiteboard with his usual navy blue marker, you diligently took notes and nodded along with his rhetorical questions. “Before we end for today lets see who can answer this simple yet intriguing question, “Would you consider Inflation or Deflation of cost cycles to be more costly to a business?” You pondered on how to word your answer for about two seconds before raising your hand. “Yes Ms. Y/L/N” you shifted in your seat slightly. “While I know this question has no definite answer as it can be interpreted many ways, I would say with our current Economy, Inflation of prices would be more costly,” Before you could continue you heard a Deep Baritone voice that you knew too well scoff. “So you think Deflation would benefit a business? that’s essentially lowering your prices which in turn leads to loss of income” You rolled your eyes nonchalantly and turned around in your seat to look at the man in the fourth row who had not only interrupted you but disagreed and voiced his disagreement. “I said with our current economy Inflation could hurt a business. Do you think regular people can afford to buy a $3,000 purse when they make minimum wage? It could cost a company to make said purse for $200 with cost of material and labor. If you lower those prices by a fraction, said company would still be making money and you could possibly have more demand as more people with regular paying jobs can afford you buy said purse. If you higher the price less regular people can afford such a luxury item which could hurt the demand. Thus causing an issue with the income for a business”. You said staring at the red haired man pulling a cock of his right eyebrow from him. “Regular people don’t need a $3,000 bag, you want brands to lower the prices so poor people can buy their items? How sad. Tae is right, just higher the prices and get more money. Businesses will make their money regardless of the lower or middle class purchasing their items, as long as they have people like us,” a high pitched voice you recognized as Nami said gesturing to herself and the perfect barbies next to her “buying from them”. Before you continue the alarm from your Professors phone startled you and signaled the end of not only your Monday class but your discussion as well. You picked up your items, shoving them in your bag and trudged out of class. As you passed Taehyung with Nami, Michelle, Hoseok and Gigi at his back he smirked at you and you swore you heard Nami giggling ‘Bet she’s never even held a Chanel bag in her hands. she just wants everybody to be ratchet like people like her’. Smiling to yourself you turned around and flipped them the bird “At least I don’t have to go crying to daddy to buy me a new set of tits, I make my own money and work hard for it. Something you wouldn’t know a thing about, and THAT is what I find sad about your entailed fake ass”. your voice carrying through the hall as you turned back around and made your way back to your dorm. ——————————————— “You know what day it is? TACO Tuesday” You exclaimed while taking a shot of Jose Cuervo and stirring your meat to ensure its cooked properly. Your roommate Casey giggled and Layla downed a shot with you while blasting a Pitbull song. After plating your dinner of carne picada tacos topped with all your usual veggies and homemade Salsa you smiled while your friends posted pics to their instas, Captioning “BB y/n made us food”. “I still can’t believe you told Nami her tits were fake” Casey giggled while shoving a fistful of popcorn into her mouth. “y/n said her tits and her ass were fake” Layla corrected and you smiled at your dorky friends. “She deserved it, nothing I said wasn’t true. You all were sprawled out on the couch pilled high with fluffy blankets watching a random episode of The Nanny and laughing at random jokes Layla said while scrolling through her Insta feed. “OOOOOOh Valeria is getting ice cream with Subin” Casey practically pouted at the post and you sighed knowing your roommates crush on Valeria which did not go unseen by Layla, causing a metaphorical lightbulb to go off in her head. “You know Casey, Valeria is going to be at Jin’s party on Saturday” Casey being held buzzed sat up catching the bait and worried her bottom lip “Is she?” Layla nodded “This could be your chance to get a fistful of all that Latina, metaphorically and not so metaphorically” she crudely added with a wiggle of her eyebrows and you literally face palmed at your best friends words. Instead of being equally gassed out, Casey however downed her coke and stood up triumphantly “It’s time I tell her!” Layla stood up with her screaming a loud ‘yaaaaas queen’ and both pairs of eyes looked towards you sitting their nursing your Sprite. “What?” you questioned and immediately regretted when both girls practically jumped on you, squishing you between their bodies. “I can’t confess without knowing you and Layla are both there” Casey pouted her soft pink colored lips causing you to shake your head. “You do not need me there while you confess to your crush.” “But what if it goes bad? what if she rejects me, or worse; makes fun of me? What if i need to leave and I’m crying and I have snot everywhere an-“ Before she could continue you sighed and covered her mouth with your right hand. Nodding you stood up and smiled at both girls “Fuck it, Let’s get your Girl!” you knew Casey had liked her for literally an entire year and you knew you’d feel like shit if you weren’t there supporting your friend as she bared her heart. “I’m only doing this for you though, so know that I love you.” ——————————————— While the rest of the week you were dreading the party Saturday knowing Nami, Taehyung and the other were going to be there, it was Thursday night that was the straw that broke the Camels back. You had just finished returning your copy of Ulysses when you passed Nami practically hanging on the redhead talking about her Angel costume for Seokjins party. Rolling your eyes as you passed you stopped as you heard her ask “What are you rolling your eyes about? This is a private conversation” she flipped her hair over her left shoulder and you yet again rolled your eyes. “This is a public hallway, which means anything you say that can be heard by others can in fact get a response be it verbal or physical by someone other than the intended person in the conversation.” You were just about to turn around when she hmmphed “Whatever, mind your own business” turning around you were met with Layla jogging towards you. “Hot Stuff, what are we going to wear to the party? I’m thinking Doja Cat from the ‘Juicy’ MV, omg you should be -“ Before your best friend could continue, Nami stepped towards you with her arms crossed. “And how did someone like you, get an invitation?” punctuating the ‘you’ she pointed at you. “Jin and I are both on the Volleyball team” Layla stated and turned towards you “And he said I can bring whoever I wanted.” “I still don’t know why you hang around people like her” she once again pointed to you with her baby pink manicured index finger. You knew Layla had money and could very well fit in with their group. You sometimes felt like you were her downfall, the anchor to her social climb. But she always reassured you that she hated people like Nami and never understood why out of everyone, she hated you in particular for the passed two years. “Maybe because she’s my BEST friend, whoever gets invited to the party doesn’t involve you Nami. It’s JINS party, not yours.” Layla shook her head and you bit your bottom lip while curling your fists at your sides trying to calm yourself down.”Maybe she should be Donkey from Shrek, or maybe an edgy emo kid from 2010 with her ugly tattoos” Nami smirked and you heard Taehyung ‘who was scrolling on his phone let out a light laugh, his deep baritone further fueling Nami’s ego. “Have you ever even been to a party? like have you ever even left you dorm for something other than classes and your jobs” she sneered at the words jobs. “You should just reconsider coming, people like YOU don’t belong. People like YOU really should know your place” Your jaw visibly ticked “Seems like you have an obsession with anything my best friend does, is this like you having a big lesbian crush on her?” Layla said while placing a hand on your shoulder and doing her best Janice from Mean Girls impression. Before Nami could say anything back Taehyung nodded out a “Guess we will see you there then, bye Layla, bye y/n” turning to leave. Nami rolled her eyes and checked her phone “Not like it’ll matter what you wear, wait, OMG you should soo wear a ghost costume, it would suit you. Get it? cause you’ll be invisible and you don’t belong” then turned around, her yellow heels clacking against the tile as she following Taehyung down the hall cackling. “I still don’t know why she’s always hated you of all people? like it’s been two years of the same thing with her. I honestly don’t know how you haven’t hit her. I’ve seen you fight” She smiled and grabbed your hand, holding it while you all made your way down the hall, which made you smile and let out a small giggle at her comment about you fighting. She knew about your childhood and how you practically lived at you neighbors boxing gym to let off steam as a stress reliever. You had agreed to find a suitable costume as rage filled you from Navi’s moments and Taehyung’s lack of interest in the matter. (not that you would’ve expected much from him)

As you scanned the rows of costumes hung on the wall neatly you waited by the changing room while Layla and Casey tried on their costumes. “I think i’ll just go with this one” Casey smiled softly while twirling in her peter pan costume, her blond bob swishing lightly. “It’s so cute!” you hugged her and turned to see Layla emerging with a shake of her head “This isn’t giving me enough Doja Vibes”. You let out a hmm and pulled the pink/red mid length wig from your left and threw her a pair of red tights telling her to go put those on while you scoured the items on the racks. Layla finally emerged from the dressing room after you finished giving her the scattered pieces you had found. Clutching the green watermelon rind skirt, she twirled around in the same manor Casey did earlier and shook her pinky/red bandeau covered chest at you. After tightening the green suspenders that were connected to the skirt she smirked “Now it’s your turn Babe, and Casey and i are paying” before you could interrupt her she continues “not buts! You agreed to find a costume” Shaking your head you said a chorus of “No’s” vehemently at every option she held in front of you. “Y/n you need something to accentuate how hot you are! make her eat her words” you huffed and shook your head “Naughty Nerd is not the way to go Nami” Hanging the customer back on the rack she mumbled a “she said nerd so i figured hot nerd would be well, hot”. You grabbed a simple Witch costume that consisted of a mid length purple dress and a black hat with matching stockings, something low key but still a costume. Before you could go pay for it Layla grabbed your hand and stopped you. “No, y/n that isn’t enough, plays were paying” she pointed to herself and Casey who nodded. “Layla I don’t want to draw anymore attention to myself, I don’t need to look “hot” cause I’m not. I’m just a regular person who isn’t enough for these people. I’ll never be or do enough” You look down at your right arm and traced the intricate patterns of your black and white peonies and hibiscus that lined your inner arm. Your friends had never seemed you look so vulnerable, and something in Layla snapped. “She called you invisible and said you weren’t enough but guess what? She knows all about you makes sure you’re always uncomfortable around them. Which means she sees you as a threat”. you bit your bottom lip at her words “She has called you ugly, ratchet ‘which who says that anymore, poor, insignificant and she made fun of you working your ass off to pay your tuition because your deadbeat parents can’t do shit for you. You’re the smartest person in class, you’ve got street smarts and fuck man, you can literally kick a grown mans ass. Remember when those guys were grabbing Casey at the club and you stood up for her and literally fought two of them and won? Little miss prissy bitch couldn’t stand a 5 secs with that y/n. I know you don’t bother with fighting her cause you’re afraid of her connections and getting kicked out of school but fuck y/n grow some balls” Snapping your head in her direction you walking up to her standing in her face and exclaimed “Firstly Taehyung is the smartest in my Econ class. Secondly, don’t you think I’m already aware of what she says about me? don’t you think i want to punch that stupid smile off her face full of fillers? You wan’t me to grow some balls? FUCKING FINE, but I’m not wearing a “sexy nerd costume.” Smirking and trailing your fingers along a row of costumes you looked at your friends. “I’ll show her just how hot I can be” Layla smirked at you “That’s my girl, so what do you have in mind then” You slid your fingers along what felt like vinyl. Cocking your right eyebrow up you gripped the material. “What’s hotter than the Devil?” ——————————————— Standing in front of your mirror in your bedroom you were already regretting your choice in outfits for tonight. As you stared at yourself you reminded yourself why you were doing this. You were going to prove a point and that was all that mattered. you were going to prove you weren’t any of the negative things Nami said about you. Running your hands down the scrappy vinyl like material that was covering your chest and part of your upper body. Your hands stopped above your navel where the top stopped and you cocked your hip to the side, descending your hands further down your bare skin to the top of the matching vinyl like skin tight pants that resembled shiny black liquid covering your skin leaving little to the imagination. You plopped yourself in front of your desk to the makeshift vanity that was full of makeup products for the nights preparations. Curling the ends of your hair you laughed as Layla pranced around shimmying to Nasty by Brooke Candy. “Don’t trust that hoe he N A S T Y” you all yelled the lyrics. Finishing your Deep Burgundy and black smokey eye, you applied a sharp winged eyeliner and smoked out the lower lash line. Applying small round black jewels under your eyes you finished the look with a deep burgundy matte lipstick, fluffy lashes and a soft pink toned blinding highlighter. “We have like 5 minutes, get your asses in gear” Layla announced as you were tying your simple black leather choker around your neck. After zipping up your over the knee 5 inch stiletto vinyl black boots, you placed your black horned headband on your head securing the little clips in your hair and primped the strands around your face to frame sexily. The ride there was filled with bopping to music and Layla yelling that you were a bad bitch out of the windows for all of the campus to hear which caused you to yell as the Uber driver. Taking a deep breath, you exited the car and holding Layla and Caseys hands, you walked the short distance of the walkway to Seokjin’s Lavish off campus Townhome. The smell of weed and alcohol mixed with the sound of loud bass thumping greeted you as Layla pushed open the door. Walking through a sea of bodies you felt several pairs of eyes on you and you had to remind yourself it was fine. Settling yourselves in the kitchen, you started to make you all some drinks while Casey looked out for Valeria and Layla handed you cups and bottles. You decided simple Margaritas on the rocks were safe for the night and handed them to your friends. A tall and beautiful man you knew as Seokjin himself walked in and greeted you all, making sure to give Layla a hug to which you noticed her little blush creeping down her neck. “I’m glad you all could make it! Layla are you Doja Cat? omg Casey you’re Peter Pan! y/n are you the devil? oooooh are those Margs I see?” SeokJin asked which you nodded and asked if he wanted one as well. “Yes please! I suck at making drinks, oh and please just call me Jin” Smiling you stirred the mixture into a clear cup and handed it to him earning a dazzling smile. As he took a sip, Jin pressed his right hand to his chest over his heart “You NEED to come to all of my parties and make me drinks. This is so delicious” As he mimicked the chefs kiss signal you laughed and Layla beamed a smile at him. “Y/n works as a bartender part time at Nely’s next to campus” You nodded and sipped you drink while surveying the beautiful white marble kitchen and chrome accents. “You have a beautiful Home Jin” you smiled to him which made him softly pat you on the back “Thank you! I take pride in my kitchen. It’s where I blow off steam from Volleyball practice” Layla shook her head “You need to blow off steam? you practically don’t even sweat while we run plays” to which Jin scoffed “We all need to blow off steam Layla” You and Casey watched as both people seemed really comfortable with being around each other. You noticed Layla blush and Jin smile every time their eyes met. “Oh you’re here” said a shrill voice you knew none other than Nami herself, dressed in a fluffy white see thru robe, white satin dress that barely covered her butt, knee high white vinyl go-go boots, white lace stockings and sitting atop her head a thin gold halo attached to a headband. Next to you Layla smiled and placed her hand on her hip “Yeah, we said we would be here so here we are” you heard the brattiness in her voice and giggled when you notice Jin staring at her hips. “Ew, don’t stay too long” Nami said while walking out. Jin shook his head which prompted Layla to ask why he had invited Nami. “Well our families are friends and my roommates are friends with her” You cocked an eyebrow” You have roommates?” Before Jin could answer you heard a deep baritone laugh getting closer, turning your head to the side you saw Taehyung accompanied by Hoseok walking into the safe haven of the kitchen. “Tae, Hoseok, come meet Layla and her friends Casey and y/n!” Jin smiled “These are my roommates” As the men stepped closer you tried your best to cover the shocked look on your face. “HEY we have two devils!” Hoseok yelled out and smirked. Taehyungs hair was parted down the middle and some of his fringe was swept up into two red ‘horns’ he donned black skin tight vinyl pants, red shiny shoes that looked a lot like Gucci Mules, a sequined Blazer with only one button down right above his navel that accentuated his chest as he decided to forgo a shirt and a thing black choker similar to yours but tied in a small bow sitting in the hollow of his throat. Feeling his eyes roaming over your body and landing on you horns you busied yourself by chugging your drink and earned a holler from Hoseok. “Hey y/n can party!” Before anything else could be said, Casey spotted Valeria who was waving at you all to join her in the living room. Throwing your cup in the trash you followed Casey out of the now suffocating kitchen and tried to hide your expression as your eyes met the Red Devil while you slid passed him. “Hey girls!” Valeria smiled and hugged you both causing Casey to blush. Layla had stayed in the kitchen talking to Jin which made you smirk knowingly. “This is Subin” the man next to her looked up from his phone and sent a side your way, you noticed his costume as a werewolf from the looks of his tattered ripped shirt and what looked like a gnarly bite mark on his collarbone. “Hi I’m y/n and this is Casey” Casey narrowed her eyes at the man and how close he was standing to Valeria mumbling out a ‘I know who Subin is’. As you four talked you noticed Valeria standing closer and closer to Casey while laughing at some inside joke they shared. Before you knew it Valeria had swung an arm around your friend and they shared a soft smile. You really hoped all went well for Casey, if not, you might have to kick some ass. While you were thinking of the cuteness overload that Casey and Valeria together could be you heard a shuffle from your right “you look nice when you smile” Subin smiled at you and you felt the pink tint forming on your cheeks. As Casey pulled Valeria with her outside for some “fresh air” which you knew as go time. You decided to get straight to it and ask Subin himself “Are you and Valeria a thing?” choking on his drink he coughed out a loud ‘no no no no’ and you cocked an eyebrow. “Val and I are just friends, plus she’s not really into someone like me like that?.” “Someone like you?” Nodding Subin smiled knowingly and looked towards the door both girls had just slipped through. “As in she like boobs, your friends boobs to be exact.” Your eyes widened “Wait no! not her boobs, she liked your friend in general i was just saying boobs to accentuate how Val wouldn’t like me anatomically.” You giggled at how flushed he had gotten and he smiled along with you. You hadn’t noticed a pair of eyes staring as you talking to the man dressed as a werewolf. Hoseok noticed the look in his friends eyes, it was the same one Taehyung had gotten anytime you rolled your eyes at him, ignored his presence or had gotten in a heated debate. He had been sporting that look every time he looked at you for a little over two years now. Since your first year of college when you had shared a Psych class and battled for top spot in class. He knew his friend had taken an interest in you and it never dissipated. Taehyung sipped his beer and kept his eyes glued to your face while you smiled and laughed at something the man next to you had said. Hoseok was tired of nothing coming from this and slammed his beer down hopping onto the coffee table earning a ‘that wasn’t cheap get down!’ from Jin “It’s beer pong time!” Hopping off the table he stood in front of you in all of his Napoleon Dynamite Glory. “Y/n come play beer pong” he smiled at you and you could help but notice how beautiful Hoseoks smile was. Shaking your head “I don’t think i’ll be playing tonight Hoseok but than-“ Nami cackled at you from her band of barbies and interrupted “ Hope, don’t waste your time with her she isn’t worth it. Plus she probably can’t even play, she’s never even been to a party before.” Thats what caused you to roll your eyes and place your hand into Hoses outstretched one. “I’ll play”. You and Subin followed Hoseok to the side of the living room where a few beer pong tables were already set up. Layla and Jin had joined you as well, intrigued to see you playing. “Okay teams of two. Usual rules of no leaning over the table, must drink your drink if a ball is sunk, one re-rack per person on each team, and if a trick shot made with one hand behind your back and a foot away from the table is sunk by the opposing team they may make a request that you have to complete. Said request can’t be anything illegal or THAAAT bad. “Can I take a shot instead of drinking a beer? I don’t really do well with beer” you asked honestly which cause Hoseok to holler “Fuck yeah!” Before you could pick a teammate Hoseok smiled and pulled Taehyung over “We have to have the two Devil’s playing” You shrugged and asked Subin if he would be your partner to which he smiled an ‘of course’ which earned a cock of an eyebrow from Taehyung which Hoseok noticed and smirked. “I’d be on Tae’s team but I think to make it fair we should have another female” Nami walked over laying her hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and smirked “I’ll play” you rolled your eyes and mumbled an ‘i’ll play’ mimicking her shrill voice which earned a chuckle from Subin. “Ooh an Angel and a Devil on the same team, how heaven and hell” Hoseok smirked and set up the cups handing each team their set of ping pong balls. Layla and Jin brought you a bottle of tequila (your eyebrows shot up when you noticed it was ‘Gran Patron’ and then you remembered these people are well off. You had made the marg’s with a different bottle of Patron which while not cheap wasn’t as expensive as this particular bottle was) and shot glasses to replace the typical drink of beer if a ball is sunk. Beer really didn’t sit well with your stomach, you assumed it was the carbonation. “Layla you do know this is like a $500 bottle of alcohol right?” Layla smirked and Jin smiled responding “I don’t really drink Tequila unless it’s in a marg and my uncle left this bottle here from his last stay, as far as I’m concerned you can have it.” You opened the bottle letting the smell of Agave fill your senses and re capped it. “Ready?” Hoseok asked to which both teams agreed. Taehyungs team started to which Nami missed her shot, the next shot was Subins and he sunk it, picking her to chug what looked like some sort of fruity cider. Taehyung was next and he lined up his shot before seemingly sinking it before he looked up “Subin drinks” he said smoothly and Subin drank what was left in his cup. You were up next, carefully lining up your shot you watched as the ball plopped right into the cup and looked at the duo in from of you. “Nami drinks” Nami rolled her eyes “Ughh again??” she exclaimed and you smirked “What? can’t keep up?” you asked to which she grumbled and drank what looked like another cider. Nami sunk her next shot and picked you to drink, as you poured the liquid into your shot glass you smirked right at her while downing the shot like it was water. Unknown to you, a pair of dark eyes watched as you licked your lips while placing the glass down. The game continued with each of the teams missing and sinking shots until you won the game, hugging Subin you both had only had around 3 drinks each and decimated the other team. Taehyung called for another game as in 2/3 wins to win the full game. You had surprisingly agreed but only because Nami wouldn’t shut the fuck up with her little snide comments and you loved the look on her face every time she missed or you sunk her shot. The second game continued until there were only 4 cups left on your end and 3 on the opposing team. You and Subin hugged each other after your last shot that nailed Nami yet again and she held her stomach calling celebrity shot which basically called Hoseok into the game to replace her. You were 5 shots in and feeling light, not nearly drunk but nicely buzzing as you could hold your liquor well. Stepping in Hoseok smirked “Imma flip things up, If i sink this shot ya’ll gotta do my request” Folding his left arm around his back he took a few steps away from the table and focused on nailing the center shot, and to your surprise he actually did nail it. “Hmm little devil, I request that you take a shot” Your eyebrows shot up as that sounded easy enough. “Oh dear, not a normal shot. I’m talking about a body shot, your partner needs to lay on the table and you have to follow all body shot steps down to the lime in his mouth.” Rolling your eyes you turned to Subin to ask if it was okay with him. Your buzzing partner agreed and insisted after you asked if he was sure. Laying his body down on the table with the crown of his head facing Hoseok and Teahyung. He lifted his shirt up to his chest so that you could sprinkle salt from his navel up to his chest. Filling the shot glass, you placed it above his belly button and gave him the lime wedge to slip between his lips. Taehyung gritted his tech as you climbed onto the white table situating yourself above Subins lap. People who were watching the game from afar gathered closer to watch as you once again asked Subin if it was okay and he smiled a yes. Leaning down you tentatively dragged your tongue from his belly button up to his chest licking up the salt, then dipped back down to his belly button and wrapped your lips around the shot glass leaning up and getting the liquid pour into your mouth and down your throat. You crawled up his body and carefully took the lime from his mouth, making sure to dig into the flesh of the lime and not actually touch his mouth. After all, you just met him and didn’t want him to think you were taking advantage of anything. Throwing the wedge into a discarded cup you hopped off of the table and handed Subin a napkin to wipe the remnants of salt and tequila off of his body. “Can we get on with the game?” Taehyung grumbled and you rolled your eyes nodding. Subin sunk his next shot and Hoseok took a shot of Tequila instead of chugging a beer. It was now 3 to 2 and Taehyung missed his next shot, too focused on the way you were fanning your hand over the back of your next from the warmth the liquor was giving you. It was your turn and you sunk your next shot causing Taehyung to chug the beer Jin handed to him. Hoseok smiled and once again moved his left arm around his back “Might as well make it interesting, another request for another trick shot” you rolled your eyes and smiled at the brunette as he wagged his eyebrows and closed his eyes. You truly did not think he would sink another trick shot, let along with his eyes closed. But as you watched the ball sink into one of your cups your eyes went wide. You heard hollers and screams hyping up the shot that Hoseok had just made and mentally readied yourself for another body shot. “If you’re thinking I’m going to have you do the same thing, you’re wrong” Your eyebrows furrowed and he smirked “It’s Subins turn to take a body shot” Taehyung let out a deep warning “Hoseok, don’t” You didn’t understand why he would have a problem with it but you turned around to look at Subin to ask if he was once again okay with such a thing. He nodded and in turn asked if you were okay. Smiling you handed him a shot glass. After you situated yourself the same way Subin had, you saw him falter on where to put the salt since your top stopped right above your navel, and you grabbed the bottle of salt from his hand and placed a trail from your collarbone up your next. You figured it was safer than your cleavage. Subin handed you the lime wedge and you softly bit into it watching him fill the shot glass and place it above your belly button. Layla looked down at you and smiled as she saw you getting chorus of “Fuck yeah y/n” which had made Nami who was sitting down roll her eyes. Climbing into your body and leaning down, Subin let his tongue drag along your collarbone to your neck slowly before leaning down and wrapping his lips around the shot glass in the same way you had done to him and leaned up to gulp it down. Leaning down once again he was about to take the lime wedge from your mouth when a hand n his shoulder stopped him. Before you could ask what was going on you saw a strand of red and felt a pair of lips on yours pulling the lime away. Taehyung had had enough, he was tired of seeing you with Subin and even more tired of the games Hoseok was playing. When he watched Subin lean down to your mouth he couldn’t take it anymore and his body reacted on it’s own. Doing what it had been wanting to do for years. You watched as Taehyung spit out the lime wedge a leaned back down to capture your lips in his in an upside down kiss. A chorus of oohs and oh shits followed which caused you to push him off and jump off of the table. You shook your head at him and wrapped your arms around your body “What the fuck Taehyung?” you asked but before anybody could answer you, you asked Jin where the bathroom was to which he pointed out and you ran there hearing a “wait” being yelled but you didn’t care you needed to get out of there. You were being watched by everybody and that accompanied with the kiss from someone you thought you hated and assumed he hated you as well, well that was too much. Walking into the first floor bathroom you slammed the door and made your way to the sink. You looked at yourself in the mirror then looked down, bracing your hands on either side of the sink trying to calm yourself down. You could hear the bass thumping, causing the walls to lightly vibrate. There was a loud knock on the door followed by a series of “y/n please please open the door.” Letting out a deep breath you ran your index finger along your lash line, wiping any excess makeup that had smudged during your beer pong game. Stepping towards the door you swung it open only to be greeted with your best friend flinging herself on your short frame despite the high heeled boots you donned. “Hi, I love you, and before you say it. I know you want to go home but please don’t let those people get to you. So what if Tae kissed you? Don’t even acknowledge that ass wipe, and omg you should’ve seen Navi’s face when he kissed you. She legit looked like she was going to blow up like some sort of doll filled with helium!” Layla placed her hands on either side of you, softly gripping your shoulders, her deep brown eyes staring into yours softly. “Hey, talk to me? If you really do want to go home, i’ll go with you. But I really think you shouldn’t let anything that just happened get you down. Let’s just go back to the living room and dance all these feelings away! You’ve got me, Jin, Subin and Casey and Val ‘not that i know where they are.” While she rambled on you took in your surroundings, noting the pristine glass shower situated in the corner followed by the chrome towel rack that supported plush light grey towels. The porcelain toilet stood across from it, tucked into a corner of the light grey walls that matched the towels. As she finished her speech you already knew what you had to do, you weren’t going to let this get you down. You were so fucking tired of letting people get to you, you had no control over your life growing up but you sure as hell had control over your current self. You had amazing friends, were incredibly intelligent, worked your ass off at both of your jobs and were happy with the way you looked. Quirking up the left corner of your mouth you leaned in and planted a big smooch on your besties left cheek. “Layla, you’re right” Surprise crossed your best friends face, followed by a knowing smirk. “That’s my best bitch! Let’s get our asses down there and show them what a bad bitch you are, not that you haven’t already. I mean, dude you totes slammed like 6 shots no problem and you look HOT AS HELL.” Giggling you took her arm into yours and let her take you down the hallway into the crowded living area. The LED lights lit a soft purple hue that bounced off of the cream colored walls, further creating that fantasy look that enticed party goers to let all their inhibitions go. You noticed someone had moved the coffee table to a far corner closer to the beer pong tables, which had expanded the makeshift dance floor. The DJ was bopping his head to the current track he was mixing and the sea of bodies moving themselves to the beat was massive. You clutched Layla’s hand in yours as she pushed her way through the dancers and you all finally settled closer to one of the couches that had been pushed to a corner opposite of the tables where Jin, Subin and Hoseok had been waiting for you two. Jin placed a hand on your shoulder as if you check if you were alright and you smiled while nodding. “I’m so so sorry y/n, are you okay?” Subin asked and searched your face for an answer. Smiling at the man who had been your partner in crime for the passed hour, you nodded. “It’s all good, no need to be sorry. I do need another drink though. I think that little stint in the bathroom may have sobered be up more than i’m happy about. Hoseok smiled and shouted a ‘Gotchu’ before he bounded back off to the kitchen mixing up some concoction you knew would be strong. “Theres seems to be a lot more dancing than before” you jutted your chin towards the sea of bodies and Jin laughed. “I think most people are in that drunks haze where dancing is all they can do since they can’t seem to stand straight.” You chucked softly as you knew all too well how dancing enticed drunk people. The brunette thrusted a clear cup into your hands, quirking an eyebrow at him he responded with a chuckle. “It’s just bourbon on the rocks” Testing the liquid in the cup you smiled confirming it was in fact bourbon and nothing gross. You spotted Nami hanging herself on Taehyung in the corner towards the tables, your eyes met as she looked back at you with what looked like rage. Leaning her body upwards she leaned in towards his right ear and appeared to be whispering something to which he shook his head while staring into his glass. This seemed to upset her, huffing she once again leaned back up and attached you pink gloss covered lip to his neck. For some reason this had annoyed you to no end. For years Nami had been al over the tall man, only to be semi rejected with her advances which had brought you an odd sense of joy and seeing her lips on his neck as he just stood there caused you to rip your gaze away fro the pair and bring your cup up to your still burgundy tinted lips as the lipstick had faded away and left you with a just bitten look. Leaning you head back you downed the contents of the glass and slammed it down on the nearby end table that was situated by the couch. “Let’s dance?” you handed Jin your purse pulling Layla to the dance floor with you, not needing an answer to your question. As you both pushed through to the middle of the grinding crowd you best friend leaned in to your ear letting you know she’d be right back. Before you could ask what she was doing you saw her watermelon headband bounding up to the DJ who nodded when she leaned in close to him. As the first notes of the beat started you couldn’t help the smirk that planted itself on your lips. You giggled as Layla shimmied her way towards you and the first lines of the song began. Letting your body sway to the music, Layla laid her hands on your hips. “That’s my best friend, she a real bad bitch. Got her own money.” You both sang as you moved your hips in her hands. Placing both of your hands on her shoulders you turned her around and pulled her back close to your chest. Jin had been staring at your friend’s hips swaying along with yours and you decided you wanted to put on a show for him. Running your hands up her tight covered thighs up to her waist she leaned forward and gave her ass a little twerk causing you to chuckle. Turning her body around she gripped your hand in hers and spun you around, you made sure to wiggle your hips as you spun. “She been down since the jellies and the bow-bows” you shimmied your hips and saw Casey and Val bounding their way towards you two. As they got closer you noticed Caseys Peter Pan hat had gone missing and Vals pink lipstick was smudged, both girls walking hand in hand. Throwing Casey a knowing smirk she shrugged lightly and Layla wrapped her arms around both girls, creating a circle. “Where have you BEEN?” Layla yelled over the music at the two but shook her head after taking in their appearances “Nevermind I don’t want to know, wait, or do I?” wiggling her eyebrows she smoothed down Caseys wild blonde bob. Val seemed to enjoy the blush that had formed on Caseys cheek and she leaned close to place a kiss on either cheek, further fueling the crimson on her cheeks. As the intro to Bad Bitch by Bebe Rexha came into play you all raised your hands up into the air and swayed to the beat. Hoseok came into view, thrusting a shot into each of your friends hands and you all posed for his snapchat video while downing the shots of what tasted like whiskey. “Gross, I don’t know how you like liquor” Casey said, her cute face scrunching up into a sour expression and you giggled. Leaning down you touched your toes and twerked your ass to the beat earning a “fuck it up” from Layla and Val. As you ground your hips back into your best friend you looked up catching Taehyungs burning gaze on your flushed face. Cocking an eyebrow up at him you turned around in Layla’s hold swaying your hips. “Ugh, prissy bitch incoming” Layla whispered into your ear and you followed her eyes to Nami who pulled Michelle and a bored looking Taehyung onto the dance floor. Your eyes followed Navi’s movements as they slid up and down the devils chest and Michelle settled her hands on his shoulders behind him. Your jaw tensed as Nami’s hands trailed up to his neck. Meeting his dark gaze you narrowed your eyes slightly and shook your head, turning around and grabbing Hoseoks hands pulling him closer to you. The LED lights turned a deep red hue as the opening to Streets - Silhouette remix started and Val exclaimed “Let me put this on insta, y/n your horns loom so good in this light!” Posing with your back towards Hoseoks with your head leaning onto his shoulder, the latter gripped your hips and leaned his face into your neck while Val took the picture. As the tune changed and the beat dropped with it’s intoxicatingly slow beat you swayed your hips against Hoseoks, bending your knees and slowly sliding up and down his body. Trailing his fingers up your sides he grilled your hips and turned you around to face him. You heard Layla lean into Casey saying something along the lines of ‘oh shit’. ‘I found it hard to find someone like you’ you slid your body down the Brunettes, never leaving his gaze ‘send your location come thru’. Leaning back up you rolled your head around and he wrapped a hand into your hair, his other gripping your right hip tighter. your hands settled themself on his shoulders and you leaned towards his left, your eyes catching onto Taehyungs dark gaze, his eyes never leaving yours as Hoseok ground his hips into yours. Even as Nami wiggled her hips in front of his and trailed her hands under his blazer, his arms stayed at his sides, never touching the Angel nor the Bunny who still danced her body against his back. Hoseok knew his friend was watching and he couldn’t help but smirk, gripping your hair tighter he moved your face towards him and pulled you in until you were a few centimeters from his lips as he moved your hips along with his. ‘We belong and I can’t be without you’ Doja’s voice crooned through the speakers as Hoseok leaned in closer to your lips over the hazey cloud of smoke and tightly packed bodies. You internally debated wether or not you truly wanted him to close that gap and land his lips on yours, but the only thing you could think of was the gaze of a certain someone on yours. Before you fully decided on if you wanted the man in front of you to kiss you, your body was pulled away from his. A strong grip was formed around your wrist and all you registered was Layla and Casey wide eyes before you were being pulled away from the dancing bodies and up the stairs. You barely registered the click of a door being opened followed by your back hitting the hard wood. “What the hell were you doing?” Taehyung rasped out staring deeply into your eyes with a mixture of what looked like want and fury. You placed your hands on his chest pushing him back slightly and jutted your chin upwards. “Excuse me? I was dancing with my friends and Hoseok, not that that’s any of you business” Taking a step towards him. “What the hell do YOU think you’re doing? dragging me up to this room and thinking you can manhandle me.” Receiving no answer you shook your head and were prepared to turn around and walk right back out of that door. “You drive me fucking insane. Seeing that Subin guys hands all over you and then you dancing like that with my best friend.” You felt yourself being pressed against the door once again with his large hands on either side of your head, his rings glinting against the soft light filtering in through the open curtains. Cocking your eyebrow up at him you stood your ground. “What? are you Jealous?” you snorted out. “Yeah, yeah I fucking am” At his surprising answer you looked up seeing nothing but want in his deep eyes with a glint of something else you couldn’t quite place. “You’re fucking insane. Don’t play with me” you rasped out, your voice hoarse from singing and dancing earlier. “I’m not playing” was all you heard before your head knocked back against the wooden frame of the door followed by a pair of plush lips crushing yours with a ferocity you suddenly craved. He tasted like cinnamon and liquor and you loved it. Something inside you both seemed to snap in that moment and you trailed one of your hands up, curling your fingers into his soft hair and tugging on the makeshift horns it was styled into. Your other hand settled itself onto his warm chest fingering the labels of his blazer. Taehyung growled out at you reciprocated the kiss and trailed his right hand down the door, settling on your hip and pulling you impossibly closer to his body. Feeling teeth nibbling at your lower lip you gasped out and he took the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth, your tongues immediately fighting for dominance. Tugging his hair harder you felt his hand that had been on your hip slide lower until it was gripping a handful of your ass cheek, followed by a grunt. You could still hear the music that was thumping downstairs but it was slowly being drowned out by the man in front of you. The plush pair of lips that was against yours slowly trailed down to your jaw, nipping at the flesh softly until they reached your neck. Nuzzling his face against your warm flesh as he littered the area with whisper soft kisses. Slipping your hand under his blazer you trailed your nails lightly along his skin earning a low hiss from his deep voice. Smirking, you dug you nails harder “You’re playing with fire babygirl” Taehyung gripped both of your hands into one of his large palms and pressed them against the door frame grinding his hips into yours. Feeling his length against your covered core you couldn’t help the soft whine that escaped your lips. Taehyung trailed his lips back to your neck and sucked on your pulse point causing you to arch your back. “Y/n i really don’t want to stop, but I need to know that you want this too” the man in front of you pulled back slightly while he waited for a response. Letting out a small ‘yes’ he leaned back down capturing you in another searing kiss. Flexing your wrists in an outwards circular motion you freed yourself from his grip and took a step forward placing your hands against his chest and effectively spinning him around so his back hit the door. Despite the height different even with your heels you kept your palms flat on his chest with your strength, keeping him against the door. Arching a dark brow up at you Taehyung smirked. “Not going to lie, that was pretty hot” you felt him grumble against your mouth as it attached itself to his tan neck. Sucking a few bruises against his flesh you felt his need growing against your stomach and you couldn’t help your involuntary clench of your thighs. His smell was intoxicating, a mixture of fresh linen, cinnamon and musk. You felt his hands trail up the backs of your thighs and grind the flesh under your ass, signaling you to wrap your legs around his waist. Leaving one more bite against his neck you complied and jumped up latching your legs around his sturdy hips. Walking you both backwards, Taehyung leaned you downwards until your back was hitting the large bed tucked against the wall. Arching your back towards him you pulled him onto your body by his shoulder and moaned into his mouth as he captured your lips in his. Biting down on your lower lip hard, Taehyung ground his hips down against yours. While his mouth felt incredible against yours you knew you wanted, no, needed more.“Need more” you whispered out causing his to chuckle against your lips and lean his body up. Smirking down at you he cocked his head to the side and trailed his index finger up your torso and chest. “Sorry love, I couldn’t hear you. What was that?” Rolling your eyes you reached up tugging his hair into your grip. “I said, I.Need.More” you said though gritted teeth at the knowing look in his eyes. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” before you could retort you felt his mouth latch itself on your collarbone and his hands trailing down your legs, pulling the zippers to your boots down before tossing them on the floor somewhere. Trailing his hands behind your back he began trying to undo your top. “While these straps are hot, they aren’t fucking functional for shit. How the hell do I take this off?” Taehyung practically growled out causing a chuckle to leave your lips. Leaning up slightly you helped him unhook the main portion of the top and pull the strappy harness over your neck. Tossing the item he had been fumbling with to the side he couldn’t stop admiring your breasts covered only by your black lace bra. You shivered as he trailed his hands up your chest, his cold rings causing your nipples to perk up and a gasp to leave your mouth. Leaning his face down, Taehyung started trailing soft kisses along your chest downwards to your torso and back up. His hands were once again at your back, this time working fast successfully unhooking your bra. Looking into your eyes he hooked his fingers under the straps on your shoulder and slowly pulled down releasing your breasts from their confinement. Biting down on his lip he started at your perky nipples and full breasts. He had always loved your curves and didn’t ever think he’d get to see them this way. You felt his soft lips wrap around one of your nipples and gasped as his tongue lightly flicked against the hard pebble. Your hand in his hair pulled him closer to your chest and he smirked. He pinched your other nipple between his fingers which earned a low moan. His mouth being soft on one of your nipples and his fingers being rough on your other one caused an intoxicating juxtaposition and you couldn’t help the little whines that left your throat. Fiddling with your button and zipper, Taehyung successfully started to pull your pants down, leaning up and leaving your nipple with a loud pop of his mouth. Tugging to pull your pants off of your legs he hissed when he saw your core only covered by your thin lace panties. You heard your pants hit the floor in a loud thump and bit your lip in nervousness as you realized just how exposed you were in front of this infuriatingly beautiful man. “You’re fucking beautiful” He rasped out, trailing his eyes up your body and landing on your face. Before he could hike your legs open and upwards you spoke up “You have way too many articles of clothing on” Smirking he complied with your request and popped the single button holding his blazer together, sliding it down his shoulders and throwing it in a heap on the floor. You heard his shoes being kicked off as well before he leaned back down to resume his earlier ministrations. His large hands slid down the insides of your thighs and pulled them open to reveal your soaked panty covered core. You swore you head him let out a low whine but before you could comment on it you felt a warm pair of lips latch onto your clit through the fabric. Arching your back off of the bed you gripped his shoulder in your hand. Taehyung rubbed his index and middle finger along your slit and hooked themselves around the fabric pulling it to the side and exposing yourself to the cool air and his waiting mouth. Laying his left palm flat against your lower tummy he leaned in giving you a soft tentative lick to your slit. Biting your lip between your teeth you moaned out when he latched his mouth around your clit and sucked harshly. “F..Fuck” Hearing your moan he sucked against and gripped the flesh of your thigh with his other hand keeping your legs open. Alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue against your sensitive nub he loved the way you tasted and couldn’t get enough of it. If it was up to him he would do this all day every day. You ground your hips up into his mouth causing him to smirk against your cunt. “Needy” he growled out and trailed his fingers that had been on your thigh down to your slit, running the tip of his middle finger around your opening before sliding itself in to the knuckle. You brought your right fist to your mouth and bit down to keep yourself from moaning out. Slowly pumping his finger in and out, he watched as your finger disappeared into your wet heat taking him in so good. “Fuck you’re wet” Looking up into your eyes he saw you biting down onto your fist and stopped his ministrations “ If you want more I need to hear you babygirl” Muffling a ‘please’ you released your fist from your mouth and wove it into his hair. Pleased with your sounds he continued sliding his finger in and out of you, adding his index finger into your heat hissing at how tight you were. “Shit you’re tight, gotta make sure you’re nice and ready for my big cock babygirl” Arching your back, you felt his press against your inner walls and curl his fingers causing you to dig your fingernails into his shoulder and tug his hair harder with your other hand. Latching his mouth back onto your clit he lightly hummed which sent vibrations through your body. Whining with need you continued grinding your hips up onto his face and rolled your eyes closed. Taehyung looked up at you watching your fucked out expression and almost choked when he heard you whining his name. Working his tongue against your click he started to harshly pump his fingers into you before slowing down and inching his middle finger into your heat. You felt your cunt burning at the stretch but the look in his eyes caused another gush of arousal to seep out and coat his fingers further. “Jesus..fuck you’re so hot and you taste so fucking delicious” As he slowly pumped his fingers in and out you felt your stomach clenching, that familiar feeling on your realize building with each flick of his tongue against your clit. “Tae.. Tae i’m going to cum if you keep doing that.” Sucking harshly he curled his fingers and pressed against your g spot “Cum babygirl, let me taste you before I slid my fat cock into your needy cunt” Rolling your eyes back you felt your legs start to shake as you gripped his hair almost painfully between your fingers. Your stomach tightened and you felt yourself clench around his fingers. Your breath becoming shallow as you let out a series of ‘oh fuck yes’ and ‘omg omg’ your hand that had been on his shoulder came up to your chest as your pinched your nipple between your feelings and felt the metaphorical dam of your orgasm approaching. Taehyung sucked harshly before grazing his teeth lightly against your clit and your eyes shot open feeling your legs convulse and your toes curl. With a final whine you felt yourself cum all over his tongue which he licked up like a starved man. Breathing deeply you felt the sweat drip down your brow for your intense orgasm and when he stood your eyes followed down his torso gleaming with sweat and down to the prominent bulge in his pants. Biting your lip you caught him staring at your cunt that had just cum around his finger and he started to pull your beyond soaked panties down and off of your legs. Looking back up into your eyes he slipped each finger between his plums lips and licked them clean. Groaning at the action you felt yourself clench. “Think you can take more baby?” He smirked at you and you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him against you and ground your soaking cunt against his covered length. “You’re getting me all dirty, fuck that’s hot” He growled out and slid his fingers down unbuckling his belt. Popping the button of his pants, he pulled the zipper down with your eyes following every movement. Sliding his pants down his thighs he kicked them off and hooked him thumbs into his black briefs. You couldn’t tell if you were really drooling but once his slid his fried down and his cock sprang free you knew me heard your very audible groan followed by a clench of your thighs. Sliding his hand along his shaft, he pumped his leaking length a few times and reached to the side opening a drawer and seemingly looking for a condom. Gripping his arm you shook your head “I’m on the pill, are you clean?” His eyes widened at the possibility of what you were saying and he nodded “I haven’t had sex in a few months and when I did I wore a condom, I also get checked every month if you want to see the results I have them on my pho-“ You cut him off by leaned up and kissing him. As you layed back down against the pillows you smiled up at him an he swore he felt his heart flutter and his cock pulsate. Hooking his right index finger under your thin leather choker he pulled you up and he ground his uncovered cock against your dripping pussy. “As much as I love these, they have to come off they’re barely hanging on your head. Not knowing what he was talking abut you felt his fingers prodding at your scalp and finally run through your hair with the devil horned headband and clips in his hand. Setting them down on the beside table he leaned back piping his cock and wrapping his fingers around his thick head of his shaft. Leaning down he took your mouth against his and you felt his thick tip push against your slit. Locking your ankles around his back you ran your hands down his shoulder and gripped his back. Your walls pulsated around him as he slid in inch by inch and you threw your head back as your walls accommodated his thick size. When he finally bottomed out in your heat he stilled letting you relax as he filled you to the brim. Sliding his tongue against your he grunted when you involuntarily clenched around him. “You're so fucking tight, you make me crazy” he growled out and settled his mouth against your neck, nipping and sucking the skin as he slowly pulled out only to ram himself back in. Moaning loudly your grip on his shoulders tightened and you knew you were leaving crescent moons on his luscious tan skin. “Crazy? you seem pretty soft to me. Why don’t you fuck me and show me just how crazy I make you” you teased. After sucking harshly on your neck he sat back up and gripped the undersides of your thighs pulling them apart from his hips. “You’re so bad, want me to ruin you? Open you up with my fat cock?” you nodded and trailed your tongue along your lower lip preparing yourself for what he was about to do. Ramming himself up into you again you grated your teeth and looked up into his dark eyes. His rhythm was slow and harsh, pounds into you with each thrust of his hips. Your walls enveloped him and he swore he wasn’t giving you up after this, hell he wasn’t giving you up after that first kiss on that beer pong table. He was going to make sure you knew how he felt and hopefully you felt the same way. If not, he’d respect it but at least he’d know you knew how he felt. Watching your tits bounce with each thrust he heard you mumble out a raspy ‘faster’ and he complied, pushing your thighs farther up against your chest. At this knew angle you swore you felt him in your stomach. “Oh god” you ground out and his eyes flashed even deeper if that was possible “Fuck yeah, moan for me y/n” Sliding himself in and out of you at a fast pace, you could hear his balls slapping against your ass. The room filled with shallow breathes and curses spewing from either of your mouths. Taehyung slid his palms under your ass and gripped your cheeks between his large hands, squeezing harshly before pulling you up so you were sitting on his lip with his cock still stuffed inside of you. As he thrusted upwards you met his thrusts by bouncing your hips and wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands held you by your ass, pushing and pulling your body on and off of his cock. Leaning towards him you sucked a bruise onto his neck and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. Feeling his cock his that sweet spot you shuddered and clenched around him tightly. “Stop doing that before I cum” he gritted out and you pulled back from his neck smirking. “mm maybe that’s what I want” With a sharp thrust upwards into your tight cunt he splayed his right hand agains the bottom of your spine and pulled you as close as you could get. “You’re devilish, I swear. You want me to fill up your little pussy with my cum? is that what you want? to get filled?” his deep baritone voice filled your ears and you clenched impossibly tighter around his shaft. “T..Tae fill me up..I need it!” you moaned out loudly and he pushed your body back down onto the bed, pushing your ankles towards your chest he situated himself on his knees and started ramming into you to the point where your body slid against the bed. Reaching one hand down, he lightly gripped your neck. “Yeah? want me to fill you up? Then cum baby, cum all over my cock.” “Tae..Tae..I’m going t..to cum. Fuck you’re so deep” your eyes fluttered closed as he gripped your throat and you held onto his back. “Cum for me y/n, let me feel you soak my cock as I fill you to the brim” Feeling your body start to convulse you opened your eyes to see his fucked out face, sweat dripping down his cherry colored hair and down his neck. His hand flexing on your neck and his abs flexing with every thrust. His low moan of your name sent you over the edge and you clenched around him. Your thighs closed around his hips and you moaned out his name. Curling your toes your this quivered and your inner walls fluttered around his throbbing shaft. Arching off of the bed and towards him his grip on your neck loosened and he leaned down capturing your hips in his as his hips stilled and you felt his warm cum spitting inside of your waiting heat. Thrusting his cock back in and out slowly he let out a low groan as the remnants of his cum filled you. Taking deep breath he watched your face as he slowly slipped out of you and trailed his eyes down to watch the clear and white liquid leak out of you. Letting out a deep whine he leaned forward and captured your lips between his. His lips were soft against yours, still passionate but not as fiery as they had been earlier. Pulling back his gaze studied your face. “Tae..I” before you could continue he shook his head. “Wait before you say anything, please let me get this out. I’m sorry for the way things happened tonight but I don’t regret any of it. Iv’e literally liked you since we first argued about the attributes of the human brain during psych. That one time you called me an aloof imbecile I almost pulled you out of class and kissed that pretty look off of your face. I assumed you hated me and it made me mad, instead of being a normal human being and just asking you why you hated me I decided to take it out on you. If you didn’t like me, at least I could gain your attention arguing with you.” “And tonight, seeing you with those other guys..I couldn’t help but think it would’ve been better if it was me. I needed to stop being a pussy and just fucking tell you how i felt.” He shook his head as he spoke. “ What about you and Nami? and the fact that you laughed the other day when she made fun of what I should be for halloween and my tattoos” Scrunching his face he sighed. “First of all Nami is just a friend, well more like a family friend. Iv’e known her since I was young and I guess I was just used to her being there. Nami and i have never done anything and never will. Secondly, I didn’t laugh at whatever she said. to be completely honest I drowner out her voice after she asked how you got an invite. I has laughed at a meme Jin sent me of our other friend Namjoon whos away for a semester in Paris, with a bald cap on looking like a grandpa due to his old school vibe he always has. That being said, i’m sorry I never defended you when she said anything to or about you. I really wanted to but you were always so good at defending yourself and that one time Jose defended you, you had turned around and told him you didn’t ‘need a man’ to defend you. So that combined with me thinking you hated me, I just assumed you’d end up really hated me and wouldn’t give me the time of day when we argued anymore.” Climbing off of your body Taehyung sat down next to you and studied your expression. “I don’t hate you per say, I hated that you always argued with me, I hated that you scored higher than be despite never seeming to study while I worked my ass off, I hated that you came from money, you never had to fight for what you wanted or what you deserved. I hated that you were Nami’s friend and always seemed so aloof, like you really didn’t care about anything. But I didn’t..I don’t hate you as a person” you turned towards him. “Who said I never study? My parents would kill me if I scored sub-par. Hell, the only reason I can live here with Jin is if i keep up my grades and don’t disappoint them. If i didn’t care about anything my ass would be living in on campus housing and having an RA breath down my throat while my parents called me everyday asking if I was completing the study forms they sent over. Yeah I’m well off, but that’s my parents money and they worked hard for it. They put hard work and intelligence above all else.” your eyebrows rose at his confession and you get bad. You had assumed so much about him these passed two years and none of it seemed to be right. “I think that’s why I started to like you so much, you’re so intelligent, you work so hard at everything you do and you carry yourself like such a strong person. You kind of scare me if i’m honest” his deep voice chuckled and you smiled. “You’re beautiful inside and out” Taehyung said softly brushing his thumbs against your cheeks. You could feel the tenderness in his chest and your heart fluttered. “Maybe I liked you too, maybe that’s why I always waited for you to argue with me. I like how intelligent you are, I like that you always have something to say about whatever point I’m trying to prove.” You said softly and the corner of his mouth lifter slightly “liked? past tense” Rolling your eyes you covered your face and grumbled. “fine, LIKE. As in present tense” Taehyung stepped off of the bed and chuckled “THE y/n likes me? i’m honored. Sure its not cause I just made you cum twice?” throwing your arm off of your eye you watched his figure retreating into another door before flicking a light on. “Shut up Tae!” Chuckling he emerged from what you assumed was an ensuite bathroom with a wet cloth and situated himself between your legs. “I like when you call me Tae” he said and you blushed, feeling the cool cloth wipe gently along your folds. Sliding the cloth along your legs he finished cleaning you up and smiled up at you gently with his every so beautiful boxy smile. Returning to the bathroom to drop off the cloth you heard the water turn on and assumed he was cleaning himself off as well. Letting your gaze look around the room you noticed the bookshelf across from the bed you were currently on. On its shelf sat different picture frames, books and what looked like plushies. On the other side of the same wall sat a dark grey desk complete with a laptop, a mini plant and various knickknacks and a chair with a navy blue hoodie that you noticed to be Taehyungs hanging off of the back of the chair. Next to the bed was a nightstand that had a lamp, an iPhone charging dock and a bottle of water. The door that connected to the rest of the house was on the same wall. Against the wall to the right of the bed was a large dark grey dresser that matched the desk and what you now noticed to be the bed frame. On the dresser sat bottles of cologne, accessories and a picture frame. Next to the dresser was the door Taehyung had disappeared into and another door you assumed to be maybe a closet. Furrowing your brows you realized this was Taehyung’s room and not just another guest room. Up until his confession earlier you assumed he lived in a luxurious off campus house paid for by his parents. While this was a luxurious Townhome it still wasn’t what you had pictured. As Taehyung walked out of the ensuite he opened a drawer and dug through until he found was he was looking for. Sauntering up to the bed he handed you a t-shirt and what had seemed to be your phone that had been tossed on the floor earlier and pulled on a pair of briefs over his legs. Holding the soft cotton material in your fingers you smiled and thanked him before slipping over your smaller frame. Checking your phone you immediately noticed a series of texts from Layla starting from concerned up to a text that had a winky face telling you to ‘get it, I came upstairs to check on you but your moaning let me know you were doing just fine’. Smacking your palm against your face you blushed bright crimson. Taehyung who had looking over your shoulder when you gasped at the text was giggling and you smacked his chest. “Ow, you hit hard” He said while still giggling. “So, would you..uh stay the night and maybe grab breakfast with me in the morning? I mean know that we’ve realized we both don’t hate each other and we kind of lik-“ Pressing your lips to his you felt him smile against your lips before you pulled back. “Yes, now can we sleep?.” Nodding Taehyung pulled you against his chest and brushed a few strands away from your face as your eyes fluttered closed. Running his hand along the flowers that decorated your right arm he smiled to himself before eventually closing his eyes as well. Interesting how Misunderstandings happen, isn’t it?

————————————

Omg this was supposed to just be a drabble from the pic of red haired Tae and inso from a game of beer pong, BUT ALAS this monster was born. this is my first fit so any constructive criticism is appreciated. Any love is beyond appreciated too <3 I have some ideas for other pics but i just want to get my page situated first. Any messages are welcome too <3 i lub talking to people.

-C otherwise known as, Potitties

#taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #btssmut #bts fic #bts taehyung #bts #smut #fic #college fic #enemies to lovers #tae #kim taehyung #tae smut #fanfic #fluff #angst #first fic

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the-edge-of-great · 4 years

Text

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ friendsgiving ♥

---------- ----------

The silence that immediately follows “How did you spend your holidays?” is brief but deafening. Her heart sinks. She looks to Luke for help, but he’s watching the guys on the couch, eyes jumping between Alex and Reggie; the weight of the conversation seems to rest on their shoulders, and they don’t notice because they’re too busy avoiding everything, especially their bandmates.

So Julie backtracks, quickly. “I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t—Forget I said anything.” She reaches to fix the sheet music but realizes it’s already perfectly straight, and her hand falls flat, and there’s still an awkward silence, so she begins playing the start of Finally Free, which isn’t at all what they were working on, but this hasn’t happened before. She’s always been careful asking about their past because she doesn’t know how far is too far. And until now, she hasn’t struck out with any questions. They’ve been cool about it, mostly answering anything she wanted to know. If they didn’t want to talk about it, they kindly changed the subject. At some point, she thinks they became open books to her, and she them.

That’s why this question tumbled out so casually.

And that’s why the silence is scaring her.

Luke, finally, saves her. “We’d spend Thanksgiving with my dad’s family,” he tells her with a smile, which she immediately mirrors as her shoulders slump with relief, “and for Christmas, we’d go to my aunt’s place to party with my mom’s side. She actually lives in Pasadena.” He chuckles. It takes her all of five seconds to realize why that’s funny to him, and then she breathes a laugh and rolls her eyes.

“Holidays were always hectic for me,” Reggie says next. Julie’s heart flutters. “Like, three or four days of traveling to make sure we see both sides, both sets of grandparents, and somehow not barf from all the food.” He and Luke share a laugh, and Alex smiles faintly as he jumps to his feet.

“I just remembered,” he says, stepping over Luke, “I’m meeting Willie today.” He looks back at them briefly, his smile weak and probably forced, before vanishing.

Reggie and Luke share a look. Mumbling something about the beach, Reggie disappears too.

As soon as he’s gone, Julie’s face drops to her hands. “That was a disaster,” she groans.

“Family’s just a hard topic for them,” Luke replies quietly.

Chewing on her lip, Julie takes Alex’s spot next to him. “Tell me why?” she asks softly.

“Sure, since they outed all of my shit last month.” He chuckles.

“Whaaat?” Julie shakes her head. “They didn’t—” The look he gives her makes her stumble. Sheepishly, she adds, “They were trying to help.”

“I know.” Shaking his head, he explains, “Reggie’s parents fought a lot. So much that he didn’t like us coming over, like, ever. It was, seriously, all the time.”

“Fighting, like… arguing? Or…?”

“Just arguing,” he reassures. “They’d scream at each other, and sometimes at him if he got in the middle of it, but…” Luke sighs. “Just arguing.”

“And… Alex?”

He pauses, gaze dropping to his lap, and Julie’s stomach turns. She reaches for his hand, half to grab his attention again, half because she feels she’ll need a better alternative to digging her nails into her palm when she hears whatever he has to say. He intertwines their fingers, locking her hand in a grip tighter than she expected. If she wasn’t nervous before, she is now.

“Alex’s parents weren’t cool with him being gay.”

Julie sits up straighter. “What—What does that mean?” She needs better clarification because she knows what that could mean—she’s seen it on the news, on Tumblr and Twitter and Instagram, heard about it through the grapevine of high school—and her heart aches at the idea of Alex—sweet, caring Alex—going through anything of the sort.

“They didn’t kick him out which, I guess, is something, but they just… stopped caring. They stopped acknowledging him.”

Julie shakes her head. “They don’t deserve any praise for not kicking him out,” she says quietly, lip curling at her words. “Not for doing less than the bare minimum of being parents.”

“Getting angry over it is a lost cause.” He smiles sadly at her. “You don’t know how many times we talked about getting him out of his house. Both of ‘em. Bobby and I would spend nights out here, drawing up plans to run away to Vegas or something.”

“I should’ve never brought it up,” she mumbles. “I know holidays are hard for some people.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” He shakes his head, turning to her and taking her other hand in his. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. Besides, it was bound to come up eventually. Family’s just… different, you know?”

Julie sighs, shoulders slumping forward. She watches Luke’s thumb rub across her knuckles. Thanksgiving is in a few days; her house is going to be lively with the whole family. When Mom was alive, the studio was a place for the kids to hangout. Obviously, nobody went near it after she died. Dad locked it up before people began arriving. Julie wonders, as she looks around the room, if they’ll open it to the family again. Or maybe it should stay closed for the guys’ sake.

“So… No holidays?” she asks. “At all? ‘Cause… I have an idea…”

Luke raises an eyebrow. “What’re you thinking?”

“It’s this thing called… Friendsgiving.”

~**~**~**~

Star Wars and other movies downloaded to the computer? Check. Computer hooked up to the projector? Check. Two white sheets borrowed from Flynn strung up in front of the instruments? Check.

“Are the lights too much?” Julie asks, waving her phone around the room to show off her decorations. “They feel too much.”

“No, fairy lights are cute!” Flynn exclaims through the phone. “And you went through all the work hanging them up.”

“I know we think they’re cute, but will they think they’re cute?”

“Jules, they’re like puppies; they’ll be excited about anything.”

“Okay.” Julie nods. “Okay.” The lights are weaved around the loft railing and framing the sides of the sheets. She had to improvise with Christmas lights, so when she turns them on, instead of faint white, a soft rainbow glows off the loft and cascades down to the floor.

“Look okay?” she asks Flynn again. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. It’s just Luke, Reggie, and Alex… But Reggie and Alex haven’t had a good Thanksgiving in a while. So, okay, maybe there’s a little pressure for things to be perfect. Or a lot. Maybe the lights is overdoing it—

“Dude, what’s up with you?” she hears Alex say outside.

“They’re here!” Julie stage whispers.

“Okay?” Flynn says just as soft. “Go talk to them? And the lights are cute! Keep them on!”

“As Julie would say,” Reggie adds, voice getting louder as he nears the studio, “you’re acting hella sus.”

“Wait, wait,” Luke says, probably trying to stop him. “Just—Wait a second.”

“I’ll text you later,” Julie tells Flynn as she heads for the door.

“Julie!”

“What?!”

Flynn smiles at her. “They’re going to love it, okay?”

Julie stops, hand inches from the door handle. Taking a deep breath, she returns Flynn’s smile. “Thanks, Flynn.”

Feet shuffle out of the way of the door that swings open a few inches. Julie pokes her head out. “Hi there,” she says, grinning.

Alex squints at her. “You’re in on it too, huh?”

“Alex, honey, I planned it.”

Luke, who froze in the middle of holding Reggie back with arms around his chest when Julie stepped out, backs off and joins her by the door.

“And you guys never figured it out!” he says proudly, fist bumping her.

Reggie and Alex share a look that makes her think yeah, no, they totally figured something was going on. She giggles.

“Well, uh…” Julie glances over her shoulder. “You guys want to see what the secret is?” She leans against the door to push it open and waves them past. “Ta-da.”

Along with the Christmas lights is a lamp beside the couch, covered by a blanket to dim the brightness. In place of the coffee table she pushed to the side are pillows and blankets layered over each other. Board games she found in the loft are stacked high in the chair next to the couch. They’re a mixture of generations: some she received as Christmas and birthday gifts, and others that have been around for as long as she can remember—favorites among her family, especially her parents. Maybe the guys will remember them too.

The shelf behind the couch is empty except for the projector. She had to find an extension cord to plug in her computer and leave it safely on the couch (she may have tried to balance it on the shelf with the projector, but one close call was enough to look into alternatives).

After the door is latched behind her, she joins them in the middle of the room, playing with her hands. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” she begins. “I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

Alex shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Julie. You didn’t know.”

“But I do now. And… I don’t know how you guys feel about the holidays, but I hope you give this one a chance?” She steps around them, kicking off her shoes as she goes. “It’s not an official holiday, but over the years, it’s become more popular.” She steps onto the couch and looks back at them with a smile. “It’s called Friendsgiving. Families suck sometimes, and you can’t choose them. But, you can choose your friends.” Standing on her tiptoes, she flips the projector on. A light beam shoots past them and shines across the bed sheets. Two was a better decision than one, it seems. The picture has plenty of room to spread out. Perhaps not the best quality, but at least they can watch it full screen.

“I have all of the Star Wars movies downloaded,” she continues, stepping off the couch, “along with a few others if we get sick of the marathon. I don’t know if you like board games, but I found a few in the loft?” She points at the stack.

“You did… all of this for us?” Reggie asks, almost breathlessly.

“Well, yeah. And Luke helped.” Luke smiles when the guys look at him. Julie adds, “I don’t think I could’ve guessed your movie taste without him.”

“There are some good ones on there,” he promises.

Alex huffs a laugh. He spins in a slow circle, taking in everything. “This is awesome, Jules.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but… You’re wrong about one thing.” She freezes. Luke and Reggie look back at him. Alex shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, looking over each of them, the corner of his mouth curved in a smile. “You can choose the family that matters.”

“And it’s us?” Luke teases. “We’re your Chosen Ones?” As he and Reggie share a laugh, Alex walks away from them.

“C’mere,” he says with a laugh, pulling Julie into a hug. Alex gives some of the best hugs. He’s tall enough to tuck her head under his chin, and she can bury her face in his chest.

Luke and Reggie must move in, because Alex walks them near the couch. “No, no, she’s my Chosen One. You two go away.”

“We were here first,” Luke whines.

“But it’s Julie,” Reggie reasons. He shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips.

Luke nods. “Good point.”

“Still, you’re crazy if you think I’m just going to ignore group hug potential,” Reggie says, lunging for them. Alex pretends to try getting away, but he actually opens an arm for him, and now Julie’s squished between them. Not even a second later, Luke’s on her other side. They’re a mess of laughter until someone missteps. They fall in slow motion, it seems. Julie rolls off of Alex’s chest and into the arms of Luke, who hugs her to his chest immediately.

“Good thing Julie has all of the pillows of the universe here,” Alex jokes.

“Oh yeah, I called in every favor. They asked how many I wanted. I said yes.”

Reggie pushes himself up. He squints at the stack of board games. “No way! You have Candyland?”

Luke chuckles in her ear. “Are those Christmas lights?”

“I improvised.”

“I like it.”

Alex is looking at them. “Me too.”

Julie grins. “Thanks, guys.”

“Reg, Candyland or Star Wars?” Alex asks, rolling onto his stomach.

Reggie pauses, board game in his hands. “Can we… We can do both!”

Julie laughs out loud.

After a few minutes of clearing away the pillows (“Oh good, I thought we’d never see that rug again.”), setting up the game, and playing the movie, they’re ready: Candyland and Star Wars. Not how she ever imagined spending the day before Thanksgiving.

“Hey,” Julie says as she draws a card. It’s green. She looks up at them, smiling. “I love you guys, you know?”

They each share looks, grinning at one another. To her left, Luke draws next. “We know, Julie,” he says, moving his character forward. When he meets her eye, he tell her, “We love you, too.”

“Now, keep that in mind when I completely destroy all of you in these games,” Reggie warns.

Julie raises a challenging eyebrow.

“Bring it.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #alex jatp #reggie jatp #some band fluff on this fine morning #this started out with a lot of angst potential but then i was like #no #i have a cuter idea #eog writes

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katsukis-sad-angel · 4 years

Text

Thorns

Pairing: Alpha!Katsuki Bakugou x F!Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Two clans have been at war for generations, one obviously more superior to the other, but that didn’t stop the constant bloodshed and turf wars. Being a tiny omega has its benefits and its struggles, but one day when you finally get banished, an aggressive blonde alpha takes you for his own.

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, swearing, mentions of abandonment, bakugou’s thicc shoulders

A/N: My first tumblr series!! UGH. I hope this isn’t too bad. I’ve been working on this for a while so I hope you enjoy it. I’m super excited for chapter 2!

Chapter 1 💖 Chapter 2 💖 Chapter 3 💖 Chapter 4 💖 Chapter 5 💖 Chapter 6 💖 Chapter 7 💖

Chapter 1; Thorns

Gnats clouded your vision, each tiny bug making a dive for your tearstained face and getting caught in vicious swipes of your stained hands. The sound of running water was nearby, but each thicket of needle-like plants didn’t bring the calming noise any closer. Your trembling arms were ripped to shreds by the spines jutting from each branch.

That’s probably why the bugs were bothering you.

You had been traveling for days with no real sense of direction; the only thing you did know was you had to get as far away from your family lands as fast as possible.

The wind ruffled your tangly, (h/c) hair and blew your shredded dress around your bloody ankles. Your bare feet were scraped up as well, but you hardly noticed it when the sun came out. Its rays warmed your skin and gave you small comfort in your dire situation. The horrid clouds of insects dissipated quickly and you took a deep breath for the first time in hours.

A scent, it was of wood smoke and bubbling caramel, caught in the wind and invaded your nostrils.

An alpha.

No.

Your teary eyes widened and you looked around, hoping to get a glimpse of the owner of the scent.

No luck.

Had they smelled you? No, impossible. That morning, you had taken the utmost precautions and scrubbed your glands with clay and silt from a tiny stream.

A growl, deep and guttural met your ears from close by accompanied by the crackle of breaking twigs.

Scared, you tried to fight your way into a small clearing not too far ahead. Your scent going from a sweet meld of lavender and honey to the stench of dead roses made the alpha in your pursuit wrinkle his nose and pause where he crouched. He considered his options; grab you, grab you and knock you out, or let you go free. This was his clan’s territory! Just because you were an omega didn’t change that you were from an enemy clan! That’s why he had been tracking your movements. He couldn’t let your people get the upper hand.

You continued your frantic, yet futile attempts to escape the alpha. His bloodlust and anger were practically tangible. Thorn bushes tore across your limbs, sticks and rocks poked your sore feet but with the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you didn’t even feel the pain.

Nettles.

Mistaking it for a cluster of mint leaves, you plowed through it and immediately realized your fatal mistake. It felt like millions of tiny knives embedded themselves in your calves and feet. With a blood-curdling scream, you tripped over your own feet and fell face-first into the clearing you’d been aiming for.

Your poor legs, however, weren’t as lucky. From mid-thigh to your feet, nettle plants pressed their tiny hairs into your calf, raising welts as big as walnuts on the bloodied skin.

Sharp cries left your lips until you were able to worm your way into the clearing completely, lifting your skirt to see the damage done by the stupid leaves.

You had completely forgotten about the alpha. When he came out of the brush, his red eyes were fixed on you. Your sad cries faltered as your dilated, frightened orbs met his own. He approached you, fists clenched, vermillion cape fluttering by his feet, a thick fur collar settled around his throat, necklaces made of teeth and colored beads clattering and jingling against his broad chest as he moved. He was broad-shouldered and extremely muscular, but his face still held a childlike pudge, despite the weathered skin adorning them.

In short, he was very intimidating and very handsome.

Now he stood above you, glaring harshly with a scowl contorting his lips.

“Why the hell are you in our lands? You got a death wish or sum shit? Don’t you know what we do to people from your clan?” His tone was as harsh as the look in his eyes.

You cowered against a tree, fearful of what he would do. He didn’t look much older than you were but something in his stare told you he wouldn’t have a problem with fucking you raw and then slitting your throat.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” You whimpered, “I d-didn’t know I entered this part of the country! Please, f-forgive me! I mean n-no harm! I was exiled b-by my cl-clan!”

The alpha narrowed his eyes.

“Why the fuck should I trust you?” He leaned down so you were forced to meet and hold his iron gaze. The scent of fear emanating from your glands made him flare his nostrils in disgust. “You a spy?”

Pressing yourself further into the trunk, you shook your head vigorously.

He leaned closer, “Merchant? You sellin’ shit? Where’s your cart?”

Again, you shook your head.

His musk was suffocating; the smell boiling sugar over a smoky fire rolled over you in waves, making it difficult to focus, let alone breathe.

“Please… please d-don’t hurt me a-alpha.”

He growled in response.

“You got a name?”

“Y… Y/n.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Tch-”

Suddenly the world went upside down. You squealed loudly when you realized what had just happened. The alpha had grabbed you and flipped you over his shoulder as though you weighed nothing. When you began to squirm, he nipped at the flesh of your thigh as a warning so you went still.

“Where… where are you t-taking me?” You whimper as he stood and began to walk through the trees.

“I’m the one asking the damn questions.” He snapped. After a moment of silence, you heard him sigh.

“Why the hell would they exile you? From what I’ve seen, your lame-ass tribe needs all the help they can get!” He snickered at the expense of your people, shaking his head at the mere thought of the last battle. His clan had defeated yours in less than 24 hours, killing all of the strongest alphas and pushing you even further back into the land of your fathers.

“I’m a runt.” You replied in a small voice.

“‘Scuse me?”

“I’m a runt. The s-smallest of the litter. I c-couldn’t speak for the first s-six years of my life b-because my v-vocal cords were underdeveloped. I’ve been an embarrassment to m-my clan since the b-beginning and they t-turned m-me away when I screwed up the rite of passage meal.”

“Never seen one of those.” He mused, “A runt? Hold on, deku is a bitchy little runt.” He adjusted his arm over your knees, “You are kinda shrimpy though.”

You wilted.

“Thanks.”

After a few more minutes of bird-serenaded travel, he spoke again, “Are runts supposed to be this thin?”

“I’m always the last in line for food and I eat whatever’s left.”

A hawk screeched overhead.

“And that would be…?”

“Not much.”

It was quiet again, no sound except the distant rush and bubble of water and birds chirping. The alpha wasn’t as bad as you thought; crude when he spoke, rough when he moved, and a cocky asshole, but there was something endearing about him. It was frightening.

“Alright dummy, don’t fucking move or show your face. Can’t let anyone see you. You’re mine.”

“Y-Yours?”

“Damn right.”

The sun licked your back, warming your tattered limbs and stinging legs. You smelled fire, metal, and cooking meat. Voices could be heard as well, children playing, men talking, and women gossiping.

Suddenly someone shouted, “Katsuki! You’re back!”

He grunted in response, but you knew he was smirking.

“What do you want?” He barked, “I’m busy!”

“We missed you!” Three voices said in unison. They were young girls.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Hey, what’cha got there?”

“Mine.”

“Ooh! Is it an omega? Did you finally get a girl?”

“Maybe he’s gay! Is it a boy? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

“Back up! Stay away!”

The alpha was growling now, turning from left to right as people heard their conversation and became interested.

“He finally found an omega?”

“Took him long enough.”

“Wonder who she is.”

“She looks real thin, is she dead?”

“He’s bonding with a corpse? What the-”

“MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS!” He screeched.

You could hear him growling. He began to move quickly through the growing crowds of people, all of them trying to catch a glimpse of the prince’s omega.

After deeming all omega maidens of his clan, ‘gross’ he’d been searching for months to find a suitable mate. If he didn’t find a mate soon, he wouldn’t get to become the leader of his clan.

You were perfect.

You feared him.

Despite your injuries and excessive thinness, you were gorgeous.

You were ripe for the picking; a young, fertile female who would be his, who would carry his pups despite your origins.

You were submissive.

You depended on him.

He loved it.

Reaching the tent in the middle of if the camp, he tore back one of the curtains and entered the expensively decorated and well-lit room.

Kneeling spitefully before his parents, he lay you on the ground before them like an offering.

“Hey hag. Found one.”

Main Masterlist

@seiiblue , @bean-queen-606

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essektheylyss · 3 years

Text

Fanfic ask game for procrastinating on writing, that's what I'm understanding here, got it.

(tagged by @mllekurtz, thank you! these are super fun questions)

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

55! Jeeeeeez that's a lot.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

295k. (Maybe it's because I come from the writing month world but that's the only stat I genuinely pay attention to lol.)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

In current times, only Critical Role—back in the day I wrote on ff.net for Heroes and Castle and a few YA books.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

before it buries me

This was... actually my first shadowgast fic! One-shot set right after 91.

now I will ask you to be brave

Okay, so, this fic. I will not describe it, as I don't want to get anyone's hopes up. I started it right after hiatus with lofty ambitions and promptly realized my hubris, and now it is definitely never going to be finished. I did not get far. My deepest apologies to anyone who has read it and wanted more.

seeing eye to eye

One-shot of the nein running into Essek's family, and Beau understanding him a little better, rich kid with shitty parents to rich kid with shitty parents. A very specific characterization of Deirta in here, mostly filtered through Beau's mentality, which was so fun to write.

not from the absence of violence

OLD GUARD AU MY BELOVED. I desperately want to write in this au more but have not had the time or ideas, but holy shit I love this au so much.

cruel tricks the gods play

Another pre-97 shadowgast one-shot—the peace talks go very wrong and Caleb and Essek end up pulling a Titanic on a plank of wood after the ship sinks. Very fun, very no longer canon-compliant.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

So, okay, I do not, but this is a Thing for me, because I have, inexplicably, deep panic about responding to ao3 comments. I do not know why. I can feel physical panic thinking about it now. I aggressively hate it because I do really want to respond to comments because commenters are so lovely! I think it is a combination of my brain not knowing the culture of ao3 interaction well enough that it seems alarming (thanks, neurodivergence) and college screenwriting workshops in which I was taught not to respond during critique.

In any case, I do not have the same weird panic about tumblr interactions, so I'm always down to chat here.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

You know, for all of the angst that I write, I don't really write angsty endings. I think my two main Verin-centric fics (laid out one by one and this guilt-ridden heart) end kind of angstily, because that relationship isn't gonna be fixed in a conversation. But in general I think the worst I've got is bittersweet.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't—I'd have to have a really, really good concept to write a crossover.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I can remember, though who knows if I got any in high school. I'm a little impervious to flames anyway—again, workshop classes helped with the reminders that critique is what's useful, while hate is just, 'you can't please everyone'.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do not!

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I mean, not that I'm aware of lol.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope.

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

I mean, currently? Shadowgast. I don't have an all-time.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

sweet child. "Someday!" she says, shaking her fist at an unforgiving god.

15) What are your writing strengths?

I've suddenly forgotten every comment I've ever gotten. I am pretty good at grounded settings when I put in the effort. I think I am good at matching character voices—far better than inventing new ones.

And in terms of writing process... I managed to decide somewhere along the way that I like my own writing? Which is very hard, but also once you do that, it's a lot easier to just write instead of being hung up on quality, and it's then easier to notice when you're falling out of your own voice or when you actually need to rewrite a scene. I think I forced myself into this practice because I am soooo bad at sitting down and editing, so I have to do it as I write, and I had to get over the "this writing sounds like me therefore it is bad" feeling to manage that. (This has been my "love yourself as a writer" high horse.)

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I overexplain. And on the other side, I lean so heavily into showing emotion via physical sensation that I forget to actually write the emotion.

And on a similar process high horse, I am so bad about feeling constantly like I need to write everything right now. This is primarily a problem because if I get too in my head about it, I end up writing none of it. I have not found a way to combat this, except to put one sentence in front of the other. (This is not helped by my ever-increasing pile of wips and ideas lol.)

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I patently refuse to do it, because I hate the idea of butchering a language I don't know, and because I tend to try to draw as little attention to the fact that a thing is written as possible, and if a language has to be translated via a glossary or something, it's drawing more attention to that, and even if it's something I'm leaving untranslated, someone who speaks that language will know that I have butchered it. That being said, I don't dislike it when I'm reading!

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson! I wrote so much PJO fic in middle school.

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

what luminous worlds await, if only for the sheer enormity of that project and my delight that it actually came together. Though I cannot mention that without mentioning Icarus to your certainty, without which I probably would not have even written the former.

Tagging (and please feel free to ignore if you so choose) @the-littlest-goblin @mithrilwren @sky-scribbles!

#hello I am being perceived #dating myself with the use of the word 'flames'#I'm sorry for my strengths/weaknesses responses I hate evaluating my own qualities and love talking about writing process lmao #and now that I have managed to waste half an hour time to go back to writing lol #just! very! passionate! about! writing process!

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 3 years

Text

Touching | 8. shielding the other one with their body, Dick & Rachel - for @wonderbatwayne

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Safe Haven

Series: Physical Affection - Tumblr Prompts

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: "The answer is simple, Grayson. Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me. Now I'm taking what's yours."

2x07 AU

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

____________________________________________

Safe Haven

You really wanna be back here?

Dick tried to ignore his father's voice as he marched between the rows of wooden benches.

"Where is he?"

Deathstoke led him to this church - to the place where everything went down five years ago. But now it was empty.

Bruce showed up in front of him, blocking his way.

He's feeding on your guilt. Like a spider. He's lured you away from where you need to be… who you need to protect.

"He killed my friend," Dick argued. "Nearly killed Jason. He has to be stopped."

Very heroic of you. Except… you don't give a shit.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't know."

But I do, Bruce said as he walked up to him. I know everything. That's why you brought me. Just like I know why you keep sneaking off on these solo runs, just like you did five years ago. You have blood on your hands.

"Not just me."

But you have more, son. Blood only you and Slade know about. You're afraid of the dark. Always have been. Even as a little boy. The great chasm of silence. The coldness of isolation. You're afraid if the others know your secret they'll leave you and you'll be alone, again. And they may.

His heart sped up in his chest, his mind forgot how to breathe for a monent.

"They don't need to know," he said finally. "What difference does it make? It's done, it's in the past. It's behind me."

But it's not. It's got to come out.

"God damn it!" he shouted, feeling his nerves snapping. He was really getting tired of all this bullshit. "Can you leave me alone?"

You know how to get rid of me. You've known the whole time.

Tears started burning behind his eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Of course you do, son. You always have. You just have to tell the truth.

But he couldn't. It was too much. It would destroy him, destroy everything he had with his team.

"It's too hard." he whispered, dropping his head in shame. It was getting harder to keep tears at bay.

His father reached out and gently brushed his fingers down Dick's cheek. Even if he was only a prodcut of Dick's own fucked up mind the touch felt very real and it brought some sort of comfort to him.

His gaze then fell on the altar and he froze, noticing something he hadn't before. Bruce stepped out of his way when he moved and walked up the stairs to a heavy wooden table. Upon one look at the display it showed his blood ran cold.

At least a dozen pictures were scattered among lit candles and each one of them showed Rachel. Sitting on a couch with Gar, both laughing. Talking with Kory. Eating breakfast in the kitchen with Hank, Dawn and Donna around. He saw himself in those photos too - training with her in one, walking with her on the street in the other, with coffee cups in their hands and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. But in most of these pictures she was alone, usually somewhere around the Tower, in her bedroom or the kitchen and it was clear all the shots were taken without her or any of them knowing.

At the very centre of the table was a small black box.

With a shaking hand and a heart hammering in his chest Dick reached for it and slowly lifted the lid. On a white satin pillow meant to hold some kind of jewelry lay a lock of dark blue hair, coated in crimson blood.

Dick's knees almost gave out under him, sending him on the floor.

"No."

He left those for you, Bruce said behind him. He turned to his father for a moment, his face twisting in shock and confusion, but quickly came back to the display, hoping it disappeared when he wasn't looking. Because it couldn't be real, just like this Bruce wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But the pictures were still there, as well as the box and the candle flames were still burning.

Go home, Dick, his father's voice rang in his ears. It seems like one way or another, the monster's been in the Tower all along.

He couldn't take it anymore. The mix of fear, fury, worry, confusion and dozens of other conflicted emotions he couldn't name was about to explode, ripping him apart from within. He smashed his hand on the table sending all the pictures and candles flying, tossed it all on the floor in blinding rage and whipped around, ready to run out of the church. He needed to get back to the Tower, to find Rachel. Maybe this was all some kind of a sick joke, maybe Slade is bluffing, playing mind games on him to keep him on edge. Maybe it's all one big-

"Well, look who finally made it."

Dick stopped to a halt, his breath hitching in his throat. The front door to the church was open, revealing no other than Deathstroke standing in the door frame with his blade pressed to Rachel's neck. She was almost limp in his hold, barely awake but conscious enough to be standing on her feet. Her head was swaying dangerously like she's in a haze, the side of her face covered in blood oozing from a split on her temple.

"Dick…" she muttered, her voice weak and faint as a whisper in the wind carried out in the acoustics of the place and his heart jumped to his throat. He instinctively moved, wanting to rush to her but Slade stopped him, tightening his grip on her and pressing the blade harder to her skin. A drop of blood trickled down the shiny steel and Rachel instantly stilled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." the masked man said slowly, a clear warning in his deep voice.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. "What did you do to her?"

"Not much. Yet." he slowly tilted his head to the side. "I just gave her something to neutralize her powers. A small gift from this little group that eloquently calls themselves… The Organization?"

Dick felt his fists clenching so tight his knuckles must have turned white. He was trembling but unable to move. His eyes were locked on Rachel's pale face as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Questions were piling up under his skull, starting with how did this happen but there was no time for getting answers, first and foremost he needed to protect Rachel.

"I hope you enjoyed our little game." Slade continued, pushing Rachel onward so he could walk deeper into the church. She staggered on wobbly feet but he didn't let her fall. He wasn't gentle in holding her up either and hearing her grunt made Dick grit his teeth. "You must have had a nice ride around the city, following false leads and fake clues. Gave me enough time to get to this one while the others were busy jumping to each other's throats."

He risked one step forward, glaring at the face hidden behind the mask.

"What do you want from her?" he asked instead of giving Slade satisfaction by reacting to his words. "It's me you're after and I'm here. So let her go and let's get this over with. Rachel has nothing to do with this."

Slade let out a gurgling laugh and shook his head which only infuriated Dick more. His blade twitched in his hand and Rachel flinched, her face twisted in pain.

"Oh don't you see? She has everything to do with this." His masked face got uncomfortably close to Rachel's face and she turned her head away, cringing in fear and whimpering. Dick barely could hold himself back from lunging at Slade. "Poor kid. Snatched from the street, taken under the caring but broken wings of The Fallen Grayson just to be let down and end up dead. Funny how history loves to repeat itself but twists the ending at the last moment."

His arm gripped her tighter and Rachel's body tensed like a string that's about to snap. Her breath quickened and pupils widened up in terror. Their eyes met for the first time and Dick's heart broke seeing how scared she was, how she was silently begging him to save her.

"Rachel!"

"The answer is simple, Grayson." Slade hissed, fixing his grip on his sword and shifting the blade so the cold steel was now touching Rachel's cheek. "Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me." He moved the blade slowly, making a shallow cut on her face and Rachel whimpered in pain. "Now I'm taking what's yours."

And he pulled the sword down.

"DON'T!"

Slade stopped with the sword pressed to her carotid artery and looked at Dick who was aiming at him with the gun he was holding in his hand this whole time. His finger stilled on the trigger, grip so tight his knuckles bleached but his arm - no, his entire body - was shaking. His breath became shallow and rapid, heart trying desperately to break out of its cage.

"DON'T HURT HER!" he shouted and risked taking a few steps closer. He must have looked like a madman and he wouldn't be one bit surprised because that's exactly what he felt right now - madness. "Don't you fucking touch her or I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Deathstroke scoffed.

"We both know you're not gonna shoot." he said in a tone so light like they were discussing weather or something equally trivial.

Dick brought his other hand up to steady his grip on the weapon but in his current state it did him no good.

"Watch me."

"Are you willing to risk your precious little girl's life, like you did with Jericho? Or have you learned from your mistakes by now?"

"Don't listen to him, Dick!" Rachel suddenly spoke. Her voice was strong and she was staring at him with terrified but focused eyes. Dick let himself quietly sigh in relief. Whatever drug Slade had given her must be wearing off.

"Shut up." the assassin growled in her face, threatening her with his weapon again. She eyed the sword and gulped down hard but remained silent.

Dick took another step closer.

"Rach, look at me." he asked gently, for a moment not caring about how Slade might react. Risky move but he needed to talk to her. She did as he told her and their eyes met. "Listen, you're gonna be okay. I promise."

"Oh, isn't it adorable." Slade scoffed again, shaking his head. Dick was almost sure the man was rolling his eyes under that hideous mask. "I see you've learned nothing. Even after all this time you lie in their faces that they're gonna be safe with you. It's pathetic."

Neither of them were listening to his little tirade. While Slade was talking they were having their own silent conversation. Rachel held Dick's gaze to make sure she had his attention, then pointed her eyes at the elbow of the arm Slade was holding her with. Then her eyes went back to Dick and she mouthed one short word.

Shoot.

He shook his head, feeling a bile of fear forming in his throat. It was a huge risk. An inch to his right and the bullet could pierce Rachel's chest. All it takes is for Slade to move or Dick's arm to tremble. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if the bullet went the wrong way.

But her eyes were full of faith and confidence when she was looking at him. A small smile appeared on her lips. She knew he was hesitating because of her and tried to encourage him as well as she could without Slade noticing. He could read what she was trying to tell him in her face.

I know you won't hurt me.

He would never. He'd rather die the most painful death than be the reason a single hair falls off her head.

He pulled the trigger.

Deathstroke's armor clinked when the bullet made contact with his elbow. It didn't do any damage, but that wasn't the point. Slade cried out, more surprised than hurt because he didn't think Dick would actually fire that gun, but the impact made him release Rachel from his hold. She was still swaying on unsteady feet but she instantly lunged herself to the side, hiding between the rows of benches and getting out of the way.

Good girl.

In the meantime a fight broke out between two men. Dick charged at Slade, fueled by hot rage burning inside of him. He didn't have his Robin suit anymore or any of his gadgets but his body was a weapon in itself due to years of training and experience. He was throwing kicks and punches, dodging and turning and moving. Slade threw away his sword and sent him falling on his back with one strong kick to his chest, but despite the hit pushing all air out his lungs Dick managed to quickly jump back to his feet. They danced around each other like it's a choreography learned a long time ago and the moves are now coming back to them with clarity after years of not using them. Every move of the assassin was full of precision and technicality, cold, strong and perfectly aimed while Dick filled his every action with images of those he was fighting for. He thought of Garth falling to the ground with bullet in his chest while connecting his foot with Slade's jaw, sending his head to the side. He thought of Jason hanging on one hand from one of the tallest buildings in the city with terror in his wide eyes as he punched Slade in the diaphragm so hard the skin on his knuckles split and started bleeding. He thought of Jericho bleeding out on the floor of this church when he jumped on the benches and swiftly moved to find himself behind Slade's back. And he thought of Rachel, pale as ghost and terrified, with blood trickling down her face when he round kicked Slade in the back, sending him to his knees.

"So emotional." the man grunted and straightened up. He reached for his baton and with one push of a button turned it into a spear. "So… attached."

Dick roared like an angry lion and attacked again.

This time Deathstroke got the upper hand, pushing Dick back towards the altar. Blocking the spear wasn't easy without any weapon in his hand and soon he was covered with smaller and bigger cuts. He fell on his back at the stairs, hitting the back of his head so hard his sight became foggy but he still managed to use his legs to cut Slade from his feet. However, the man didn't lose his balance, only jumped out of the way and pushed his heavy boot to Dick's chest, then pressed the blunt end of the spear to his Adam's apple.

"You were right," Deathstroke breathed out, turning the spear around. Dick heard his voice as if coming from underwater. His mask was a blur of color. "Let's get this over with." Then he raised his arm and stabbed.

But the blade never made it to Dick's chest.

First he saw a shadow looming over him and when his sight cleared he recognized the head of blue curly hair. He lifted himself on his elbows watching in horror while his heart screamed in agony.

No. Not again.

Please, not again.

Rachel pushed herself between him and Slade and shielded him with her own body, just like Jericho did five years ago.

She slowly looked down at the blade sticking out from her chest before Deathstroke harshly pulled it out. Her hands covered the wound, her fingers instantly turning red and then she swayed, about to fall down.

"Rachel, no!" Dick cried out and caught her, laying her down on his chest. A sob wrecked his body when he saw the waterfall of blood coating the front of her black sweater, making the warm wool stick to her body. He pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding while she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and he felt tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh God, Rachel. What did you do?"

"I had to- s-save you-" she choked out, a drop of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it tight. "I cou-couldn't let you- d-die."

In the meantime Slade stepped back and hid his weapon. He was watching the scene in front of him unfold, still as a statue.

"Now you know how it feels," he said, aiming his words at Dick, who lifted his tear-stained face to glare at the man, "to have your own child bleeding out in your arms. Death would've been a mercy for you, Grayson. This… this is a lesson you will never forget."

"I will fucking kill you." Dick snarled at him, gritting his teeth. "I'm gonna hunt you down, you hear me?!"

Deathstoke chuckled and turned his back to him.

"Good luck with that." he threw over his shoulder then headed out of the church, leaving the other two alone.

Dick made some sort of a sound. A noise that he himself couldn't even describe. It sounded as if something had brutally ripped his chest open and tore out of it. He roared like an animal, venting his despair and anger.

"Dick..." a soft whisper pierced through to his consciousness, drawing his attention. "It's okay."

Another sob shook his body.

"Rachel… Rachel, my Rachel." he whispered, hugging her and frantically brushing the hair wet with blood and sweat away from her pale face.

So much blood. He was completely covered in it now, it soaked through his clothes and bit into his skin.

"It's not okay." he shook his head. "I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around."

She managed to smile at him.

"We're supposed to… save each other… remember?"

"Not like this." he said, his voice breaking. "Never like this."

She squeezed his hand again. Their fingers, slick from her blood, entwined together tightly.

"You were my… save haven."

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Then the meaning behind her words hit him like a speeding train and he held her tighter.

"No. Don't say that." he ordered desperately. "This is not a goodbye, you hear me? You're not going anywhere."

"Dick-"

"No! Help me." he croaked, pressing their clasped hands against her bleeding heart. "Use your powers. Take my energy, absorb it."

She coughed, spitting blood. They were running out of time.

"I can't- h-heal myself."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

But she didn't seem to hear him. Her eyelids closed slowly and her head fell on his arm.

"Rachel?" Dick's voice grew louder, breaking and rising like waves away at sea. "Rachel, my baby, please, honey, open your eyes, it's me, Dick, I'm here with you, I'll always be here, please, please…"

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, letting out a painful cry. He howled like a wolf, his shoulders trembling, heavy tears splashing on her round cheeks. It was his fault. All of it was his fault. A part if him knew it would end like this the monent he met her. But his love was too strong and he ignored the warning. Now she was paying the price.

"Don't go, Rach." he begged, his voice shattered. "Don't leave me alone in a world without you in it."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand with such force that he felt her knuckles grinding in his grip.

Rachel, please come back. We can do this. You saved my life in more ways than you can imagine. Nothing is impossible for us. I love you, okay? I love you and please come back to me.

He reached deep into his memories. Rachel at the police station in Detroit looks up and stares at him as if she saw a ghost; Rachel, curled up in the bathtub of that crappy motel, surrounded by scraps of paper with crosses drawn on it, throws herself into his arms crying; Rachel leans over him in the asylum and reminds him of his promise to never to leave her; Rachel comes out of the fog with her head held high proudly after defeating Trigon; her smile and eyes wide open when she saw the inside of the Tower for the first time. And many, many other memories he will cherish for the rest of his life.

Heal, he begged because there was nothing else left to do. Take my life, take it all. Heal.

Something changed. Rachel's hand in his hold started getting warmer. He lifted his head slightly, blinking away tears and gasped at the sight of a bright purple glow seeping through his fingers. He watched in complete awe as the wound on her chest slowly started closing until there was nothing left beside a thin pink line that was already fading as well. The color came back to her face and she took a gulp of air, almost choking on it. Then she sat up, her eyes opened wide and she pressed her hands to her chest but to no use because there was nothing there, only drying blood on her clothes. She looked down at herself then back at him.

"How?"

He smiled at her and scooted closer.

"I told you you can heal yourself."

Her brows furrowed in confusion but then understanding flooded her face and she smiled back.

"It wasn't just me… it was you, Dick. You willed me back to life and… and my powers listened." she grabbed his hands in hers. "I didn't heal myself, you healed me."

Still holding her other hand he reached out to cup her face. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"All I knew was that I couldn't lose my safe haven." he whispered softly and that's all it took for her to fall into his arms.

She clung to his shirt, buried her face in the curve of his neck and started sobbing. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her on his lap and started rocking her gently. He loved how warm and familiar she felt in his hold, how solid and safe she was. He pressed a loving, desperate kiss on the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"I love you so much." he mumbled into her skin. Rachel shivered and hugged him tighter.

"I love you, too."

Dick leaned away and took her face in his hands, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Let's get outta here, huh? We need to get you cleaned up."

She glanced at the blood on her clothes, then moved her gaze to his own bloody shirt and jacket.

"You don't look exactly better, you know?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, thanking God she was still here.

"Yeah, it was my favorite jacket. Now I have to burn it." they both laughed, happy to relax and lighten up, but looking at her face made him worried again. "You sure you're okay?"

Instead of answering Rachel stood up on her own and reached a hand out to him.

"Definitely."

He took it gratefully and got up to his feet, then immediately pulled her closer, crushing her to him.

"I am never letting you go again." he said, his voice hoarse and heavy from emotion.

Rachel melted into him and took a deep breath.

"Please, don't."

Over her head he noticed Bruce standing by the church's door. His father smiled proudly at him and nodded, then slowly turned around and walked out, disappearing in the light of day.

#dc titans #titans #titans season 1 #titans season 2 #titans season 3 #dcu titans #dick grayson #rachel roth #slade wilson #deathstroke

15 notes · View notes

shih-coulda-had-it · 4 years

Note

Just i m a g i n e ; Nana and Gran Torino know the friends / almost boyfriends of Toshi and Torino was like; "go away of that blond idiot or I'm going to hit them without mercy" while Nana is; "Sora, let them, are childrens. But if they hurt m’lil Toshi, I'll also hit them without mercy :) ". The boys, (Dave, Sir, Tsukauchi and Aizawa), are scared of the threats of Toshi's parents and he does not realize that his parents have threatened his almost boyfriends. I think that would happen 👀.

Oh, I like where your head’s at. This is technically the beginning of either a recurring arc/a long one-shot in the NanaLives!AU that’s been building as tumblr snippets.

*Note: Sorahiko did not join Nana and Toshinori in the States for several months. He was cleaning up their tracks/records. On a last-second impulse, he asks the Commission to retrieve Kotarou. Kotarou’s reunion is a whole drama of its own, but the end-result is that Kotarou (1) gets therapy (2) gets a whole year off school! (3) gets a whole family!!!

Neither Nana nor Sorahiko are blindsided by the first boy Toshinori brings home. They’re trying not to invalidate All Might’s work by playing chaperone, but they do pay attention to the news. And the news is captivated by the presence of an exceptionally handsome young foreigner popping up to take care of problems.

Problems like the explosion at the local college laboratory.

“Okaa-san,” says Kotarou, enraptured by disaster, “Toshi-nii’s shirt got burned off.”

“He doesn’t know he’s got a camera trained on him,” observes Nana.

“Figures,” Sorahiko says darkly. He’s sitting at the couch, financial paperwork spread out on the coffee table. Kotarou is cross-legged, ostensibly keeping Sorahiko company and doing his English handwriting exercises. Nana had been busy with laundry, but she poked her head in at the first excited cry. “All this work to stay under the radar, and the brat immediately gets trapped in the spotlight.”

“No one will recognize him.” Goodness knows Nana hadn’t, the first time Toshinori tapped into One for All and puffed up.

“Who’s he talking to?”

“He’s talking to somebody?” Sorahiko’s head snaps up at Kotarou’s innocent inquiry, and Nana doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s studying the grainy screen, eyes narrowed in calculation.

“He looks nice,” she tries. The two boys on-screen are laughing together, bright-eyed and grinning. Toshinori’s new friend is totally staring at Toshinori’s chest.

“Looks like a sycophant,” he growls.

She rolls her eyes. “Toshinori just saved him from a burning building. Gratitude and admiration, along with some heart-eyes, aren’t out of the norm.”

“Hn.”

“What’s a sycophant,” Kotarou says, twisting around when the camera finally cuts away to a pair of commentators. He peers at Sorahiko’s papers like he can understand not only English, but also Sorahiko’s chicken-scratch handwriting.

Long-sufferingly, Sorahiko answers, “A sycophant is a person who always says yes to another person.”

“Oh.” Kotarou dwells on this. “Like you with okaa-san.”

There’s a beat of silence. The first giggle escapes Nana’s valiant grasp, and then she’s leaning on the wall, overtaken by them. Kotarou looks pleased; Sorahiko starts to sputter and defend himself.

Several hours later, Toshinori’s boisterous voice announces, “I’m home!”

“Welcome back,” Nana calls out from the kitchen. Over the course of a few months, her cooking repertoire has expanded to include boxed yellow curry. It bubbles ominously in the deep pan, set over a low heat. “Watch out in the living room, I think Sorahiko’s still napping with Kotarou.”

“Ah.” Nana hears a murmur. Then the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Involuntarily, she tenses and activates Float, her world narrowing down to the question: who is that. Her hands curl into fists, scarred and white-knuckled. She navigates the hallway to the front door and checks the mirror--oh.

Float deactivates. Nana briskly re-ties her hair, shakes out the adrenaline still thrumming in her hands, and steps out into the open with a smile.

“Who’s this?” she asks pleasantly.

Toshinori hasn’t stopped using One for All, but he’s picked up a white “I <3 LA” shirt. While he can stay puffed up for as long as he wants, there’s an unspoken rule to leave All Might in the streets. Thankfully, Nana thinks, Kotarou understands the secrecy regarding Toshinori’s Quirk.

The reason why Toshinori is still All Might finishes toeing off his sneakers. He’s tall, slender, and perceptibly nervous. When he executes a short bow, his shoulder-length hair moves with him.

“Hello,” Toshinori’s friend (boyfriend? Nana wonders, a little alarmed at the thought, because Toshinori can only have known him for four hours, max, and now Toshinori has brought him here, perhaps to meet the family) says in awkward Japanese. “I am David Shield. It is nice to meet you.”

“I understand English,” she says, not unkindly. “Your accent is very good, though.”

Shield exhales in relief. “I wanted to try,” he says, sheepish. “I’ve taken classes, but it’s just--difficult.”

“You need a willing language partner,” Nana agrees. “Call me Shimura-san, David. Are you here for dinner?”

“If it’s no problem.”

“Oshishou,” says Toshinori happily, “Dave’s offered to build me a sturdier suit! I thought the least we could do is dinner, right?”

Then, Kotarou comes barreling down the hallway, only to come to a reeling halt at the sight of someone new. He ducks back behind Nana’s legs, wary of strangers. She reaches back to ruffle his hair, and notes that David looks similarly taken aback.

Dave, however, is apparently going to tailor a new suit for Toshinori. Nana studies the young man and his fine-boned hands--an engineer? a researcher?--and decides that she needs Sorahiko to take a second look.

“This is Kotarou, my son.” Nana smiles reassuringly. “And of course. A friend of Toshinori’s is always welcome. Take your time, boys. It’s chicken curry tonight.”

She retreats back to the kitchen, Kotarou in tow.

“Are you fixing my cooking?” she gasps, catching Sorahiko in the midst of seasoning the pan’s contents. He doesn’t even flinch, and tosses in another pinch of black pepper.

“Little bland. Overall, tastes like the box promised. Good job on not burning it.”

Nana scowls. “This is because we teased him this afternoon,” she tells Kotarou, and Kotarou finally unclenches his fingers from her sweatpants and laughs. She bops his nose with her finger, and informs Sorahiko, “Remember the boy Toshinori saved? He’s here for dinner, and his name is David Shield.”

“What,” says Sorahiko.

“He’s, hmm, offered to make Toshinori a suit, and Toshinori thought he should pay the favor back with dinner.”

“I don’t understand English yet,” Kotarou complains.

“There’s that too,” she adds, but comforts Kotarou with, “I’m sure he’ll understand Japanese if you speak slowly, Kota.”

Footsteps on the staircase. They’re both heavy-footed, Nana distantly registers, and they’re headed for Toshinori’s bedroom. Which is normal for friends to do. Heck, she and Sorahiko used to have sleepovers together. This is fine.

Toshinori has known Dave for, at most, four hours.

Sorahiko sets the ladle to the side. He appears to be tracking a similar line of thought, because he says, slowly, “You know, when Toshinori came out to us as bisexual last week, I didn’t think…”

“He didn’t have anyone in high school,” Nana points out. “If there’s any place to explore romance without consequence, it’s halfway across the world.” She grimaces. “Also, let’s not jump to conclusions. We shouldn’t assume everyone Toshinori brings home is a potential partner.”

“He doesn’t bring people home,” Sorahiko stresses.

“Before, Toshinori wasn’t able to.”

Kotarou’s eyes flick back and forth between them. Incredulously, he asks, “Toshi-nii has no friends?”

They wince. Toshinori has friends the way someone builds a rolodex; many people extend their friendship, and Toshinori accepts, stores their information (name; Quirk; details about family, likes, dislikes) away in his encyclopedic brain, and never pursues a follow-up. It isn’t something they taught him, but it’s not a habit they’ve tried breaking either.

“He has friends,” says Nana. “So, best behavior, okay?”

Sorahiko grimaces. He bobs his head, but Nana assumes he’ll ask pointed questions during dinner anyway. Depending on how good a mood Toshinori is in, maybe their charge will let the interrogation slide. If not, well, Toshinori knows how grouchy Sorahiko can be.

“Okay,” Kotarou replies, oblivious to the byplay. “When’s dinner?”

“Soon,” Sorahiko promises.

(There is a long stretch of time between David Shield and Sasaki Mirai. In the span of this time, Kotarou has grown up and gotten married and had two children. Nana and Sorahiko have officially tied the knot, and they are in the midst of renovating a small apartment complex in Yamanashi Prefecture. Following Sasaki is Tsukauchi Naomasa. Then Toshinori brings home Aizawa Shouta.

“He’s like you,” Nana mourns to Sorahiko, after cheerfully seeing Aizawa off. Toshinori is walking with him to the train station; it’s fifty-fifty on whether Toshinori will spend the night in his own apartment, or in Aizawa’s bed.

“How’s that,” Sorahiko grunts, locking the front door. They trail their way to bed.

“His kids will be his students.”

He glances at her. “Kotarou wasn’t my student.”

“He learned a lot from you anyway,” Nana promptly responds, and he snorts. She’s undeterred. “Anyway, I can only assume he’ll bond with every class, and act as their collective dad. Tons and tons of encouragement, complete with rigorous physical training.” She sighs as she pushes their bedroom door open. “All those extended grandchildren we may never get to meet…”

“Be glad,” Sorahiko suggests. “I can only imagine Toshinori fathering a child with even crazier dreams, and we’ve finally reached a point in our lives where we don’t have to deal with that shit.”

“You’ve jinxed it.”

“I’ve jinxed nothing.”

Four months later, when they are watching the Sports Festival live on television, staring at a fluffy green-haired boy shout ‘Smash’ battle-cries and perform therapy so bad (so well? The result may have been the goal), he’s knocked clear out of the tournament--

“I jinxed it,” says Sorahiko in disbelief, as Nana cackles and starts texting Toshinori to bring home Midoriya Izuku.)

#bnha #shimura nana #torino sorahiko #gran torino #yagi toshinori #all might #shimura kotarou #david shield #nanahiko #shih.txt #ostensibly: davemight #i need like three thousand more words to cover the rest #but i wanted to answer this ask so bad #asks #sxftcxts-uwu

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

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Infernal - IV

Summary: In your sleepy little town of Greendale, nothing ever slept for long. And ever since October, everything felt like it was waking up. Everything except for you, that is. One teensy trip to Hell (and an infuriatingly cute guy) later and suddenly you felt wide awake.

Word-count: 5.5k+

Masterlist Prev. | Part 4

A/N: okay okay i know you guys hate cliffhangers and i’m sorry!! hopefully this makes up for it tho 👀👀 also i’m working on some other caliban fics to post once this series is over, would you guys still like to be tagged in those??

tumblr’s formatting has been shit these past few days as well, and i think i’ve gotten most of it ironed out but let me know if there’s anything i missed!

“When she comes back to life, she won’t be scarred, will she?” Harvey asked. His voice was still full of concern, but it was softer now. A quiet kind of anxiety.

“She will not,” Caliban said.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Sabrina breathed.

You had to admit, looking at Roz all broken and put back together again was unsettling. Not any more unsettling than finding out your mom was a demon and your dad was a psychic (maybe?), but unsettling nonetheless.

“What do we do now?” you asked, arms folded over your chest and leg bouncing to distract from how uncomfortable you felt.

“You say the spell, but first, you make your offering,” Caliban explained. Eyes rolling over from Sabrina to you. He seemed to zero-in on your nerves like a hawk would a field mouse.

“To whom?” Sabrina asked.

“Aphrodite or Eros,” Caliban said.

“What am I offering?” Harvey asked.

“Your love for Rosalind,” Caliban said. “Give it up, and she’ll be restored to flesh.”

“Give it up? What are you talking about?” Harvey asked.

“Aphrodite is the goddess of love,” Caliban said. “She’ll grant your wish, but demands your heart’s desire: Rosalind.” He looked down at the statue of your friend. “Vow to forsake your truest love, then to complete the spell … kiss her. She’ll restore to flesh once more. But if you betray your vow - if you kiss her again - she’ll return to stone and will remain that way until the end of days.”

“Wait, no! Harvey, there has to be some other kind of offering,” Sabrina said, reaching out to comfort him.

“It’s a Pygmalion spell,” you said. Your voice was still full of anger, so you made a conscious effort to soften it. Taking a breath, you went on, “The myth is that to bring his statue to life, he gave up sculpting. His true love. So there isn’t really a way around that.”

“Exactly,” Caliban said. You hadn’t met his gaze when he cataloged your unease before, but now you accidentally caught his eye. Your leg stopped bouncing. Your anger flickered for a moment. “Love for life.”

“I’ll do it,” Harvey said, not leaving any room to talk him out of it. He walked towards Caliban and took the paper from his hand.

“Say the words to Aphrodite and give her a kiss,” Caliban said.

Harvey knelt down and said some heartbreaking words that you wished you hadn’t overheard before saying the spell written on the piece of paper. He gave her a kiss but nothing changed. She was still stone.

“Nothing happened!” he said, looking up.

“Caliban?” Sabrina asked, sounding equal parts accusatory and panicked.

“His offering was rejected,” Caliban said.

“What does that mean?” Harvey asked. “Why?”

“You must not truly love her,” Caliban said, like it was obvious. Unexpected, tragic, but obvious.

“That’s bullshit!” Harvey got to his feet, squaring up in front of Caliban.

“Oh, crap,” you mumbled as you uncrossed your arms and moved around Roz to get to Harvey. You slipped your hands around his arm but it didn’t stop him from simmering in place. “Harvey, calm down.”

“Aphrodite would only accept your heart’s true desire,” Caliban said, either unbothered by Harvey’s anger or uncaring toward it. Still, he pushed. “That must not be Rosalind. Must be something or someone else.”

“Shut the hell up!” Harvey yelled as he slipped out of your hands. In one quick motion, he grabbed the collar of Caliban’s shirt and threw him against the wall.

“Harvey, enough!” you yelled. You maneuvered your way between them and outstretched your hands, one palm splayed on Caliban’s yellow t-shirt and your other fingers pointing dangerously at Harvey as Sabrina pulled him a few feet back.

“What does he know? Him and his bullshit spell,” Harvey spat. “How do we know if any of this is real?”

“Why would I lie?” Caliban asked. His heartbeat was slow and steady under your hand, more interested in your intervention than Harvey’s outburst.

“Harvey,” you warned before he could say anything else. Sabrina’s attention slipped for a second and Harvey’s hand got free. He got ready to aim it at Caliban. Your voice was sharp as knives and twice as deadly as you snapped, “Harvey, drop it.”

He looked at you for a second before unclenching his fist. The frown on his face deepened as he collected himself. Sure, you picked on him the most out of your friends, but you were always the first one on his side in a fight. You weren’t sure if your shifting alliance was making him frown or the fact that he’d actually listened to you.

“I should kick your ass,” Harvey mumbled, looking over your head to Caliban again.

“Try it again and I’ll grind every bone in your body to sand,” Caliban said, tone back to being vaguely threatening and unhelpful as he straightened up under your hand.

You pushed him back slightly and turned to tell him to knock it off, but Sabrina’s voice stopped you. “Tell us what, Robin?” she asked, clearly having a conversation that you weren’t listening to.

“Among the pagans, there’s that witch, Circe,” Robin explained. “The one that turned your friends into pigs? She has powerful magicks of transformation. She could turn your friend back into flesh.”

“For someone who’s trying to earn our trust, why would you only tell us this now?” Sabrina asked.

The lull in arguing made you very aware of how close you still were to Caliban. His heart continued to beat faithfully under your palm as yours rose in your chest. Taking a breath and a step back, you reached for Harvey’s hand in an attempt to put some distance between the two of you. Caliban gave you a curious look as your hand laced into Harvey’s, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Robin said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I mean, Circe’s power resides in her hands. All she’d have to do is touch you, and she could turn you into any creature she’s ever seen before. And without magick, you’re no match against her.”

“I don’t have magick, it’s true,” Sabrina said. “But I know where I can borrow some.”

She told you about the hedge-witches and her plan to borrow their magic in order to attack the Carnival and bring Circe to the Academy. That way, she could fix Dorcas and Roz. How she was going to convince them to help her, you weren’t sure. You were tired of placing faith in people that didn’t deserve it.

“Okay, but I’m still going to look some stuff up,” you said when she was done. She gave you a hurt look as she readied herself to argue. “Brina, it’s not that I don’t think you can do this, but I don’t like putting all our hope in this one plan. That hasn’t really been working out for us lately.”

“Fair enough,” Sabrina said with a small sigh. “Ambrose is busy but you can look in the Academy’s library as much as you want.”

“Hell’s library is endless,” Caliban said, still leaning on the wall where you’d left him. He’d been so quiet that you’d almost forgotten he was there. Almost. “It’s knowledge is infinite. If there’s another way to return Rosalind to flesh, it’s in there. Not in some coven book club.”

“You’re inviting me to Hell?” you asked. Your voice betrayed you by sounding too interested.

“Only if my queen allows it,” Caliban said, gaze moving to Sabrina. His voice didn’t.

Looking next to you, you found Sabrina pulling a face. She didn’t like Hell at the best of times, and you doubted this qualified. “You’ll protect her from whatever’s down there?”

“As if my life depends on it,” Caliban promised.

“Oh, it does,” Sabrina said before turning to look at you. She cupped your hands in hers before giving you a warning. “Be careful and don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Trust me, that’s not gonna be a problem,” you said with a sigh as you looked over to Caliban. He wore an amused smirk as he held his hand out to you.

“Shall we?”

Against your better judgment, you put your hand in his. It was warm, hard in some places and soft in others, and the only thing you focused on as the hellfire burned the edges of vision and the world gave way beneath you.

---

“You know, this would go a lot quicker if you helped instead of just looking at me like that,” you said, not looking up from the millionth book you’d taken out that night.

But he wasn’t looking. He was studying you under a microscope and you were trying not to squirm. Curious.

When you’d gotten here, the first few minutes had been painful retching - hell was not made for humans. Then they were nervous butterflies and shaky hands - you were not made for the attention Caliban gave you. Then they were frantic sprints from shelf to shelf - hell’s library was not made for someone with a very specific problem.

“I’m admiring,” Caliban corrected, leaning closer in his chair. “For instance, did you know that when you’re focused, your forehead creases right there?” He touched the spot between your eyes, just next to your eyebrow. “Exactly like it’s doing now.”

You took a breath and slammed the book shut on the table, turning to give him a harsh look. “Did you know that when I’m annoyed, I have a nasty habit of choking nearby demons?”

“Is that a promise?” he asked, not having moved an inch from where he leaned in to touch your face. The two of you were so close now that it felt like there wasn’t enough air. His eyes dropped to your lips. A second passed and all he did was shake his head and collapse back in his chair. “The Pygmalion spell had the greatest chance of curing your friend, any of the spells we find now are likely to be too obscure to hold any practical weight.”

“Then why did you bring me here?” you asked, actively trying to put out the fire inside you and not be the first to look away.

“I have to admit that my motives were purely self-serving,” Caliban said as he stretched out, hands interlacing behind his head and elbows spread wide. “I wanted to spend some time with the person who risks not one, but two trips to Hell for her friends. Is that such a problem?”

“Considering you want to dethrone my best friend and enslave everyone I’ve ever met, I’m going to go with yes,” you said. You didn’t think that you could take him looking at you like that any longer, so you started piling books together to shelve later. A petty defeat.

“What if that was something I no longer wanted to do?” Caliban asked, sounding genuinely interested in your answer.

“You’d forfeit your claim to be king?” you asked, hands frozen in the air over a book of ancient curses.

“Hardly,” Caliban scoffed. You shook your head, telling yourself that you knew better, and kept piling up books. “But I’d be a more benevolent ruler.”

Disappointment warped into anger again. Your shoulders bunched up as you turned to him, and you tugged them back down as you threw the books in your hand back onto the table. “Yeah, of course, you think that’s better. That it makes all this better! You know, that’s your problem. You and Harvey are the exact same, you know that? You’re both so full of-”

“Shh.” Caliban raised a finger to his lips, looking around, which only made you angrier. Screw him for thinking he could tell you what to do. You were about to start snapping at him again when he whispered, “There’s something in here with us.”

Your arms fell back to your sides as you quieted down. You couldn’t see anything as you looked around the room, but the shadows seemed to grow darker. Darker and darker. They swirled into unnatural shapes as something rasped around you, wind blowing the pages back and forth on the table in front of you.

A plague upon all mortals who enter Hell.

It wasn’t so much spoken as it was whispered directly into your head, rattling around angrily as it ransacked your skull.

Death to the daughter of the winged and taloned demon of the night.

Caliban grabbed your hand so quickly that you barely had time to process the words he muttered furiously as the shadows crept closer. He pressed his other hand to the open book on the table as he finished and everything melted into a familiar white light.

You were retching on the edge of a forest by the time your sight came back again. Clutching onto Caliban’s yellow t-shirt to keep your balance, you tried to stand up straight again.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, still out of breath as you frowned at your surroundings. You didn’t recognize any of the trees or the way the land crested and fell to knit together. “And where are we?”

“Those were the wraiths of reapers,” Caliban said. He held onto your arms to keep you upright as he assessed the forest in front of you. He looked back down at you, a little more coldly than you were used to. “I told you that day on the shores to be careful in Hell or you’d draw something out.”

“It’s not like I was trying to!” you snapped, anger giving you the strength to push him away and stand on your own. You shot him a glare and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Could have fooled me,” he said. Anger tinged his words and you pulled back slightly. Cold was one thing but anger was another. “With such a dark cloud around you, it’s amazing you didn’t call the hounds themselves on us.”

“Okay, you know what, why don’t you just-” A sharp pain shot through your head and your threat died on your lips. You took a breath and rubbed your face. Humans weren’t made for back-to-back teleporting. But you weren’t human anymore, were you? “Let’s just try to get out of here in one piece, alright? Now, where exactly is here?”

Caliban clenched his jaw and his gaze flicked back to the forest before settling on you again. “When the wraiths appeared, the quickest way to get out of here was to place us in the safe haven of the spellbook. The only problem is that with all the wind … I'm not sure where we ended up.”

“Well, what was the book about?” you asked, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you looked around the forest. You couldn’t tell if the forest felt wrong because something was off or because of how things were between you and Caliban.

“Petrifaction in Greek myths,” Caliban answered. “So chances are we’re either in the myth of Pygmalion-”

“Or Medusa?” you guessed, eyes settling on his. He nodded and you bit the inside of your cheek. “So how do we get out of here?”

“We wait for the story to run its course,” he said. “We don’t have to get involved?” you asked hesitantly. He shook his head and a knot in your upper back untangled. You could get out of this safely as long as you let Medusa turn some long-dead people to stone. It felt too easy. “Then let’s find a place to wait this out.”

You chose a direction and started walking, part of you waiting for Caliban to say something and another relieved that he was letting you walk in silence. It gave you the chance to think about everything Lilith told you earlier.

“The cloud is starting to come back,” Caliban warned after maybe an hour of walking. “Are you going to tell me about what’s bothering you or are we going to wait and see what comes out of these woods?”

“I’ll take my chances with the wolves,” you said, looking at him over your shoulder. He cut the nonchalant smile you threw at him in half.

“No.” Caliban caught your arm before you could swing it back around and then stopped walking. “We’ve got nowhere else to hide if something comes after us.”

Maybe it was his steely resolve or the fact that he actually did seem concerned under that well-worn apathetic safety blanket of an expression, but you felt some part of you cave. You couldn’t tell him about Lilith - you couldn’t tell anyone about Lilith - but maybe you could talk about something else.

“What did you talk to Sabrina about when you went to Hell?” Caliban leaned back slightly and frowned for a second before recovering.

“That’s what this is about?” he asked. He must have realised that his voice came out too gently because then he added, “It almost sounds like you’re jealous, love.”

“I knew this was pointless,” you scoffed, looking him dead in the eye as you pulled your arm back. “And I’m not jealous, by the way, I’m frustrated.”

“Sexually?” You rolled your eyes and ignored the heat in your cheeks as you started walking again. A pretty trainwreck was still a trainwreck, and you had no desire to buy a ticket to ruin. Well, you had a little desire, but you stomped it down.

“I asked her to marry me.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, but you didn’t turn back to look at him.

“The challenges would end, balance would be restored.” The undergrowth crunched as he closed the distance between you, slowly and deliberately. “We’d wipe out the pagans and your life would go back to the way it was.”

A final crunch as he stopped next to you - waiting for you to say something, probably - and lifted a hand to move the hair off your neck. Slow, deliberate sparks skated across your neck where his fingers touched. If he saw the necklace, he didn’t say anything.

“That is still what you want, isn’t it?” You turned to look at him, accidentally making his hand cup your neck in the process, and said in your well-worn apathetic security blanket of a voice, “Let’s find shelter before the sun sets.”

Something flashed across his face, but all Caliban did was take a step back and let his hand fall to his side. “As you wish.”

He was infuriating.

After what felt like another eternity of walking, Caliban stopped, holding a finger to his lips. It sent shivers down your spine, reminding you of when he did the same thing in Hell’s Library. He nodded his head to the man on the other side of the lake.

Caliban dropped his head to whisper in your ear, “You were right about being in the tale of Medusa, but we were wrong about which part that is.”

“So where are we?” you asked quietly, doing your best to keep focused on the fact that he wanted to marry your best friend and not on the fact that his lips were dangerously close to your face.

“Just before the end. Where Perseus slays her and returns a god among men,” Caliban said, turning his head to look at you. So close.

“What?” you whisper-yelled, moving back in the process to look at the guy across the lake. There was no way that guy, with armor too big for him who still hadn’t noticed your presence, was going to slay Medusa. Caliban rolled his eyes at the dramatics of your outburst. “We can’t let him kill her.”

“Why not?” he asked. “The sooner it happens, the sooner I get back to Hell and you get back to your friends.”

“Because she didn’t deserve this. Any of this.” You gestured vaguely at the forest she’d been exiled to. “Poseidon was the one who raped her in Athena’s temple, but Medusa was the one who got cursed while he just got to go back to surfing or whatever the hell it is he does.” You shook your head. “We’re stopping this.”

“Y/N,” Caliban warned. “Messing with time is a dangerous thing.”

The warning was earnest enough, but that didn’t stop you from leaning in and giving him a once over before saying in a low voice, “I thought you had an affinity for dangerous things.”

He seemed dismayed for a moment. Clearly, whatever he expected you to say wasn’t nearly as manipulative as it had been, and you couldn’t tell if he was impressed or betrayed by the change of heart.

“If we intervene-” his voice was soft, like he was trying on a new way of talking to you “-we may be stuck in this time forever. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

You didn’t know how to answer, but something in your face must have indicated that you were on board with the risk because Caliban took a breath and continued.

“You need to do everything I say, and you can’t go off on your own. Understand?”

“Don’t step off the road, got it.”

Caliban looked at you with another inexplicable expression - maybe because you wanted to intervene, maybe because you were echoing words from the first conversations you’d ever shared - before heading off in the direction of the soldier.

“Excuse me, traveler.” His voice boomed in the near-silent forest and you held your breath. “My betrothed and I seem to be lost. Could you spare a moment to guide us out of this infernal wood?”

Perseus straightened as Caliban spoke, the mental assessment of the situation clear on his face. You shrunk behind Caliban, trying to hide your jeans and sweatshirt and anything else that didn’t belong in this time period behind his jeans and t-shirt and anything else that didn’t belong in this time period. But everything about Caliban fit, no matter where (or when) he was.

“Afraid not, sir,” he said, deciding that the oddness of your appearance wasn’t worth the risk. “I’m on a predestined quest. Best of luck on your travels.”

Perseus started collecting his things to walk away but Caliban leaned down and put out a hand, careful not to make physical contact with him. While Perseus focused on the outstretched hand, Caliban touched the helmet on the ground with his other hand. “Tell us about your quest, soldier.”

“The demon Medusa has nested in these woods. I’ve been tasked with hunting her down by the gods,” Perseus said. His face was set in a hard line, his knuckles white around the satchel in his hand.

“Surely there have been others who’ve tried to slay the Gorgon,” Caliban said, laying on the demonic charm like only a boy with his bone structure could.

“None like me,” Perseus said with a knowing smile. “Now, I’ll be on my way. Careful through the woods.”

“Of course,” Caliban said, taking a step back and holding both hands palm-up to show he meant no harm.

Though you couldn’t see it from behind his back, you knew he was giving Perseus that smile that meant he knew something the receiver didn’t. Neither of you moved as Perseus shouldered his belongings and disappeared into the trees.

You smacked his arm lightly as Caliban turned to look at you again. “What was that?” you whispered angrily. “That wasn’t stopping him!”

“You’ll remember Perseus was given three gifts to complete his quest,” Caliban said, in a way that (correctly) implied that you didn’t remember. “That was stealing the most important one.” He closed his eyes and held out his hands. When he opened them again, there was Perseus’ banged up helmet. “Hades’ helm of invisibility.”

“Now what?” you asked, voice quiet. The anger had completely dissipated from your voice; it had to or it would break whatever held the helmet together.

Caliban smiled at you as he lifted the helmet over your head. He eased it down slowly, making a clear attempt not to tug at your hair. “Now we follow him straight to the Gorgon.”

---

Even though he seemed very sure of himself, you weren’t entirely sure Caliban knew what he was doing. He kept checking over his shoulder to make sure you were still there but he was met with the emptiness of the forest instead. After the first two attempts to see where you were, you reached out and curled your fingers around his to let him know you were right there.

There. Now we won’t look suspicious.

I’m afraid that ship has sailed, love.

Then he stopped walking and raised a finger to his lips, a gesture you were slowly starting to find more endearing than annoying. “Perseus has reached the mouth of the cave,” he whispered. “Stay here and I’ll put an end to this.”

“How will you stop him on your own?” you asked, tightening your grip on his hand when he tried to slip out of your grasp.

“You almost sound concerned,” Caliban said, annoying smile forming on his face again as he tilted his head. You were glad he couldn’t see you blush under the helmet. “Have faith, love, I’ll be back soon.”

If you didn’t let him leave now, you’d never live it down. Hesitantly, you let go of his hand and watched him start towards the cave, wringing out your hands as you did. How were you supposed to wait here when rule number one was to stay together?

Technically, you thought to yourself, rule number one was to do as Caliban said, but that was never going to happen and you both knew it. Deciding that not splitting up was more important, you started following after him before you lost your nerve.

When you eventually made it to the cave, you found Caliban and Perseus in the middle of a fistfight. Caliban dodged a blow from the sword, but it left him open to Perseus’ attack with his shield.

“Yield, heretic!” Perseus yelled as he knocked Caliban to the floor.

“Oh, piss off,” Caliban spat, clearly unconcerned about the sword aimed at his chest as he started pushing himself to his feet.

You, however, were very concerned that Perseus looked ready to run him through, so you rushed forward and slammed his arm with your elbow. You managed to knock the sword out of his grip. He didn’t seem to process it for a second, but then he growled, “That helmet belongs to me, thief.”

Perseus lunged at you, and you were caught off-guard by the accuracy of his attack. He grabbed you by the throat and had you pinned against the wall. Only a few seconds passed while he strangled the life out of you, but they were a few too many before Caliban skewered Perseus with his own sword.

He choked out a few asphyxiated words as he dropped his hands to look at his wound, and you used his surprise to headbutt him into next week.

“Ow!” you whined, shaking your head as Perseus fell to the ground. “I thought the helmet was supposed to protect my head.”

“Helmets forged during the Titanomachy are hardly foolproof,” Caliban said, stepping over Perseus’ body to check on you. Or at least, where he thought you were.

He was a few inches off, and your heart melted at his attempt to touch the empty air. Lifting your hands to his, you guided him to the side of the helmet. He slipped it off gently and his bloody face broke into a smile when his eyes met yours.

“Thanks for not letting him kill her,” you said quietly.

A voice in your head politely reminded you that Sabrina hated him.

“Thanks for not listening to me,” Caliban said.

You reminded the voice that Sabrina wasn’t here right now.

There was a moment where the two of you held the helm between you in silence, hands on fire at the touch. A moment where your heart raced and you hoped he’d do something more - where you thought he’d kiss you - but it disappeared as soon as the hissing started.

“Perseus lives,” a woman said as she stepped out from the darkness of the cave. There was something in her voice that you couldn’t place. “Despite your best effort, Prince of Clay.”

“Those really weren’t my best efforts,” Caliban said, lifting the helmet so quickly that your hands were still frozen in front of you as he set it back on your head. He shut his eyes once he was sure you were invisible.

“How noble. If I can’t see her, then I can’t turn her to stone,” Medusa cooed. You turned to look at her, praying that she was right and you wouldn’t turn into a statue. She was beautiful; soft, olive skin and round brown eyes, delicate hands and a striking face. The snakes in her hair seemed to think she was pretty, too. “But I can see you.”

“We mean you no harm,” Caliban said. There wasn’t quite fear in his voice, but there was clear apprehension. “Perseus will rot if not treated and his quest will die with him.”

“No, it won’t,” Medusa said. That’s when you realized what was in her voice: sadness. “There will be Perseuses as long as I petrify the ones I love. You’ve delayed this one but you haven’t stopped my fate, and you’ll be here for as long as it takes.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Caliban asked. He opened his eyes to look the spot you were supposed to be, to make sure that you knew he was asking you, even if he spoke to Medusa. Your voice caught in your throat. “Do we go free? Leave the woods and start new lives - together?”

Medusa was close enough to you now that she reached out a perfect hand and ran a finger along his jaw. “To return home, you need to kill me,” she said, choosing not to entertain the idea of you running away together. What a nice idea it had been. “A death with dignity is better than what these heroes have in store.”

“The whole point of this was to make sure you wouldn’t die,” you argued before you could stop yourself. You didn’t know why; you needed to go home, but you still wanted something more. Medusa deserved something more.

“Everything dies, daughter of night,” Medusa said. She gazed where you should have been, but her eyes found nothing but the cave walls. “And everything gets reborn, if you wait long enough.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Caliban asked, already gripping the sword in his hands.

“Yes,” she said. She took a step back and closed her eyes so Caliban could look at her safely.

“Caliban, you can’t-”

“Don’t fear for me, little one,” Medusa said. Her snakes hissed in your direction as she comforted you. “You’ll see me again.”

You didn’t know what else to say as Caliban raised Perseus’ sword. With one great swing, he cut off her head. The snakes’ scream shrieked in your skull as the cave faded into white, distorting everything around you again.

“Y/N?” Caliban asked once you were back in Hell’s library. The reaper wraiths were long gone, books torn apart and strewn throughout the room. He called out for you again, this time louder and more frantic and snapping you out of your stupor.

“I’m here, Caliban,” you said, taking off the helmet and reaching out to him. “I’m right here.”

He was still bloody and bruised, but relief flooded his face as he looked at you. “I feared I lost you to the pages in the book,” he said. His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

“You almost sound concerned,” you said, tilting your head just like he had earlier.

Caliban smiled like he knew something you didn’t and looked down at the sword in his hands, both covered in blood from the gashes in his forearms. “Perhaps I should take you back to your friends before the wraiths return,” he said, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you.

“Perhaps,” you repeated, shifting the helmet to one hand and closing the distance between you.

Looking up at him, you were asking him to do something. Daring him to make a move. Challenging him to let you know he felt. All these questions, and you asked them without words.

He was looking down at you, too. Challenging you in his own, infuriating way.

“Would you really have run away with me back there?”

Your words hung in the air for a moment before Caliban lifted a bloody hand to the side of your face.

Sabrina hated him.

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

He was looking at your lips, fingers light as they kissed your cheek.

“I asked you first.”

You looked at his lips, fingers less delicate as they rose to his chest.

“Yes, you did.”

Sabrina wasn’t here right now.

Part 5

Tag List: @peachesandknives @caliban-is-my-girl @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @music-movies @miss--moose @marrypuffsstuff @harryscarolinaa @igorsbby @foji2000 @mschfavngz @artaxerxesthegreat @thxmagic @luquincy @xealia @hotmessindisguise @olivia-west-allen

#caliban #caliban imagine #caliban x reader #infernal #chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #caos rewrite

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saadiestuff · 4 years

Note

For the first sentence meme... "It was still dark outside when he opened his eyes"

This is from the “give me 1 sentence and I’ll write 5 more” tumblr game from 6 (?) weeks ago that I've been sitting on for ages because I'm so rusty at writing the fic just didn't feel right. But today I heard it was @lire-casander‘s birthday so I took another look and decided to post it! Happy birthday! 🎂

Summary: Malex in a nebulous not so far away future, finding their way back. Warning: Mentions of injuries from a tussle (not Malex).

----------------

It is still dark outside when he opens his eyes.

It takes Michael a second to register what has woken him. Somehow he knows there has been a knock on the door of his airstream, though one too light to wake him -- at least not absent the pull of something else.

By the time a louder knock follows, Michael is already out of bed.

“Alex?” Michael says, alarmed when he opens the door -- not surprised that it’s Alex, but by the state he is in when the light from the airstream washes over him. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

Alex looks roughed up, with an eye that will clearly bruise, a cut on his cheek, and a split lip.

Alex sighs. “I got into a tussle.”

Anger flares in Michael. “Fuck, I’m gonna--”

“No, you’re not,” Alex says calmly, putting a hand up to halt him.

“Damnit Alex, we decided not to go to him. It was too risky,” Michael says, sounding very concerned, trying not to scold.

“You’re not the boss of me, and the risk you were calculating didn’t involve a fist fight anyways. Besides, turns out it was worth it. I got the info we need.”

“Alex--”

“It’s just my face.”

“Just-- Did he sucker punch you??”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “Please, you know it’s not that easy to get the jump on me.”

“But--”

“I’ll tell you about it after you fix me up, yeah?” Alex says hopefully, his expression softening.

“Yeah, of course, yeah,” Michael agrees, rubbing the back of his neck, starting to exit the airstream.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks, not moving out of Michael’s path.

“We’ll go see Max. He’s gotten really good at healing,” Michael explains proudly. “Or did you want me to take you to Kyle?”

Alex’s eyes flick away and then back. “Actually, I heard that next on your power-expansion list was healing. Thought this was a good chance for you to practice.”

Michael looks surprised, “I--I can’t make you my guinea pig. Max has been explaining it to me but that’s all.”

“I’m already hurt. What’s the worst that could happen?” Alex tries.

“I don’t know, I could accidentally do the reverse and kill you?” Michael says heavily. “We should go to Max.”

“Nah, I trust you,” Alex assures him.

“That’s not the point,” Michael says softly.

“Look, I feel like crap, and I want you to fix me up, whether that’s with your magic hands or your bandaids and gauze. I just--” Alex pauses and breathes, looking down and shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Ah, I’m sorry. I show up on your doorstep demanding your help--”

“Don’t worry about it. I owe you a few,” Michael smirks warmly, waving Alex inside.

Alex’s face falls.

“Just an expression,” Michael clarifies, but Alex doesn’t look convinced. “There are no agendas between us. I know that,” Michael continues quietly but firmly. “Just-- inside, please?”

Alex takes a deep breath and enters; warmth, and the smell of rain, immediately surround him.

“Come here?” Michael invites, and Alex is quickly folding into Michael’s gentle embrace.

Alex lets out a relieved sigh, feeling settled in the safe and quiet. Michael isn’t.

“You’re shaking,” Alex observes.

“Someone hurt you.”

“And you’re going to make it better,” Alex says, pulling back from the hug to look at Michael.

“Sit,” Michael says, letting Alex go.

Alex sits himself on the bed, and Michael joins him.

“You do realize this is going to leave big shimmery streaks on your face?” Michael reminds him, and the air seems lighter.

“I know,” Alex shrugs, “But I’m going to be in the bunker working on our new lead for a few days, only seeing the alien in-crowd anyways.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. And a little shimmer is fun, right?” Alex teases shyly.

Michael grins and nods, but then takes a shaky breath. “Before we do this, I need to say something.” He stops and squeezes Alex’s hand in his when he senses him tense. “A good thing, if you-- well-- something I’ve been trying to work up the courage to say.”

“Okay,” Alex says, not bracing himself, trusting Michael.

Michael rushes the words out. “I know we’ve convinced ourselves that we aren’t meant to be, and that it’s fine. But I’m an idiot. And I think you might be an idiot too. So--”

“Excuse me?” Alex asks, face an unreadable mix, but Michael thinks he sees hope there.

“Shit-- I didn’t mean-- I just mean it’s not fine. I can’t lie to myself -- or you -- anymore. It takes too much energy. It hurts too much.”

“Ah… there was a time not long ago when the lie was easier,” Alex says knowingly, for the same applies to him.

“I’ve changed.”

“Me too.”

“And things have changed.”

“Some haven’t,” Alex says, a sly, cautious smile threatening to form.

“Since we were seventeen, huh?” Michael teases boldly.

In answer, Alex leans in and kisses him, soft but eager. It’s been many months since their lips have touched. Michael kisses back and the world stops spinning--

“Ow!” Alex yelps softly.

“Sorry!” Michael says, pulling back.

“It’s okay,” Alex says gently, touching his lip, “Just forgot for a minute about everything… except you.”

There’s a strange familiarity to the line -- Michael has to catch his breath before he speaks. “Any-- Anyways, I just wanted to say all of that before you got influenced by my handprint. If it works, that is.”

Michael raises his hand to Alex’s face, cupping his jaw.

“Wait,” Alex says, while at the same time placing his hand over Michael’s, signaling a pause rather than a change of heart.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay here tonight?” Alex asks cautiously, “Just to sleep.”

Michael grins and nods. "Yeah, 'course."

“Okay, beam me up.”

Michael huffs a laugh, then turns very serious. Alex closes his eyes and winces when Michael's thumb touches below his eye, sweeping across, trying to summon the healing power into his thumb.

“Max says I have to think about love.”

Alex smiles at that, and immediately Michael’s hand warms into a glow to match.

Alex gasps softly.

Michael breathes a whoa.

“It’s working,” Alex whispers reverently.

Michael just gulps in awe as he paints over Alex’s cheek, then brushes lightly over his lip, until there are no more cuts and bruises visible, and Michael’s hand comes to rest on Alex’s neck, cradling his jaw.

Alex makes a move closer, and Michael raises a finger against his lips.

“Do you feel weird? The handprint, I mean.”

“I feel just right,” Alex purrs.

“Mhmm,” Michael murmurs, “Me too.”

#malex #malex fic #my malex fic #rnm #lire-casander #yeah idk who alex gets in a tussle with #i was originally planning it to be a brother but new evidence suggests they aren't all bad!#idk wtf is up with the keep reading formatting fail #sorry about that

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

Room 304 [C.H. One Shot]

Summary: Hooking up with her half-brother’s ex-best friend probably wasn't the best idea. But no matter what Maeve told herself, it wasn’t entirely a bad idea, either.

Important Note: There’s, like, a 98% chance that this entire fic is not going to show up if you read it on a desktop. This fic is 29,440 words, written in 3 days, and it’s my baby. I can’t believe I finished writing all of this, but I’m hoping you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. But, yeah, the entirety of the fic probably won't show up on desktop because it’s so fucking long, so if you want to read all of it ((which I assume you would)) please read it on your mobile Tumblr app. And please, please, please let me know what you think of this fic. I planned every bit of this fic down to the detail, and I would love to know what you think. Also, the cute little lyric edit in the middle of the mood board was made by the lovely @easiertostayy

Without further ado..... Happy reading!

Day 1

Returning from the bathroom and settling on her seat, Maeve wasn’t surprised to see Lina taking a picture of her freshly arrived food before posting it to her social media, placing the napkin on her lap and eyeing her own grilled chicken sandwich. The Bryant Park Grill was one of Maeve’s favorite spots; the flowers they were surrounded by on the rooftop restaurant along with the string lights, tabled umbrellas and view of the park made for a great place to have lunch or dinner after a day in the city. So when Lily had told Maeve she’d booked a table, the blonde caught the next bus into the city and met up with her best friend, where the two of them sat with the sun setting behind the buildings that began to glitter with lights brightening their surroundings. Peaceful and much needed.

But before Maeve could even reach for her sandwich, her eyes caught sight of two familiar faces talking with the hostess, and Maeve realized in that moment that it had been damn near a year since she’d last seen Calum Hood. She couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away, taking in the way the black bomber jacket hugged his broad shoulders and dark curls subtly danced in the light breeze that blew by every few seconds. It was an instinctive reaction, to admire how good he looked, smiling at the hostess as she grabbed two menus and led him—and Michael, who Maeve realized was accompanying him—to an available table.

A table that was right by her and Lina, with an empty one right in between. Maeve didn’t miss the second Calum’s eyes landed on her, stopping right next to the hostess by the table as his dark eyes met her bluish-green, lips parting in too late realization of just who he was about to sit near.

Before either of them could say anything, could even acknowledge one another, it was Michael who broke the silence when he confusedly followed Calum’s gaping gaze, a startled laugh escaping the tattooed blonde. “Oh, shit, Maeve!” he exclaimed familiarly, voice loud and happy at the sight of her as he pulled his chair towards his table. “How’re you doing?” His green eyes shifted to the red head across from Maeve, nodding his head as he added just as sincerely, “Hey, Lina.”

While her best friend waved as she smiled around the straw she was sipping her Moscow mule from, Maeve managed to find her voice, returning Michael’s smile as she said, “I’m good, yeah.” Calum slowly sat down opposite of Michael, just to Maeve’s right, as she looked at him once more before adding almost gingerly, “Hey, Calum. Been a while.”

She wanted to instantly cringe as she said that last bit—of course it’s been a while. The last time she’d seen him, things had gone to hell a bit too fast, beyond anyone’s control, and she doubted anyone needed a reminder. But the memory was still there; Maeve could feel it in the awkwardness that pursed her lips, could sense it in the way Calum’s hands were fisted on his knees under the table. Briefly, she wondered if this was genuinely difficult for him—to be around the half-sister of the man who used to be one of his closest friends. A man who, the last time Calum saw him, had given him a busted lip and left with a broken friendship he had no intention of fixing.

The brunette man nodded with his gaze on the table in front of him before he finally forced himself to look at Maeve. God, it was awkward. They all knew it, could feel it. While Michael occasionally still hung out with Ashton, neither Maeve nor her half-brother had seen or heard from Calum for almost a year. It was like as soon as Ashton and Calum’s friendship had fallen apart, Maeve stuck by her brother and cut Calum out of her life, even if his role hadn’t been as significant as it was in Ashton’s. It could be blind loyalty, because to this day Maeve didn’t truly understand what exactly had happened between the two men, and it was no use asking Ashton because he was as stubborn as they come. He didn’t talk about it, and that was that.

“It has,” Calum agreed, voice carrying the familiar rasp and hint of lisp she hadn’t heard in a while. “How’s uh—how’re your parents?”

She wondered if he was about to ask about Ashton before stopping himself, wondered if he missed his once close friend and wished she knew if her brother felt the same way. Lightly clearing her throat, Maeve nodded as she answered, “Yeah, they’re good. All good. Yours?”

Calum rolled his lips into his mouth before offering a quick smile, like it almost pained him to do. “Everyone’s great,” he responded, grabbing the menu the hostess had left for them and turning his attention to it.

The conversation dissolved after that and Maeve tried not to focus on the air around them being tense or awkward as she ate her food, throwing a wide eyed, helpless look towards Lina. Her friend got the message, and Maeve gave Lina a relieved smile as her best friend started up a conversation with her, leaving the boys to decide on their meals. But still, Maeve couldn’t help the way her eyes would not so innocently glance over to Calum whenever she reached for her drink and sipped at it, looking at the tattooed man from the corner of her eye.

The topic of the Big Fight—capital B, capital F—was basically a taboo around Ashton. He never talked about it, and no one ever brought up Calum around him either, despite the two of them having many mutual friends. As she took in the sharp line of his jaw and silver rings on his fingers, Maeve wondered if it was the same for Calum, if he turned into a stubborn, hostile fool if her brother was brought up. Maeve listened to Lina talk, absently twisting her lips to the side. Boys were so ridiculous.

Despite the initial awkwardness, the rest of lunch wasn’t too bad. Michael often pulled the girls in for a conversation or two before they went back to their own discussions, and each time Calum and Maeve remained silent if the other spoke. Maeve couldn’t help but think Calum didn’t speak directly to her because of everything that happened, and so she stayed quiet in return. As if they had come to a silent agreement that speaking to one another wasn’t allowed—an agreement neither of them quite remembered signing off on.

By the time Maeve and Lina finished their food and paid the bill, the boys were halfway through theirs. Getting up, Maeve shouldered her purse and followed Lina around the table, and stopped at the guys’ table to say, “See you guys; it was good to see you.”

She purposefully locked her gaze with Calum’s as she said the last bit, hoping that he would see that she genuinely did mean it as a breeze had the ends of her short blonde hair tickling her collarbones. Maeve wasn’t entirely sure if her skin prickled from that or from Calum’s eyes intensely holding a gaze she initiated. He remained seated, relaxed in the chair and right arm rested on the table as he gripped his bottle of beer, expression so unreadable that it almost had Maeve bristling on the spot.

She was about to regret even saying anything until Calum finally offered a nod, subtly tipping the mouth of his bottle towards her as he stated, “You too, Maeve.”

Though it was just a three word response, it was one that left Maeve satisfied as she shot the boys one last smile before following Lina out. And when Maeve got home, after a bus ride and car drive to her neighborhood that was unwittingly spent thinking of a tattooed brunette she hadn’t seen in a year, she caught sight of her half-brother who happened to be over rather than at his own place, and the words spilled out of her mouth.

As she shut the door of the fridge after greeting Ashton, pulling out a bottle of water as he helped himself to the bag of veggie sticks in the cabinet, Maeve stated, “Guess who I ran into today.”

“Taylor Swift?” Ashton joked, grinning dimply at his own unfunny reply as he dug a hand into the bag he was holding, giving a shake of his head to move away the dark blonde strand of hair falling over his eye.

Maeve didn’t even grace him with a roll of her eyes as she swallowed the cold sip of water, coincidentally swallowing down the hesitance as she leaned back against the stainless steel fridge and responded, “Calum.”

The expected reaction was almost immediate in how Ashton’s expression instantly fell, features darkening at the mention of his old friend. Maeve watched him, head tilting ever so slightly, almost challengingly, as she noted the way Ashton thinned his lips. She even heard the crunch of the plastic bag he was holding, grip tightening at the sound of the name he hadn’t uttered in a year. All signs of joking vanished from Ashton’s features, bright eyes a darker shade of hazel and expression stoically grave.

It was palpable how heavy the tension in the room settled, all by a mention of Calum, reminding Maeve of the unforgettable fact that her brother was still pissed off at history. Still, Maeve bit the inside of her cheek before adding, “He was having lunch with Mic—”

“Didn’t fucking ask,” Ashton cut her off, harsh and unkind and final as he fisted the top of the bag of chips and walked out of the kitchen with powerful strides, the muscle in his jaw jumping and the veins in his arms threatening. Maeve watched him go, eyebrows raised, before hearing the sound of the television in the living room clicking on and Ashton raising the volume as a way of drowning out whatever she may have to say.

She gave a shake of her head at his absence and pettiness, scoffing softly as she looked the other way towards the window above the sink looking out into the backyard. Sure, she’d expected him to react as such at the mention of Calum, but it never failed to strike her as absurd. Was whatever happened between them really so bad that talking about it would only flare up Ashton’s already thinning temper on the matter, or was it truly so ludicrous and trivial that Ashton didn’t talk about it because he knew it would only paint him as someone holding onto a grudge that’d be better of letting go of? At this point, Maeve believed it could honestly go both ways.

Day 22

The door of the store thudded closed followed by the sound of footsteps, informing Maeve that someone had arrived rather than left, and she focused on finishing folding a men’s polo shirt while welcoming with the customary, “Hi, how are you?”

She looked up by the end of her greeting, polite smile turning into a surprised parting of lips as she looked at Calum. They both underwent a simultaneous moment of recognition, Calum recovering before her as the corners of his lips quirked into a small smile as he returned, “Hey, Maeve.” His dark eyes glanced around the store before landing on her once more. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

The blonde placed the folded shirt onto the appropriate stack, the table of polos separating her and Calum as he took the few steps towards her. The store wasn’t too busy, the music playing through the company playlist louder than the chatter of coworkers and few customers around, so Maeve busied herself by recovering the men’s section. The last person she expected to see was Calum walk in.

“Someone’s gotta pay for my makeup habit,” she responded lightly, a small joke to ease whatever tension that may remain between them since that evening of running into each other in New York. It had been almost three weeks since they first saw one another after everything, and Maeve hadn’t been entirely sure if she’d see Calum again, writing off that day as a fluke. Wasn’t really sure if his presence even called for the hours she had spent thinking about him, which was an unnerving fact on its own. Rubbing her hands down her jeans, she asked, “Can I help you with anything?”

He blinked, almost as if he was just then realizing that she’d offered to be the one to assist him if he needed it. Maeve considered if he would prefer it if someone else helped him should he require it, and couldn’t help herself from adding pointedly, “Unless you’d rather me get one of my coworkers?”

Calum’s dark eyes looked into her bluish-green, the color of her eyes never one he could ever figure out, before his eyebrows drew together ever so slightly. Like he was genuinely confused at her question. He responded to her inquiry with one of his own, “Why would I want that?”

Maeve almost wanted to laugh. She hoped he wasn’t being serious. She saw the question swimming in his eyes and her smile faltered slightly, suddenly filled with the same exasperation she felt towards Ashton when Calum and the Big Fight were involved. So Maeve shrugged, eyebrows raised challengingly, arms folded on top of the blue and yellow stacks of polos as she coolly responded, “You tell me.”

He was silent for a few moments, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek as he accepted the fact that her statements were justified. Calum nodded to himself, dark curls dancing across his forehead, before he told her, “Dad’s birthday is coming up and apparently anythin’ I brought isn’t dressy enough.”

Maeve’s gaze dropped from Calum’s face, taking in the clothes he was wearing, aware that it was probably a sin for a shirt to fit someone that well and feeling the sudden urge to touch the silver chain necklace he wore along with the matching bracelet on his wrist. She appreciated the tattoos on his arm that were in view, and from some of the looks Calum was receiving upon his arrival, Maeve knew she wasn’t the only one who did. She bit back the urge to swallow, meeting his gaze once more and keeping the even tone as she mused, “Yeah, athletic shorts and Zeppelin tees don’t exactly scream formal wear.”

Calum’s chin dropped to his chest and Maeve didn’t miss the smile that quirked his lips as he let out a short chuckle, hands splaying by his sides before he slapped his thighs and said to her, “Kind of why I’m here.”

It was a cute sound, his breathy chuckle, and Maeve’s own mouth tilted at the sound of it before gesturing to her right. “Button downs are to the right, and if you want dress pants they’re towards the back.”

He was capable of picking out his own clothes, Maeve knew, not wanting to hold his hand through the process, and was only proven correct when she was running the fitting room. She was folding the go-backs when he walked in with two pairs of pants and a few button downs of different colors draped over his arm, and Maeve shot him that close mouthed smile she often shot customers while unlocking one of the fitting room doors for him, cringing when he walked in and shut the door. Her customer service smile was for customers, not Calum.

Maeve could vaguely hear Calum shuffling around in his stall over the music as she kept folding the small hill of clothes that were on the fitting room table left by customers. She thought of Calum, and of how she hadn’t seen him for a year and suddenly had seen him twice in the span of three weeks, wondering if there were any more run-ins with him she’d have to face. He was more of a presence in her life than he was in Ashton’s, even if it had been two interactions weeks apart, and that fact kind of saddened Maeve.

Ashton and Calum were so close, best friends, and to see Ashton grow so hostile over the mention of Calum and Calum to feel whatever level of awkwardness he may at the sight of her was just a reminder of how much things had changed. Obviously Maeve didn’t share Ashton’s dislike for Calum—she didn’t have enough information to given that the reason for the Big Fight was still unclear—but she wasn’t entirely sure where she stood with Calum. Granted, they weren’t as close as Ashton and Calum, but the latter had still been her friend, and Maeve had only abandoned him because of her loyalty to her half-brother.

And she’d never tell Ashton, but Maeve had kind of missed having Calum around. He’d always been the quietest of her brother’s friends, but the silence that followed once he was gone wasn’t the kind she was used to.

She heard the door open, and in the midst of folding a pair of jeans, Maeve glanced over to see Calum step out of the stall, one hand reached behind him to make sure the door didn’t close all the way through. His eyes instantly found Maeve, but she was too busy taking in the way the baby blue button down hugged his figure, the short sleeves wrapping around his biceps a bit too well. Calum smoothed it down with his hands, the shirt tucked into fitted black pants before running a hand through his hair, pushing the curls back and away from his face.

Maeve could feel her mouth dry at the sight of him, giving herself a moment to admire the man in front of her because the shock of seeing him the first time at the restaurant hadn’t given her the opportunity to do so. She could see the chain necklace peeking out just a bit from under the collar and Maeve wasn’t exactly sure when he started wearing that specific piece of jewelry but, shit, she was glad it was there.

“What do you think?” Calum asked, raising an eyebrow at her as he held his hands out as a way of presenting himself. “This good enough?”

Good enough didn’t do him justice. His curls were messy and the tattoos under the somewhat formal wear provided Calum with a boyishly handsome aura that Maeve actually felt herself tightening her grip on the jeans she was holding. She was deaf to the music playing throughout the store, all too aware of the quickened pace of her heart, wondering when exactly Calum Hood was able to have such a pulling effect on her.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” she quickly responded, not wanting to stand around just openly staring at him. The last thing she needed was to give Calum an open invitation to her betraying thoughts. Not when he was already watching her expectantly.

Calum looked down at himself, taking in the shade of the shirt before saying, “I like it, but ‘m gonna try another one too.”

He turned to head back into the fitting room, and right before the door shut, Maeve quickly recalled the various colors he’d taken inside and found herself blurting out, “Try the yellow.”

Calum paused at her unexpected suggestion, glancing at her over his shoulder, and Maeve forced herself to not visibly cringing at her spontaneous burst as Calum glanced away before meeting her gaze once more and nodding. She even saw the ghost of a smile tilt at his lips before he disappeared inside, and as soon as the door shut Maeve raised the folded jeans she held and pressed her forehead against the denim, squeezing her eyes shut so tightly that she could feel it in her temples and wondering what her damn issue was.

It wasn’t even a big deal but, God, her conscious wouldn’t stop telling her she probably just embarrassed herself. Over the color of a damn shirt.

But then the door opened a few moments later and Calum stepped out, and Maeve felt the air rushing out of her lungs at the sight of him in a sunny colored button down, not at all harsh on the eyes, looking absolutely golden against his inked brown skin. This time, when Calum’s expectant eyes met hers, Maeve could see the hint of mirth dancing in the dark brown irises, could hear the smirk in his voice as he quirked a knowing eyebrow and asked, “Better?”

She hugged the jeans to her chest, catching the smirk that actually did make an appearance on his full lips because he definitely caught the way she swallowed the lump in her throat before, almost enchantedly, breathing out, “Better.”

When Calum proceeded to leave the fitting room after changing back into his own clothes, offering to hang the shirts he didn’t want from where he’d picked them up so she didn’t have to, he surprised Maeve by stopping in the entrance of the fitting rooms. She raised an eyebrow at him as she folded a graphic tee, looking at him with a combination of expectation and confusion, especially when she noticed the furrow in his eyebrows like he was conflicted about something, the previous relaxed expression he wore nowhere in sight as his features tightened. Something had changed.

And when she noted the muscle in his jaw ticking, Maeve knew it couldn’t be good.

What he said only proved her correct. “You know, I understood when Ashton cut me out of his life. But, I gotta say Maeve—” Calum sucked his teeth, finally looking at her, and she felt herself tense up at the disappointment and hurt that was in his eyes, neither of which she had been expecting. “—I didn’t think ya had it in ya to drop someone like that so quickly.”

Maeve stopped what she was doing, Calum’s words freezing her in place as she gaped up at him with widened eyes and parted lips. One corner of his lips was curled in resignation, disillusionment, and Maeve found herself hating that she was on the receiving end of that look. The back of her neck started heating up, spreading to her cheeks at the unexpected confrontation, and Maeve began stammering as she tried to reason, “I—Ash’s my brother, Calum. I couldn’t—”

“Stay friends with the guy your big brother punched out? Yeah, clearly.” He scoffed, derisive and unimpressed, only serving to heat up her face more. Cutting off Calum when Ashton did had always been something Maeve had been iffy about, had told herself she didn’t need to stop being friends with someone just because Ashton had. But then again, Calum was Ashton’s friend before he ever was Maeve’s—he had been one of Ashton’s best friends. So what right did Maeve really have keeping Calum around?

She just never expected him to be upset about it.

With a shake of his head, Calum licked his lips and looked ahead, throat working as he continued in a voice that was gruffer than his usual rasp. “You have your loyalties, I get it. But things went to shit between me and Ashton—not me and you. The least you could’ve done was give me a heads up that I was losing two friends instead of one.”

He walked away and Maeve was stunned into silence to do anything but watch him go, wondering if the heaviness in her chest was an inkling of what Calum must’ve felt a year ago.

Day 25

The music playing through Ainsworth was almost deafening, making it damn near impossible for Maeve to hear what her friend Audra was screaming into her ear. But Maeve was enjoying herself, nursing a margarita after two rounds of tequila shots, sticking to her drink for the most part. It was a Thursday night and after her shift she’d quickly gone home to change before meeting up with her friends in Hoboken, keeping company in the restaurant/bar by the water as she enjoyed her drink after splitting a mac and cheese burger with Lina.

Maeve was having a good time, she really was; the music was good and the food had her full and the two rounds of tequila shots had been free for her and her girl friends. And yet, she was alarmingly aware of the eyes that would ever so often find hers, dark yet glittering under the dim bar lights, and as much as she tried not to look his way, Maeve couldn’t stop herself from every so often locking gazes with Calum.

He was sat at the other end of the bar and as the bass of the music resonated through her chest, Maeve wondered what he was doing at a restaurant in Hoboken when he apparently lived in the city. The sight of Michael and a few of their old high school buddies answered her question, and Maeve did her best to focus on spending her time with her own friends rather than looking towards the man who had all but told her off just a few days ago.

It wasn’t until she was done with her margarita that she looked over, eyes locking with Calum’s, did she still on her seat on the barstool. Through the moving crowd between them, Maeve could see Calum watching her, couldn’t tell what he was thinking because of the stoic mask he wore on features too gorgeous not to admire as she looked right back.

But then Calum looked away, and Maeve’s heart sank with the beat drop of the song when she couldn’t figure out if Calum hadn’t found what he was looking for, or if he was just disappointed by what he did see. Her grip on the edge of the bar tightened, silently asking herself why she cared, why the weight of his gaze burned her skin in a fire she didn’t want to put out, and Maeve let out a breath.

She wasn’t anywhere near tipsy as she stood up, heels of her feet clacking against the wooden floor as she excused herself from her friends and began making her way to the bathroom with her purse in her hand. The breath of relief escaped her as soon as she stepped inside, the music from the bar muffled as the door shut, and Maeve approached the sink as she ran her fingers through short, wavy blonde strands. Looking at her reflection, at the flush of her cheeks and the pink lips she’d been nibbling on as soon as she caught sight of Calum, Maeve knew exactly what was going on.

Accepting it was just proving to be difficult.

There was a longing that coiled in the pit of her stomach, one that had begun to form the other day in the fitting room of the store and had only intensified the second Calum stepped foot into Ainsworth. Pressing her palms on the cold marble of the sink, Maeve dramatically wondered if this was God or the universe playing some kind of prank on her; as if her, without provocation or warning, being attracted to the one man her brother seemed to hate was the funniest joke anyone could come up with.

A huff escaped her pink lips as she glared at herself in the mirror; the only one to blame was herself, really. And maybe Calum for popping up in her life more in that past few days than he had in the past year.

Mostly the blame went to herself, though, and her eagerly relentless body’s equally relentless yearning of a touch only Calum could somehow satiate.

“Great,” Maeve muttered to herself, her little bathroom trip resolving nothing and only serving to add onto the tension in her muscles. She pulled open the door and began making her way back to where her friends were, the music once again loud and clear, and as Maeve looked ahead she found herself slowing to a stop, heart dropping at the sight of her brother and Calum standing a bit too close for comfort. Standing closer than they probably had in the past year.

Maeve caught sight of Lina, who even though she was tipsy, was fully aware of the situation and knew how badly it could go. Everyone seemed to sense the suffocating tension in the room, from their friends to the bartenders to any other customer around that wasn’t part of their group. Maeve noticed Michael and Luke hovering by Calum and Ashton respectively, standing tall and ready to interfere should things got out of hand—Maeve wished they’d step in right away before things even had the chance of escalating.

Hesitantly, she took a few steps closer, the click of her heels drowned by the music that was still playing, bluish-green eyes widened in alarm as she heard the deep baritone of Calum’s lowered voice say to Ashton, “If you’ve got somethin’ to say, say it to my face. Didn’t seem to have a problem doin’ it last time.”

His tone was chillingly cool, standing toe to toe with her half-brother, and Maeve’s dry throat tightened when she saw Ashton’s hazel eyes twitch into narrowing, never once taking his gaze off of the man who was once his closest confidante. While Maeve wasn’t one to get scared easily, her chest still tightened at the sight in front of her; the angered expression on her brother’s face wasn’t one she was fond of—especially not in this intensity—nor did she enjoy the rigidness of Calum’s back as he clenched his hands on either side of them.

God, what had happened to the two of them? If she didn’t believe it before, then Maeve definitely did now that the reasons for the Big Fight were probably some that were strong enough to damage a friendship like it did this one. She could just never see Ashton and Calum fighting over something enough to get them to where they were now, and she found herself hating that this was where they now stood: angered and dark and ready to throw a punch in the face of a man that each once considered a brother.

Ashton’s mouth shifted, as if he was trying to keep his lips pressed together to keep back the snarl from escaping, and Maeve’s heart beat a bit too quickly to keep in time with the music playing as everyone watched on with bated breath. Like it was some damn TV show happening right in front of them. Ashton then lifted his chin, eyes never leaving Calum’s, as he finally gave a single shake of his head and a dismissive scoff. “Not worth my time.”

He was turning away, something Maeve hadn’t expected him to do, but her relief was short lived when Calum released an unsurprised and mocking gibe, “Hate to break it to you, but your time isn’t something to be fuckin’ worthy of. Just ‘cause you’ve got your own head stuck up your ass, doesn’t mean everyone else does, too.”

The air rushed out of Maeve’s lungs, only being given a second to exasperatedly wonder why Calum would push Ashton like that—especially with a couple of those words being similar to those uttered on the night of the Big Fight—before her brother’s body jerked forward—not to hit Calum, she could tell, but to get in his face. Still, it wasn’t something anyone was keen on happening, so Luke and one of their other friends stepped in to hold Ashton back, the sudden movement of his body bringing forth a clamor among everyone, exclamations released in hopes of stopping a fight before it got started.

Maeve had gasped, taking a step back, but instead of watching her brother being calmed down by his friends, Maeve’s eyes slid over to Calum, who still stood where he had been. He gave a shake of his head, as if he was over the whole thing already, absently telling Michael and his other friends that he was fine, it was all good, nothing to worry about.

Fuck, Maeve hadn’t even noticed Luke walking Ashton out of the bar, her gaze glued to Calum as he ran a hand down his face, rings glittering as his eyes met hers. Calum pursed his lips as Maeve’s buzzing phone in her hand went ignored, too busy watching Calum take in her alarmed reaction before he broke their gaze and looked away. As if he couldn’t stand to watch her look at him the way she was—dismayed and startled all in one.

Lina rushed over to her just as Maeve looked at the text she’d received from Ashton.

Luke and I are heading to Weehawken. I’m sorry for ruining your night, text me when you get home.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Maeve absently assured Lina as she texted Ashton back, pocketing her phone and looking up at her friend. Just as she did, her eyes went over Lina’s shoulder to catch sight of Calum stalking out of the bar, tall and looming over everyone else as he walked outside. She watched him go, moving with purpose, and Maeve’s eyebrows knitted together as she felt the impulse to follow after him.

Afterall, she needed to apologize.

What Calum had said to her at work the other day had stuck by Maeve, and it unsettled her. Sure, she had felt a sense of loyalty to her half-brother, but maybe just dropping Calum cold hadn’t been the best way to go about it. Like he had said, she could’ve given him some kind of heads up. Or. . . She could’ve just kept the friendship.

She knew that Luke still occasionally hung out with Calum, and knew Michael did the same with Ashton—even if those instances were exceedingly rare. It was kind of like Luke stayed with Ashton and Michael stuck with Calum during the divorce type situation, which made all of it sound more amusing than it ever was. So maybe Maeve could’ve kept the friendship she’d formed with Calum over the years. Ashton probably wouldn’t have liked it, Maeve may have felt some small semblance of guilt, but Calum had been her friend, too. And the way she just abandoned him. . . It wasn’t fair.

Leading Lina back to their small group of friends, Maeve quickly said to Audra, “Hey, keep an eye on her, huh?” to which her friend nodded as she put an arm around Lina before Maeve began making her way towards the exit.

It was kind of cold outside, the March air only getting chillier due to the body of water the restaurant was across from. The New York skyline glittered up ahead, the buildings in perfect view, but Maeve’s gaze was drawn to the spark of light to her left, releasing a silent breath as she watched Calum shove the lighter back in his pocket and grip the cigarette in his mouth between his two fingers. He was leaned against the brick wall, the light above the service door next to him glowing over him as he leaned his head back and released a cloud of grey smoke.

Maeve wasn’t entirely sure how to approach him, but as she began making her way over, she found herself lightly musing, “Looks like I owe you both my apology and Ashton’s.”

Not the best opener, but it’d have to do.

Calum opened his eyes, straightening his head as he watched her near him. The end of the cigarette glowed a bright ember before he pulled it out, exhaling the smoke through his nose as his expression remained professionally indifferent. How he internalized things, Maeve would never know. “If your brother wanted to apologize, he would’ve,” Calum replied throatily, free hand shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket. His left foot was propped against the wall behind him, bent at the knee. “What’re you apologizin’ for?”

Maeve pressed her tongue to the back of her bottom teeth as she looked at him. If she focused enough, she knew she’d be able to see the shadows of his eyelashes against his cheeks, but she also admired the way they hollowed when his lips wrapped around the cigarette. Calum looked so calm and collected, not at all like the man who was about to get into a fight just moments before.

Finding her voice, Maeve spoke up, “You were right ’bout what you said the other day.” She took a few steps closer, the distance between them minimal, as she absently played with her fingers. Calum watched her coolly, eyes never leaving her, as she added earnestly, “I shouldn’t have just dropped you the way I did. It was a shitty situation and I felt like I had to be on Ash’s side but—it wasn’t right and—and I’m sorry.”

She hoped he’d hear the genuine sincerity in her voice, would hear the apology she was trying to convey because she really did regret piling on more to an already awful situation. Maeve had a feeling that a friendship breakup hurt more than a relationship breakup, and while she hadn’t been as close to Calum as Ashton once was, the former had undergone two at the same time and Maeve resented that she had any part of it.

Another billow of smoke curled out of his lips, and Maeve stood silently under his gaze. The music from inside the bar, and from another one a few ways down, could still be heard along with the distant sounds of cars driving by. But otherwise it was silent between them and Maeve wrapped her arms around herself, the full sleeved fitted crop top not doing much to keep her warm in the chilly March night air. Still, she’d rather focus on the goosebumps raised because of the cold rather than the twist of her stomach in anticipation of how Calum would respond.

Eyes on her, Calum pushed against the wall, placing the cigarette in his mouth and surprising Maeve as he silently shrugged off his leather jacket. She watched his actions, tracking every movement, breath hitching when he stepped towards her, his looming figure taking up her personal space deliciously as she caught a whiff of the alluring woody and fresh cologne he wore. Her gaze lifted upwards, wanting it to be continuously locked with Calum’s darker ones, desperately wanting to figure out what exactly was swimming within his brown irises as he draped his jacket around her shoulders, the somewhat weighty material hanging off her frame.

Calum stood in front of her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body sink into her skin, fingers itching to brush away the dark curls across his forehead as she peered up at him. She was embraced by the scent of him, only fueling her need for him, and Maeve was slowly starting to accept that it wasn’t something she could ignore. And, shit, it was a bad idea—a terrible one—but Calum’s figure towered over her and he was already beginning to overwhelm her senses, his presence only drawing her in like a magnet that could sense its other half.

Her gaze dangerously dropped to his lips, pink and full, as Calum responded raspily, “At least you own up to your mistakes.”

The near whisper of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, not having anything to do with the weather, and that familiar desirable twist of her stomach tightened considerably, nearly knocking the wind out of her lungs. If Calum was aware of the effect he so suddenly had on her, he expertly didn’t show it. To be able to hide his expressions so effortlessly. . . Maeve solemnly wondered just how much Calum had been hurt to be able to do so.

A regretful smile tilted Maeve’s lips, pressed together as she pulled the lapels of his jacket closer together. His scent clung to her readily as Maeve took a breath, light eyes meeting his darker ones as she spoke through a breathless tone, “If I could make it up to you. . .”

Something shifted in his eyes, alluring and magnetic, and for the first time Maeve saw something in his gaze that wasn’t hesitant wariness. She followed the motion of his tongue briefly poking out to wet his lower lip and the knots in the pit of Maeve’s stomach only tightened delightfully as his hummed, “I can think of a way.”

His right hand got rid of the cigarette, dropping it in the metal trash next to the restaurant before he cupped her face once he brushed the blonde strands away from her face. His touch sent a jolt through her body, inhaling a shaky breath through parted lips, unable to pull her blue eyes away from his brown, too lost in them to do anything but anticipate what she knew to be coming next.

Calum was close, so close, and Maeve’s heart was thundering in her chest quicker than the bass of the music playing in the bar, waiting, waiting, waiting for him to just close the gap between them. God, it was a bad idea, but Maeve was ready to throw caution to the wind, was ready to forget about the potential consequences of hooking up with the one guy her brother couldn’t stand. All she wanted to do was give in to the sensation of Calum’s body pulling hers in, give in to the unexpected need she found herself drowning in, that came like a slap to the face. The aftermath was meant to be thought about after.

She saw the mirth dance across his eyes, and suddenly Maeve was aware that Calum was waiting for her to make the next move both of them were aching for. So she let out a breath and with the help of the heels on her boots, tilted her chin up to close the distance, eyes shutting as soon as her lips met Calum’s.

They leaned into each other, Calum’s hand going from her cheek to the back of her head, fingers threading through the blonde strands to keep her close as their lips got to know one another in a slow yet eager dance. Maeve’s skin felt like it was on fire as Calum kissed her, tongue finding hers while she felt his free arm wrap around the exposed expanse of her waist under the jacket to pull her even closer.

Her own hands gripped the front of his shirt, sinking into him greedily as every single nerve in her body came to life by having him so close. Any thought not pertaining to this moment didn’t have a place in her mind; all Maeve could focus on was the feel of Calum’s fingers in her hair, arm keeping her close, and lips moving with hers. The music had drowned out and the chill of the night was replaced by the warmth Calum was providing, and she wanted more.

They parted, heavy breaths and pounding hearts with foreheads pressed together, and Maeve’s eyes remained closed because she already felt so dizzy as Calum quickly breathed out, “Wanna take you home.”

It would be embarrassing how badly she wanted that too, if she cared. Maeve shook her head, opening her eyes only to look at Calum’s lips; so kissed and pink. “Not an option,” she responded through a gentle gasp when she felt his fingers dig into her skin, cold rings only exciting her more. All she wanted to do was take Calum home, but that would be a risk given that Ashton had the habit of crashing there rather than his own apartment.

Calum let out a throaty chuckle, nose pressed against hers and lips only barely brushing across hers as he started, “Unless you wanna wait half an hour to get to my place—”

Oh, fuck no. No way was Maeve patient enough for that, and by the tight grip Calum had on her, she knew he wasn’t, either. “I’ve got an idea.”

Somehow, in their desperation for one another, both Calum and Maeve managed to escape their friends. She wasn’t sure, nor did she care, what Calum said to his buddies to excuse himself from the bar, but Maeve told Audra, “If anyone asks, I’m sleeping over your place,” in case Ashton ended up asking and while her friend eyed her questioningly, she agreed after Maeve promised to explain later. She didn’t care who knew, so long as it wasn’t Ashton or her parents or anyone who would run their mouth.

Soon enough, Maeve and Calum had left Ainsworth and walked down the streets of Hoboken, the destination Maeve had in mind not too far off—especially since everything in this small town was within walking distance. It was only a five minute walk, her heels clicking and his Doc Martens thudding against the pavement, and it was nice.

The city skyline was in continuous view as they went, and while the reason for them leaving the bar wasn’t lost on either of them, the anticipation and excitement still brewing, it didn’t stop the two from engaging in a conversation. Calum was quiet, that hadn’t changed in the past year Maeve hadn’t seen him, but he listened and he responded when it best fit. It didn’t feel awkward or forced; hell, it didn’t even feel like they were two people on their way to find a place to finish what they started. It felt good, and for the time being, Maeve tried not to dwell on the ominous thought of that not being the best thing.

Because this was someone her brother couldn’t stand to be in the same room as. This was someone who she already had a somewhat complicated history with. But it’d just be one night, right? One night of forgetting all of that and allowing herself to give into something that needed to be satiated. Maeve kept telling herself she’d never felt such an instant attraction to someone before, that it was about time she gave into her thoughts of finding Calum attractive for years now in this one night. That’s what she kept reassuring herself with, even though there was a mocking voice in the back of her mind telling her that she was betraying her brother—that there was no way this would only last one night.

Calum stopped, looking up at the pink and blue neon sign with its colors washing across his skin and dancing against his eyes. There were a few cars scattered around the parking lot, the lights in few of the rooms behind the curtains on and telling them they wouldn’t be the only occupants. Maeve saw the incredulous look he wore, head tilted up and a disbelieving scoff escaping him as he sounded, “You gotta be kidding me.” He turned his head to look down at Maeve, who was trying to suppress her own amused and somewhat sheepish smile as Calum raised an eyebrow at her. The smirk was threatening to tilt his lips. “A motel—really?”

She let out a laugh, shrugging her shoulders as she told him, “It’s the best we got,” through warming cheeks. Bringing Calum to a motel by the waterfront kind of made her feel like a two bit whore, which may be a harsh comparison, but frankly, she didn’t entirely care. Maybe it was desperate, but it was also the only place they had. It was either this, or take a train back into the city and either walk or take the subway to Calum’s apartment. Staying in New Jersey was safer—the Skyview Motel was safer.

When Calum looked at her, saw the way Maeve rolled her innocently smiling lips into her mouth and raised her eyebrows at him expectantly, he let out a huff of laughter and a shake of his head. Not so innocently, Maeve pulled the jacket closed by its lapels with one hand as she took a step back, the coyness slipping into her voice as she mused, “Hey, if you’re not up for it—”

He wasn’t about to let her go that easily. Calum’s hand reached out, grasping Maeve’s, and her grin widened as he started walking towards the small reception area with purposeful strides. “Come on.”

It was a quick check-in with Maeve sticking to Calum’s side and soaking in his warmth as he showed his I.D. and flashed his credit card, not even blinking at the $70 price for one night. Maeve offered to split it, but Calum merely gave her a look and she rolled her eyes; if he could afford living in the city without any roommates, he could afford a motel room by the water. And while the makeshift lobby was small, it was clean and not at all rundown, and it only gave Maeve hope that the room would portray the same kind of care.

The man behind the desk took a set of keys off a hook on the wall behind him, each key connected to a small ball as he handed it to Calum and said, “You’ll be in room 304.”

As soon as they received the key, it was like all bets were off.

They stumbled into the room, the impatience and desperation bubbling over, no slowness from their first kiss present, as the leather jacket dropped from around Maeve’s shoulders and right to the floor, Calum kicking the door shut while his lips never left Maeve’s. Heavy breaths could be heard and pounding hearts were felt within their chests as they moved towards the bed, so in sync as Maeve’s fingers expertly undid the front of Calum’s button down.

She got rid of his button down, fingers grabbing at the tank top he wore and roughly pushing it up, pulling it out from where it was tucked into his pants. Their kiss was interrupted only briefly so Calum could pull the black tank over his head, and Maeve breathed heavily as her eyes drank in the sight of his naked upper half. Calum’s tattoos were in her view, greedily taking him in, feeling the pit of her stomach tighten excitedly as she hooked a finger on the cool chain of his necklace and tugged him towards her once more, lips meeting in yet another bruising kiss.

They moved towards the bed together but before Calum pushed her onto the mattress, his fingers moved to the hem of her shirt, tugging her crop top up until it was off. She watched as his eyes drank her in, just as she had done so to him, and Maeve bit down on her lower lip as she felt his gaze burn into her skin. The action seemed to stir something in Calum, a low growl escaping him as his hands grabbed at the back of her thighs and lifted her up, and Maeve couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her as her ankles instinctively wrapped around Calum’s neck and lips met his once more. Fiery, impatient, needy.

Their next few movements were a blur. Clothes were torn off, thrown haphazardly around the room as they began losing themselves in one another. Maeve was pressed into the mattress, Calum’s body on top of hers, warm and lean and wonderful, as he kissed her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him close, loving the way his body fit between her legs.

He began moving lower, lips dragging away from hers as he kissed down her jaw and neck, lips burning her skin and scruff scratching her deliciously. Maeve closed her eyes, head tilted back and chest sinking as she released a heavy breath, her entire focus on the trail of electricity Calum’s lips were leaving in their wake as he kept moving. His lips wrapped around her right nipple, left hand paying attention to her other breast, her fingers still in his hair as he switched before he continued his downward path. He was getting closer and closer to where Maeve desperately needed him to be, the room filled with the sounds of her gentle gasps, transitioning into an appreciatie moan when Calum flattened his tongue against her core.

Calum wrapped his arms around her thighs, keeping her open for him as his fingers dug into her skin, working her entrance expertly with his lips and tongue. Maeve’s moans, every little sound that escaped her, only motivated Calum, reveling in the taste of her as his thumb circled her clit, sloppy and effective if the tightening of her grip on his hair was anything to go by. She sounded his name amongst a flurry of curses, pushing him into pushing her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Calum, Calum, Calum,” his name fell off her lips like a chant as she felt that familiar coil in the pit of her stomach, head tilted back and pressing into her pillow. Fuck, he found himself loving that sound, found himself wanting to hear her say his name in a breathless flurry of dizziness and pleasure over and over again.

Her release washed over her, and Calum sucked and licked her clean greedily as her body shuddered through the orgasm before lifting himself to hover over her once more. He licked his lips, grinning down at the breathless woman wickedly, and she tried to catch her breath as she looked up at him through hazy eyes. Curls a wild mess thanks to her hands, smirking lips begging to be kissed once more—which is exactly what she did as she pulled him down. “Do I get to return the favor?” she asked against his lips, nails scraping down his back that sent a shiver down Calum’s spine.

Fuck, Calum felt his cock twitch at the mere thought of her lips wrapped around him, but he had a feeling that if she did just that, he wouldn’t last long at all. “Next time,” he promised because, shit, there couldn’t not be a next time.

He grabbed the condom that was waiting on the bedside table, sitting back on his knees as he tore open the pack. His eyes met Maeve’s once he rolled it on, his own chest heaving as he looked down at her. Calum felt whatever air that was left in him rush out as he took in the sight of her; blonde hair like a halo and cheeks flushed and lips kissed, and Calum knew in that moment he’d never seen a sight more stunning. He committed it to his memory, heart thundering erratically in his chest because he couldn’t believe this was happening. She was so fucking gorgeous.

Calum hovered over her once more, holding himself up with his arms, suddenly his movements thoughtful and slow as opposed to the frenzied rush the two of them had been in before. His nose brushed against Maeve’s, the chain of his necklace dangling and his curls just barely brushing against her forehead, and his raspy voice asked, “Ready, sweetheart?”

Maeve answered him with a kiss, slow and savoring, and Calum swallowed her moan as he sank into her. He filled her, completely and deliciously, and Maeve’s nails dug into Calum’s shoulders as a way of telling him to move. Her heart was pounding, skin feeling as if it was on fire as Calum moved his hips at a dizzying pace until she grazed her teeth against his ear and begged, “Faster.”

He picked up his pace almost instantly, the sound of skin slapping against skin damn near echoing in the room, sinfully mixed with her moans and Calum’s grunts. The headboard could be heard hitting the wall with every movement, the bed creaking ever so slightly, but fuck it if either of them cared. Maeve’s nails scratched down his back, urging him on and on and on, both of them utterly lost in the way he slid in and out of her, groaning every time he buried himself in her.

Calum eventually moved his face to the crook of her neck, scruff scratching at her skin as Maeve tangled her fingers in the curls at the back of his head. She somehow managed to open her eyes, breathing labored as Calum brought her closer and closer to the edge once more. She stared up at the ceiling, biting down on her lower lip as she felt the cool chain of his necklace on her heated skin, his lips leaving sloppy yet welcomed kisses on her neck. This was such a bad idea. This was such a terrible idea.

But it felt too fucking good to stop, and Maeve knew Calum had ruined her. And she was okay with it.

Day 161

He was pulled out of his slumber by the mattress shifting beneath him, eyes remaining closed as he furrowed his eyebrows in a morning grump, burying his face into the pillow he rested upon. Calum could feel her shifting around to the right of him, a groan rumbling past his throat as he sleepily asked, “Wha’ time is it?”

“Nine,” came Maeve’s response, light and tired in her own right.

Calum moved to rest his cheek against the pillow, watching as she sat on the edge of the bed and was bending down, probably tying the laces of her Converse. The confused frown remained when he saw her already dressed, shoulder length hair tied into a haphazard bun with blonde strands sticking out. The motel room was already brightening due to the sun being up for a few hours now, the curtains on the windows not doing much to keep the light out since they hadn’t lowered the blinds the night before.

Cheek pressed on the pillow, Calum’s words came out sounding like a smushed drawl as he rasped, “I thought your shift wasn’t until eleven-thirty?”

Maeve straightened, looking down at Calum over her shoulder as she took in the sight in front of her she’d grown so used to during the past five months: dark curls messy from her fingers and sleep, brown eyes adorably sunken in and cheeks flushed—not to mention the several tattoos in view because he either slept in just his underwear or completely naked—the latter more often than not. And while the sight of a barely awake Calum practically glowing in whatever sunlight that seeped through the motel room window was one Maeve had grown familiar with, it still managed to catapult her heart into her throat and twist her stomach in knots only he was capable of loosening.

She shifted to sit sideways, one leg folded on the bed and body facing the headboard as she looked at Calum. “Yeah, but I’ve gotta head home and have breakfast before I get ready.”

Calum lifted his head, propping himself up with his right arm as a lazy smirk upturned his lips. The slyness shimmered in his dark eyes and coated his tone as he retorted, “We could have breakfast right now.”

The cunning innuendo wasn’t lost on Maeve, Calum knew, by how she tried to stop the amused grin from spreading across her lips while shooting him a flat look. And though she tried to seem unimpressed, Calum could tell she didn’t think it was a half bad idea. Still, she leaned down, diminishing the gap between them until their noses just barely brushed together, and Calum’s eyes dropped to her lips as he yearned to taste the familiar strawberry chapstick he knew Maeve was wearing as she hummed teasingly, “You’re not slick.” And then she was sitting upright once more, much to his chagrin, and said, “I gotta go.”

The disappointment he felt wasn’t something Calum had learned to ignore, acknowledging its presence before trying to push it aside as he watched Maeve get up and grab her bag and anything else she needed. As they passed the five month mark of getting into this arrangement they had, Calum had yet to get used to watching her leave—the part that he hated most, because he completely went against the number one, albeit silent, rule.

He got fucking attached.

As Maeve walked to the door, Calum swallowed the tightness in his throat, an expert and pushing things aside, before calling out, “I’ll see you at Vick’s tonight.”

She stopped short, hand on the doorknob, and Calum’s eyes remained fixated on Maeve as she turned to look at him with a confused frown furrowing her perfectly done eyebrows. Even the puzzled pucker of her lips was adorable. “You’re going to Vick’s?”

He gave a nod, sitting up as the blanket pooled on his lap. He didn’t miss the way Maeve’s damn near translucent eyes took in his exposed chest, drinking him in the same primal way her lips had trailed across the expanse of his skin the night before. But instead of focusing on that, Calum’s attention was on the way she was looking at him—almost accusingly. “Yeah,” he responded, leaning back on one hand and pushing back the messy curls with the other. His tone remained even as he gave a single shrug. “She’s my friend, too; ’course I’m goin’ to her birthday.”

Calum could tell she was chewing on the inside of her cheek, a habit she had when she was thinking hard about something, her chest sinking as she let out a breath. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Maeve said, her tone light yet the resignment was ever present, and Calum didn’t like the fact that it was towards him. With a pointed raise of her eyebrows, she said, “You know Ash is gonna be there too, right?”

It was like she said it as a way of getting Calum to back out from going, and he would’ve laughed if it didn’t kind of irritate him. Calum wasn’t afraid of Ashton, far from it, and he didn’t give a shit if he was at the same party as him. He wanted to remind Maeve that it was her brother who had the temper issue, who instigated shit whenever the two of them happened to end up in the same place because while Calum minded his own business, Ashton didn’t seem to share the same sentiment.

Sometimes Calum thought Maeve didn’t get that—didn’t understand that it was Ashton who needed to be put on a damn leash. Because while Calum didn’t particularly enjoying seeing his former friend either, he wasn’t the one who demanded a fucking confrontation every time. He could actually control himself unless provoked. So why the fuck should Calum not go to a friend’s party just because Ashton was going to be there, too? Nah, fuck that.

But Calum kept his expression cool, lips pursing briefly as his eyes locked with Maeve’s when he said evenly, “Then I guess I’ll see you both there.”

She sighed, a heavy exhale through her nose as she looked towards the wall momentarily like she was already trying to mentally prepare herself for whatever may happen at the party. And for her sake, despite the mild irritation Calum felt, he still couldn’t help but hope that things didn’t go to shit.

Maeve gave a single nod, shooting him a brief smile that didn’t entirely reach her eyes as she said, “Yeah, guess you will,” before opening the door and leaving Calum naked and alone and a bit disappointed.

Not that it would be the first time.

“Alright, let me hear it—what’d Maeve do this time?”

Calum shot Michael an exasperated look, watching as his friend put away his AirPods and leaned back against the pillar. The two of them were at the train station, waiting for their Uber to take them to Vick’s car after just getting in from the city. Calum couldn’t seem to stand still, which of course told Michael that something was up because constantly shifting around was his thing.

“She didn’t do—” Calum cut himself off at the pointed look Michael was giving him, the look that told the brunette to not even try and bullshit his way out. Calum didn’t know why he even bothered to attempt to do so—he ended up telling Michael everything anyway. “I think she’s just bothered by me coming to Vick’s tonight. Because Ashton’s gonna be there.”

Michael’s face scrunched up, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he’s heard, and Calum was glad to see his best friend seemed to share his thoughts. “That’s dumb. Vick’s your friend and it’s not like you’re the one that tries looking for a fight. If Ash has an issue, that’s his problem. Not yours.”

“I know,” Calum huffed, scuffing the tip of his shoe as his eyes caught sight of a car pulling up in front of them. Double checking the license plate, Calum nodded, “That’s it.” He and Michael got in the back, greeting the driver, and once Calum settled he continued, “I get that she hates whenever Ashton and I get into it, and trust me—” he let out a huff of a dry laugh, “—I’ve got no problem keeping my distance from him, but why should I be the one to sit somethin’ out just because he can’t keep it together?”

“You shouldn’t,” Michael agreed, lifting off his hat and using his fingers to fix his blonde hair before he settled it back down as they drove down the streets, lamp posts they passed illuminating the car every few seconds. He sighed as he shifted, back against the door to look at Calum. “Listen, man, you knew this was gonna be kind of complicated when you got with her the first time. And then you started having feelings for her so now you’re just gonna be bothered whenever she seems like she’s only in it for the sex.” Michael gave a shake of his head, raising a dubious eyebrow. “You sure you thought this through?”

Calum pursed his lips, leaning his head back on the rest as his jaw tightened. Michael wasn’t wrong; Calum did have the tendency to grow aggravated whenever Maeve brushed off what they had as sex and nothing more. He wasn’t someone to force someone to have feelings, but there were so many times when it seemed as though she felt exactly how he did—he could see it in the way her light eyes glittered and how if she smiled big enough around him, it showed off the barest hints of dimples.

Sometimes he caught her looking at him when she didn’t think he knew; whether it was in the confines of their favorite motel room or if they decided to venture out in New York or, if they felt brave enough, in Hoboken. It’s not like they only hung out when either of them couldn’t stop thinking of the other’s lips or hands or bodies—they’d reclaimed their friendship that had been lost, got back to how they were and more, and Calum loved it. He loved spending time with her. He loved—

His teeth grinded together. Sometimes she tried so hard to make it seem as though she felt nowhere near as he did but—fuck, what if it really was all in his head? Hooking up with his former friend’s half-sister on a repeated occasion was a bad enough idea—actually falling for her was another level of stupid.

As soon as they walked into Vick and her fiancé’s house, Calum headed straight for the credenza where all the bottles were. He probably should’ve found the birthday girl to wish her first, but after making himself a gin and tonic once he saw all the ingredients out there for him, he easily found Vick and wished her before distracting himself by mingling with the people he knew.

The house was nearly full, people spilling out into the backyard as the music played through the speakers. Calum sipped at his drink, the alcohol running down smoothly as he stood near one corner of the living room talking to a few friends he’d went to high school with. And while he was having a good enough time, Calum couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes wander, looking around the familiar and few unfamiliar faces in hopes of catching sight of Maeve. He didn’t even know if she was here yet, and still Calum’s eyes kept searching.

It was pathetic.

His grip on the plastic cup tightened, though Calum was mindful of not completely crushing it as he began sipping it. As he listened to J.D. talk about recent Yankees game he’d gone to while a Post Malone song played throughout the house, Calum looked over the rim of his cup to see the woman he’d been searching for finally enter through the front door.

Everything seemed to melt away as Maeve came into view, a smile on her face as she walked in with Lina and Ashton, but Calum’s focus was only on her. He watched her smile widen as she was greeted by someone she knew, hugging the other girl before pulling away and brushing back locks of soft blonde hair Calum could practically feel his fingers running through. She wore a pair of black shorts and a tight yellow tank tucked in and all Calum wanted to do was feel her in his arms, run his hands across her body like he’d done so a hundred times before.

But, man, her smile. Bright and happy and reflective in her light eyes, a sight that rendered him breathless enough to nearly choke on the sip of his drink. How he let a single woman have such a profound amount of control over him without even trying, Calum had no idea. In five short months she managed to take over his head, his fucking heart, and Calum often wondered if he was just pathetic or stupid. Maybe both.

Because Calum had always been careful with who he fell for. When it came to Maeve, though. . . He had no control.

As if she could feel the weight of his gaze, Maeve glanced over to where Calum stood, his blue eyes finding his brown, and he watched as she shot him a quick friendly smile before following Ashton and Lina further into the house. And that was it. That’s all he got.

For most of the party, that’s all he fucking got.

Maeve stuck with Lina most of the night, but somehow she was always nearby Ashton, whether it be playing beer pong in the backyard or doing shots with them and Luke. Calum didn’t want to start anything—he knew if he so much as approached Maeve, Ashton would have something to say about it. And Calum wished he didn’t care so much, wished that it didn’t bother him that Maeve was pretending as if he didn’t exist and instead was enjoying the party with her best friend and half-brother. Not even a hi was thrown his way, nor a look spared and Calum only knew that because his eyes didn’t seem to be able to leave her.

“Fuck this,” Calum muttered to himself after downing three vodka shots a couple of friends dragged him over to partake in. He was only just starting to feel the alcohol running through his veins, head just barely beginning to feel light as he made himself a cranberry vodka. The drinks weren’t doing much to ease his discontent, maybe only serving to disgruntle him more. It probably wasn’t healthy for him to feel this way, to be so hung up on a woman not paying him the time of day, but he couldn’t entirely help it.

So when he was in the hall that led towards the backyard and the bathroom door opened to have Maeve step out, Calum couldn’t help but announce, “We need to talk.”

Maeve stopped, looking to the left before catching sight of him to her right, leaned back against the wall and nursing his nearly empty drink. People passed by every now and then, moving to different parts of the house, and this was the closest Calum and Maeve had been the entire night. She looked at him, eyebrows furrowing together in surprised confusion before letting out a breath, glancing down the hall before asking through a breathless and disbelieving laugh, “About what?”

Calum scoffed, tilting his head slightly. “Seriously?” Did she truly not see the way she was acting around him? Or was he just being overdramatic? “Can’t even spare a second to say hi?”

Yeah, he knew what he sounded like, knew he sounded dramatic and pathetic and was giving away too much of himself than he ever would. But the alcohol was warm and made it easy for Calum to run his mouth, whether he liked it or not, and when it came to Maeve, he had a bit of a hard time keeping things to himself.

A flash of guilt passed across her face at his words, lips parting as she started, “Calum—”

“The hell is going on here?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Calum exhaled sharply through his nose in hopes of calming himself down, but the snappish tone Ashton announced himself in grated at the brunette, not even bothering to grace Ashton with an acknowledging look as he made his way towards them. Instead, Calum kept his gaze on Maeve, who’d pressed her lips together before looking at her brother and easing, “Nothing, Ash. We were just saying hi.”

Calum couldn’t help the derisive snort that escaped him at her words. That was exactly what they were getting into—Maeve not saying hi to him. Her bluish-green eyes snapped over to him at the sound and he could see the warning in them, the pleading to not make this escalate. He ground his teeth together; Calum never initiated anything, and despite the urge to tell Ashton to fuck right off, he kept quiet. For Maeve. Always for her.

“Great,” Ashton said flatly through gritted teeth. Calum could feel his gaze burning a hole on the side of his face, but he didn’t give the hazel eyed man the satisfaction of looking at him. Instead, Calum pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, looking down at his drink as he swirled it in the cup some more. “Come on, Maeve, let’s play another round of pong.”

Before Maeve could reply, Calum scoffed, head tilted back against the wall, feeling the bass of the music thud against him as Ashton’s words caused him to go against what he’d silently promised Maeve when he lazily drawled, “Relax, buddy, ’m not someone you have to rescue your sister from.”

He could feel Ashton take a few steps towards him without even having to look. “No one was fucking talking to you. And I’m not your buddy.”

This time Calum looked at him, took in the icy glare glowering Ashton’s features and the tightness of his jaw. He’d always been temperamental, always had trouble controlling his temper and back when they were friends, Calum had thought Ashton used to do a good job in maintaining it. Until he didn’t. With obvious raised eyebrows, Calum mockingly narrowed his eyes as he reminded almost bitterly, “Yeah, you made quite sure of that, didn’t you?”

Ashton probably took that as a challenge, hands fisting at his side and the irritation across his face only intensifying as he took the last few threatening steps towards him all the while growling, “Listen, you’re the o—”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Maeve demanded as she swiftly slipped her body between the two men. Ashton stopped advancing just as Calum pushed himself off the wall, both men halting to look down at the shorter woman. She had one hand on Ashton’s chest and the other was held behind her as a readying way of keeping Calum back, looking back and forth at them. Her hair moved as her head did, a thin strand of blonde hair getting caught in her pink lip gloss and all Calum wanted to do was tell Ashton to fuck off and move the piece of hair. But he didn’t.

Letting out a breath, Maeve gave a shake of her head before saying to Ashton in a somewhat soothing voice, “Calm down, alright? You’re getting worked up over nothing. Don’t ruin the night by getting into some dumb fight—let’s go play pong.”

They had to pass by Calum to go out to the backyard, and Maeve made it a point to push along Ashton first. Calum’s eyes met his hazel ones as he went, hard and still lacking the warmth of friendship as they had been for the past year. And still, the awareness of losing a man who had once been such a good friend hit Calum heard, painfully so, as he tightened his jaw to keep it locked inside. Fuck, how things had changed.

And then went Maeve, following after her half brother, gaze lifting to meet Calum’s as she walked by. He saw the tiredness in her light eyes, looking completely over the situation between him and Ashton, and Calum had half a mind to open his mouth and spew out some half assed apology.

But then Maeve shook her head once more, released a dismayed scoff and kept walking, not even uttering a word to him as she stepped outside with Ashton. Calum stared after her, eyebrows drawing together ever so slightly, lips parting as his own disappointment washed over him because it was Ashton who’d once again tried to start something, and it was Ashton who Maeve was seemingly siding with. Not for the first time, Calum had to watch her walk away, twisting his heart and knotting his stomach tensely.

Calum downed the rest of his drink, reveling in the burn of the alcohol as his chest sank.

Brother or not, it fucking hurt.

Day 164

He caught her just as she walked out of the cafe, approaching her as she rummaged through her bag for her car keys. Calum hadn’t really planned on confronting Maeve; he’d only just left Shake Shack across the street after having lunch with Michael when he saw her leaving the cafe, and before he knew it, Calum was crossing over to get to her before she got in the car.

“Maeve,” he called just as she got her keys out, prompting her to look up and squint against the sunlight, one hand going to her forehead to shield her eyes. Calum got to her quickly once a car passed, watching as she looked at him in surprise, not expecting his arrival, as he said, “We gotta talk about the other night.”

She dropped her hand from her forehead, the sun making her eyes appear translucent and beautiful—as always—as she let out a breath. Fisting her keys in one hand, Maeve ran the other through her wavy hair, pushing it back as her gaze dropped to the ground when she shook her head and said, “Look, Cal, I’m sorry about Ashton. He’s—”

“’M not here to talk about Ashton—I couldn’t give a fuck ’bout him.” Maeve looked up at him, at the slight edge that had creeped into Calum’s smooth voice. He hated speaking to Maeve this way, hated that it even came to this. But for someone who had always been good at internalizing, at never bothering others with his issues, Calum couldn’t seem to keep this to himself. Maeve brought out a different side of him, for better or worse, and it made Calum want to deal with his problems—especially if they concerned her. What he felt for her embraced him with an overwhelming force, a tight grip that refused to let up. He’d fallen for her so fast, so hard, so blindly, and every time Maeve did something that seemed like an insult to his feelings, Calum felt hurt. And he was growing tired of it. “’M here to talk ’bout you and how you acted like it was my fault your brother got in my face.”

“I—” Maeve stopped, gaping up at Calum despite the sun burning down into her eyes. He suppressed a huff, shifting ever so slightly to the side so his shadow washed over her figure, effectively shielding her from the light. Her eyes relaxed a bit, but the incredulity over Calum’s accusation remained. In a reminding tone, Maeve continued, “You were provoking him, Calum. You know you were.”

Calum’s lips parted to let out a scoff, having to look away in disbelief before saying to the blonde, “I said two things to him—”

“And they were enough to set him off!” Maeve pointed out, her exasperation already bubbling over. With a tired huff of a laugh, she added, “You know how easily pissed off he gets, Calum. It would’ve been better if you just ignored him. Or, you know,” she paused, looking away and licking her lips before her eyes met Calum’s once more, “maybe not approach me when you know he’s around.”

His jaw tightened, the heat of the sun only adding onto his frustration. Right arm propped against the top of her car, Calum said to her, “You ignored me all night, Maeve. I’m not gonna apologize for bein’ bothered by it. That’s not the first time you’ve made me feel like an idiot.”

She shot him a frustrated, helpless look of her own, but Calum didn’t miss the hurt that flashed across her eyes at his words. “I didn’t—I would never want you to feel that way, Calum, come on.” She frowned, shaking her head once. “ But you know that’s how it has to be, Cal, if Ash is around. For his sake, I can’t be seen being all friendly with the guy he hates.”

Her words sent a sharp pain through Calum’s chest, hitting him harder than he would’ve liked. Of course he knew Ashton hated him, his own feelings for his former friend weren’t too far off, but when he actually heard it, it felt a bit more crushing each time. And for Maeve to say it so carelessly, whether she meant to or not, twisted Calum’s heart fiercely. Except Calum wasn’t sure what hurt more; the surface meaning behind her words, or the underlying one that had more to do with Maeve and Calum than Ashton and Calum.

He scoffed, almost defeated as he raised his eyebrows at her. “So brother over me, huh? Again?”

It wasn’t a fair shot, he knew, and Calum was probably setting himself up for heartbreak by asking that because Ashton was, after all, her brother. She sided with him the first time when she stopped speaking to Calum—maybe sleeping with him wasn’t really going to change much.

Maeve’s expression fell, and Calum wondered if his words hurt her. He didn’t want them to, would never want her to hurt, especially because of him. But things were going to shit and maybe this was unrequited, after all. Maybe he really was an idiot. “Stop looking for a double meaning in everything I say, Calum,” Maeve said, her voice firm yet not holding any true anger. She sounded more resigned, tired—over it, once again. Over him? The thought was almost nauseating. “It’s not that simple. This situation is complicated and I just—I don’t know what you want from me.”

Calum’s chest felt tight, heart squeezed up into his throat as he looked down at her. The sun had brought our her freckles, peppering over the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. She always made sure to let them show whenever she did her makeup, once upon a time telling Calum they were her favorite feature of herself when he one day, in the midst of the motel room sheets, told her he was going to count them all. There were so many things during so many occasions he felt for her, with her; frustration, happiness, companionship, disappointment, contentment, love. And every time he thought she may feel the same way, doubt and reality had him second guessing himself.

Calum’s arm dropped from her car, the disappointment and hurt tasting bitter in his mouth as he watched Maeve’s expression fall when she noted the defeat on his face. Calum smiled, wry and humorless. “I don’t know, either.”

Day 168

It was funny how the second Maeve stepped into the motel room, she felt as though she could finally breathe. She shut the door behind her, hands trapped between it and her lower back as she took in the familiar interior of room 304. The light purple bed covers were perfectly made, somehow matching nicely with the greyish blue walls, and the curtains were parted and the blinds were up to let the late afternoon sun stream in, the view of the city across the water a sight worth seeing.

The sunlight provided the room with a soft glow and Maeve didn’t want to turn on the lights to take away from the beauty of it. This room, complete with a TV, bathroom, and mini kitchen area had become more than just a place for her to meet up with Calum for sex—it had become an escape. A safe space, almost. The two of them sometimes found themselves meeting up at the Skyview not to do anything but just hang out, because it was the one place where they definitely would remain hidden from Ashton or anyone else. And right now, Maeve needed this place.

September had just started, which meant Maeve was back at school attending classes for her graduate degree. There was already so much reading involved, so much to do, not to mention she had work on top of it all and she found herself stressing out too much too early into the semester. Honestly, it had all only just begun—how was she supposed to last the school year? On top of it all, she had to deal with aggravating, rude customers at work and Maeve just felt drained.

She’d made it a point to finish whatever pressing assignments she had, and as soon as she did, Maeve found herself leaving campus and driving right to the Skyview Motel, spending money unnecessarily on the motel room she didn’t really need. But finding comfort and relaxation in another place wasn’t likely, she knew, so it was a small price to pay to lay down in the middle of the bed with a sigh of relief escaping her. She hadn’t been to the room in a few days, and the basic yet familiar vanilla scent that clung to the room was comforting as she closed her eyes and breathed it in.

Maeve wasn’t entirely sure how long she laid like that, but eventually she had to open her eyes when a Snapchat notification rung out. Letting out a breath, Maeve picked up her phone, using the popsocket to hold it over her face as she blinked at the notice. It was from Calum—who she hadn’t spoken to for about four days now. And yet, she felt her heart jump at the sight of his name. She knew he was mad at her, knew that he wasn’t happy with her over how she’d treated him at Vick’s party, and Maeve did feel guilty about it. And confused. And frustrated. God, it was messy.

He’d sent her a typed message, and she opened to see it read, You brought a new dude over to Skyview? I’m hurt.

A wry smile tugged at her lips, practically hearing the sarcastic, joking tone in which she heard him speak in. For a moment, Maeve wondered how he knew where she was, before remembering her location on the app was available for him, and a select few others—Ashton not included. Quickly, she typed back, Of course not. It’s just me in my lonesome.

She dropped her phone on the mattress, getting up with a gentle groan to shimmy off her jeans and pull out a pair of comfortable shorts she’d been smart enough to put into her backpack. Her stomach grumbled and Maeve pursed her lips, cursing herself for not picking up some food on the way. Her phone rung out again, and Maeve opened Calum’s message that read, Want some company?

She blinked, slightly surprised. Maeve didn’t think he’d want to hang out with her after what happened, given that they hadn’t spoken to each other since the day outside of the cafe. He was in the city, she was pretty sure; he really wanted to come down to see her?

For a second, Maeve wondered if he only wanted to have sex, and then she wondered why she was worried about that. Wasn’t that the arrangement, what they agreed upon when they started this? She had no reason to feel. . . Bothered. But she was, and she knew why, and still pushed that aside because it was a bad fucking idea.

Chewing on her lower lip, she typed back, Only if you bring some food.

Around thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the door, prompting Maeve to pause the episode of Peaky Blinders she was watching on her laptop since the motel room TV didn’t have a Netflix connection. She opened the door, feeling a smile tug at her lips at the sight of Calum standing with sunglasses covering his eyes in his favorite Sensation shirt tucked into his jeans, a to-go McDonalds bag in one hand and a cardboard tray of soda in the other.

“I come bearing gifts,” Calum greeted, smiling as Maeve stepped to the side to let him enter.

She let out a laugh, shutting the door as she teased, “My hero.”

He put down the food on the circular table in the small kitchen area, pulling out the Big Mac box for her and Filet-O-Fish for himself before taking out the fries. In a mutual silence, they moved over to the bed, bringing the napkins and food with them as they sat cross legged, side by side, and Maeve played the show as the two of them began digging into their food.

They did so in silence, the only sound uttering from the show, and Maeve wanted to believe all of it was a comforting one, that she couldn’t feel some of the tension that still existed between the two of them. But it was there, hanging over them like a dark cloud and weighing them down, and Maeve knew that it was her fault.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t know, either.”

Their words rang through her mind like a bitter reminder, making it hard to swallow the bite as she remembered the empty look she’d seen in Calum’s normally dark eyes—eyes she’d grown used to seeing so expressive. At least around her they were. But she’d shut him down, pushed him away—blamed him for something that wasn’t entirely, if at all, his fault and Maeve hated that she did that. She understood, in that moment, the stress she’d been feeling for school and work was also because of the silence she’d received from Calum, and it was no one’s fault but her own.

But, God, it got confusing. Sometimes she truly didn’t know what to do. Ashton was family and she’d stuck by him her entire life but that didn’t give her the excuse to be on his side when he was the one making things difficult. Maeve knew Calum only opened his mouth that day at the party because he was upset with her, because more often than not he never really provoked Ashton. He was an internalizer, he kept things to himself, and it had frustrated Maeve at first, when the two of them first got together. They’d had conversations about it until Calum learned to open up.

And now that he was, she was punishing him for it? She was getting upset that he was rightfully mad at her? She deserved it. After the way she blatantly and purposefully ignored him under the guise of keeping it all a secret from Ashton, Maeve deserved the silent treatment.

Still, Calum showed up, all the way from the city, with food nonetheless. It made her fall for him harder, faster, no matter the voice in the back of her head constantly reminding her how terrible of an idea that was. She didn’t even want to think of what Calum may possibly feel for her, if he did, since she couldn’t make sense of the mess going on in her own head and heart.

They finished their burgers in the continued silence, watching the show, her right knee pressed against his left as they remained cross legged, the denim of his jeans warm against her exposed knee. Calum shifted then, sitting back against the headboard as he let out a soft breath, eyes still on the laptop screen as Maeve debated with herself silently.

She glanced at him, dark curls handsomely messy and left arm raised to rest folded between his head and the headboard, tattoos in full glorious view against golden skin. He saw her admiring him, brown eyes meeting her blue, and before Calum could get a word in, Maeve blurted out, “I’m sorry.” He blinked, understandably surprised at her unexpected burst. Maeve worried her lower lip with her teeth, hunched over ever so slightly as she picked at her nails. Her back was still to him, only half facing him, as the show still played in the background. “I wasn’t being fair to you and—it’s just so complicated,” she said the last bit with a sigh, turning to face him a bit more as Calum listened to her, lips pressed together. “And I know I keep saying that and I know it doesn’t excuse it but I can’t give Ashton any reason to think that there’s more to you and I than he thinks—which is nothing—but still. Have to keep it that way.”

Calum’s throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing as he brought his arm down only to cross both of them across his chest. The silver chain bracelet he wore rattled subtly at the movement, though they paid it no mind as Calum’s brown eyes kept locked with her lighter ones. “So, what, if we end up at the same place, we gotta pretend we don’t even know each other? That’s bullshit, Maeve. The issue is between me and Ashton, not me and you. How does that make sense?”

“How does any of this make sense, Calum?” Maeve retorted, a breathless and exasperated laugh escaping her as she fully turned, sitting on her knees to face him, the show long forgotten. “One day you two are friends and the next shit hits the fan and I have to be the loyal sister and stop being friends with you. It wasn’t fair and I hated that, and I’m sorry that I blindly followed whatever Ashton did. I am. But you have to know, at the end of the day, I don’t feel the same way he does.” The fight seemed to leave her, suddenly feeling nothing but helpless as she hoped Calum would see her honesty, would know that despite all the bullshit, despite her own stupid behavior, she still wants him in her life. In what capacity, even she wasn’t entirely sure yet.

Maeve rolled her lips into her mouth, licking them before she scooted closer to the brunette, watching Calum watch her as her hand reached out to grab one of his. He let her hold on, undoing his arms from where they were crossed, and Maeve reveled in the feel of his fingers interlocking with hers. It was those kinds of moments, where an innocent touch warmed her just as a greedy one would, when Maeve acknowledged that, yeah, it was more than sex between the two of them. She knew it. He knew it. And the only reason he stopped himself from truly saying anything was because he knew she was conflicted. Maeve wasn’t sure how long Calum would be willing to stick around for her indecisiveness, and she swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed that nauseating thought away as she squeezed his hand and offered him a sincere smile.

“I don’t feel the same way Ashton does,” Maeve repeated, because she felt like she needed to, raising her eyebrows at Calum in hopes of understanding. “This is good, yeah? We’re good?”

Calum looked at her for a few seconds, eyes searching hers, and Maeve felt her heart pounding in anticipation until he smiled. Soft and gentle and warm, erupting the butterflies in her stomach as if she was a teenage girl with a crush. And still Calum was the only one to entice such a sensation in her. “Yeah,” he rasped, giving a nod. “We’re good.”

Flashback

“What the fuck did you say to me?”

Calum scoffed at Ashton, at the uncalled for rage simmering in his best friend’s voice as he glared him down. He could feel everyone around them staring, anticipating a fight even he could feel coming, waiting to see who would be the one to throw the first punch. Calum wished it wouldn’t escalate that far, but Ashton had been yelling at him for almost ten minutes, growing angrier by the minute and Calum himself wasn’t too far off from being pissed off. At the situation, at him, at all of it.

And he was over it. Enough was enough.

“I said you’re a shitty friend, Ash,” Calum repeated, strong and unapologetic, watching as his words caused Ashton to narrow his eyes threateningly. With a shrug, Calum added, “You have been for a couple of months now. I just didn’t say shit because you kept apologizing and I was enough of an idiot to believe you meant it. But you keep pullin’ the same shit over and over again so, yeah—you’re a shitty fuckin’ friend and it’s about time you got your head out of your ass to hear me say it.”

Yeah, he was pretty damn sick of it. Sick of Ashton ditching him, canceling on him, making plans with other people when he already had plans with him. He was sick of him trying to play the victim, to play innocent and apologizing and promising that he would try to be a better friend, only to go around and do it all over again. And it wasn’t like Calum hadn’t been patient, like he hadn’t given Ashton the benefit of the doubt because he was one of his closest friends. He didn’t care if Ashton went out to hang with his other friends—so long as he wasn’t kicking Calum to corner to do so. He deserved more respect than that—as a friend and as a human being.

And when Calum went off to hang out with other people? Of course that was a problem. Of course it would prompt Ashton to start talking shit about him behind his back, because that was the mature and appropriate reaction. Calum didn’t understand how things went badly for them so fast, how Ashton changed so quickly and started taking their friendship for granted, always being Calum would be there when he was bored. It wasn’t a friendship Calum had wanted to be a part of anymore—especially when he realized that it was only him that Ashton was doing this to. He was perfectly fine with everyone else. It was just their friendship that was rapidly sinking.

So Calum was done. He was over it. No matter how much it fucking hurt to lose his friend.

Though, the punch that Ashton delivered to his jaw was a close second.

Exclamations of surprise and protest sounded from around them, but Calum paid them no mind as he stumbled back from the unexpected hit, a sting of pain shooting up from his left jaw. He could feel someone’s arms catch him, keeping him upright, vaguely thinking it was Michael as he pressed a ginger hand to his jaw before his incredulous and deadly glare was directed at Ashton.

The dirty blonde stood where he had been, fist clenched and jaw set, completely ready for this to escalate. “Get off your fucking high horse—you’re not perfect, either.”

Calum pushed away from those behind him, hand dropping from his face as he slowly stalked towards Ashton. He could see and feel everyone watching him—Michael, Luke, Maeve, Lina—but Calum’s focus was on Ashton. The tension in the backyard of his house was palpable, Calum was sure everyone could feel it, and it weighed heavily upon them. “Never said I was,” Calum returned, the edge in his voice ever present, low and threatening as he shot Ashton a mocking smirk. “The only disillusioned one here is you.”

Ashton launched again, this time with a low growl that sounded vaguely like “motherfucker” to Calum’s ears, though he couldn’t be too sure given that he was dodging the next fist that flew his way, instead delivering an uppercut of his own. His knuckles connected with the bottom of Ashton’s chin, a heavy grunt escaping him as he stumbled back because of the hit, eyes squeezing shut automatically.

When Ashton recovered, he made a move to go after Calum again, but suddenly Luke was pulling him back and Calum was being yanked back by another pair of arms, glancing wildly over his shoulder to see Michael gripping him tightly, a hard look in his eyes. “Calm the fuck down,” he hissed in his ears, his hands on his shoulders firm and weighed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Luke demanded, taller figure coming to step between the two fighting men, left hand against Ashton’s chest to keep him back. He glanced back and forth between them, eyes wide and eyebrows drawn together in bewilderment. Things had escalated faster than anyone had anticipated.

“He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth fucking shut, man,” Ashton exclaimed, the anger ever present in his tone as he spoke to Luke, though his gaze was on Calum.

The brunette almost wanted to laugh at the irony of him saying that if it wasn’t for the pain in his jaw and hand. “And you don’t know how to be a decent fucking friend—you’re the one that started this shit, Ashton,” Calum retorted, speaking through the stinging pain of a bruised jaw, shaking Michael’s grip off of him once he showed him he wasn’t about to launch at Ashton again.

Ashton, in turn, slapped Luke’s hand away as he took a step forward, and Luke didn’t move as he watched him. “Yeah, and I’m gonna be the one to fucking end it, too. I’m done with you and your bullshit—get the fuck out of my house.”

Calum exhaled sharply through his nose, reality beginning to sink in as Ashton’s half-sister, Maeve, spoke up with an alarmed, “Ashton—”

He didn’t even look her way as he snapped, “Stay out of it, Maeve.” Tightening his jaw, Ashton took a few more steps towards Calum, everyone watching with bated breath and alarmed eyes as Ashton stopped in front of him. Calum saw the rage up close, the anger he knew his friend sometimes had trouble controlling, had never lost towards him until now. Ashton lowered his tone, dark and dangerous, as he repeated, “Get the fuck out.”

Calum wasn’t sure how his friendship with Ashton ended in less than ten minutes, but maybe that was it—maybe it hadn’t been ten minutes. Maybe it was months and months of them growing distant, of issues that just never got resolved that led to this. And it hurt Calum, more than his bruised jaw and knuckles, because he could tell this was it. There was no going back from this. His friendship with Ashton, in a few harsh words and rough punches, was over.

And it felt empty.

Day 220

Something had gone wrong and it was eating away at Maeve. She thought they were good, that they were okay, but time and time again she was being proven wrong and as they neared the two month mark, she knew something had to be said or done. She’d let it go for a while, believed that he was busy with work because she knew she was busy with her own job as well as classes. Plus, it wasn’t ever like they saw each other every day, not with him living in the city and all. Maybe that was why Maeve, at first, didn’t think anything was wrong. She saw him if they were free, mostly at the motel and sometimes with her going into New York, and for the most part things were normal. They had been normal.

And it only had Maeve wondering when Calum had gotten good at keeping things from her.

She just didn’t understand where it went south; didn’t understand why suddenly his texts seemed clipped and he no longer wanted to meet up at their place—not just for sex but to hang out. Maeve had to hand it to Calum—he’d been smart about it. He’d come by every so often, but would make sure to sprinkle in some days where he had to reject her offer with some well thought out excuse, making it seem as though something really had come up and he genuinely wasn’t able to make it rather than not wanting to go in the first place.

For a while, Maeve told herself she was just making shit up, looking for something that wasn’t there. But something in her head—hell, even her chest and her damn gut—was telling her that things were off. That something was going on. And it didn’t help that she missed him—so much. She missed Calum’s presence once he really did start pulling away as of recently; she missed being able to talk to him, not just hold him or kiss him or feel him. They often spent hours talking, whether it was just something they wanted to do or when they were under the sheets, spent and satiated but still wanting each other’s company.

God, Maeve didn’t realize how much she craved being with him until she wasn’t.

She sat in her car in the parking deck of her campus, chewing on her lower lip as she looked down at her phone. A debate had been tossing around in her head, questioning whether or not she should send Calum a text, asking him to meet up. There was a genuine hesitation out of fear of him rejecting the offer, given that he’d been doing that for a while now, but this wasn’t a conversation Maeve wanted to have over the phone. And she wasn’t about to show up to his apartment in the city like some stalker. They needed to meet at their place. Their safe haven.

Taking a breath, Maeve unlocked her phone, quickly typing out, Hey, can we meet up, please? I need to talk to you about something—it’s important before hitting send and dropping her phone on the passenger seat with a squeal. She felt ridiculous, but she really thought the nerves would eat at her and prevent her from hitting send.

Maeve’s heart thudded as she waited for a response, fingers drumming on the bottom of the steering wheel as the music playing through her car did nothing to calm her down. The vehicle was still warming up, the early November cold already bitter, but Maeve knew her jittering had more to do with the anticipation of Calum’s response than the weather.

Her heart sank when five minutes passed without a response, throat drying as she tilted her head back and lips turned downwards in a defeated grimace. Though, before she could throw herself a pity party, Maeve’s phone let out a beep, and she scrambled to desperately grab it and let out a gasp of relief when she read Calum’s message of, Yeah, I’ll be there in forty.

Oh, he agreed. He was coming.

She knew she’d get there first, given than her campus was half an hour’s drive from the motel, and the entire time Maeve was acutely aware of her thundering heart. Worry twist and turned her stomach as she drove, swallowing her dry throat because she really didn’t know what she was walking into. Something was up with Calum and Maeve wanted to know, especially if she’d done something wrong, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she was ready to hear whatever it was. But she had to face the music. She missed Calum, and if she fucked up—again—she needed to fix it.

Arriving at the motel, Maeve checked her phone to see if Calum had texted her while she was driving. She’d only just received a text, telling her he’d be there in ten minutes, and Maeve texted him back saying that she’d arrived and get the room.

It was a quick transaction at the reception, paying for the room for only two hours, making the price cheaper. But when she got to the door, room 304 for their taking, and inserted the key, Maeve blinked in surprise when she heard footsteps coming up the staircase a door away from her and Calum turned the corner. The door unlocked and Maeve opened it, shooting Calum an almost nervous smile as he returned it with a close mouthed one of his own while she greeted with a small, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Calum returned, coming to a stop next to her as his eyes flickered to the red door. “If you’d waited five minutes, I could’ve paid—”

“It’s fine,” Maeve quickly reassured, widening her smile a bit as she opened the door. She gestured towards the room, silently inviting him in as she entered the room, hearing Calum enter after her before shutting the door behind them. She played with her fingers, twisting at her rings, working up the courage to say what she wanted. His presence loomed behind her, waiting, and Maeve just needed to gather the words and—

“What’d you wanna talk about?”

Her train of thought screeched to a stop at his words, cutting right to the chase as Maeve licked her lips and turned to face him. He stood with his arms crossed and Maeve couldn’t help but note the defensive stance, as if he was protecting himself from something—her. It only reinvited the unease that loomed in the pit of her stomach, reminding Maeve of the reason why they were here in the first place. He’d been all but keeping his distance from her, slowly but surely, and Maeve needed to find out why.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she started, hoping her tone didn’t hint at the nerves she was trying to fight off. “Why? What’s the issue?”

Calum blinked, something flashing across his dark eyes, before he furrowed his eyebrows and tried to play off an innocent frown. “No, I haven’t.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped her. “Don’t bullshit me, Cal,” Maeve said with a shake of her head, crossing her own arms. She didn’t want to play anymore games. “Seriously, I thought—I thought things were good between us. So what changed?”

“Nothing changed, Maeve—that’s the issue.” She gaped at Calum, not entirely expecting the burst from him as he threw his arms down. Maeve took in the defeat that took over his face, the helplessness he spoke in. Calum was angry and tired of whatever was bothering him, and Maeve only looked at him in bewilderment as he let out a dry, humorless chuckle with pulling his lower lip into his mouth. His eyes took in the room they stood in before shrugging. “We’ve been doing this, for what, six months? And shit hasn’t changed at all. It’s just getting worse.”

Maeve’s heart dropped at his words, confusion and worry making for an uneasy combination as she looked at him with wide, distressed eyes. Six months—had they really been doing this for half a year? Sneaking around, meeting up in this room, losing themselves in each other? It had flown by, and Maeve was kind of surprised no one they didn’t want to know hadn’t found out about them. They’d been doing the same thing for six months but hadn’t that been the plan?

“I—what?” Maeve asked, shaking her head in hopes of understanding what he was saying. “What’s getting worse?”

Calum shook his head, pressing his lips together at her inquiry. But he looked at her, dark eyes boring into her bluish-green ones, taking in the questioning look she was shooting him, begging to know what he was on about. Maeve waited, silent with a quickening heart rate, hoping he would answer, tell her the truth. She was sick of the silent treatment he had been giving her; she just wanted things to be normal.

And then finally, Calum responded, tired and defeated yet completely behind his words. “The fact that I’m in love with you and you keep reminding me how bad of an idea that is.”

Maeve wasn’t sure what struck her more—the fact that Calum felt that way about her, or the fact that she already knew and he’d finally said it. God, Maeve would have to be blind to not know how Calum felt about her and, okay, maybe she wasn’t aware he was in love with her—but she knew he felt more for her than someone would a fuck buddy. Still, her heart pounded at his revelation, inhaling a sharp yet quiet breath because up until this moment, it had always been a silent understanding. Something had always existed between them, he knew it and so did she, but neither of them ever said anything. Neither of them acknowledged it.

And now Calum was looking at her in defeat, in exhaustion over this whole thing, and Maeve had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to like where this was going.

“Calum—”

“I don’t wanna do this anymore, Maeve.” The words died in her throat, feeling it tighten as she looked at Calum with eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise. He stared right back, eyebrows pulled together as he forced out words she didn’t think he wanted to say, but had to. His words hung in the room heavily, settling like an unmovable weight upon her chest. He didn’t. . . Want to do this anymore. “I can’t do this, not with you. And ’m not gonna keep puttin’ myself in a situation that just. . . Doesn’t feel right anymore.”

It felt like a slap in the face, it really did, with the sting of his words springing tears into her eyes because he wanted to be done. Maeve reeled at his words, blinking as her arms slowly uncrossed in her state of surprised disbelief. It was falling apart, right in front of her; her relationship with Calum—this complicated, wonderful, dizzying relationship—was coming to an end and Maeve didn’t know how to stop it, no matter how desperately she wished to.

The way Calum was looking at her, lips pressed together and the muscle in his jaw ticking, eyes swimming with so much emotion that it was overwhelming for her—Maeve could tell he didn’t want to do this, but had to because it was something that was probably good for him. And she wanted to tell him that they could fix this, she wanted to tell him the words she knew would change everything, but would that just come off as her telling him what he wanted to hear? Would he see it as a manipulative tactic? Because even as Maeve thought about it, she could tell that it may come off as that.

Her anxious over thinking rendered her speechless, forcing her to keep the words she desperately wanted to say in her mouth, not letting them fall off the tip of her tongue where they rested. Maeve’s body felt hot with frustration, her heart hammering as her head screamed at her to say the words Calum needed to hear—that she needed to say.

But she didn’t. And Calum’s throat worked as he gave a shake of his head, disenchanted by her lack of response. “Right,” he breathed raspily, nodding to himself as he looked down at his feet, and Maeve’s features fell when she saw the way his own face scrunched up. Like he was willing himself not to let his own tears from falling. Maeve was quickly losing that battle, too. “I’ve gotta go.”

Calum didn’t wait for Maeve to respond, not looking up until he turned around and was heading towards the door. He didn’t stop, didn’t spare her another look as he opened the door and walked out.

He left, the room now smelling of its familiar vanilla mixed with the subtle scent of Calum’s cologne. It only made it easier for the tears to fall once he was gone.

Flashback

“Go to hell,” Maeve pouted, forcing herself not to toss the cards in Calum’s direction like a child, instead of slapping them down on the grass. The brunette merely snickered, satisfied with himself as he took the cards from her and put them in his small pile. “I didn’t show you this game for you to bankrupt me.”

Calum grinned, running his tongue across his lower lip as he looked down at his hand. “Monopoly takes no prisoners, sweetheart,” he hummed, brown eyes meeting her blue, unshielded as her sunglasses rested atop her head.

They were seated comfortably upon the grass in Bryant Park, the mid May weather making for a beautiful day to be out in the city. It was fairly busy at the park, understandably so, as someone seated a few feet away from them played music from their portable speaker, the sound mixing in with the hum of people talking amongst themselves as well as the traffic on the street in front of the park.

Maeve narrowed her eyes, leaning towards Calum as the cards not in their hands remained laid out between them. With her mock glare furrowing her brows, Maeve told him flatly, “You suck.”

Calum leaned forward as well, minimizing the distance between them, noses just barely brushing together as Maeve peered into his dark eyes, willing herself not to get lost in them. Two months since they started whatever this was and she knew she was losing that battle tremendously. A smirk tilted at Calum’s lips, boyish and lazy as he remarked arrogantly, “Isn’t that your job?”

Her jaw dropped, a startled laugh escaping her at his teasing words, only prompting Calum to laugh as well with mirth dancing in his dark eyes, cute crinkles at the corners. He wiggled his eyebrows, suggestive and not at all innocent, and Maeve shot him a mocking smile as she said, “You’re not funny.”

Calum scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “I’m hilarious,” he replied, though he barely got the words out because Maeve shut him up by placing her free hand to the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Calum hummed against her lips, earnestly returning the kiss as she felt his own hand cup her cheek, rings cool against her skin and fingers brushing into her hair. He tasted like the gum he’d been chewing, fresh and minty, and Maeve couldn’t stop herself from leaning in, completely intoxicated by the feel of his soft lips as they moved with hers so perfectly.

“You know, not everyone’s comfortable with so much PDA.”

Maeve pulled away from Calum at the new, familiar voice, pulling her lower lip into her mouth as she sat up and looked to see Michael standing over them. He stood, arms crossed and an amused smirk dancing on his lips as he looked down at them, raising his eyebrows. Calum huffed as he looked up at his best friend, pressing his lips together as he tasted the strawberry chapstick he’d kissed off Maeve’s lips. “What’re you doing here, Mike?”

The green eyed man snickered. “Interrupting you two, apparently.”

Maeve breathed out a laugh of her own, shuffling her few cards in her hands. She wasn’t bothered with Michael catching them, even if it was in a place as busy as New York. Her and Calum had been running around for two months now, doing whatever the hell it is they were doing, and she was well aware that Michael knew of their little arrangement—just like Lina knew, given that they were their best friends. The two of them needed to gossip with someone about this deal they had with one another.

Continuing after brushing the fringe out of his eye from under his cap, Michael said, “Nah, I’m just hanging out with—”

“Maeve? Calum?”

She froze at the new voice, eyes widening when her gaze shifted from Michael to the man that appeared at his side, heart dropping to the pit of her stomach when Luke came into view. Her brother’s best friend. Maeve stared up at him, shock coursing through her because she didn’t think Luke and Michael still hung out. More than that—she wasn’t entirely sure if Luke was going to mention to Ashton that he’d caught her hanging out with the guy he couldn’t stand.

The blue eyed blonde looked down at the two of them, confusion written across his face as he looked between them, raised eyebrows showing just how unexpected the sight was for him as it was for Maeve. He was slowly chewing a mouthful of roasted peanuts, taking in the way Maeve was gaping up at him because she was too speechless to actually say something.

“You two, uh, friends now?” Luke questioned, gesturing between her and Calum with a single ring clad finger.

“Somethin’ like that,” Calum answered, not as shaken at the blonde’s presence as Maeve was. He leaned back on his hands, looking up the two guys with ease. With an effortless grin, he added, “Don’t let us stop your date.”

Maeve pressed her lips together as Michael smirked. “I was gonna say the same to you,” he hummed, nudging Luke with his elbow as a way of telling him they should go. Looking back at the two seated people, Michael added, “Have fun, you two. Remember to keep the PDA to a minimum.”

Calum scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Fuck outta here.”

Michael laughed as he offered a wave, and Luke bid goodbye with a simple, “See you two around,” before following Michael away.

Maeve stared after them, after him, lips parted and still feeling startled at seeing Luke. She felt the urge to go after him, to make him promise not to mention this to Ashton at all, but Maeve felt rooted in her spot. Whatever she had going on with Calum was still fairly new, but it was good and fun, and the thought of it coming to an end because of her brother had her stomach twisting uneasily.

“Hey,” she heard Calum say, a finger poking at her knee as she forced herself to face him once more. He furrowed his eyebrows at her pale expression. “You okay?”

“Do you think Luke will say anything?” she asked, eyebrows drawing together in worry. “To Ash?”

The crease in Calum’s forehead smoothed out at her question, understanding her sudden concern. He looked over her shoulder in the direction the other two boys went, curls dancing across his forehead with the light breeze that blew by. Calum stayed silent in quiet consideration for a moment as Maeve chewed her lower lip in worry. “No, I don’t think so,” he answered finally, with a firm shake of his head. “I doubt he’s gonna wanna purposefully piss Ashton off. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

Maeve let out a gentle scoff, raising her eyebrows. “You sound so sure.”

“It’ll be fine, doll,” Calum assured before sitting up, picking up his cards and grinning, “Come on, I was kicking your ass.”

It wasn’t until later that day when Maeve finally got home, around five in the afternoon, that the worry she’d felt earlier came back in full swing. She entered the house, freezing almost instantly when she took a few steps in when she caught sight of who was sitting on the couch with her brother.

Maeve stood, gaping at Ashton and Luke in silent surprise, though her gaze seemed to be glued to the blue eyed man. He stared right back, eyebrows raised, as if silently asking her if everything was okay. Her heart was thundering in her chest, mind swirling with frantic questions, wondering if he’d told Ashton, wondering if he was going to if he hadn’t already. But he merely stared back, innocent and big blue eyed, as if he wasn’t aware of what could possibly be Maeve’s biggest secret. Her stomach turned uneasily, throat dry, unsure of what to say and wondering if she should say something.

“Can you move? You’re blocking the TV, Maeve,” Ashton spoke up, gesturing to her in annoyance with the remote in her hand. He eyed her with a frown, looking at her in bewilderment until she quickly moved, offering a brief apology before heading up the stairs to where her room was.

She barely shut the door, left ajar, as she tossed her purse on the bed and ran her fingers through her short hair. The worry brewed in the pit of her stomach as she sat down on the edge of her bed, nibbling on her nails—not that she really could. No way was she ruining a fifty dollar manicure.

But, fuck, she was kind of on the verge of having a bit of a meltdown. Maybe that was overdramatic, but things were going so well for her and Calum. They were having fun, enjoying each other’s company—and bodies—while also getting reacquainted with one another, and Maeve didn’t want any of that to come to an end so soon. Because she knew, if Ashton were to find out. . . Man, saying he’d be pissed off would be the understatement of the century.

Maeve wasn’t sure how long she was sitting in her panic, changed into a pair of comfortable clothes and keeping herself busy on the word search app on her phone—though being so distracted because of her anxiety over today didn’t allow her to beat her personal record. But eventually, there was a knock on her door and she looked up to see Luke pushing it open and peeking his head in.

Their eyes met, and Luke took a step in as a dimpled grin spread across his face when he commented, “You should’ve seen the look on your face. Priceless.”

She licked her lips, dropping her phone and shifting to sit on the edge of her bed, hands on either side of her and shoulders up to her ears, trying and failing to ground herself. “Can you blame me? You and I both know what you saw earlier.”

The smile from Luke’s face slipped as he leaned against the wall by the door, hands behind his back as he let out a breath. They grew silent for a minute, Luke scratching his right eyebrow before asking, “Are you gonna tell Ash?”

Maeve let out a humorless chuckle, raising her eyebrows. “So he can kill Calum? Fuck no.” Luke exhaled sharply through his nose, and Maeve bit the inside of her lower lip as she stood up, taking a few steps towards him. “I know Ashton is your best friend and I would never want you to lie to him but I just—I need you to keep this to yourself, Luke, please. He can’t find out.”

Luke looked at her for a moment, searching her eyes for something, before letting out another breath and rubbing his hands down his face. “Of all the guys, Maeve, it had to be Calum?” he questioned with his hands still covering his face, words muffled but understandable before he dropped his hands to his sides.

She offered a sheepish, almost apologetic smile with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. “The universe works in mysterious ways?”

He let out a laugh, still in a state of disbelief. “Fuck off,” he grinned before pushing himself off the wall. Running his fingers through his hair, Luke looked down at her, his large body towering over hers easily. “I’ll keep your dirty little secret. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Maeve scoffed lightly, relief washing over at his words. Knowing Luke was going to keep her secret, even from his best friend, eased many of Maeve’s worries. He was a good person and she hated that she was forcing him to keep something from Ashton, but she needed him to, and she was grateful. “So do I,” she breathed, smile widening as Luke pulled her in for a goodbye hug.

About fifteen minutes after Luke left, Maeve headed downstairs into the kitchen. Just as she grabbed a banana, Ashton entered the kitchen, stopping her when he asked, “What’s going on with you and Luke?”

Maeve shot him a frown, tilting her head slightly in confusion. His question caught her off guard, so did the way he asked it a bit too innocently, like there was some underlying motive. As she peeled the banana, Maeve gave a shake of her head and asked, “What do you mean?”

Gesturing towards the living room vaguely, Ashton said, “Well, you were acting weird earlier and then he actually went to your room to say bye.” His eyebrows twitched into a frown. “Something going on?”

Okay, Maeve was utterly bewildered. Her chewing of the banana slowed down as she stared at her half-brother, frown deepening as she choked out a laugh. What was he even talking about? She had an idea, she’d be dumb not to, but the fact that he was actually asking her if something was happening between her and Luke was kind of hilarious. “I—No, Ashton,” Maeve told him truthfully with a laugh. “I don’t—No, there’s nothing going on with me and Luke.” When he didn’t look entirely convinced, Maeve rolled her eyes, shoulders dropping. “What, do you think I have a crush on him? Because I don’t.”

He stared at her for a few more minutes, and Maeve widened her eyes pointedly, an incredulous smile still growing on her face because she’d been asking Luke to keep his mouth shut about her secret relationship/arrangement with Calum, and here Ashton was, thinking she had something going on with Luke.

“Okay, okay,” Ashton finally relented, letting out a sheepish chuckle. “Sorry, I just thought—anyway, uh, good.” He turned to walk out of the kitchen, stopping as he pointed at her with a finger, eyebrows raising as he added, “Stay away from my friends.”

She stared after him as he went, unable to entirely tell if he was joking or being serious. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her it was the latter, and suddenly Maeve’s appetite was gone.

Because if Ashton didn’t want her getting involved with his friends, God knows how he’d react if he found out she was getting involved with an ex-friend.

Day 243

He’d just left a bar, only allowing himself a few beers that he caught with a few guys from work, when his phone started vibrating incessantly. He was walking towards the subway as he pulled his phone out, stopping at a corner waiting to cross the street when he saw each text he received—about seven of them—were from Maeve. Calum’s eyebrows drew together as he read the messages, not one hundred percent coherent given the extra unnecessary letters and misspellings some of the words consisted of.

He rolled his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it as he felt his chest constrict. He hadn’t seen her in, what, twenty days? More? Calum was, frankly, surprised he was able to keep his distance from her for that long, and he was also surprised that Maeve gave it to him, too, never calling or texting him. The disappointment that came with that was unjustified, given that it was he who told her he was done, but it was still present. And since that day at the motel where he finally told her how he felt, the weight hadn’t lifted from Calum’s shoulders. If anything, it felt heavier, pushing him down more and more. It was only a matter of time until he fell to his knees.

Calum had told her he loved her and then he walked away. He didn’t entirely blame Maeve for not reaching out, but he still found himself selfishly wishing that she did.

Fuck, he was never happy, was he?

No. He was. Despite the drama and the secrets, Calum had been happy when he was with Maeve. He could never lie about that.

Looking down at the texts, Calum’s jaw tightened when he saw that Maeve was begging for him to come to the motel, to their spot. From what he could make out, she was already there, waiting for him, alone and drunk, and the thought of her being there by herself was unsettling. Calum had half a mind to text Lina or Audra, asking one of the girls to check in on Maeve, but he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied unless he saw her with his own eyes.

People moved around him, crossing the street as he remained put, gaze lifting as he thoughtfully looked ahead of him. The buildings around him were glittered with lights, cars buzzing and honking as they drove past, and Calum debated if he should go. Debated if it was his place to check in on her. He wanted to keep his distance, that had been the plan, hadn’t it?

But, fuck, Calum would be lying if he said the past twenty-three days spent without any sort of contact from Maeve hadn’t been damn near agonizing. How the fuck had he lived his life before they ran into each other at the Bryant Park Grill?

So he texted her, promising to be there soon, and turned around to head to another subway down a few blocks that would take him to Penn Station. His mind was made up.

The half and hour journey seemed to drag on forever to the point where as soon as Calum reached Hoboken, he practically sprinted to the Skyview Motel. The air felt chilling in his lungs as he finally reached the motel, going up the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor and the familiar door of room 304. Calum let out a breath, heart drumming in his chest as he knocked on the door, chewing on the inside of his lower lip as he impatiently waited, hoping Maeve hadn’t passed out during his journey over.

Calum turned his ear towards the door as he heard footsteps on the other side, the relief rushing the air out of his lungs as the door swung open to reveal Maeve, barefoot yet dressed in fitted leather pants and a laced red bodysuit, clearly finished with a fun night out.

“Calum!” she greeted, cheery and drunk with flushed cheeks and lips that no longer were painted red but he could tell at one point in the night, they had been. “You’re here,” she added with a giddy grin, both hands grabbing his left wrist and tugging him into the warmth of the room.

He let her pull him in, eyebrows raising because, yeah, she was drunk as he shut the door behind them. Her purse and jacket was tossed on the table, shoes on the floor. Her blonde hair was a bit messy but her makeup was perfect, and even if it wasn’t Calum knew she would still be effortlessly beautiful. “Yeah, I am, sweetheart,” he told her, the term of endearment slipping past his lips before he could stop it.

It seemed, even in her drunken state, Maeve noticed as her grin widened, standing in front of him as her hands gripped the lapels of his bomber jacket. She looked up at him, bluish-green eyes glittering and freckles standing out against her flushed cheeks as she softly hummed, “I love when you call me that.”

He looked down at her, lips pressing together and throat working because all he could see in her eyes, past the drunken haze and sleepiness, was honesty. She was smiling up at him, still smelling of her familiar fruity and cocoa butter perfume and lotion that Calum often found himself getting dizzy on, and he felt his chest tighten. Maeve had the remarkable ability of so easily enticing emotions from him, emotions he’d tried so hard to push aside where she was concerned because he knew he’d only end up hurt—which he did. But saying no to Maeve. . . Calum had accepted it wasn’t something he was good at. No matter how hard he tried.

“I know,” he told her softly, unable to stop his hand from reaching up and using his finger to brush some blonde hair away from her face. “Come on, Maeve,” Calum added, arm wrapping around her waist as he started moving them towards the bed, “You should get some sleep.”

“No,” Maeve whined, pushing away from Calum and stumbling on her feet. He grabbed her elbow gently, making sure she didn’t fall, as he eyed her with a mixture of surprise and worry. She faced him once more, pouting as she pointed a finger at him lazily. “If I go to sleep, then you’ll leave,” she said, her words a tired and drunken drawl. “You left me here last time. You’ll leave.”

Calum’s throat dried, lips parting as he looked at the woman who was looking at him sadly, complete with a frown on her eyebrows and lips. Despite being drunk, Calum could tell that Maeve was genuinely hurt, that him leaving her the way he had that day had really been eating away at her. And it wasn’t like Calum was trying to give her a taste of her own medicine—never in a million years because he wasn’t an asshole. He would never hurt someone he cared about—someone he loved—intentionally. Calum thought he was giving them both what they needed. Now he was realizing, after understanding how the days since he left her fucking sucked more than he thought, that distance wasn’t the answer. He couldn’t stay away from her, not even if he tried, and it was obvious she hadn’t fared well either.

“I won’t leave, doll,” Calum assured her, stepping towards her as his hands found her cheeks. Her throat worked, looking up at him with big, glassy eyes and he felt his chest tighten even more. He hated himself for hurting her. “I’ll be right here with you, yeah? I’ll spend the night.”

Maeve looked up at him, eyes narrowed in drunken suspicion. “Promise?”

She spoke softly, hopefully, and if there was any ounce of doubt or fight in Calum, it left immediately with the look she was giving him. How had he ever thought he could stay away from her? The thought was almost laughable now.

Not the first time Calum had been stupid where Maeve was concerned.

His thumbs rubbed on her cheeks, nodding his head and offering a smile. “Promise,” he responded breathily, the smile she returned warming him up.

They took a few minutes to make sure to let Maeve’s parents know that she was staying at a friend’s, and then Calum took her to the bathroom where she could wash off her makeup, all the while moaning and complaining about not having her wipes and hating that she only had water and soap before drying herself off.

He then brought her to the bed, pushing back the comforter and helping her into her designated side. Maeve settled down, though she didn’t lie down as she bagan unbuttoning her pants. “Can’t sleep in these,” she mumbled sleepily, frowning down at the pants she struggled to unbutton.

Calum pressed his lips together, watching her fingers stumble over themselves and fail to complete their task. He let out a breath, crouching down to his knees and gently swatting her fingers away and bringing his own ring clad ones to swiftly unbutton her pants. Maeve giggled sleepily, “At least take me out to dinner first.”

He suppressed the amused huff of laughter, undoing her pants and shimmying them down her legs before folding them and placing the pants at the end of the bed. Calum took a look at the bodysuit she was wearing as he stood up, figuring it probably wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep in, and shrugged off his jacket. As Maeve pulled the comforter up to her hips, Calum asked, “Want my shirt?”

Her eyes met his, wide but tired, as she responded almost timidly, “Please.”

Well fuck, melt his heart, why didn’t she.

He took the shirt off, leaving him shirtless as he handed it to Maeve before walking around the bed towards his side. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Calum felt the gentle shifting of the mattress as Maeve took off the bodysuit, and Calum stared at the wall in front of him. This wasn’t how he thought his night would go, sitting in the room that had become one of his favorite places over the months, with the woman that had honestly become one of his favorite people. He had no problem admitting that to himself, not when he’d already admitted his feelings to her.

Even when Calum had told Maeve that he couldn’t keep continuing whatever they were doing, he had a hard time believing his own words, which only presented more doubt of being able to follow through. And he should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to. Not when it came to her.

Calum felt a hand on his bare shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts as Maeve tugged him back, silently getting him to lie down. He looked at her as she shifted downwards, looking a lot more calm and sober than when he first arrived, though Calum figured sleep was washing over her quickly. Smiling gently, Calum toed off his shoes and socks and lifted the comforter to slide in, unable to stop himself from thinking how adorable she looked swimming in his shirt.

“Come here,” he mumbled, laying down and lifting his right arm, allowing Maeve to scoot closer until she was pressed against his side and her cheek was resting against his chest, and he lowered his arm around her to keep her close. The warmth of her body against his was comforting, familiar, and a feeling Calum never wanted to deprive himself of ever again.

He heard and felt her hum against him, eyes fluttering closed as her hand rested on his chest as well. The smile that tugged on Calum’s lips wasn’t one he could stop, taking in the sweep of her lashes and the freckles dotting her skin. “Thanks for coming, Cal,” Maeve mumbled sleepily, her breath warm against his skin.

Calum’s fingers gently brushed her hair away from her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he murmured back, “Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

She hummed happily, sleepily, and Calum thought she would drift away right then and there. But then she spoke up one last time, sending shockwaves through Calum’s body that would keep him up for the rest of the night. “G’night, Cal. Love you.”

Yeah. He was definitely not getting any sleep.

Day 246

As she pulled into the line of the Starbucks drive through, waiting for her turn to order, Maeve pulled out her phone, busying herself while she waited. She fooled around one some of the apps, lips twisting to the side as nothing seemed to particularly interest her, her finger accidentally slipping when she was on Snapchat as it took her to the map. And then she saw Calum’s location, right in the spot that was theirs, and her eyebrows raised as she saw that he was there right now. The drive through line creeped forward as Maeve messaged him a familiar quip, What chick are you sneaking there?

His response was almost instant, Just waiting for you to get the hint. My location is loud & clear.

Maeve let out a breathy laugh, telling him she’d be there soon as it was her turn to order. She ordered her own drink before deciding to get Calum his usual order as well and being on her way. As she drove, Maeve could feel her stomach twisting and turning in familiar knots, reminding herself that today was the day. Today, she was going to try and let go of her worries and concerns, because the drunk version of herself already had.

It had been three days since Maeve, in drunken and sleepy stupor, had told Calum she loved him, and it had been two days since she remembered the fact. And when she had suddenly recalled that memory, vague as it may be, Maeve knew it had happened, and she wasn’t sure if she was mortified that the first time she told Calum she loved him was when she was drunk, or worried over the fact that he never brought it up. Had she thought it was just something she said while she was drunk, therefore not really meaning it? Or because he had moved on?

She swallowed the discomfort at that thought. She hoped to God that wasn’t it.

But Maeve was done. She was finished with the constant pushing aside of her feelings, and she was done with ignoring Calum’s feelings for her—if he still had them. She was done with them dancing on their toes around each other, never really uttering how they felt until it was too late. God, hadn’t they wasted enough time already?

“Hey, my personal UberEats is here,” Calum grinned upon opening the door and catching sight of Maeve and the drinks she held. He looked good, as always, in a ripped up shirt tucked into his pants and his favorite black Doc Martens. He made Maeve’s heart race so damn easily.

A scoff escaped her, handing him his as she entered the room. “Anyone who gets Starbucks delivered is pathetic,” Maeve responded factually before taking a long sip of her drink, as if the frappuccino was going to grant her some courage to say what she wanted to. And as soon as she put the drink down on the table, Maeve blurted out, “How come you never said anything about what I told you the other night?”

She turned around just as she said, looking at Calum who was mid sip of his iced latte, eyebrows raised at her in surprise. “Uh,” he sounded, releasing the straw as his dark brows furrowed. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, doll.”

“No, I don’t,” she responded with a shake of her head. Maeve saw it in his eyes, in the recognition that flashed across them, and for a brief moment she was relieved that she was able to read him once again, so easily. Was relieved that he allowed her to. She took a few steps towards him, arms crossed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Cal. I doubt you forgot.”

Calum sighed, not even bothering to keep up the charade as he held the hand that held his drink out while he spoke. “Because you were drunk and half asleep, Maeve. I wasn’t—” he paused, exhaling through his nose as he pressed his lips together. His eyes met hers once more. “I guess I didn’t just wasn’t sure if you meant it or not.”

Her heart sank at that, and Maeve in that moment acknowledged that telling him that way was a complete idiot move on her part, even if she didn’t entirely have control over it. She looked at Calum, at the way he pressed his downward turned lips together, and her heart jumped into her throat. Maeve closed the distance between them, approaching the tall brunette as the closer she got to him, the higher her gaze lifted. Once she was in front of Calum, embraced by his familiar scent and cologne, she felt some of the tension in her muscles relax.

Lifting her hands, Maeve placed them on either side of his neck as Calum looked down at her, and she hoped he saw the honesty in her eyes and heard it in her voice when she said, “I hate that the first time I told you that was when I was drunk, but I mean it, Calum.” She saw his dark eyes looking back and forth between hers, could feel him holding his breath, and Maeve’s lips turned upwards in a smile she couldn’t contain. God, she could hear her heart thundering in her ears, but she knew Calum heard her loud and clear when she said, “I love you.”

It took him a few moments to process her words—words he wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting for her to say. But once Maeve uttered them, they flew around in Calum’s head, settled deep within his chest and sent electricity through his veins and he was fucking finished.

He had half the mind to reach behind him to put the latte down on the bedside table before his arms wrapped around Maeve’s waist and crushed her into him, lips finding hers immediately in a kiss that was so different than the ones they’d shared. This one held nothing back; it was full and open and honest, pouring every single emotion into it with a stunning force that rendered both of them utterly breathless.

Maeve’s hands went from Calum’s neck to the back of his head, wrapping her arms around him as his tongue slid against hers, his own arms embracing her in a way that made her feel so safe—safer than their little motel room.

What they had, had been messy at the start, and despite being open about their feelings, both Maeve and Calum knew things were just as complicated—if not more. Hiding a friends with benefits situation wasn’t too difficult, but with the silent and mutual agreement of wanting to be together, they knew eventually, they’d have to come clean. Eventually, her brother would need to find out that she was dating the guy he couldn’t stand. Eventually, shit was going to hit the fan.

But for now, they were pretty damn content.

Day 274

“Can—you—let me—go?” Maeve could barely get the words out between her laughter and the fact that Calum’s lips never seemed to want to leave hers, her hands applying some pressure on his shoulders as a feeble attempt to push him off. Calum’s arms remained winded around her waist, his back pressed against the brick wall as he kept kissing her, a crinkly eyed grin on his face that Maeve couldn’t get enough of. She lightly slapped his shoulders, trying to pull away. “Come on, Cal, I have to pee.”

“Fine, fine,” Calum relented, reluctantly dropping his arms from around her. He remained leaned against the wall, pouting as she stepped back from him with an amused grin. “I’m gonna go out back for a smoke.”

She voiced her acknowledgement before disappearing into the ladies room, and Calum then made his way down the hall towards the main area of the bar, but instead of going to where his friends were, he opened the door that led to the back alley smoking spot. The door shut behind him as he pulled out his packet of cigarettes and lighter, placing one between his lips as he lit it. It sent a spark of warmth through him in the chilly night, the alley in between two bars dark and justifiably smelly as he saw the occasional car drive by on the street a few feet ahead.

But Calum barely got to enjoy two puffs of the cigarette, because suddenly the door he’d just come through burst open, slamming against the wall and startling Calum—though not as much as the man that stormed through.

Ashton’s eyes, wild with anger even in the dark of the night, caught Calum’s surprised ones as his hands tightened into fists as he stormed over. His footsteps thudded heavily on the concrete, and Calum watched as the vein in Ashton’s neck threatened to burst as he all but yelled out, “Stay the fuck away from my sister!”

Oh, fu—

Calum couldn’t even finish that dumbfounded thought because Ashton’s fist unforgivingly collided with his jaw, knocking the cigarette right out of his hand as he stumbled right back into the brick wall with a groan. He’d felt the dull force of Ashton’s knuckles as well as the metallic hit of the rings he wore, and Calum’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to gather his bearings as quickly as he could.

It didn’t matter how Ashton found it. The point was, he knew, and Calum was in deep shit.

Ashton was right on him once again, fist connected with the same jaw, slamming Calum’s head into the wall as the brick scraped against his temple, and this time drawing blood as Calum tasted the copper on his tongue. “The fuck were you thinking, huh? Are you fucking stupid?”

For fuck’s sake. He blinked away the spots that were dancing in front of his eyes, the sudden burst of dizziness still present, but allowing Ashton to get two hits in was enough. Mustering up the energy and ignoring the thundering of his heart, Calum pushed Ashton away and delivered a punch of his own to keep him back for good measure, straightening as he spat the mouthful of blood. “I’m thinkin’ that your sister is a grown fuckin’ woman who can make her own decisions,” Calum snapped, his own anger letting loose as he took a somewhat shaky step forward, the sole of his shoes scraping against the ground. His head fucking hurt, and Calum knew that once the adrenaline wore off, it would probably be much worse. Calum could feel the blood trickling down his chin, could still taste it, as he all but taunted, “Who she fucks is none of your business.”

It was a poor, antagonizing choice of words, Calum was well aware, but he was fucking sick of it. Sick of the hiding, sick of sneaking around, all because Ashton had an issue with him. It was about damn time everyone got the fuck over it.

As expected, Ashton launched at him again, an angered, primal growl escaping him as he ran at Calum and crouched to push him against the wall by his stomach, slamming Calum against it once again. The brunette groaned as the bricks dug into his back, at Ashton’s vice like grip on him, but Calum lifted his right arm before jamming his elbow directly on Ashton’s upper back, which had him falling, only for Calum to swiftly bring his knee up and bury it harshly in Ashton’s chest.

He groaned, tumbling to the ground as the wind was knocked out of him, and Calum stood above, his breath uneven and quick. Looking down at him, Calum swallowed the tightness in his throat, the anger that was simmering. Fuck this. Calum moved to step around him, gingerly licking his lip and tasting the blood and wincing at the cut that was there. At least he hadn’t lost a tooth.

But just as he took another step, Ashton seemed to recover, grabbing Calum’s leg with a growl of, “Fucking son of a bitch,” and giving a harsh tug, sending Calum to the floor as he groaned when he landed on his front on the concrete. He struggled to get up, feeling Ashton’s hands force him to lay on his back as he got on top of him, and Calum caught sight of the rage in his darkened eyes. He was pissed off, beyond comprehension, and Calum couldn’t help but wonder how they’d come to this. Were they really so far into this, to the point of no return? Would there ever be any coming back from this?

Just before Ashton’s fist could descend, Calum vaguely heard the door slam open, followed by the sound of Maeve’s voice screaming, “Stop!”

And then Ashton was being pulled away, two pairs of arms grabbing him as he struggled against them, his weight no longer on top of Calum. He sat up, breathing labored, just as Maeve rushed to his side, crouching down with one hand wrapping around his arm and the other going around his waist to help him to his feet. For the moment, Calum ignored Ashton’s angry words to Luke and Michael about letting him the fuck go, instead choosing to look at Maeve, who’s light eyes were swimming with terror and concern as she eyed the blood on his face.

“Oh, my God, Calum—you’re—are you okay?” she asked, her voice breathy and rushed and thick with emotion. Her hand left his arm, gingerly touching his jaw as she looked at him, and Calum winced only when she drew her hand back and saw her skin stained with his blood.

Before he could say anything, though, Ashton’s hard voice cut through the air. “Get the fuck away from him, Maeve.”

If it didn’t hurt so damn much, the adrenaline quickly wearing off, Calum would clench his jaw at Ashton’s words. Instead, his eyes narrowed into a glare at the man who was already scowling at him, not entirely calmed down as Luke and Michael flanked him, ready to interfere once again if they had to. Maeve looked at her half-brother, her throat working. There was no blood on him, which she saw as a good sign, but it also angered her knowing that Calum was right next to her, bleeding.

“No, Ashton.” She gave a shake of her head, her arm around Calum’s waist tight as his arm laid around her shoulders. She couldn’t believe that this was how Ashton came to find out about her and Calum, couldn’t believe that she missed any opportunity to tell him in the past two months her and Calum had officially gotten together. Though, honestly, she wondered if his reaction would’ve been any different. “He’s my boyfriend, so no—I won’t get away from him.”

Her brother stared at her, her words widening his already angered eyes as he took a few steps towards them, Michael and Luke hastily following as Ashton snapped, “Your fucking what?” His eyes darted between the two of them, standing close with their arms around one another, before letting out a dry scoff. “Are you fucking serious? Maeve, what the hell—”

“Look, Ashton,” Maeve spoke up, finding her voice once again. She didn’t want to piss Ashton off anymore than he was, though she figured that was a little too late. But Maeve was done with all the hiding and being scared of him finding out—given that he knew now. It was out in the open, and seeing what Ashton did to Calum only gave her more of the strength to stand by her relationship. “I’m sorry you found out this way, but I’m not going to apologize for my relationship. Your issues with Calum have gone on long enough and it’s about time you either move on, or just get the hell over it.”

Ashton looked at her, the anger mixing with disbelief as he parted his lips. But Maeve stared right back, didn’t cower under his gaze as she kept Calum close. She felt him squeeze her shoulders encouragingly, saw Michael and Luke exchange knowing looks on either side of Ashton. A breathless scoff escaped Ashton as he subtly nodded to himself and raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking his side over mine?”

It always came down to sides, didn’t it?

Maeve looked at Calum, saw him already looking down at her with brown eyes that failed to hide his worry, the blood still trickling down his chin. She knew her answer as she looked back at Ashton. “Yeah. I am.”

Day 298

The house was filled with people, all Maeve’s closest friends and family, present for a brunch her parents threw for her twenty-fourth birthday. The early afternoon was filled with drinking mimosas, eating delicious food, and taking loads of pictures as Maeve enjoyed the company of her loved ones. Except that happiness dulled every so often when her eyes met those of her half-brother’s, hazel eyes void of any emotion save for what she achingly knew as betrayal. Maeve had a sinking feeling that Ashton was only present for her birthday because it was expected of him, because their parents told him to put aside whatever anger he had at Maeve and Calum’s relationship and to be there for his sister’s birthday.

The idea of him being forced to be here twisted at Maeve’s heart.

She was standing with Calum in the living room, the two of them chatting up with Maeve’s cousin Dawn when her eyes caught sight of Ashton heading up the stairs. Her eyebrows furrowed after him, biting the inside of her cheek before quickly looking at Calum and Dawn and saying, “I’ll be right back, guys.”

They nodded, Calum’s eyes meeting Maeve’s where she could see the silent concern. Calum was another target of Ashton’s anger, though what he was on the receiving end of a more violent type of rage. What she was getting was the silent, cold shoulder and dagger eyes that had her heart sinking in her chest each time. She hated that she upset him, but Maeve couldn’t be sorry for being with Calum. She had spent too long telling herself it was a bad idea when it wasn’t; how could it feel so good if it was?

After shooting Calum a reassuring smile, Maeve weaved through the people around her house and headed up the stairs quickly, hoping to catch Ashton before he locked himself in his old bedroom like a stubborn child.

“Ash,” she called, spotting him in the hall. He didn’t stop as he kept going, and Maeve let out a breath as she kept following him. “Come on, Ash, can we talk?”

“We’ve got nothing to talk about, Maeve,” Ashton said, turning to look at her blankly. “You’ve made your choice. Glad to know where I stand.”

She released an exhausted sigh, giving a desperate shake of her head. “Why does it have to be a choice in the first place? Why can’t you two just forgive and forget, huh? You got in a stupid fight for a stupid reason, Ashton—just let it go.”

Ashton tightened his jaw, lips pursed as he glared at her. “It’s not that simple.”

Maeve’s heart thudded. Was that some kind of hint he was willing to try at least? “It can be,” she told him, her tone turning soft as she took a few steps towards her half-brother. Offering a small smile, she said, “Something I learned over the past few months is that we just make shit harder for ourselves because we’re too stubborn to think it can be easy.” When Ashton scoffed, not entirely convinced, Maeve licked her lips and looked up at him with an apologetic, almost sad, expression. “I know I hurt you, Ash, and I’m so sorry for it. But asking me to be sorry for loving Calum would be like asking me to lock away a part of myself. And you had always been the one to tell me to never be afraid of being me.”

She saw some, not all, but some of the anger in his eyes melt away, face scrunching up in half hearted annoyance as he groaned, “Don’t use my words against me.”

Maeve braved another smile. “That’s another thing I’m not sorry for.” When he rolled his eyes, she grew serious once more. “You have every right to be mad, Ash, but doesn’t that get tiring? I know if you and Cal just talk it out, you’ll be able to get past this. You can’t tell me you don’t miss him.”

Ashton’s expression hardened a bit, tone warning as he started, “Maeve—”

“Please, Ashton,” she begged, hands grasping one of his. “You two are three of the most important men in my life, and since Dad doesn’t have any beef with Cal, I need you to at least consider what I said.”

He was silent for a few moments, looking down at her pleading eyes, until finally he let out a sigh with his gaze flickering to the ceiling and gave in with a muttered, “Fine.”

Whether he meant it or was just saying it to shut Maeve up, she wasn’t entirely sure, but for now, she took it. She grinned, happy for the moment, before pulling him in for a hug. Maeve relaxed when Ashton returned the hug, the relief flooding her because, God, she didn’t think he’d ever hug her again after all of this shit. And it felt good, to hug Ashton again after so many days of him giving her the complete silent treatment, of her feeling like she was going to lose her brother if she hadn’t already.

Things weren’t resolved, not by a long shot, but this was a start.

Day 304

“Hey, isn’t that. . .” Calum spoke up, eyebrows furrowing as they pulled into the parking lot of their favorite spot. Maeve followed his confused gaze, her eyebrows shooting up when she saw exactly what he was looking at. “Isn’t that Ashton’s car?”

It was. Maeve recognized the pick-up anywhere, exchanging a bewildered look with her boyfriend at the sight of the vehicle. What the hell was he doing here? Calum pulled into his usual parking spot and the two of them got out, hugging their jackets close to them in the cool November air as they both glanced around, trying to catch sight of her brother, though finding no sign of him anywhere. She looked at Calum, who was squinting in confusion before he shrugged at her, and the two of them headed towards the reception, though Maeve was still looking around for Ashton.

Calum quickly paid for the room—the receptionist, Ted, was on a first name basis with them at this point, and vice versa—and the two of them began making their way to their favorite room. “Seriously, though,” Maeve frowned as they headed up the first flight of stairs. “Why’s his car here? Where the hell is he?”

“Maybe he rented a room?” Calum guessed with a confused raise of his eyebrows, glancing back down at her given that he was a step ahead of her. He chuckled at the flat look Maeve shot him, before shrugging, “I don’t know, love.”

Maeve scrunched her face up as they continued, her curiosity not at all satisfied. When they got to the third floor, turning the corner, Maeve and Calum both stopped short when her questions were answered at the sight of her brother leaning against the wall right next to the door of their room. He stood, busy on his phone, only looking up when he heard their footsteps.

The two of them gaped at him, not expecting him in front of their room, as Ashton straightened and pocketed his phone. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and Maeve could tell just how awkward and uncomfortable he looked, and all of her questions, as well as new ones, came to the forefront of her mind. “Uh,” Maeve sounded, glancing at Calum who looked just as bewildered, but still eyed Ashton warily. “Hey, Ash. . . What—what’re you doing here?”

“Um,” Ashton licked his lips, letting out a breath. “Lina told me you two would be here and I, uh, was hoping we could talk.”

Maeve pressed her lips together, not sure if she should curse or thank Lina for giving up the information. Even down to the room number. “S-Sure,” she told him, glancing at Calum to see if he was okay with it. His bruises from their fight had faded, and even though a potentially healing conversation is what Maeve wanted between them, she wanted to make sure no more punches were thrown.

Calum nodded silently and the two of them approached the door, and Maeve shot Ashton a small smile as Calum unlocked the room and the three of them walked inside. She wasn’t oblivious to the tension that settled upon all of them, and Maeve silently prayed things didn’t escalate between them. Luke and Michael weren’t around this time to interfere.

Calum and Maeve dropped their bags on the bed, turning to face Ashton who probably felt as out of place as he looked, hands still in his jacket pockets as his eyes took in the room around them. Maeve wondered if he was thinking it wasn’t as sleezy as he perhaps pictured it while he was waiting for them. “So what’s up?” Maeve questioned, trying to keep her tone light.

“I thought about what you said,” Ashton responded slowly after taking a breath. “And you were right. . . I am tired of being mad. And I’m. . .” His eyes met Calum’s and Maeve felt her boyfriend stiffen slightly, though her eyes remained on her brother as he finally said, “I’m sorry for being the shittiest friend—person—on the fucking planet.”

Maeve’s eyes widened because, shit, she didn’t think she’d ever hear Ashton say that to Calum. She was holding her breath, his words hanging in the air as both she and Calum tried to register them. She was having a hard time processing—she wondered how Calum was faring.

When neither she nor Calum said anything, Ashton let out a breath as he pulled out a hand and rubbed it down his face. “Everything that’s happened between us—it’s my fault, man, and it’s about time I accepted that,” Ashton continued, his gaze still on Calum. “There’s no excuse for how I treated you, and you deserve better than someone taking you and your friendship for granted. I’m gonna—I’m going to work on this temper issue I have, alright? And I know this apology is, like, almost two years and a few punches too late but I am sorry. Really.”

His words had Maeve’s chest tightening, a smile threatening to spread across her face as she looked at Ashton. He looked genuinely apologetic for his actions, for everything that had happened between him and Calum, and she could hear it in his voice, too. And the fact that he actually sought Calum out to tell him face to face spoke volumes.

Glancing up at Calum, Maeve saw his throat working, the muscle in his jaw prominent which told her he was clenching it. His gaze remained on Ashton, processing his words, and he finally spoke up once he did. “If you came to me a year ago, I would’ve told you to fuck off.” Maeve held her breath at the words Calum spoke in his raspy voice. Calum lifted his chin and Maeve saw the ghost of a smirk tilting at his lips. “But I’m not the same person I was a year ago—and I can only thank Maeve for that. And I know you were hurt when you found out about us. So I’ll forgive you for all that shit, if you forgive me for hurting you, too—even if we weren’t friends when I did.”

Maeve rolled her lips into her mouth, feeling her heart launch into her throat as she looked between the two men. She felt like such a girl, getting so emotional at what was happening in front of her, but that wasn’t such a bad thing. They were finally, finally, finally making up, making things right—Maeve figured she had the right to get a bit choked up.

Especially when Ashton’s eyes met hers, saw just how emotional she was getting, and a dimpled smile tugged at his lips before he let out a breathless laugh and nodded at Calum. “Deal.”

And then the two of them were walking towards each other and Maeve watched, with the smile finally splitting across her face, as Calum and Ashton clasped each other’s hands and embraced in that one armed dude hug, slapping each other’s backs with their free hands, but staying in that position for a moment. Maeve would’ve totally photographed the sight in front of her if it didn’t ruin the moment, so instead, she just watched with a grin on her face and tears stupidly gathering in her eyes. But she didn’t care. They were finally okay. Maybe it would take them a while to go back to how things were before the Big Fight, but it was finally in the past. It wouldn’t loom over their heads anymore like a dark cloud; they would be okay. They’d be friends.

The two of them pulled away, smiles on their faces that Maeve knew they hadn’t given each other in almost two years, and Ashton’s eyes met hers as he said, “Alright, I’m gonna leave you two to it.” He walked backwards towards the door, adding in a joking tone, “I feel like I’m stepping on holy ground.”

Maeve finally let out a snicker, raising her eyebrows at him. “You are.”

Calum pressed his lips together to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape when Ashton shot her a disgusted look. “Gross,” he commented before opening the door. “You know you guys don’t have to sneak here anymore, right? Stop wasting money.”

Maeve rolled her eyes. “Bye, Ash,” she said in a sing-song tone, shooing him away with her hand. He chuckled, offering one last wave before he left. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Maeve turned to look at Calum. “He’s got a point though, you know. We don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

“I know,” Calum nodded, slowly sauntering over to where Maeve stood. “Which is why tonight’s our last night here.”

She raised her eyebrows, looking up at him once he stopped right in front of her. “It is?” she asked, narrowing her eyes when Calum nodded with a cute little mhm, something akin to mirth and delight dancing across his eyes. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “What’s so special about tonight?”

“Well,” Calum began, stretching the word out as he tilted his chin up, wrapping his arms around Maeve’s hips to pull her close before looking back down at her. His smile was soft across his face, a smile reserved especially for Maeve that always erupted butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She wrapped her own arms around him as she waited for him to continue. “Today, sweetheart, is the three hundred and fourth day since you and I ran into each other all those months ago in the Bryant Park Grill.”

Maeve blinked up at him, lips parting at the revelation. Her lips upturned into a grin, gentle and completely in love with him; 304. It was a silly little coincidence that related to the number of the very room they were standing in, the very room that had become their safe space to be with one another, but the fact that Calum actually counted the days since they saw each other for the first time at the restaurant had her heart bursting like she was in some damn cartoon. But she didn’t care; all she cared about was Calum.

“Three hundred and four, huh?” Maeve grinned, pressing her front against his as Calum mirrored her smile, looking just as entranced with her as she was with him. Sometimes she couldn’t believe they finally figured their shit out to be together. Maeve often wanted to punch herself for being so stubborn and not letting herself be with him sooner. “Is that our anniversary before our actual anniversary?”

“Yeah, why not?” Calum grinned, throwing her a quick wink. “Keeps things spicy.”

Maeve let out a laugh, which only widened Calum’s grin as she told him, “We rented a motel room every time we wanted to get together—that’s pretty spicy already.”

“You’re right,” Calum hummed, lowering his head to press his lips against Maeve’s. She instantly returned the kiss, leaning up into him as she stood on her toes, fingers tightening on the material of his jacket. His own hands shifted, going from her hips to her butt, digging into the pockets of her jeans and giving her a cheeky squeeze that had her grinning against his mouth. “I think the bed deserves one last round, don’t you?”

Maeve bit his lower lip, prompting him to tighten his grip on her as she coyly asked, “Just one?”

Calum groaned, shamelessly and completely crazy for her and the way she thought. “Fuck, I love you.”

She had no problem returning the sentiment during the next one, two, three rounds.

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