fork burn

Gods & Pizza

Dionysos of overly cheesy pizza

Aphrodite of savouring every bite

Demeter of whole wheat crust & organic veggies

Hermes of overly greasy by the slice everything pizza & eating on the go

Athena of olives & dividing the pizza perfectly equally

Poseidon of anchovies

Hera of using a knife & fork

Hephaistos of burning it to a crisp

Hestia of home baked pizza & stealing the first bite of a friends slice

Hekate of herbs & spices to make the pizza a spell

Persephone of sundried tomatoes & eating outside in a sundress

Artemis of game meat pizza & sharing with close friends

Apollo of eating an entire large pizza by yourself in your room

Hades of eating actual portion sizes

Zeus of buying 3 large pizzas for a nephews birthday

037. 5SOS Preferences: Easy Fix

Just an idea kicking around my head. Hope you guys like it.


Turning the corner from the welcome mat that always greeted you at the front door of your loft, you stood stunned at the sight of stark white bubbles sliding out of the quaint bathroom like an avalanche. Luke was immersed in the center of it all, trapped between the sink and the bathtub (the root of the bubble overflow) and covered up to his knees in the soapy concoction. His jeans were soaked as were his socks as he was frantically trying to sweep them all back into the tub.

“What happened?” A breath of laughter combined with pure confusion, you asked, stepping closer, but standing up on your tip toes to avoid being touched by any water or bubbles.

“You sounded so stressed on the phone, so I wanted to make you one of those fancy baths you make me at the end of a long day…” The kind that smelled distinctively of lavender and that he had made you solemnly swear to never tell anyone he really enjoyed. Luke had gone as far as to chase you, soaking wet out of the tub, around the loft until you deleted your cell phone video of him relaxing in the claw foot tub, making a bubble beard over his chin, and listening to Sarah McLachlan.

“How much gel did you put in?” You bent down by your knees and began to roll up the legs of your jeans, ready to start helping him since clearly he needed an extra body.

“I don’t know. Like a chorus full.” Luke didn’t measure things like he should have. He had taken a whiff of the shower gel you used for bubble bath, thinking of how it smelled just like your bare skin, the aroma he knew from falling asleep with his face against your shoulder and woken up to by breathing it as the sun wafted over him, your body still loosely tucked beneath his generous arm. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to pay attention to his free pour, so he hummed along to the slow song playing in his head and gave himself the length of the chorus to dump in the gel. “And I put in one of your purple bath bombs things, but they should come with a warning!” He grumbled loudly, feeling very frustrated as you joined him in the bubbly mess, nearly slipping and instantly grabbing his arms to keep balanced as you giggled. “I was trying to do something nice.” Luke rolled his blue eyes at himself. “I was going to light candles and everything. He put down the broom, letting it fall to the tub’s side that you could no longer see and held you steady by the elbows. “I’m sorry.” Playfully, he pouted right at you, but you slid closer, letting the soap on the tiles guide your bare feet to his chest, and propped up your chin to kiss him.

“I appreciate it.” Laughing, you chalked this moment up to the simple phrase, ‘it’s the thought that counts’. “This is like a scene out of I Love Lucy.” Looking around at how both of you were knee deep in bubbles, you chuckled, picking some up and putting it right on his chin.

“I guess that makes me Lucy and you, Ethel.” Luke griped, swiping the soap from his chin and plopping it on top of your head.

Gasping, you moved away from him to pick up a large handful, but started to slip in the process. With your arms waving above your head like someone stranded on a remote island who heard a helicopter coming, you reached for Luke’s shirt, grabbing the pouch in the middle, and brought him crashing down into the mess of lavender scented clouds with you, both of you laughing hysterically.

“Least I made you laugh.” Luke shrugged, laying over you and fiddling around to remove soap from your collar. You were far more covered than he was, most of his chest safe from anything that was supposed to be in the bath tub.

“Well, you know what might perk me up…?” With your hands behind you, all your weight resting on them, you pushed up your chest and wiggled your eyes right into his stare as he was hovering above you like a blanket to shield you from being overthrown by bubbles.

“What?” Eager to know, Luke asked quickly.

Slowly, you looked around at your surroundings, assuming you two had a little while until all the bubbles popped and morphed into a thin layer of glistening dry soap, “Ever had sex in a room full of bubbles?” Just as you knew Luke liked, you bit down on your bottom lip and shrugged, offering him up a way to distress you and make use of his mistake.

“You’re the best.” Luke laughed, pushing his chest into yours and smiling as he kissed your peach stained lips.


“Did Mrs. Parker fall asleep smoking again?” Backing up into your apartment, hands full of files from your internship, you asked, assuming Calum was close enough as the place you two shared wasn’t disgusting in size. The smell of smoke and burning rubber greeted you as soon as the elevator doors opened to drop you off on the nineteenth floor of your high rise. The lady at the end of the hall had nearly burned the entire building down due to her forgetful nature and fondness of smoking inside even though it was against the building’s policy.

 Turning around, a gasp involuntarily jumped out of your throat as you spotted Calum standing in the narrow kitchen area, one arm high above his head and waving a cloth in front of the smoke detector as gray vapor surrounded him. It was lingering over to you in the foyer, making itself present in the living area as well.

Quickly, you rested your folders down on the dresser in the hall where you two stored things you didn’t have much use for, but couldn’t toss away in and rushed over to the living room window to open it up, the click-clack of your heels perky as you did.

“Is everything okay? What happened?” Calum was an impressive cook, always whipping up snacks for himself and calling his mom for her homemade recipes, but as you turned the corner, you spotted a black circular monstrosity sitting right in the middle of the stove top. “What was that supposed to be?”

Calum’s large eyes, the ones that found you in a crowded room without even trying, refused to look away from the cloth he was waving like a white flag. He was way too embarrassed to make eye contact with you. Stepping forward, you picked up the fork closest to the burned food, prongs covered in butter, and poked at it, watching as shiny black liquid oozed out if like a moldy wound or something that might leak out of Voldemort’s anus after eating the flesh of a muggle.

As the smoke detector began to sing, for Calum it was the second time, he grunted and reached around your waist for the plastic spatula that was near the stove, slapping at the flashing device on the ceiling like it was a kid who stole his lunch money way back in the day. Even after the annoying chirping ceased, Calum was still hitting at it.

In one single motion, you reached up and held his wrist in your hand, stopping him and bringing his arm down to his side, “Can you explain to me what is going on? There’s burned goop and you’re angry… what did I miss?” Genuinely interested you asked and then let go of Calum’s hand to cross your arms over your chest, your breasts instantly pushed up and giving him a perfect view of the cleavage he was so very fond of.

“You’ve been homesick lately so I was making that pie your Mom makes you.”

“Blueberry pie?” One eyebrow down, you checked. He made it sound more special than it actually was.

“Yeah, and I guess, I mixed up how hot the oven needed to be or how long it needed to be in because when I checked back, it was on fire….”The last few words of his explanation barely slipped out of his mouth, sounding sheepish in his confession. “And now the place smells like something died tragically and I think I ruined the oven and…I’m just fucking mad, okay?!” He pouted and tossed the spatula across the stove, decapitating the already dead pie and spraying the back of the stove with black blueberry liquid.

In order to cover up your amusement, you slapped a hand over your mouth and giggled into it, feeling Calum’s glare shift over you. He couldn’t act unimpressed for long, while it was annoying, he had to laugh.

“Thank you for trying, babe.” Taking your hand down, you said, reaching over and sympathetically patting your palm against his stomach over and over. “I’m going to go change into something comfy, take off these shoes, and let’s go out for dinner, let the place clear out…”

You took advantage of being closer to his height in your work shoes, kissing him slowly and pulling in his plush lips while his hands naturally went for your waist, rocking you back and forth gently for a moment. Mentally, Calum cursed the smoke in the apartment as now seemed like the perfect time to have kitchen sex. He let you go with a pout and started to clean up his mess as you sauntered off to the bedroom to change clothes.


It was a brand new position for both of you, but Michael was grinning from ear to ear, looking almost cartoony, as he was straddling your backside at the hips, the only thing covering your body was your bright blue jersey underwear. He, too, was only in his underwear, wearing plaid boxers that he generally walked around your place in the morning after a night over. He rubbed his oiled up hands together again and slid them from your waist to your shoulders. It felt nice to have his warm hands spread across you smoothly, but as his fingers curled over your shoulders, you had to bury your face into the pillow, the scent of the oils he chose from the drugstore below you building wafting right up your nose. While you couldn’t come up with the actual name of the aroma, it was musky and you tried your best to shallow the rough cough it threatened to bring out of your mouth.

“Feel good?” Michael checked. Usually it was you on top of him, either side, and giving him a late night massage to relax him into sleep. He wasn’t sure he was doing it right, but he was enjoying himself immensely.

“Yep.” You squeaked, lifting up your head from the pillow to report back, the bun you had tied your hair up in for the occasion bouncing on top of you.

“Good.” Michael moaned from the bottom of his throat and put his hands back at your waist, squeezing both sides harshly and bringing your stomach inward at his abrasive touch. You stayed quiet though, allowing him to find rhythm. It wasn’t as if he was professional masseuse after all. Besides, he had been so cute the way he talked about ‘a little surprise’ just for you over dinner, excitedly preparing your bedroom just for this massage. He had fumbled over himself to explain that he wanted you to chill and take a break from studying to unwind. The whole thing was really so sweet.

His touch didn’t seem to improve though even though you were trying to make you discomfort clear by squirming from side to side beneath him. His hands weren’t fluid as they slid up your side, braking and staring again a few times. Breathing in through your mouth to avoid the scent, you clenched your eyes shut while coaching yourself to get through the touch.

In general, nothing felt like Michael’s hands did on your body. You had lost your train of thought in almost every one of your classes because your mind wandered to the way his fingers twirled mindlessly through your hair when you were watching a movie on the couch, how his hand curled into a shell over yours whenever he was leading you by a mob of cameras, and especially when you remembered the way his hands held you down by the thighs as he kissed your body coarsely through foreplay. However, massage therapy was very clearly not Mikey’s forte. He had not missed his calling at all, his fingers were much better suited for guitar.

“Babe, that doesn’t feel very good. …” Gently, you peeped.

“Oh? Maybe, I just haven’t found a knot yet?” Unsure, Michael guessed.

“Maybe…” Biting down on your bottom lip, you knew that tha had nothing to do with it and, if anything, Michael was tying more knots in your body than he was working them out.

“Should I use more oil?” He released one of your sides, still pressing into the other like he was kneading cookie dough that had been kept in the freezer, and reached for the bottle he discarded on the sheets beside you.

“No!” You almost shouted, shaking your head as fast as you could. “I think you’ll get it. The oil amount right now is fine.” For both your sake’s, you really wanted to make this massage work. It was a nice gesture and the kind you had longed for for a bit since things had been hitting a plateau. If Michael could figure it out, you would have been appreciative, however, you weren’t exactly full of hope.

He picked up his hands from your sides after sneaking them between the king-sized mattress and your chest, taking a cheeky linger over your naked breasts. You heard him rubbing them together again before sliding them up your spine.

“Can you just go a touch lighter? Please?” Using the cute voice he really liked, you suggested and, right away, Michael improved. He went from being a gargoyle to just a gentle giant. With ease, you sunk back down and lied your head down on the pillow, pushing your cheek in with a tiny smile.

Michael’s hands curled over your shoulders, thumbs positioned at a pressure point he was pretty sure you usually pushed on him, and he squeezed like a vulture finding it’s prey on the ground.

Just like a Jack in the Box, you shot up with a loud ‘Ow!’, starling Michael so he threw his hands off of you and left them at his side.

“That was way too hard. Oh my gosh.” You stretched out your mouth in reaction, reaching up with your arms crossed, and comforting your shoulders with gentle rubs from opposite hands.

“I’m sorry.” His lips stretched out, teeth tight together, as he fisted his blond hair. “I’m really trying.” He could tell you weren’t enjoying it as he had been anticipating the kind of groans he made when you massaged him to rise from your mouth, but you were being stiff and silent.

“I know, I know…” As Michael lifted up on his knees, you laid down and slid around to face him, giving him an eyeful. “And it’s so sweet, I love it, but it doesn’t feel good.” To soften the blow you were delivering, you pouted and shook your head up at him.

“I’m sorry.” Again, he told you and wiped his greasy palms against his bare legs, trying to clean himself of all embarrassment.

“Maybe you could just go down on me…or we could top and tail…?” The position of 69 one you two were very accustom to and only ever had had success with. In fact, you were certain it was just what you needed to unwind. “I know that would feel good.” You gave Michael a smile and slid both your hands up his chest just as you would if he was receiving a massage, watching the self-pity on his face vanish as he perked up like a dog who had just overheard the word ‘walk’.


“This is nice.” Almost singing, you mentioned while your eyes watched nothing, but trees lead the way outside of the window.

The radio was playing James Morrison as Ashton’s had plugged in his iPod into the car and was letting a mellow mix sing you two through a long drive through nowhere. Both of you had a strange mutual affection for long aimless drives down the freeway, but it had been a long time since you two had been able to go on one together. He was so busy since the album came out and almost never around, leaving you to cruise dolo through the night. Ashton never let it slip his mind though, the sweet midnight video you texted him, the view of the open road through your windshield as a song you two deemed as yours played softly in the background. Quickly after it, you sent the sweet message of, ‘wish you were here riding shotgun’.

He might have been in the driver seat, but Ashton was happy to be able to give you this. It didn’t cost anything and it actually was putting his constantly jumbled mind at ease. He had only one hand on the center of the wheel, controlling the car, as his other was on your knee and running his thumb over its slight curve.

Ashton was just about to agree with you, look over with the smile he wore when he was most comfortable, and tell you that he had missed you so much when the ‘check oil’ light began to flash yellow rapidly, chirping above the sexy voice of James Morrison.

“What the fuck?” Ashton squinted, taking his hand off of you to put both on the wheel. He toyed with the shift, but it didn’t stop the noise or the flashing. You could feel the car buzzing, hearing it rattle, and slowly it came to a stop before he could even drive off to the side. “No, no, no…” Ashton began to mutter, his voice growing in volume as the music was dying all together. “This is not happening.” Luke had told him that going for a long drive after the car hadn’t been used in over five months was a bad idea, especially if he hadn’t changed the oil, but Ashton was too gleeful to remember. He just drove straight to pick you up and took off for the stretch of freeway that he knew you were both dreaming about.

“What is happening?” Carefully, you asked as Ashton kept trying to push the engine button on his car, poking at it angrily like he had a stick in his grip or something to that affect. Finally, he let out a primal groan that belonged to a brown bear and threw his arms up to slam the wheel out of frustration. “Fucking Hell.”

“I didn’t change the oil and it’s probably like thick and syrupy and….FUCK!”

“Okay, okay, okay….” You reached to squeeze his arm, a soft attempt to calm him down. You could feel his bicep growing with rage, so you reached between your feet to rummage through your purse for your cell phone, searching for a tow truck on the Google app. “We’ll call a tow. It’s fine. We can listen to music on my phone.” Pressing your side into the window, you told him as he got out of the car to check under the hood while you called for a tow truck.

After talking to the man on the other end of the phone, receiving grim news that it would take close to two hours for anyone to be able to come retrieve you two, you slid your phone into the pocket of your denim shorts and hopped out of the car.

The tip of your tongue was sliding back and forth behind your closed lips, debating how to tell Ashton that you two were going to be stuck a while, but his arms were exposed from his sleeveless shirt and covered in grease as he peered into the hood of his truck. For just a second, you lost the direction of your thought and let your eyes bulge out at him as if you were Roger Rabbit.

“What?” Throwing back his head, Ashton itched under his bandana and waited for your report. His mind was reeling over how he had ruined such a nice moment. Ashton had it set in his mind that as a man, he should not have let this happen and now he was a major disappointment as a boyfriend.

“It’s going to be a while…” The words came out a lot faster than you meant them to, delivering the news casually as you strolled over to him, leaning your butt against the front of his car. “Want to get cozy in the backseat?” With your hands over your hips you asked, tilting your chin up at him and watching as he went from frustrated to amused to interested. Ashton pulled you close to him by the waist, his greasy hands staining your sides, and held you to his chest with one curled arm before slamming down the hood.

“What do you have in mind, huh?” Growling, he laughed and smacked your ass before nodding for you to take the lead. 

i will literally take a fork and dig the eyeballs out of anyone who calls all electronic music dubstep and then burn them alive i hate you all i hate you and i hope you all die

The Trouble with Faking It Outtake 2 - The Middle

Emma stares into the bathroom mirror, a set of troubled green eyes filled with accusation glaring back. She sighs, glancing at the closed door and picking up a brush to run through her damp hair once more. She’s already showered, taken her time applying lotion, and towel-dried her hair. It doesn’t matter if she’s not in the mood to face Killian and the intimacy of a shared bed, pillow wall or not – she’s about out of options.

What the hell got into you tonight? Was it the wine? It had to have been the wine. Two glasses was a bad idea. No more of that.

Regina made them reservations tonight at one of the dozen restaurants in this city sure to attract the attention of a photographer or ten. The food was overpriced and not that good, something Emma has come to expect on these little outings. Everything was perfectly normal.

Except her.

Keep reading

#3: There's Someone Else
Liam-  —–The two of you were laying on his couch, huddled together, him flipping through channels on the television. He stopped on a celebrity gossip channel, knowing for some reason that you love those shows. After a few topics, the air in the room seemed to minimize when the leading lady mentioned you and Liam.  “So, we all know Liam’s arm candy, right?” The other celebrities around her had nodded their heads, adding side comments of their support of you. Your happiness of being mentioned on this show seemed to come as fast as it went as pictures of you and another guy showed up on the screen. One of you laughing, and another of the two of you looking at rings in a store. “Looks like the One Direction star has been looking in the other direction when it comes to her getting cozy with other men, am I right?"  The tv was abruptly shut off and the warmth next to you vanished. He was now standing, making his way into the other room. You hurriedly followed, flinching when he turned around at a swift pace, eyes wild.  "There’s someone else?” “No! No, why would you think that!” You fired back, not liking the tone of his voice one bit. “No, you’re right. Why would I think that you’re cheating when the pictures of you looking at ENGAGEMENT rings with another man obviously doesn’t mean anything!” “That’s BECAUSE it doesn’t mean anything, Liam!” He shouted and picked up a small vase, throwing it to the floor. You yelped and jumped back, feeling shivers run down your spine. “Stop lying to me!"  "I’m not lying! Have you not met my family!” He stopped walking and raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything, here?” “It has to do with the fact that I know you’ve met my sister’s boyfriend before!” His features squinted together and then relaxed, realization coming across him. Trying to give you an answer, you fired again, wishing you could spit venom at the moment. “God, he took me engagement ring shopping because he was going to propose to her! I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it mattered, but I guess it obviously does now! I can’t believe you would believe those rumors and blow up in my face before actually talking to me about it!” His palm ran over his forehead and he leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor.  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Looking down at him, you crossed you arms and scoffed. “You should be. We’ve been together too long for you to think those things.” Pointing to the broken pottery on the floor, you adverted his gaze. “Clean that up, I know how much that vase meant to your mom. I’m going home, we can talk when I’m calmed down.” You didn’t  listen to his pleads to stay, for you grabbed your purse and went home, needed some time to yourself. Niall- (This is really short compared to the others i’m sorry) —– He could’ve sworn he had his life planned out. He had his dream job, money, a good support system, tons of friends, even the girl of anyone’s dreams. They were friends since they were little, it was only expected that they would end up together, so it was a mutual decision to date. After a while, Niall began to notice that she was similar to him, too similar. Their romance was losing it’s spark, and she tried to reignite it with all that she had. Niall tried too, but lost all hope when he met you. Meeting you, threw his while life a curve ball, in the greatest way possible. You were so similar, yet the complete opposite of himself, and he loved it. The two of you never ran out of things to talk about or things to do, it was exciting to him. You had no clue that he was with someone else at the time. That is, until he told you that he broke up with her. He knew that it was wrong to keep her dangling by a thread. He couldn’t handle feeling so guilty that he was developing feelings for someone else, but he didn’t feel so guilty when he found out that you maybe were falling for him, too.—– Harry- —–He had come home late that night, not saying a word. You had dinner prepared and before you could get a word in, he had made his way upstairs and slammed the bedroom door shut. So there you sat at the table, mindlessly moving the food with your fork, watching the burning candle.  Hours had passed and you had had enough of him ignoring you, considering this behavior was nothing like him. You heated up a bit of his dinner and cautiously made your way up the stairs to your room. Once you got in there, you softly knocked and whispered his name as you opened the door, just enough to see him pacing back and forth across the room, talking on the phone. “I should be able to go out with my girlfriend, not have her sit home while I’m out with someone else!” His cheeks were reddened and his hair was pulled in different directions, signs that he was distraught. You quickly stood behind the door, not wanting him to see you. It’s not that you liked being sneaky, but the conversation involved you, so you felt inclined to listen.  "I don’t care about the publicity, for christ’s sake, we’re the biggest boy band in the world right now! So what’s this exactly going to benefit, because its certainly not me!“  You could hear the bed settle, meaning that he sat down. He let out a long sigh and you felt it was your cue to make an appearance. When you opened the door a bit more, his eyes immediately found yours. You placed his meal on your bedside table as he told whoever was on the phone that he had to go. Without another word, he gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto the bed with him, huddling his face into your neck. After a few moments he pulled away, only a tad, and looked you in the eyes.  "You know I wouldn’t do this if I had the choice. Management’s making me have another girlfriend for publicity. They said I’ve been under the radar for too long and going out in public with you won’t cut it. I’m so sorry."  You nodded your head, ignoring the small lump in your throat forming.  "No, it’s fine, I get it. I just have to lay as low as possible for a bit.” He chuckled and shook his head, smiling.  “You’re so understanding about this, I don’t get it. Anyone else would throw a fit.” You rolled your eyes and mockingly flipped your hair. “Yeah, yeah. I could be like that, you know. If under any circumstances, a picture of you and this girl  kissing ends up in front of my eyes, run for the hills. I don’t want to feel like the other woman.” Kissing the top of your head, he reached over to the plate and set it in his lap.  “You’re my number one girl and no amount of fake girlfriends or fans would ever change that.”—– Zayn- —– “He’s cheating on me, I know it. Either that or he’s making it pretty obvious that he doesn’t eat to spend time with me anymore."  You sighed into the phone, falling back onto the bed. The ends of your hair twirled between your thumb and pointer finger as you vented to your best friend. Zayn had been extremely distant lately, and you had begun to fear for the worst. There’s not way he could be proposing, you’d only been together for a few months, so the only logical explanations would be that he was cheating.  "Maybe he has a good explanation for why he’s been acting so strange lately? You can’t just jump to conclusions.” She had a good point, but what exactly could explain everything? Him leaving early on dates, haven to cancel, having to end our phone conversations, it didn’t make any sense. Your train of thought was interrupted by your phone chiming, signaling you got a message. It was him. He wants you to come over. Putting the your cell on speaker, you quickly replied, saying you’ll be there soon, and gave a quick goodbye to your friend. He met you outside and immediately swiped his hands down your arms, holding your hands. After giving you a kiss hello, his smile dropped, adding a serious feeling to the air. “Oh god, you’re breaking up with me."  You tried to keep your cool but it came out as more of a whimper. His demeanor immediately changed again, shaking his head. "No, no! Of course not! I know I haven’t exactly been there for you, but I have a reason, and that’s why you’re here. I know we haven’t been together for every long, but I really, really, like you. You’re going to find out sooner or later, so I was just waiting for a good time to show you. I guess there never really is a good time for this.” He airily chuckled, rubbing a hand on his neck.  “Come inside, yeah?” Raising an eyebrow, you let him lead you inside. All thoughts of another girlfriend disappeared when you saw a little girl, perhaps the age of 2, sitting in his living room floor.  “Leah?” The girl turned around, her caramel eyes lighting up, dark and wavy hair falling across her shoulders as she hurried over to Zayn. He picked her up and motioned over to you.  “Leah, this is Daddy’s friend.” “Hi, Daddy’s friend.” She waved at you and you cautiously waved back, giving yourself a chance to let this moment sink in. Zayn has a daughter.  After sitting and playing with his daughter for a bit and waiting dinner, it was time for you to go home. Following you out, Zayn’s happy expression illuminated under the porch light. “Im sorry to spring this on you so soon into the relationship. My ex fiancée and I had her, she’s one of the most important things to me right now, including you and I-” You cut him off by lightly kissing his lips. Pulling away, you hugged him and laughed. “It’s fine. You’re fine. We’re fine. I can’t believe that I thought you were going to break up with me. She’s gorgeous and I can’t wait to spend more time with her." "You and me both, baby. You and me both.”—– Louis-  —– You had met at a mutual friend’s dinner party, your husband feeling under the weather so he had stayed home. The minute you caught a glimpse of his seemingly flawless physique, you knew he was nothing but trouble. However, the way his eyes narrowed in on you through the hallway, making your skin tingle and the wine glass in your hand shake, you couldn’t keep him out of your thoughts. You knew you should have declined when he asked you to join him on the back porch, grazing his fingers on your lower back, or when he wanted to adjust your hair that was tousled from the breeze. The signs to stay away were practically screaming as you could smell his cologne and saw the sparkle in his icy blue eyes, practically reeling you in. Within hours, he had invaded all of your senses, driving you wild. They seemed to be on overdrive, except for your sense of judgement as your leg was propped up on the bathroom counter, rocking into the wall, your mouth plastered onto his to mute your euphoric noises. The next morning, your husband noticed the marks on your neck, letting you quickly retaliate, trying to make him believe that his medicine was so strong that he must’ve forgotten what you two had done. As guilty as you felt, you couldn’t stay away from Louis, he was your drug. Every possible moment that you could spend alone with him, he ignited your body on fire. Your office, his bedroom, anywhere was good enough for you, for the passion had grew unbearable. It dawned on you, one day, what exactly you were doing. Cheating. You had never done it before and now you felt sick to your stomach, needing to end this feud between your head and heart. Would you stay with the man who stuck by you through thick and thin, or go to the man who makes you feel things that your husband never could, a man that you’re falling for?—– A/N: Feedback would so great. Let me know if you have any preference requests!!