i nearly dropped my phone on my face when i first saw this

Aisles [M]

Aisle Two

Summary: Jungkook was your best friend. You held onto his secrets. And he knew all of yours. Except for one. One that would change your friendship forever. You were in love with him.

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Genre: bestfriend!au, college!au, angst, smut

Word Count: 6,772

Originally posted by sugutie

Aisle One Aisle Two Aisle Three

Your apartment was like a ghost town. The emptiness echoed every time you stepped foot in the sad space. His shoes were missing by the front door. Your keys were never on the side table. There was evidence that people lived there. Ramen packets in the trash. Used coffee cups on the sink. But no one had really been around for two weeks.

Two weeks. This was the longest you had gone without speaking to Hoseok, yet alone seeing him. The fight at Yoongi’s was the worst you ever had. His sharp tongue dug wounds that even stitches couldn’t heal. He had been keeping himself occupied at Yoongi’s or the dance studio. Your heart sank into your chest anytime you came home and heard the washing machine running, only to find that the person who was wearing them was nowhere to be found.

A small part of you enjoyed the quiet. You were able to spread all your materials out on the coffee table. Bags of chips and half empty iced lattes were littered in between stacks of highlighted notes. He wasn’t there to yell at you when you fell asleep face first on your microbiology homework, the lines of the pages leaving imprints on your cheeks.

You did miss him. The two of you had been friends for years. But this time it was not your turn to say sorry. If Hoseok wanted things to go back to normal, he would have to swallow his large amount of pride and apologize.

But you had never heard Hoseok apologize in his life. 

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Professor || Sebastian Stan

Relationship: Professor!Sebastian x reader

Summary: A one night stand turns into more of a problem when you realise that your professor is your one night stand.

Warnings: mentions of smut, drinking, age gap (reader is legal and in mid-twenties!!!), age difference, professor x student relationship

Word Count: 1770 words

A/N: im kinda getting my groove back let’s hope it lasts during the week because uni is already making me wanna die (((:

also my cause of death is the second gif GOODBYE


Just one more shot!” Seemed to be the motto of your night as you insisted you and your friends needed to go partying on one last Friday night before you start for your masters degree. 

You weren’t ever the party girl, never really big on drinking, but that all changed when you saw your schedule for the semester. You were going to be cooped up in your room for the next eight months, no doubt about it. 

So why not have a little fun while you still can? It can’t hurt, right?

Six tequila shots in and you were quite possibly the happiest person in the club, no, on the Earth. Not a single care in your mind, everything was all about the moment and whatever you laid eyes on in that very moment. 

That just so happened to be the exact moment your eyes met a gorgeous pair of cool grey ones. It might’ve been your intoxicated state, but you could’ve sworn that you knew those eyes, that you’ve seen them before. 

Your thoughts were pushed aside when the man walked even closer to you, offering to buy you a drink, to which you declined because quite frankly, you didn’t want to yack in front of the gorgeous man in front of you. 

His face fell when you denied his offer, but quickly made up for it when you grabbed his hand, pulling him to the crowded (makeshift) dance floor, immediately grinding yourself against him. 

His hands were large and warm, splayed against your waist as they moved your body against his, small and breathy moans leaving his mouth every once in a while as his head fell in the crook of your neck. 

A few songs later and the next thing you knew you were outside in the alley behind the bar against the wall making out with the handsome stranger you had yet to learn the name of. 

Fuck,” you gasped when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, undoubtedly working on leaving some type of mark on you, “Sebastian,” you heard him mumble, confusing you. 

“What?” You asked, still panting against his face, your arms still laced around his neck, “my name,” he said, “it’s Sebastian,” he repeated as you smirked, crashing your lips against his, “take me home, Sebastian” you whispered in a sultry tone before he grabbed your hand and flagging a cab down. 

 The cab ride to his place was filled with not-so-subtle touches as you both looked out of your respective windows, trying not to draw any attention to your states, which clearly didn’t work. 

Sebastian nearly dragged you out of the cab, quickly paying the driver before bolting into his building to the stairs, “it’s only the second floor,” he assured as you nodded but all you could focus was how broad his shoulders were. 

“I’m gonna fucking wreck you, doll,” he growled against your ear the second he had the door closed causing shivers to erupt on your skin as you followed him into the bedroom. 


Your head was pounding and every muscle in your body seemed to scream stop when you tried to sit or stand up. When you finally managed to muster up the strength to sit up and open your eyes you realised you were not, in fact, in your own bed. 

You gasped when you saw a man beside you, cursing when you couldn’t remember his name, even though it was right on the tip of your tongue. You checked your phone and found that it had thirty percent and you nearly cheered out loud. 

Quickly pulling on your clothes you took one last look at the very handsome sleeping man before walking out of his apartment, and making the walk to yours. 


Monday came sooner than you wanted it to, but your weekend was eventful and you couldn’t be happier at making the choice to go out on Friday. Your friends had pried every single detail from your night when you got home. You told them everything you could remember, but leaving out some of the more graphic details. 

You still couldn’t remember his name, you tried looking through your contacts to see if he maybe added his number, but nothing. It was still on the tip of your tongue, in the back of your mind, but you just couldn’t get it out. 

Either way, you knew you had to push the man out of your thoughts as you rushed to get ready for your first class. You hit snooze just one too many times and you were running behind. Figuring you’d have to skip on breakfast you grabbed a granola bar before rushing out of your apartment. 

You lived practically right beside campus, thankfully, so when you stepped on campus and saw your building you were relieved, it was the first day of classes as well, it shouldn’t be a problem if you’re a little late, right?

It was weird being on campus and in your mid-twenties surrounded by young eighteen year olds scurrying to find their classes, you almost laughed remembering your own panic when you had to find your classes as a freshman. 

Walking into the large building you quickly descended the stairs and into the basement before walking down to the end of the hall finally reaching the lecture hall and pulling the doors open, stumbling in. 

The room was quite, so quite as you clumsily stumbled in. Every single pair of eyes was on you as you made your way to the only seemingly empty seat at the front of the hall, slumping down in your seat. 

“As I was saying,” a male voice caught your attention, “my name is Dr. Stan, but you can call me Sebastian,” your heart dropped to your stomach as you slowly lifted your head to meet the same blue eyes, both your jaws tensing. 

“Let’s begin,” Sebastian said, his eyes lingering on yours for a second longer before turning to grab the textbook. 


“You slept with your professor!” Nat screeched, howling laughter continuing as you buried your head into the couch cushion as she continued laughing at your misery, “it’s not funny, we could both get in serious trouble,” you told her, sitting up as she raised a brow. 

“And why should anyone find out?” She questioned as you sighed, “I don’t know…” you trailed off realising just how paranoid you were being, “you’re both adults and you slept with him before you even knew he was gonna be teaching you,” she said, reassuring you as you nodded your head, slumping back against the couch. 

“I can’t even look at him without turning into a tomato,” you groaned as Nat let out another loud laugh, “you have leverage now,” she grinned mischievously as you rolled her eyes, “you’re ridiculous,” you laughed as she shrugged her shoulders, taking another sip of her drink. 

Your first class with Dr. Stan, or Sebastian as he preferred, was awkward nonetheless. You couldn’t focus on what he was saying, barely making any notes as your mind screamed you’ve seen him naked! over and over again. 

It’s true though, whatever he was doing, you could picture him doing it naked, as gross, disturbing, and wrong as that sounded you just couldn’t help yourself. You knew he must’ve been uncomfortable as well because he would cough or stumble on his words every time his eyes landed on yours. 

Thankfully you didn’t have another one of his lectures until Thursday, hopefully you’d be able to push aside what happened and be professional. You’d just have to wait and see. 


You stood at his desk looking everywhere and anywhere other than him his words ringing in your mind, “Miss. [Y/L/N], may I have a word with you?” His voice just kept replaying in your mind, psyching yourself out for what he was going to say. 

You heard the door close as the last student was finally out, leaving just you and Sebastian, “so,” he said, clearing his throat as you finally looked up at him, almost out of reflex. 

God he was gorgeous. Dark brown locks brushed neatly behind his ears, his piercing blue eyes looking directly at you, his tailed suit hugging every curve of his body, no wonder you slept with him in the first place. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about, well,” he chuckled nervously, his hand rubbing the back of his head as he looked at his feet. He was just as nervous about this as you, possibly more. 

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, his head shooting up at the sound of your voice, “neither of us knew you’d be teaching me and we were both a little intoxicated,” you assured him with a small smile he mimicked. 

“Right,” he spoke, “it doesn’t have to be weird at all,” even you knew that was a lie. Neither of you could look at each other without being flustered and neither of you were good at covering up your emotions. 

“It’s probably gonna be a little weird,” you laughed as he laughed as well, tipping his head to the side as he admired you, “that was a great night,” he whispered as both your laughter died down. 

Your breath hitched as he said that, a wave of arousal flowing through you as you remembered what you both did that night, “it’s illegal,” you warned, although you didn’t sound too convincing, “it wasn’t on that night,” he smirked as you straightened up, gaining some confidence. 

“Well, Dr. Stan,” you spoke in a fake preppy tone, “I must warn you that you’re venturing into some very dangerous waters,” now your tone was much more sultry than anything. You watched as he took a few steps towards you, his eyes much darker than when you first started talking to them. 

“Careful, Miss [Y/L/N], you don’t wanna start something you can’t finish,” he whispered, his breath fanning over your face, “who says I can’t finish it?” You smirked as he bit his lip, trying his hardest not to take you right then and there. 

The sound of voices outside the lecture hall made both you and Sebastian jump back just in time for the door to open and a new group of students came pouring in, “see you on Monday, Sebastian,” you smiled, returning to your normal voice before spinning on the heels of your feet and walking out of the hall. 

The second you were outside you let out a large sigh, you were in deep and there was no way anyone was coming out of this unscathed. Fuck. 


A/N: this is gonna be a mini-series so there’s gonna be more parts I promise!!

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in it!

stormy nights || stiles stilinski (smut )

word count: 3550

prompt: my smut for lacrosse week!

warnings: smut, swearing

author’s note: this is my first solo smut and i hope you guys like it! let me know if i should keep writing smut. please leave feedback on this!

masterlist

coming soon

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Thievery | Peter Parker x Reader

requested: no

summary: reader is peter’s best friend and has just realized her true feelings. after the school day she is walking home and stops at Delmar’s to get a sandwich where a theif comes in and holds everyone at gunpoint. reader is well trained in fighting and takes him on, unaware that he has powers. spider-man arrives on the scene and things get interesting…

word count: 2252 (sorry it’s so long, got carried away)

a/n: this is my first peter parker one and i’m nervous. also idk how i feel about this but i would be up to writing a part 2..? PLEASE give me feedback, that gives me life. anyway hope you enjoy

part 2  part 3

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Tucking a strand of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, you steeled yourself to brave the horrors that were the halls of Midtown Science High School. You sucked in a breath and dove in, immediately being shoved from side to side by teenagers preoccupied by their phones, their friends, or their crushes.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N!” You heard your friend Ned shouting for you and pivoted to face him, nearly causing yourself to collide with a huge dude with a mohawk. Luckily, Ned managed to grab your arm and yank you over to him.

Gasping a sigh of relief you thanked him, “Ned, you just saved my life.” To which he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah Y/N, he’s a real spider-man, better actually.” You heard the sarcasm dripping from his mouth before you saw your best friend in the world: Peter Parker. He came into view with his slightly-disheveled (but in a good way) hair. You averted your eyes immediately, feeling that tight sensation in the pit of your stomach. Unfortunately, your inability to meet his eyes did not go unnoticed and Peter’s face melted into worry, “Hey, Y/N? You ok?” His voice was ridden with worry but you just brushed it off.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just thought I might’ve dropped something.” You mumbled your excuse, gesturing to your overflowing hands with a short nod and flashed him an empty smile. He cocked his eyebrows at you, clearly knowing something was up, but let it go.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight and have a Star Wars marathon with us?” Ned asked as he finished locking away his supplies in his locker and slamming it shut with an ear piercing metal bang. You considered his offer, on one hand you loved hanging out with them, you guys always laughed a lot and a new inside joke came out of every single one of these sleepovers. On the other hand, just this week you noticed something that once realized, could not be shoved to the side; you were falling in love with Peter, fast.

Recognizing your hesitation Ned used his persuasive sing-song voice, “There will be Doritosssss…you’re favorite.” He poked you in the side and you threw your head back and giggled. You glanced sideways at Ned, taking in his goofy grin, raised eyebrows and squinted eyes awaiting your response, and then you couldn’t wait any longer and you met Peter’s gaze. He was looking at you with a small smile and his eyes sparkled light brown with sincere affection. Dammit.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun, who’s house?” You gave in, knowing it was in your best interest both to have fun and because they would fight you on it until you said yes anyway. Both the teenage boys’ faces lit up with excitement.

“5:30!! My house.” Peter exclaimed, clapping his hands together in victory. You snorted a bit and nodded.

“I’ll be there. Alright, I have to run home to clean my room and I want to stop at Delmar’s on the way. Peter you wanna come with? It’s right near your apartment.” You let it slip before you could think better of it. Peter got the face that said “I really want to come but…” and you knew exactly what was coming.

“I have the Stark internship…” You said it in unison with him, earning a small smirk and a sigh, “I’m sorry but I really do need to just finish… some, stuff.. before we all hang out.” You nodded and called a goodbye, turning just too early to see the sorrowful look on his face. He wanted to be with you more than you knew…


“Hey Mr. Delmar!” You called as you entered the bodega. The large man behind the counter smiled at you as you made your way to the fat cat on the counter.

“Hola Y/N. You want a number 3? No pickles?” He asks you, you nod in approval.

“Oh you know me so well,” You shot him a wide smile and then began to scan the aisles to pass the time. You strolled past a mother with her little boy and noted that he was grasping a spider-man toy in his hand and tugging at his mother’s arm.

“Mommy, Mommy, wook, I make Pider-man go flying to help.” His baby lisp only made the entire scene that much cuter, his mother looked down and smiled at him, “Yes baby, Spider-man will always protect you.” You felt your heart leap. You always felt this weird connection to the idea of Spider-man, more-so than any other hero.

“So, Y/N, where is your boyfriend?” You hear Mr. Delmar call as you round the aisle closest to him. He rests an elbow on the counter and raises a single eyebrow in an eerie knowing way. You narrow your eyes at him and prepare to give him the “He’s not my boyfriend speech” that you give him at least twice a week. But you stopped short when his eyes went wide and he raised his hands in submission. He cocked his head at you as an attempt to tell you to get away.

“Put your hands in the air,” You heard a rough voice and then felt a jab in your lower back… a gun. You did as he said and felt him pin your hands together and place them where the gun was, which was now by your head. You felt your heartbeat in your neck and everything seemed to slow down. You saw the woman pull her son behind the furthest aisle, she locked eyes with you and you felt her fear echoed in your face.

“Give me the money, NOW” He shouted at Mr. Delmar, who looked at you with the concern of a parent and did as he said, pulling open the cash register. Pulling yourself out of the haze of fear you forced yourself to remember your training. Closing your eyes tight you drew in a serene breath, One, Two, Three.

Throwing your elbow back, you stomped on his booted foot. He drew away from you with a wheeze of surprise and pain. You threw a hard right hook and distracted him as Mr. Delmar reached for the phone and dialed 911. You actually started to have the upper hand as you kicked out his right foot and he fell to his knee, but then something turned the tables, his hands began to steam and his ski mask caught fire… shit


Peter always followed you home before he started searching for crime, only leaving you if he sees a problem or hears sirens. He was sitting up on top of the building behind the ATM across the street from Delmar’s swinging his legs back and forth and waiting for you to return to view with a sandwich in hand. He pulled his phone out of the side pocket of his backpack and scrolled through to see if he had any new texts from Ned. You were taking longer than usual, he stood up on the edge of the building, careful not to be seen, since he was wearing the Spider-man suit, and searched for you.

Peter knew something was up, he couldn’t keep hiding the secret from you, and eventually Ned would probably let it slip. He thought back to earlier this afternoon when you wouldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t want to lose you but he didn’t want to put you in jeopardy with you knowing.

“Karen, can I hear what’s happening in there?” Peter asked his suit lady.

“Engaging enhanced reconnaissance mode” He then heard a commotion and could see the heat signatures of two people fighting. Suddenly, however, one of the figures had their hands and head light up red-hot. Shit, Y/N was in there. Peter shot up and jumped from his perch onto the ATM building and then swung down to Delmar’s, blasting through the door. Nobody would hurt Y/N…


You pulled away from the burning man and backed up as far as you could. But you remembered the frightened woman and decided to try and lead him away from them, “Come on, I’m just a teenager why don’t you come get me?” That was the wrong thing to say, he hurled a fireball at your head. You narrowly avoided it but fell to the floor, tripping over a fallen newspaper stack. Your heart caught in your throat as he moved to stand over you, pulling off his mask to reveal a devilish smirk.

“What are you going to do now, babyface?” He growled at you, showcasing his cracked and missing teeth. You cringed away just kind of moving backwards an inch.

“She doesn’t have to do anything, because I will.” Your head whipped up to find the source of the familiar voice. What you found you couldn’t believe… It was him! Spider-man. He shot a web into the middle of the mans chest and used it to pull him forward, he kicked the man in the chest and then looked over at you. “Get everyone out of here! Get to safety.” You looked up at him mesmerized, taking a moment to fully absorb his words and then nodded profusely. You pulled yourself up, muscles aching from the combat you just did and scurried over to huddled mother. 

“Please, you have to get out of her.” The woman nodded and gripped her son tightly, sprinting for the door as he kept pointing at the real version of the small action figure in his hand. You nodded at Mr. Delmar and he began to get employees out. You slowly leaned around one of the aisles to see where they were. Spider-man was locked in combat with him, continuously shooting webs that would melt over his hands so that the punches didn’t burn. You saw that no one else was left in the store and looked around for an exit route. You were blocked in, they had moved over by the doorway. You wanted to help the hero but didn’t know how. Then it occurred to you.

You leaned close to the ground and made your way to the ice cream refrigerator on the wall on the wall. Desperately, you flung the door open and began ripping ice cream off the walls, until there was enough space for you to be able to fit in it. You stood in front of it and then prepared yourself for bravery you were pretty sure you didn’t actually have.

“Hey! Hot-Head! Come at me, I bet I can still take you.” He turned to you and smiled. You turned around fast to make sure the open fridge was right behind you.

“What-what’re you doing!?” Spider-man shouted, but you shook your head, letting the man get closer. His hands caught fire and he pushed you until you were up against the freezer and you caught eyes with Spider-man. You had about 2 seconds to get him to understand. You gestured your head back, ducked down and pushed yourself on the floor between the mans legs and shouted, “WEB HIM.”

In a second a stream of webs shot over your head and sealed the man in the freezer, door still open (you weren’t trying to kill him). Spider-man walked forward and webbed him over and over again. And you knew your theory worked, the fridge counteracted his heat and he could not melt the webs.

When he was done webbing the thief, Spider-man turned to you and cocked his head in a weirdly familiar way, “Thank you, that was really brave..” He seemed confused but also satisfied and sort of… proud?

“Yeah- uh, no of course.” You replied nervously, noticing that he seemed to have made his voice lower since the last time he talked. You took in his muscles and felt a blush creep over your face.

“Listen, I kind of have to go, the cops are going to get here soon and I really don’t want to have to explain to my parents what happened, also I want to be able to hang out with my friends. They’d never let me leave the house again after this…” You gestured to the scene around you. The masked hero nodded. 

“I get it… more than you know. Come here, I can help.” He motioned for you to come outside by the door with him. “Hold on tight.” He grabbed you around the waist once you were out and shot a web, lifting you into the air. It was exhilarating and you felt your hair whipping around your face. However, the joy ride was short. Spider-man brought you to the ground 3 buildings over from Delmar’s just as the first responders arrived on the scene. Miraculously he took you in the direction of your house.

“Now you don’t have to worry, get home safe. I don’t recommend any more stops tonight.” Spider-man said to you. There was a note of deep concern in his voice and again it felt familiar.

“Thank you,” You whispered breathless. Staring at a real hero, one whom you had just helped catch a villain was unreal. He didn’t answer, he merely raised a gloved hand and smoothed down your unruly hair. Then without warning he shot a web out to his right and swung out of view.

Something in your stomach was telling you that you knew the face underneath that mask, but you tucked away that nagging feeling and hauled-ass home.

Movie Night || Tom Holland

Originally posted by tom-hollcnd

Relationship: Tom Holland x reader

Summary: A movie night leads to more than planned when you discover just what Tom gets ups to after you’ve left.

Warnings: S M U T (18+)

Word Count: 1755 words.

A/N: OW;EDFJKLBE;ROGISDFHN’AOREIDFJKX


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Hey, Neighbor | Byun Baekhyun

Originally posted by baek-to-basics

Link to Masterlist

Neighbor AU | Fluff !!

Summary: In which you have a huge crush on your neighbour, Byun Baekhyun, and you aren’t really sure what to do about it; until every passing encounter soon forces you to face your feelings.

Word Count: 5.5K (again, oops)


A/N: I finally wrote something with my baby Byun Baek as the lead…I hope you enjoy!


You had pretty much fallen head over heels for your devastatingly cute neighbor  the very first time you ran into him in the elevator.

He’d looked at you with those twinkling eyes from under his messy hair, and you’d melted on the spot. “I’m Baekhyun,” he’d said, grinning, offering his hand. “How come I’ve never seen you around?”

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I'll Always Write Back [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: I’ll Always Write Back

Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader

Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen

Requested: by the lovely @the-murphy-family

Summary: Connor and the reader are friends online, but then find out they’re neighbors too. The reader is homeschooled, so she has no way of hearing the rumors about him. They become best buds and hang out with each other everyday and eventually fall in love

A/N: This was waaaayyy longer than I wanted it to be, so my apologizes in advance. Thanks again to @the-murphy-family for such a fantastic prompt, I’m sorry I rushed the exposition so much. I had so much fun writing this! (If you aren’t already following their blog, I highly suggest it).

Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | First person reader | Fighting Murphy siblings

It was almost bedtime by the time I’d messaged him. I hadn’t planned on it, by any means. We talked after I’d finished my lessons for the day–he’d skipped school, I saw, which I always thought was off considering his mother was home.

I’d changed into my pajamas–just an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts–and had begun to tuck myself into bed when I saw him.

He’d left his blind open tonight, and through the window screen I could see him silhouetted perfectly, all the lights in his room blazing. It was nearing 9:30, so I wasn’t too shocked to find he was still awake. The houses were so close together on this side of town and, from the second story window, there was nothing but a four yard distance between our windows–and a drop nearly twice that length.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring straight ahead, giving me a view of his profile, the sharp angle of his jaw, the thin slope of his nose, and the hard jut of his adam’s apple.

 What startled me enough to give pause was the fact he was unnervingly still, unblinking, staring at something I couldn’t see. He wasn’t working on homework or painting his nails or playing that silly candy crush game on his phone. He was just staring.

Too far away for me to make out his expression, I instead rolled over onto my bed, clicking the lights back on and pulling out my phone, opening up the Chat app we used on the daily.

To: Connor
From: Me

What’s up, buttercup?

I wished I could see him–there were certainly nights we sat by the window and messaged back and forth, but starting out that way would mean he knew I saw him lost in whatever pensive state he’d been in, which more often than not would mean he’d be less than willing to talk. In my lap, my phone buzzed to life.

From: Connor
To: Me

Isn’t past your bedtime or something? 

I snorted, starting my own reply before:

From: Connor
To: Me

Are you having trouble sleeping again?

Swallowing thickly, I immediately replied:

To: Connor
From: Me

No, I’m fine. Just bored, checking to see if you were too :)

I tried to wait, give Connor a moment to compose whatever turmoil he’d been sitting in before I asked how he felt, otherwise I’d get a swift ‘okay’ and the conversation would take a dive bomb south at ridiculous speeds.

From: Connor
To: Me

If it’s nudes you’re looking for, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not in the mood tonight, kiddo

I choked, lunging forward in the bed to muffle my embarrassing squawk into my fist. Thank goodness my bed was out of sight of the window, or I’d have to watch Connor chortling at my less than appropriate reaction to his less than appropriate joke.

Connor and I had only been talking for about two months now, after I’d moved out here five months ago. Well, we’d been talking for nearly the entirety of the five months, but I’d only realized it was Connor not all that long ago.

To: Connor
From: Me

Oh no, whatever will I do without seeing your sculpted, rock-hard abs??? ;)

From: Connor
To: Me

Shut up, jerk off

I cackled into my fist, careful to not wake my siblings that slept in the next room over. It had taken a large amount of time to get used to Connor’s rather blunt personality, to put it pleasantly.  He’d always been candid, of course, ever since the first contact I’d had with him on the Chat app (“You swear you aren’t a pedophile, right? Or my dad? That’d be weird as fuck.”) and it had been thrilling to be with someone so open and ready to talk about things. The way he felt. The things he thought. The fact he was afraid.

We didn’t exchange photos for a long time–and I’d never seen Connor outside the house, other than the on and off times he’d flit across his bedroom window like a haunt, never knew his name–but the second his photo flashed on my screen, I knew. Even in the photo he hadn’t been smiling, the same stoic countenance he always wore.

He’d recognized my photo immediately, and had been less than thrilled. It took convincing–a lot of me showing up at the fence between our yards, very nauseous, promising it hadn’t been a mean joke–but he came around.

From: Connor
To: Me

You sure you’re good? You’re quiet

I smiled softly at my phone screen. It was a rare night when Connor had enough energy to be so concerned about others–it wasn’t his fault, I knew, he was just in a bad spot right now. The fact he could consider my feelings for more than a few moments felt remarkable, flattering. But, most importantly, it meant he was doing okay.

To: Connor
From: Me

I’m fine, pls don’t worry :)

To: Connor
From: Me

Are YOU okay?

From: Connor
To: Me

I’m fine, chill out

I rolled my eyes, unsurprised. Deflect and distract, his usually strategy.

From: Connor
To: Me

Can’t see you rn


From: Connor
To: Me

Come to the window

I sat up quickly, going over to shut out the light to blur my image to him. Combing my messy hair with my fingers, I tugged on my oversized shirt so that it covered my mostly exposed legs before throwing open the window and leaning out.

Connor, across the way, had already thrown his window open and was halfway leaning out, his face scrunched in confusion. He tapped something out on his phone, pausing every so often to tuck back the dark locks falling into his face. His other arm was braced on the window ledge, the sleeve of his hoodie pushed up to expose his bare forearms to moonlight, glowing a soft snow hue in the dark. My phone buzzed as he glanced back up at me with an open expression.

From: Connor
To: Me

Turn on the light, dumbass, I can barely see you

I smiled up at him, putting my phone aside to shake my head ‘no’. He frowned, slumping down a little more against the window, his chest pressed to the ledge, before holding his arms up in a 'why not?’ and flipping me the bird.

I typed out a quick response to let him know that my parents thought I was asleep. I watched him read the text, watched his eyebrows furrowed over his deep-set slate eyes, saw him frown, heard him swear under his breath. I bit back a chuckle as he carded his hand through his hair in frustration several times.

I vaguely wondered why this made so little sense–most of our conversation up to this point had been centric of me, but Connor was visibly frustrated (not that he wasn’t frequently) and earlier he’d seemed much to absent to not be upset about something. My phone buzzed to life, casting a blue glow across my face, and I saw Connor’s face stretch in recognition, pleased to make out my expression in the dark.

From: Connor
To: Me

Meet me in the pool house

My heart jackhammered in my chest at the thought of it–sneaking out. He was crazy, he had to be. He knew my parents would murder me for being up this late, let alone sneaking out, and worst of all, meeting a boy.
Not just a boy. Connor.

I felt him watching me from across the divide, at the edge of my vision and could make out where he leaned against the window, propped up on his elbows and head in his hands, hair hanging in his face. Glancing up, meeting his stony gaze, I nodded.

It was immediate, earning a reaction from him. Biting back my chuckle, he scrambled up from where he kneeled against the window ledge, his whole face smiling as he ran from his window without looking back. He was already standing in his backyard, waving wildly before I’d even departed from the window.

I decided against redressing or doing my hair–Connor was waiting and the quicker I got out there the quicker I got back without alerting my parents to my absence. Besides, it was probably too dark in the pool shed for Connor to make out my bare face and frizzy hair anyway, let alone the hair on my legs and the stretch marks on my thighs. As if Connor had the nerve to look to begin with, I snorted.

Sneaking out was surprisingly easy, and Connor had left the gate cracked just enough for me to slip in between. The door to the pool shed–just a small building, hardly smaller than my bedroom, at the edge of the yard–was slightly ajar, and I saw quick movements coming from inside.

Once in the doorway, clicking the door shut behind myself, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me.

“Connor?” I called, spinning in the dark so that my back rested against the door, ready to exit if necessary. My eyes searched the dark frantically–in vain. There was a small window, vaguely fogged from years of neglect that allowed a slim moon beam to shine in on a small pile of towels and blankets, a little bean bag chair. Connor had told me not too long ago he and Zoe hadn’t played in here for years, which meant it held secrets long forgotten by either of the Murphy children. I felt honored to be inside it.

“Hey,” he breathed, and though I could see him, I recognized his soft voice just to the right side of me, breathy and soft. It’s too dark to make him out, and I noticed he’s careful not to touch me, but I can feel his breath against my ear, warm despite the fact it’s chilly for a June night. I felt goosebumps pimpling along my legs, making the hair stand up on end. I silently thanked the universe for giving me the gift of darkness to veil myself in.

“Feels like it might rain,” I sighed, turning toward the sound of him, the warmth. My bare arms brushed something–maybe cotton, maybe not–but it pulled back immediately away from me, accompanied by a quick intake of breath.

“Christ, don’t talk about the weather,” Connor hissed into the dark, a hard thunk resonating through the shed where he must have leaned his head against the wall, a bit too forcefully. How very Connor of him. “That’s the kind of shit my dad says in the car when he acts like he’s uncomfortable to be near me for more than ten minutes at a time.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, leaning away, and turning to gingerly pick my way across the shed–it was getting late now and I was already beginning to get tired. Connor may be able to stay up until the early morning hours, but I definitely couldn’t be trusted to be awake at eleven.

“Fuck, don’t be sorry, I just meant–shit,” he growled, and I heard another sharp pang against the steel inside of the shed–he’d hit something with his fist, if the metallic clink of what I assumed to be his ring against the sheet metal was any indication.

I stumbled my way to the beanbag chair, collapsing, and letting myself sink into. It smelled a little like chlorine and sun-in hair dye, but it was soft and warm, almost the size of a double bed. I wiggled upright, squinting again to see Connor in the dark now that I took up the only patch of moonlight in the building.

“You aren’t feeling alright, are you?” I asked softly, resting my cheek against the faux suede of the chair, struggling to keep my eyes open. There was a pause.

“That’s not why I asked you over,” he sighed in his tennor, stomping across the room, picking his way, until he flopped down beside me, displacing the insides of the chair and nearly rolling me out of it.

He reached forward with another soft swear, grabbing my shoulder blades to yank me back onto the bean bag bed, rolling me close so that I wouldn’t fall again. I laughed, unsure what was so funny–maybe it was the fact I’d nearly catapulted out of the chair due to all five pounds of Connor “Ribcage” Murphy, or the current situation, my face pressed against the soft cotton of his hoodie, his heartbeat steady and strong against my cheek. I didn’t move away.

To my surprise, Connor didn’t move away either, just kept both arms wrapped around me, hands firmly in place of my scapula as if scared to dip any lower. I felt the dip of his chin against my temple, felt his lips against my scalp.

“Aren’t you freezing?” He whispered, rubbing quick circles between my shoulder blades.

“Quit dodging my question, Con,” I hissed, beginning to pull away before Connor tightened his grip–surprisingly strong for a boy with such lithe wrists.

“But you are cold,” he muttered, slipping one hand down from my shoulder to my bare arms, rubbing in quick patterns there, attempting to make some sort of friction between us.

God, my parents would kill me if they saw me now.

I want to he clear I wasn’t under any pretenses–this wasn’t, er, Connor hadn’t called me out here so that we could, well–

“I’m fine, Connor,” I promised, taking advantage of the moment to fold my arms against him, trapping them between the heat of our bodies, letting my cheek rest idly against his chest. Connor didn’t like me, I knew, but in the dark shed…well, it was easy to pretend.

It was always easy to pretend to be someone else with Connor.

“You wanna talk about what’s going on with you right now?” I said with a false bravado, thumping his chest lightly with my fist. “You can’t hide anything from me, Connor Murphy. I know you too well.”

“You don’t know anything, dumbass,” he grumbled half-heartedly, and I felt him lean forward to press his face into my hair. “You don’t know shit.”

“So you’re lying to me?” I baited with a smile, tapping his chest, feeling his frustrated sigh and rewarding him with a light laugh. “I didn’t think so. I’m here for you, you know.”

“I know,” he growled, sighing heavily, taking one hand off my back to push his hair away, before letting me go entirely to roll onto his back. His thin fingers covered his face, the black fingernails scratching frustratedly against his pale face. “I just–I don’t, I don’t know how to–shit.”

I leaned forward to tap his chest again, letting him know I was here. “Just talk it out. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He shocked me by reaching forward with one hand, knotting his fingers with my own and letting them linger against his chest. I was grateful he couldn’t make out my expression from his position, grateful for the fact he couldn’t feel my face flush. I’d never been this close with a boy in my life, and Connor knew that. He wasn’t being fair, and I was sure he knew that too.

Unless he didn’t. Connor had a bad habit of selling himself short. I bit back the urge to press a kiss to his bony knuckles.

“I know,” he whispered, voice suddenly hoarse. He was worse than I thought. “Um, it’s harder now? I guess. I trust you–I mean, I always trusted you. It’s um, it’s harder because the anonymity is gone, I guess? I’m worried now that you know who I am–what I am–you’re gonna get bored of me?”

I didn’t laugh this time. His voice was thick and rapid as if he couldn’t hold back the word vomit, like he’d been holding it back for a while. My own throat felt thick, and I couldn’t contain the guilty feeling in my stomach. I rolled forward, wrapping my arms around his thin waist, feeling his hip bone press against mine sharply. I was careful not to look at his face–it’d shut him down for sure.

“Connor…I need you just as much as you need me, you know that right?” I whispered, trying too hard not to let him hear the panic in my voice.

“I know,” he rasped shallowly, sounding oddly wet. He was crying, I realized stupidly. My heart constricted in my chest, my stomach dropping. He was in pain and I had barely noticed. This was all my fault.

“And even if I didn’t need to vent, if I didn’t need your support, I’d still talk to you because I like you, Connor. You’re my friend. You’re a good person,” I whispered.

“Shut up.”

“You are,” I continued. “You’re a great person and you’re always looking after me, even when you’re hurt. I’m so sorry you’re hurting, Connor, I’m so sorry I didn’t notice–”

“I’m not hurting! Shut up!”

“Shhhh,” I hushed, sitting up to remind him to be quiet. “You’re parents are gonna–”

His face was red. His nose and lips were swollen, wet, and his cheeks, flecked with silver freckles glowing lightly in the moonlight beam he laid in, and there were tear tracks running from the corners of his eyes.

“Connor,” I cried softly, reaching up to wipe his cheek. “Please–”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he sobbed wetly, hands folding up to cover his face. “Just fucking get out, okay? This was a mistake.”

“Hey, hey,” I soothed frantically, reaching up to pet his hair, hoping that it might make him unfold himself. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. I’m gonna help, Connor, whatever you need. I want to help you, please.”

“I’m not your responsibility, kid, okay? You can leave. Stop looking at me, Christ.”

“No,” I sighed. “Look, if you don’t wanna talk, that’s okay. That’s okay. Just, let me stay, okay? I’m not judging you, I’m not gonna leave, I promise. I’m here for you. Let me be your friend.”

He shook underneath me, holding in sharp sobs. I wondered how long it’s been since he let himself fall apart like this, let himself have some kind of catharsis, let himself feel, period.

This relapse was good. It was under control. I was here. I had him.

“Okay,” he whispered finally, reaching up to tangle his hands in my hair. “Christ, just–don’t tell anyone, okay? Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “I’m not. I’m here, okay? You don’t have to talk.”

“Okay. Okay…thanks.”

I might have imagined it, as I lowered my head back to his chest, might have imagined in between the soft presses of his fingers as they moved in and out of my, might have imagined, just briefly, the feeling of his lips pressed against my hair.

———-

The next morning was awkward. My parents and siblings showed no knowledge of the fact I’d snuck out to see Connor last night–it wasn’t as if they weren’t aware we were friends, to my parents chagrin and the Murphys’ delight, but I didn’t need them to think we were involved in some sort of torrid tryst, especially one we weren’t even having.

I left a few hours after Connor had slowly ceased his wet and much needed lament and his breathing had turned into a soft snore. I untangled myself from his arms, and leaned back for awhile to watch him sleep, tried to ignore how angelic he looked, red faced and weepy with silver freckles glowing mutely in the patch of moonbeam.

I’d sent him a quick text to let him know I wanted to return before my parents woke up, let him know I’d be by the next day. Told him to  message me if he wanted to talk again.

Now I was waiting for my mother to finish grading my papers for the day so I could to see Connor, who didn’t have school today thanks to some silly teacher institute, lucky loser. The American school system was a joke, to be quite honest.

“You’re jumpy,” my mother noted, scribbling something in the margins of my paper without looking up at me.

“I was gonna ask if I could go over to the Murphy’s? I haven’t talked to Zoe in a long time,” I asked sheepishly, scratching at my arm.

“And Connor, hmm?” My mother hummed thoughtfully, giving a smirk to my workbook.

“Connor’s cool,” I said honestly, nonetheless feeling a guilty lump rise in my throat.

“He’s a good boy,” she mused. “He always helps me with groceries if he’s outside.”

“Which is never,” muttered one of the younger kids, earning a kick under the table from me. My mom just smiled softly.

“Go ahead, honey. Call if you’re going to be longer than an hour.”

I thanked her, nearly sprinting out the door, my twin braids slapping against my back as I skipped between the yards. Zoe was at the door before I knocked, leading me into the kitchen, announcing me loudly in a way that would’ve earned a talking to at my house.

Cynthia appeared in the doorway, looking radiant, albeit a bit tired. Her face smiled brightly at me.

“Honey! It’s so good to see you, it’s been so long since you’ve stayed for dinner–Larry, tell Connor she’s here!–Zoe’s missed you, you should stay the night, right Zoe?–Larry, call Connor–Would that be alright with your parents? Stay for dinner then stay the night? I can run out and rent some movies and snag a pizza–Larry!

Zoe just rolled her eyes, yanking me down the steps past her mother and into the basement. Her grip on my arm was vice like, almost painful and definitely excessive. Her pretty red hair blew up in my face, making the already dark room even harder to see through the haze of her auburn locks. She practically shoved me onto the couch, following me by slamming down beside me.

“Zoe–”

“I saw you last night.”

My pulse hammered in my throat, and I felt all the blood rush swiftly to my face, making me dizzy.

“What?”

“I saw you. I told Mom. I don’t think Dad–”

“What do you mean?” I gasped, throwing my hands between us. Zoe blinked rapidly.

“You and Connor. In the shed. Last night. Christ, it was only ten, you could’ve been sneaky about it–”

“Zoe, we didn’t do anything,” I pleaded. God, if the Murphys knew, they’d tell my parents–

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” She sighed, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. “Whatever, okay? You don’t have to tell me, I don’t give a shit as long as you aren’t pregnant. Just–because you’re my friend, I want you to know some things. Are you gonna listen?”

I thought better than to argue with Zoe, so I nodded shyly.

“Look, I know you and Connor are friends. That’s fine, whatever. But you don’t see Connor at school. You don’t see Connor here, not really. Not what he’s like when you aren’t here.”

I felt my heart constrict. She was going to try to convince me to stop talking to Connor.

“He’s mean. You don’t think it’s weird you’re his only friend? He’s a bully. He’s lazy. He’s violent, Christ–he’s my brother, I love him. But you shouldn’t…you shouldn’t take him seriously, okay? One day his temper is gonna flip and you’re gonna be in his way.”

I blinked, stunned that Zoe would say something so slanderous about her own brother.

“I don’t understand,” I said softly, staring across at her. It was no wonder Connor was so upset, why he had to reach out to strangers on the Internet to vent. His own home was a war zone.

Zoe sighed heavily. “You aren’t at school. You don’t hear the rumors. You don’t see the things he does. If you wanna be friends, fine, but…be careful. I wouldn’t let him anywhere near your heart.”

I didn’t argue with Zoe–I thought better of it. So I just nodded.

“Thanks for, um. Thanks for the warning,” I said with a thick voice, struggling to maintain sincerity.

“You’re welcome,” she sighed. “Mom thinks you’re dating. She’s over the moon. It’s disgusting.”

“I thought you thought we were dating,” I pried, raising an eyebrow. Zoe rolled her eyes, hitting me with a deadpan expression.

“As if Connor could ever get someone like you. As if Connor could even feel something remotely close to love–I’m half convinced his chest is an icebox,” she laughed dryly.

“Talking about me, are we?”

We both spun, wide eyed to see Connor on the stairs, arms folded.

“No, go ahead, I’ll wait. I love hearing stories about myself. Tell me again Zoe about how I’m in love with her?” He hissed, making my face burn red in shame. I felt awful for letting Zoe talk about him that way–worse because Connor made it painful clear he didn’t reciprocate any feelings I might’ve had for him.

Wait. I didn’t have feelings. Connor was a friend. A good friend. A friend who needs me and who doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of, not until he’s okay. Not ever.

“Never said that,” Zoe said with a smirk, rising from the couch gracefully. “But keep digging your grave, it’s fun to watch.”

“Fuck you,” he growled.

“Fuck you,” she grinned. “I’d love to watch your train wreck love admission, Titanic is on, and at least that story has a happy ending.”

Connor kept a white knuckled grip on the banister as she passed, as if holding in an urge to push her. He kept his blazing eyes downcast, and noted his pale cheeks were burning red.

“What’d she tell you?” He whispered once the door slammed.

“Nothing true,” I promised, leaning forward on the couch to make room for him, patting the seat beside me. “Nothing that changed my mind.”

His head snapped up, and I watched his expression go from rage to disbelief to awe before he descended the stairs, shaking. He stopped before the couch, as if scared to come near me, staring down in awe.

“What did my mom say to you?”

I shook my head. “Not much. She asked if I could spend the night. Only if you want me to, though.”

He laughed, but the smile didn’t quite reach his face. “Only if I want you to, Christ, where did I find you?”

“The Internet,” I reminded, earning another laugh.

“Of course I want you to,” he sighed, finally coming to sit beside me. “Of course I want–”

He cut himself off, surprising me, before slinging an arm around my shoulder. I stiffened, but eventually melted against him, reminding myself that it was just Connor.

“You wanna watch a movie? I hear they’re playing Titanic or something.”


——

It’s two am when I wake up, taking a quick mental assessment of where I am. There’s a soft blue glow burning my eyes, shining over what appears to be a nest of blankets piled roughly on the floor.

The Murphy’s basement, I realized with a jolt, I’m just at the Murphy’s.

I’m in a pair of Connor’s pajamas–Zoe’s clothes don’t quite fit me right–an oversized black shirt and a pair of sweats Cynthia brought down in a laundry hamper. My braids have long since come loose, the desperate curls tangling wildly around my head.

Beside me, Zoe is snoring, almost comically, every so often a nostril whistles in time to the soft sound of Dexter’s Lab playing on the tv.

There’s a hand, dangling just above my head. The pale fingers were curved artistically, the nails too short as if they’ve been bitten recently and the black nail polish chipped hopelessly. It’s attached to an arm, long and thin, almost angular, and up farther is a shoulder, bare, pressed against a red coffee stained couch.

Connor.

“You’re awake,” he whispered in a conspiratory voice, but when I sat up to make contact, there’s no sly smirk. He’s frowning. “You are having trouble sleeping.”

I shook my head. “Stop worrying about me, Connor.”

“No,” he rasped, sitting up on the couch. I avoided looking too long at his bare chest, but regardless indulged nonetheless.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” I noted, coming to sit by him on the couch. He immediately opened the blanket, giving me room to slide in beside him, before throwing it around both of us so we could settle back against the couch. His bare skin was warm, and I let him take both my hands between his, letting him rub my hands between his in an attempt at some warmth.

“Been thinking too much,” he sighed softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

I swallowed, beginning to feel the effects of sleeplessness and helplessness melt together in a fatal concoction.

“I can’t help if you don’t let me, Connor,” I reminded him, pressing closer. “Let me help. What are you thinking about?”

He leaned away, as if I’d burned him, dropping my hands into his lap and looking away, the thin muscle of his cheeks hollowing as he clenched his jaw. “Can’t say.”

“Connor,” I pleaded. “Please let me help. I want to. I’m begging.”

“No,” he growled. I felt tears beginning to build, to my own horror, behind my eyes.

“Connor, can you just–”

You.”

It was an explosion. We both froze, turning in horror to glance at Zoe, waiting to breathe until we heard the soft whistle of her nose again. I turned slowly, terrified back to Connor. His eyes were wide, and if I didn’t have my fingers wrapped around his knee, I swore he might try to run.

“Me?” I asked softly, careful not to wake Zoe. Connor pursed his lips, his jaw twitching nervously.

“Fuck, yes, you, just–shit, I didn’t wanna say that–”

I leaned away, watching Connor’s face contort farther.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered heatedly. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. You want me to go, right? I’m really sorry, Connor–”

“What?” He nearly yelled. “You think–fuck.”

His head ducked, to my great surprise, against my shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of my neck and, of all things, began to laugh.

“Connor–”

“You think–Christ, it’s like you aren’t even real. You think I’m mad at you?”

He pulled away, his face no longer red or swollen, just smiling softly at me, almost awe struck, and staring intently with his slate eyes.

“I…I’m not sure?” I whispered, but not feeling at all nervous when Connor snaked his hands gently up my arms again.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered suddenly, shocking me. “And you have no idea that you’re perfect. Christ.”

I frowned. “Connor. I don’t…I don’t think I understand.”

But he was still looking at me–eyes scanning slowly over my face, landing suddenlyhalf-lidded on my lips, and it suddenly all clicked into place. Why Zoe would warn me. Why Cynthia acted the way she did. Why Connor was so scared in the first place.

I remember Zoe saying how over the moon Mrs. Murphy was at the idea of Connor and I dating–because that meant Connor would have me. It meant Connor would be happy.

It meant I would have Connor.

It was like a sudden dam had broken open inside me, filling me with more revelations as Connor’s hands lifted to cup the back of my head, his eyes soft, scared, and asking as they met mine. I let a quick exhale before I surged forward, slamming out mouths together much too forcefully, and not at all enjoyably.

I laughed–much too loud–but Connor kept back to the task at hand, his eyes closed in concentration, swallowing my outburst and folding me against his (very, very bare) chest and kissing me deeper, slower. It was painfully obvious he didn’t know what he was doing, but so much about the kiss was still tender and important, warming me from my core outward until I was scratching to wind my arms around him, getting him as close to me as I possibly could, kissing back to make sure he knew how much I wanted this. How much I wanted him.

How much I needed him. Anything he needed, I’d give him. Now and forever and–

“If you two are gonna fuck, can you do it in the bathroom or something? I’m trying to sleep.”

Connor and I pulled apart–causing me to stumble backwards against the arm of the couch gracelessly and staring at Zoe as she rolled over with her back to us.

I dared a peek back at Connor, whose lips were pink and wet despite their dry skin splitting with the force of his wide, wide smile.  His eyes were glowing brightly, almost burning as he raked them over me. The flannel blanket was pooled behind his back where it had been wrapped around us, and he just simply opened his arms again, inviting me back. His pale chest–pock marked with freckles, clusters on his ribs–was striped with pink lines from where my fingers had raked in a desperate attempt to give him validation.

I crawled forward, pressing my face against his neck in a hazy attempt to bring my breathing back to a normal speed.

“You okay?” I asked, running my fingertips over his shoulders, fighting the urge to word vomit an unholy collection of questions about who and what we were. Connor Murphy, post kiss. Connor Murphy, still life, smiling with wet, swollen, bloody lips. Connor Murphy standing at the edge of happiness, jumps over the ledge.

He nodded against me, fighting with his own dark curls where they made an attempt to cloud my cheeks in an adoring way. Cute, I decided.

“Okay? I’m,” he sighed, laughing and wrapping his arms around me to squeeze tightly. “I’m…you have no idea.”

“Better than nudes?” I teased. He snorted, embarrassed.

“I’m positive. Although–”

I hit him.

“Okay, kidding! Jeez…” he pulled away, cupping my face lightly, pushing the hair back out of my eyes like I was a child. It felt fantastic, he was right, as I searched through the galaxies in his eyes, his pale skin illuminated by the hazy blue glow of the television. It felt so far past amazing, being held like I was the only person he knew how to see. He cleared his throat, and I saw his eyes were brimming with an emotion I couldn’t name.

“You, uh,” he laughed nervously under his breath. “You have to know I love you.”

It was a startling blow, knocking all the air out of me and forced a bubbling laugh to fly out of my lungs. Connor’s smile wavered slightly, so I popped up to press a soft kiss to the cleft of his chin.

“I know,” I sighed, giddy with the realization it was true. “I know. And you know I trust you more than anyone. You know I love you.”

It was like watching him crack open, the way all the uncertainty was cleared from his face, a wave of joy and triumph.

“You love me?” He asked so softly, so awestruck, I felt my heart shake in my chest. I’d barely started to nod before he surged forward to kiss me again, small and chaste pecks across my face and neck, the bridge of my nose, my temples.

He was okay. We were okay. We were going to be just fine.

jack discovers bandom and sort of regrets it...

A sequel-ette to Blue-Eyed Jack. Jack just wants confirmation the song is about him. He doesn’t mean to fall down this particular rabbit hole.


When Bitty & the Biscuits came out with their new single, Jack was one of the first to know.

He wasn’t obsessed with the band, per se, just…enthusiastic. Jack loved country and folk music, grew up listening to his mom’s Johnny Cash and Emmylou Harris albums. His first concert had been Charlie Daniels. His first crush had been Natalie Maines. And a year ago, when he’d stumbled across this little band with a Canadian guitarist and a ridiculously cute lead singer who was openly gay–well, Jack had been sold on the spot.

Keep reading

Until My Last Moment

Summary: Thanks to Bucky, during a game of truth or dare the reader is put into a compromising position..which may or may not lead to more fun positions with a certain super soldier later on. 

Word Count:  6028

Author’s note: Guys…SMUTT SO MUCH SMUTT! The reader also has a past with Wade Wilson..so this is kinda a dead pool imagine too? ( but not in the way you guys will think;)~ the reader also has powers!!)

Sam laughed, “ And that was how I lost my virginity..but if that story leaves this room y’all are cold”. The entire room laughed along with him, even though there was only five other people in it.

You all had been bored in between missions and decided to play a game of truth or dare. When alcohol was thrown into the equation, things got dirty real fast. Steve laughed, “ God after hearing that story I don’t think being a virgin is too bad”.

Bucky and Natasha threw you knowing glances, but the blush on your cheeks made things pretty obvious anyways. How could you not have a crush on the most well liked man in all of America?

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A fallen bookmark on a Thursday afternoon

Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: ANGST, Fluff and soft Smut
Word Count: 19k




He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine.

It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons.

As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless.

That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

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My Immortal - Loki x Reader

Title: My Immortal

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2,838

Warnings: Very subtle spoilers for Thor: Dark World and Civil War

Summary: He is a god and he is a master in lies. Death for him can’t be this easy. But you never thought he’d lie to you about something like this, something so important that actually broke you. You return home to find a “gift” waiting for you from Odin himself and it is finally time to have a talk with it… while living the rest of your life with it on Earth.

A/N: Not betad, I apologize for any mistakes!

“Tony, please.” you said with a half-whine and half-giggle as you unlocked your apartment door.

“Come on, come on just one more!” the man at the other end said with a chuckle and you had to stifle a giggle once more.

“Tony!” you whined again, walking in the almost pitch black apartment “My stomach can’t take it anymore. What’s up with you and jokes, are you that bored in the meeting? And how the heck does nobody else tell you to shut up?”

You complained about it but truth was you needed the pick up and hearing your friend laugh, this much at that, after everything that had happened and sound like his old self again was really more than you could ask for. None of you were the same anymore, and maybe you had to endure twice the pain after what had happened in the dark world as well.

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it ain't me // dylan o'brien

Summary: Dylan doesn’t realize how much he loves Y/N until it’s too late

Requested: no, based off of this song

Pairing: Dylan & Y/N

Warning: yes, mature language, themes and smut

Masterlist

The envelope had remained untouched on the counter for nearly a week.

Every time he looked at the stupid piece of white paper an immense pain clouded over him like he lived in Seattle and there was no chance of him ever seeing the sun again.

The only thing she had left behind was the letter and a cardboard box with his name scribbled across the front in her messy handwriting.

The two objects had been taunting him for the past week, surely collecting dust by now.

As he took another sip from the bottle clutched tightly in his hand, the cool amber liquid provided him with a small amount of relief he was craving.

Extending his legs onto the coffee table, he squinted his eyes as he flipped through the channels, the only source of light in his dark apartment being that of the muted television he had been staring at for the past 3 days.

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on melancholy hill - tom holland x reader

fandom: tom holland (??? idk if there’s a specific fandom name but whatever it is ……. i’m not using it so) 

word count: 877 

character pairing: tom holland x reader

warning(s): some implications of sex

prompt: IDK I JSUT SAW THIS PICTURE ON INSTAGRAM AND I ACTUALLY STARTED TEARING UP IT’S SO PRECIOSU

notes: ok this is my first time writing about tom & i lowkey feel weird but i was super inspired so like ……. whatever i guess !! sorry if i did something super ooc or somethin, i tried my best lol 

also unedited af & i wrote this at like 6am so it’s probably very factually and grammatically incorrect. xoxo peace and luv 

You walked into the hotel room you shared with Tom, keen for a cuddle, only to see that Tessa has taken your usual place.

Closing the door as quietly as possible, you slipped for phone out of your pocket and snapped a quick picture of your boyfriend and his dog spooning on one of the two single beds in the room. You couldn’t deny, it was adorable. Tessa’s head raised just slightly as you walked in, and the sound asleep Tom only bristled, hugging Tess closer.

Soundlessly, you dropped your jacket on the chair next to Tom’s bed, not noticing that he had woken up in the process of you drawing the curtains to hide the midday sunlight shining through the window. When you turned, you jumped slightly in surprise when Tom’s hand reached out to grab yours, drawing you to the bed.

“C’mon,” he mumbled sleepily. “you can be the big spoon.”

Untying your shoelaces, you kicked off your shoes and wedged yourself onto the small bed just behind Tom, flattening yourself against his back. You wrapped an arm around his tummy, hugging yourself closer to him as he took your hand and intertwined your fingers.

“Tess has taken my place as little spoon, I see,” you whispered teasingly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “not that I can blame her.” You were always the little spoon when it came to cuddle sessions with Tom, so being the big spoon for once felt like you were taking on some godly responsibility. In fact, you were surprised to see yourself enjoying it.

“Don’t worry,” Tom whispered back, and wiggled into you. “she’s not nearly as good a cuddler as you are, love.” You grinned, and squeezed Tom’s hand. It was comfortable, the position you were in, and slowly, you could feel yourself drifting off.

“My two girls,” he hummed, and you let go of a sleepy grin, pressing your cheek to his back. “sweet dreams.”

You woke up to barking, and Tom drawing invisible shapes to the back of your hand with his thumb.

Letting out a groan at the sudden flood of light, and Tessa indecent barking, you turned to bury your face into Tom’s chest, seemingly forgetful of what position you had fell asleep in.

“Baby,” you whined quietly, “turn the light off?” Instead of an affirmation, you were met with the loud, obnoxiously adorable laugh of Harry Holland.

“Haz, what on earth are you doing?” Tom’s voice was still thick with sleep, and you propped yourself up on your elbow, regarding the younger Holland brother with squinted eyes. You loved Harry to death; just a little less, at the moment. “We were sleeping.” Tess, who now sat at his feet, looked as smug as a dog could.

“Sorry, Tom,” Harrison trod into the room then, raising an eyebrow at his two best friends, who were currently tangled up in a position Harrison was unfamiliar with seeing them in. “Dinner’s in ten; you hungry?” You really weren’t.

Tom groaned, and shifted onto his back so that he could look at you, sending you a soft smile as he brushed a piece of hair away from your face. “You hungry?” You shook your head, and Tom let out a relieved sigh.

“Nice,” he turned back to the two standing in the doorway, and shrugged. “we’re good. Go on without us.” You grinned, and lifted yourself up and over Tom, flopping back down so that the two of you were chest to chest.

“You sure? What’re you guys gonna do here all by yourself?” There was a certain obliviousness to his tone, and you turned your head into Tom’s neck to hide your grin, slipping a leg between his innocently.

“Oh, well, uh,” Tom spluttered, shrugging profusely. “probably just nap some more, maybe watch some movies? Y’know, boring stuff.” Harry nodded, reaching down to scratch Tessa behind the ears.

“Cool. We’ll see you later.” And with that, Harry left, leaving Harrison alone and staring at the two of you accusingly.

“You know, sooner or later, the poor kid’s gonna realize that out of all the times you’ve skipped dinner to ‘nap and watch some movies’, a very small portion of that is the two of you actually napping and watching movies.” You blew Harrison a kiss as Tom leaned down, trailing soft kisses down your neck, ignoring his best friend. “Alright, yeah, I’ll take the hint.”

“Bye, Haz,” you hummed, “bring us back-” your sentence was cut off with Tom’s lips, the kiss slow and deep. You laughed at Harrison’s disgruntled groan, and lifted a hand to curl itself into Tom’s hair, using it to pull him closer.

“C’mon, Tess. Mommy and daddy have some business to take care of.”

As soon as Harrison and Tessa left the room, Tom rolled off of you with one last peck to the lips. “Now that we’re alone,” he laughed, settling back against the pillows, you inched yourself closer, turning over so that he could spoon you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer so that the two of you were pressed flush against one another. “I think it’s time we’ve got some much needed sleep.”

-

@parkthepeter @marvelsdaughter @the-peterparker

anonymous asked:

Hi there! I just saw your post about soulmate fic ideas and I love them too! An idea I've seen somewhere years ago is that everyone is given a necklace at a certain age and when you get closer (in distance not emotions) to your soulmate, the pendant on the necklace heats up. Maybe Bughead meet while travelling and their necklaces get really hot?

I love a good soulmate au!
***

Jughead sighed, Saturday nights were exhausting in The Southside of Riverdale. Gang meetings always took place in the sleazy beat down dive bar, with about a hundred drunken men in leather jackets trying to make sense of the latest deal they had to get done while simultaneously playing pool and hitting on the Serpent bangers. So yeah tonight had been long.

“Hot dog, I’m home.” He called out to the empty trailer, smiling when he head the familiar thumping of scruffy white paws, the dirty sheepdog standing before him with a goofy grin and slobbery tongue.
“Hey there boy.” Jughead pulled off the heavy leather jacket and flung it over the makeshift kitchen chair plopping down on the couch in the center of the room.

He was tired…all the time. being sixteen wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, he had more responsibilities now that his father was locked up, Jughead had been born a Serpent it was all he knew, but deep down he felt something, something no one else he knew had felt. He wanted more, wanted to be more. He had a friend Archie Andrews, he had met him at the Riverdale Public library one day when he was hiding from a particularly nasty gang fight. Archie had been researching music books and they had bonded over their mutual love for video games and their penchant for fried foods. Archie was the boy next door, bright red hair and a letterman jacket two sizes too big while the tshirt he wore under it was two sizes too small, but he was nice and he didn’t judge Jughead, and that in itself was a feat.

Jugheads fingers wandered up to the clear crystal pendent resting beneath his plain black Tshirt, it was the one thing in his life that was steady, constant, always hanging around his neck, a security blanket almost. He couldn’t believe it when Archie had shown Jughead his own pendent.

“It’s finally cooling down, I just came from Veronica’s house and it was pretty much on fire.” Archie had explained, toying with his pendent, dark purple and black swirls coursing through his.

A soulmate, Jughead squeezed his eyes shut. Archie had been the one to explain the soulmate necklace to him.

“When you find the one you’re meant to be with, the necklace glows, it gets hot, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt. But it doesn’t burn, it feels amazing, its right over your heart, it’s almost like sitting by a bonfire, you can feel the heat but it’s safe and warm”

He wanted it, deep down inside he knew someone like him would never get that, he wasn’t the soulmate type and he was certain his necklace would stay crystal clear his entire life, but… sometimes.. if he stared hard enough, he swore he could see green, he swore there were swirls of gold and meadow green. He was probably kidding himself, setting himself up for disappointment and failure. Wrapping his fingers around the pendent he felt his eyes drift closed, it had been a long day, he didn’t need to be thinking about things like soulmates and silly wishes.

****

“Dilton Doiley? Really? For Cheryl? You’re sure?” Betty was leaning forward on the lilac and lace comforter, the phone snug against her ear as Veronica spilled the gossip of the day.

“I sure am, apparently they never got close enough to each other to find out, but then today, in gym class, they got paired to be partners for tennis and you know where it goes from there, their necklaces lit up like fireworks and soon enough they had each other nearly naked on the gym floor before coach Clayton broke it up.” Veronica giggled from her end and Betty sighed dreamily.

“I’m happy for them, I think Dilton will be good for her… it’s so crazy how we’re paired in this universe..” Betty trailed off, her fingers playing with the edges of her comforter

“You’ll find him B, I promise.” Veronica soothing said, comforting her best friend.

Betty bit back the bitter tears and cleared her throat, speaking in an incredibly small voice
“I just want something like you and Archie have ya know? I just want someone to love me like that.” She whispered.

“And you will. I know you Betty Cooper and you won’t stop until you find him.” The raven haired princess spoke in a tone that left no room for argument.

“Okay Ronnie, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Veronica said her goodbyes before calling out for Betty one more time

“Don’t forget, tomorrow is that integration mixer with the Southside Students, I’m thinking leather pants and no shirt, what about you?” Betty could practically hear the smirk on the heiresses face.

“You’ve been watching too much Grease Ronnie.” She giggled before hanging up on her best friend.

Betty plopped down on her bed, eyes drifting closed as her hands found her pendent. she would find him, and hopefully soon because all this waiting was making her head hurt.
***

Veronica couldn’t control her laughter when Betty walked up to her locker before first period.

“What?!” Betty asked defensively.

Veronica settled finally and looked up at Betty out of breath
“It’s nothing, it’s just.., everyone agreed to dress a little more scandalous today, in honor of the Southside coming and you…. I didn’t even know something could be that white”

Betty looked down at her baby blue dress, the skirt grazing mid thigh, her bare arms covered by an impeccable, wrinkle free white cardigan, she wore tiny nude ballet flats and a simple gold chain on her wrist.

“I wore my hair down.” Betty tried, her hands coming up to touch the tips, she wrapped her arms around herself self consciously when she spotted all the girls in mini skirts and tube tops.

Veronica’s eyes softened and she squeezed Betty’s forearm
“You look beautiful, you always do. I’m just teasing, you know that.” She kissed her best friends cheek and Betty smiled.

Suddenly Archie came running through the halls, his eyes set on The two girls as he swooped in, pressing a kiss to Veronica’s cheek. Betty glanced down at their necklaces, feeling the familiar ache of jealousy as they glowed beautifully.

“They’re here! I saw a bunch of bikes pull up, you’re gonna love Jughead guys, he’s so funny man and he’s totally cool.” Archie rambled on and Veronica shot Betty an “is my boyfriend in love with another boy?” look.

Betty rolled her eyes and watched as the Southside teens started filing in, each one bigger and scarier then the last. Betty’s guard went up instantly and she ducked behind Veronica.

“There he is! Jughead! Hey man! Over here!”
Archie was waving to a leather jacket wearing boy in the back, Betty couldnt make out his face but she knew the prominent S on his back meant that he was a Serpent, she had written a research paper on why Serpents should be treated equal and as normal as everyone else in Riverdale. The whole Serpent culture amazed her.

He was walking towards them and Betty could just make out stormy, raindrop blue eyes. Something in her stomach twisted and she stepped closer, trying to get a better look.

Suddenly he had stopped in his tracks, His fingers instantly coming up to grip the necklace hanging on the black string around his neck, Betty did the same and as the two stared at each other a gradual heat was rising in the crystal pendent. A series of blue and black swirls racing through her pendent while his had Gold and green.

He walked closer to her, the pendent becoming unbearably hot but it didn’t bother either of them, Betty could vaguely hear the frantic whispers of Veronica behind her.

They were standing chest to chest at this point and cautiously Betty reached her hand out, stopping quickly and looking the dark haired boy in the eyes, silently asking for permission. He nodded slowly, what she didn’t know was that she could do anything in the world to him and he would just nod. She had him. That was it, he was hers now.

As soon as her tiny fingers brushed the pendent a shining bright light illuminated both of their necklaces, an almost primal growl came from deep inside Jugheads chest as his hands gripped The perfect and proper blondes waist

“Finally.” He whispered before dropping his lips to hers.

She followed with equal fervor, her hands winding in his hair as he held her tight to his chest. After what felt like hours they finally pulled apart.

Neither of the teens said anything until Betty broke the silence

“Betty Cooper, my names Betty Cooper and I guess I’m your soulmate.” Her smile was perfect and her fingers were still playing with the now filled pendent.

Jughead laughed heartily, his own long, slender fingers coming up to play with her necklace
“Can’t believe I got someone like you, you’re pretty as a picture Betty Cooper. I’m Jughead Jones and I am so happy you’re my soulmate.” He smirked crookedly before dropping his lips to hers.

The necklace pressed against each other as a warm glow of sunshine bathed the teens in light. They still had so much to learn about one another but right here, soft white cardigan pressed against worn black leather

They might just be okay.

New Man

SURPRISE BITCHES IT’S ME AGAIN

I’M SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING HERE HAVE A FIC TO MAKE UP FOR IT I’VE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH XXX

summary: it’s been a year, and dan and phil haven’t spoken since the night the door had slammed and their relationship was placed on its deathbed. dan knows phil isn’t happy. dan knows andrew isn’t phil’s type. he knows there are fewer things phil would rather do less than spend his free time in the gym, eat kale, and drive cars that probably cost more than his house. dan isn’t happy either, but there’s little he can do other than watch phil’s new life blossom from behind the glass of a phone screen.

(aka basically a fic based on ed sheeran’s absolute Banger of a song new man I highly recommend)

word count: 7k

warnings: alcohol, brief mention of smoking

-

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

He freezes, his heart thudding.

“What?”

“Are you around at all?” Phil prompts, and the lack of hesitation in his voice is almost disconcerting.

Dan skips a beat. He knows this is only the vodka talking, only the alcohol unzipping Phil’s reserved exterior and giving way to a pushy, over-enthusiastic and giggly side to his character, but there’s a part of him, albeit a very small part buried deep down, that desperately wants to say yes.

“Um-“ Dan gulps, his chest thumping. “Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he sighs. “Let’s face it. We haven’t spoken in months, about anything, and you just pop up and phone me completely out of nowhere,” he gulps, before adding in a lower voice, “and it’s not like we ended on brilliant terms, either.”

“Which is why I’m saying we should meet up now,” Phil urges. “We both miss each other, don’t we?”

He’s twenty weeks deep, and apparently they went to Paris last summer.

His thumb slides idly along the glass, scrolling through filtered picture after filtered picture. The Eiffel Tower. The Louvre. A familiar face beside the River Seine, the city lights stretching into amber ribbons on the water’s surface. Some expensive-looking car parked on the side of the road, white shine and blacked-out windows. White wine on the balcony, the sunset a pastel cascade over the city. It looks as if they had a good time.

He lurks with great care, monitoring the movement of every muscle in his thumb in hopes of avoiding the dreaded double tap. Accidentally liking your ex’s new boyfriend’s pictures in itself is certainly one thing, but ones dating way back over five months ago is another.

It’s harder to look at Phil’s Instagram that far back. When there’s a red heart below the picture instead of a transparent one, it takes him a while to figure out whether or not he’d already liked the picture or if he’d slipped up.

He scrolls more. Cars, cars, four tattooed guys at some exotic-looking bar wearing matching grins, a beach, more fucking cars, gym selfie, gym selfie, and-

What the fuck?

He frowns at his phone screen, peering into the glass with narrowed eyes like he’s seeing properly for the first time.

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Ex-Friends [Part 4]

Pairing: Peter x Reader
Warnings: Language, major feels lmao
A/N: Thank you guys for all the love on this series, I was pretty shocked by all the messages I’ve been getting! I am so glad you liked it - here’s the final part :D

Part One Part Two Part Three

-

“Goddamn it,” you muttered, staring dejectedly at your empty contacts box. With everything going on, you hadn’t thought to check and see if you had extras.

You didn’t like your glasses much, but the only thing you could think of was how much Peter liked them. He used to call you adorable when you wore them, obviously meaning it in a friend way, but it made your heart swell whenever he said that. You used to wear them all the time back when you two were friends, just because he liked them.

Over the past months though, you stuck with contacts. You liked them more, and it was ridiculous, but you wore them also to keep the memories of Peter away.

Today, you didn’t have a choice but to wear them, otherwise you’d be blind. You pushed them back up your nose and sighed, grabbing your bag and heading for the subway so you could get to school.

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Watch Me Babygirl [pt.7]

Summary: Jungkook is your brother’s annoying best friend. You can’t stand him but he just can’t resist teasing you. How far will he actually go?

Warnings: none… this chapter is a mess tbh. it’s kind of like a transitional/filler chapter… 

[pt.1] [pt.2] [pt.3] [pt.4] [pt.5] [previous part] [next part] [pt.9] [pt.10] [pt.11]  [pt.12] [pt.13] [pt.14]


Taehyung had returned to school as he’d promised, yet it felt as if he was still gone. He dodged you in any way he could: jumping into conversation with random people, detouring on his way to class, even slipping into the men’s restroom.

It left you empty. You couldn’t talk to Jungkook during school because of Jimin’s ridiculous rule. You couldn’t talk to Jimin because he was always busy with his baseball friends. He was also your brother and talking to him because you didn’t have anyone else to talk to would be lame. You were determined to not reach that low of a point.

Overall, one question was swirling inside of you, creating a hot, uncomfortable lump in your throat. What could you possibly have done to make your best friend avoid you? 

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Brother's Best Friend

Hello! Here’s a request I’ve been working on; I had fun with this one!

Request: @dragoncharmwitch - Could you make a text where you’re michael’s older sister and he finds out you fancy ash. And the boys set you up please :) // Sorry this one took so long!

Title: Brother’s Best Friend

Summary: When her brother and his friends find out that Y/N has a crush on Ashton, they decide to take action.

Words: 1k+

Warnings: Lil’ bit of language. Nothing horrible.

“Shit,” you mutter, digging through the refrigerator. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you turn around and run a hand through your hair. “Michael!” you shout. You wait a few moments and, when he doesn’t reply, you cup your hands around your mouth and yell a bit louder. “Michael!

You hear a muffled “What,” from upstairs and groan in frustration.

“You took the last bottle of water, you prick!” you call again, but you’re met with silence. Naturally, of course; you can only assume your brother is in his bedroom with the door closed, his music up loud, and his headset glued to his ears so he can talk to his friends as he plays his video games. “Moron,” you grumble to yourself, slamming the refrigerator door closed and grabbing your keys from the table. Looks like you’re making a grocery run. Oh, well. You need snacks, anyway.

You head to the door, but when you open it you yelp in surprise as you nearly collide with another body. “What the hell!” you exclaim, blinking in surprise before your gaze focuses on a face you know all too well.

“Well, hello to you too, Y/N,” Ashton says with a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes and smile, shaking your head. “Move over, Irwin,” you tell him, and you can only hope your face isn’t as red as a tomato.

So maybe you have a tiny, little crush on your brother’s friend. You’re honestly not sure how someone with a working pair of eyes couldn’t have a crush on Ashton. The guy is gorgeous. Half of your grade drools over him, including you. You suppose you’re lucky that he’s one of Michael’s best friends, granting you opportunities to see him outside of school several times a week, although you never quite understood why Ashton hangs out with a bunch of kids in the year below him.

“Well, what’s the password?” Ashton quips in regard to your demand, crossing his arms. He unknowingly flexes in the process, and your heart skips a beat.

“The password,” you say, still smiling, “is back up before I make you.

Ashton lets out a laugh (you’re pretty sure a swarm of butterflies was just set loose in your stomach) and steps away. “As much as I’d like to accept your challenge, Y/N,” he says, “you’re awfully intimidating when you threaten.”

Your smile grows and you step out of the doorway, making your way down the driveway before turning around to glance at Ashton. You could swear he just winked at you before he walked into the house, but you tell yourself it’s just wishful thinking. Still, though, after you’ve settled behind the wheel of your car, you pull out your phone to text your friend.

To: Michaela

11:47am

Ashton Irwin just got here and the boy looks too good. I have actual tears in my eyes.

You add a heart-eyed emoji at the end of the message for exaggeration before you toss your phone into the center console and start up the car.

//\

“Honey, I’m home,” you mutter sarcastically as you walk through the door. You’re juggling a six-pack of bottled water and two grocery bags as you stumble into the kitchen, dropping everything onto the counter at the first chance you get. You hear laughter from upstairs and realize that Michael has a few other friends over as well as Ashton; probably Luke and Calum.

You set to work putting away the few groceries you bought and take a bottle of water for yourself. You hear footsteps behind you, and when you turn around you see Michael standing behind you. “Uh, hi?” you say with a frown. Your brother looks slightly puzzled as he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Do you like Ashton?” he asks bluntly.

You blink, taken slightly aback by the question. “I—what? I mean, yeah. Obviously I like him. I kinda have to, considering he’s your friend and—”

“No,” Michael shakes his head. “Not like, platonically or anything. I mean it as in, like… more than platonically?”

A feeling of unease settles over you. How would he—

And then your eyes widen. You reach for your phone, quickly unlocking it and opening your messages. “Fuck,” you whisper when you realize that you didn’t, in fact, send your Ashton-related text to your friend Michaela, but instead to Michael. Damn them and their similar names.

You look up from your phone and notice that Michael is still there, standing awkwardly. “I…” you begin, trying to figure out the best way to word your next sentence. It’s no use lying at this point, you figure. Might as well admit. “I… find him… attractive,” you say, and it comes out sounding more like a question than anything else.

“You think Ashton is attractive?” Michael repeats, furrowing his brow.

“Yes?” you reply sheepishly, cringing slightly.

Michael shakes his head and you think you might die from awkwardness. There’s no way he won’t tell Ashton. Even worse, Ashton probably already saw the message. Shit, shit, shit, sh—

“I mean, coming from a straight guy, you’re not wrong.”

“Huh?” you ask, looking at your brother. Michael only shrugs.

“Ashton Irwin is an attractive male,“ he clarifies. “I’m straight, not blind.”

“Wait…” you begin, “so you’re not like, mad or anything?”

“I mean I’m not gonna lie, it kinda weirds me out,” Michael admits, “but in all honesty I think he’s sort of into you too, something I will never be able to understand—”

“Ha, ha.”

“—but, I guess it’s whatever. You guys flirt all the time and it’s kinda nasty, so Luke and Cal and I talked it over and figured we might as well help you guys out.”

At this point, you’re thoroughly confused. So, Michael is okay with the fact that you like Ashton? And he thinks Ashton likes you too? And he and his other friends are going to help you out? “What… what does that even mean?” you say skeptically.

“Just don’t worry about it,” Michael sighs. “It wasn’t my idea; Luke just thinks he’s a genius or something. I’m gonna go back upstairs now before I puke at the thought of you dating one of my best friends.”

“O-okay?” you stutter, watching as your younger brother heads back upstairs. You press a hand to your forehead and lean against the counter, letting out a deep breath.

What the hell just happened?

//\

“Y/N!”

You groan as you hear Michael’s voice from down the hall. You just got comfortable on your bed. “What?” you holler back.

You don’t receive a reply, and you groan again, closing your laptop and standing up from your spot. Stretching your back, you slowly pad your way down the hall to Michael’s bedroom. The door is closed, so you knock. “Mike, what the hell do you want?” you demand. You can hear laughter and gunshots, meaning they’re still glued to their video game. “Mi—” you’re about to knock one more time before the door opens to reveal your brother’s friend Calum.

“Oh,” he says. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi?” you frown, trying to peer around him into the room. “Why did you guys call?”

Michael materializes behind Calum and grins. “We sent Ashton into the garage.”

“Congratulations,” you deadpan. “Why, though?”

“We told him to find a ball. We want to play some pickup in the yard,” calls Luke from his spot in front of the TV.

“Cool…” you say, your frown deepening.

“We’re in the middle of a game, so could you just go help him?” Michael suggests, rolling his eyes.

You make a face of exasperation, letting out a sigh when you realize what’s going on. “Seriously, you guys?”

“Take the opportunity or leave it, Y/N,” says Michael. “Naturally I’d prefer for you to leave it, but I’m outnumbered.”

You look up at Calum and he shrugs, smiling innocently at you. “We just want to play some football.”

You close your eyes and press your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Fine,” you say finally. “I will go help Ashton look for a ball.”

Without another word, you turn and head back down the hall.

//\

You wish you were wearing something other than sweatpants and a tank top as you step into the garage, where Ashton is rummaging through the piles of junk. “Need a hand?” you call, straining to see him.

“Huh?” his head pokes around from behind a cardboard box and he grins when he realizes it’s you. “Oh. Hey, Y/N. How’d you know I was struggling out here?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Just had a feeling. I can always tell when there’s a damsel in distress nearby.”

Ashton stands to his full height and stretches. “Damsel in distress?” he asks. “I take offense to that. Very emasculating.”

“It’s the twenty-first century,” you tell him. “Nothing should be emasculating. But, if it makes you feel any better, Mike and the other guys told me to help you.”

“Ah, so they’re the ones who can sense a person in distress.”

“More-or-less,” you agree, stepping forward. “So, you can’t find a ball.”

“I’m afraid you’re correct,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair and glancing around.

You follow his line of vision, looking around the garage before your gaze lands on exactly what you’re looking for. “Well,” you say triumphantly, walking over to a box hidden behind Michael’s old bicycle that he’s used maybe like once in his entire life and reaching over to grab the black-and-white ball. “Clearly you didn’t look very hard.”

Ashton purses his lips and exhales through his nose. “Guess not.”

You giggle and walk back over to where he’s standing, holding the ball out. However, when he goes to grab it, you pull it back toward you. “You know, this is gonna cost you,” you snicker, looking at him with arched eyebrows.

“Oh, really?” he replies with a grin, stepping closer. In response, you take a step back. You nod, and his smile grows. “Well, what’s your price?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think, tapping your index finger against your lips and looking up. “I think—” Before you can finish your sentence, Ashton lunges forward and grabs the ball. However, you had a strong grip on it and as a result, he pulled you forward as well. You end up a few inches away from him and laugh nervously, hoping your face isn’t growing red at the proximity. “You think you’re quick!” you remark, looking up at him and immediately wishing you didn’t.

The two of you hold eye contact for what can’t be more than one second before he speaks, but you’re like 80% sure it really lasts closer to five minutes (have his eyes always had that much green in them?), before he speaks. “Actually,” he says lowly, and you can’t stop your breath from hitching, “I know I’m quick.”

You steel yourself and tilt your head to the side in faux innocence. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” you challenge.

“You want proof?”

“Yep,” you smirk. “Full proof, and maybe an essay written in MLA format with—”

Your sentence is cut off by Ashton’s hands on either side of your face and his lips on yours. You drop the ball, letting it bounce away across the concrete. You’re about to respond when Ashton breaks the kiss. “You talk too much,” he says, smiling at you. “How’s that for quick?”

You’re pretty sure you resemble a fish right now, your jaw dropping only for your mouth to snap closed, then fall open again as you try to process what the hell just happend. “Oh my god.”

Ashton’s expression changes to one of fear, maybe doubt, and he lets go of your face. “Wait, did I overstep?” he asks, taking a step back. “Shit, Y/N, I thought… should I not have…? Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

This time, however, you’re the quick one. Having (mostly) recovered from the first kiss, you don’t waste any time in closing the distance between the two of you, lightly grabbing the material at the collar of his singlet and pulling him toward you. “And you said I talk too much,” you say before leaning forward.

It feels nice to kiss Ashton. He’s good at it. The two of you break apart again, only to grin at each other and lean in once more. “You’re supposed to be bringing that ball up to the other guys,” you remind him against his lips, and he lets out a breathy laugh in response.

“They can wait a little bit longer.”

//\

To: Ashton

11:55pm

So where does this leave us?

You chew on your lip anxiously as your thumb hovers over the ‘send’ button, and you close your eyes when you tap it. The familiar whoosh of your message sending causes you to cringe. Do you sound desperate? Clingy?

Ashton and the other guys left about a half hour ago. The garage incident escalated to a brief makeout session before you and Ashton finally decided you were gone for too long. Exchanging awkward smiles, he left the garage and you followed a few minutes later. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

So now here you are, sitting on the couch while a movie plays on the TV and serves as background noise to your inner suspense.

Suddenly the telltale bubble appears on Ashton’s side of the screen, showing that he’s typing. “Shit,” you mutter. You close your messaging app and wait for his message to come through, and when it does, your heart lurches anxiously.

From: Ashton

11:56pm

You tell me, princess.

You roll your eyes before typing back a quick response.

To: Ashton

11:57pm

Don’t do that. You kissed me first.

From: Ashton

11:57pm

Fair enough.

He continues to type and your heart rate picks up. You look up at the TV in front of you. A clearly-suspenseful scene is playing out, and the lead character’s heartbeat is illustrated through the pounding of drums. Me too, you relate. A whoosh tells you that Ashton has replied.

From: Ashton

11:58pm

I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m into you, if you couldn’t tell earlier. And it seemed an awful like you’re into me, too. So, I’d like to act on this mutual interest, as long as you’re up for it.

You bite your lip again, but this time it isn’t out of nerve. You fight a smile as you type back.

To: Ashton

11:58pm

Sounds good to me.

To: Ashton

11:59pm

Oh, but you’re not asking me out over text. Just a heads up.

When Ashton’s reply comes in, you can’t help but kick your legs and laugh out of giddiness.

From: Ashton

12:00am

Wouldn’t have it any other way. Talk to you tomorrow xx

“You’re welcome, by the way,” comes Michael’s voice as he enters the room with a soda in his hand, plopping down on the recliner that rests diagonal from the couch you’re on. He takes a swig from the aluminum can and raises an eyebrow smugly.

“Shut up,” you tell him, but you can’t bring yourself to be mad. The smile on your face is more than enough proof.

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