[PART NINE] & Some News
Okay, I'm a little new at this so sorry if I mess this up first go. Because it's been 5 months since the last round even though we haven't been busy. I figured I might as well earn my keep and try to get this place alive again...
THE SOCIAL NETWORK KINK MEME
ASK THE MODS * FAQ * DISCUSSION * RESEARCH * FILL LIST * PART ONE * PART ONE (OVERFLOW) * ( Read more... )
THE SOCIAL NETWORK KINK MEME
ASK THE MODS * FAQ * DISCUSSION * RESEARCH * FILL LIST * PART ONE * PART ONE (OVERFLOW) * ( Read more... )
1. I DON'T KNOW HOW I TURNED THIS PROMPT MILDLY ANGSTY, I REALLY DON'T.
2. there's a teensy bit of eduardo/dustin because apparently my brain went to that place.
3. i cannot write explicit sex to save my life, so the eventual smut is... very vanilla.
4. it ended up as a 4+1 due to me scrapping the fifth scene for sucking ass in general.
5. but i hope this satisfies your want, at least a smidge!
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1.
Edi knows she’s pretty.
Partially because her father insists that she’ll “only get by on her pretty face” because “women are rarely taken seriously in business”, mostly because the Winklevoss twins and that Divya kid make it a point to skeezily say “hey beautiful” whenever she passes them on the way to microeconomics.
The thing is that Edi doesn’t think Mark knows she’s pretty, which is a problem, given her embarrassing crush on him.
“You’re way too good for him, E,” Alice muses from over her biology textbook while Edi lounges on the couch across the room. “He’s a hermit.”
“Hey,” mumbles Edi gruffly. “He’s my best friend.”
Alice shrugs to convey hey, I’m just saying. Christy comes into the room at that moment, long, dark hair tossed over one shoulder.
“Are you pining over Zuckerberg again? I totally gave his suitemate the best blowie of his life last night,” she says proudly. Edi recoils and hopes that she means Dustin and not Chris, not that the image of Christy going down on Dustin is much less disturbing than her trying to turn Chris straight.
“Anyway, you could hook him if you dressed less like a lawyer and more like, you know, an actual college student.”
Edi glances down at her outfit that’s slightly rumpled from her position on the couch: a blazer over a grey button-up, tucked into a black pencil skirt. Other than the crinkles, she thinks she looks fine, but Christy’s clearly got a problem with the outfit. She grabs Edi’s hand and yanks her off of the couch and into the back bedroom of the suite, which is actually Alice’s. Christy rifles through the closet and shoves a dark red dress with a scandalously low neckline into Edi’s hands and commands her to put it on while she fixes her hair. Christy loosens the tight bun at the back of Edi’s head and sends a cascade of brown waves tumbling down Edi’s now-bare shoulders that peek out of the dress.
“Oh-kay, hottie,” Alice approves when Edi steps back into the living room, hugging her arms around herself cautiously.
“You really think he’ll like it?” she mumbles, gnawing at her lower lip. Really, she should be the one who knows what Mark likes or doesn’t like, but he’s got this strange tendency to never talk about girls ever, as opposed to Dustin, who doesn’t shut the hell up about them. She could specifically outline Dustin’s type (short, Asian, nice rack, at least pretends to like video games), but she’s known Mark for a year and a half and she’s not once seen him even communicate with a girl other than herself.
Christy and Alice practically shove Edi out without so much as a light sweater to fight the slight chill that signifies the coming of autumn. Edi’s just glad that the walk from Eliot to Kirkland is short and that she remembered to grab the spare keycard Mark gave her, so she’s stepping into the Hughes-Moskovitz-Zuckerberg suite in no time.
There’s hardly even a beat before Dustin calls, “Hey E-holy shit, Eduarda Saverin, when did you become a goddess?”
Chris rolls his eyes from the other side of the couch, glancing up from the round of Halo that he’s so far ahead of Dustin in that it doesn’t even matter that he’s stopped paying attention. “Shut up, Dustin. You look beautiful, Edi. Mark’s in his room if you’re looking for him.”
There’s a glint in Chris’s eye that tells Edi he knows exactly why she’s dressed differently and she’s glad that it’s the most reasonable of the suitemates that is giving her the look.
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“Mark,” she says softly. “Mark, if you fall asleep in this position, you’re gonna have a killer neck ache later on.”
Mark sits up drowsily and Edi almost feels naked when his gaze lands on her. His eyes are so blue in the light of the computer, fading in and out of focus.
“You never wear red,” is all Mark says before closing his laptop, shrugging off his hoodie, and collapsing into his bed in his t-shirt and sweatpants.
Edi sometimes wonders why she even bothers.
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FREAKING CHARACTER LIMITS.
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Halloween rolls around and Mark is still oblivious.
Pre-gaming for the Halloween party at Lowell takes place in Mark, Dustin, and Chris’s suite because, the last time Edi saw them, Alice and Christy were sucking face with the Winklevii in their living room and she wants nothing more than to bleach her brain of that image. Dustin’s been ogling Edi ever since she walked in because she is squeezed into one of Christy’s impossibly tiny black dresses with cat ears pinned in her brown curls and whiskers drawn on her cheeks in glittery eyeliner. All to catch Mark’s attention. The shit she does sometimes.
“Did I piss off some Brazilian god or something? Is there a reason you are suddenly so unattainably hot?” Dustin babbles over his third beer. Chris jabs a sharp elbow into his side and Dustin acts like he didn’t say anything, just surveys his half-assed Legend of Zelda costume.
Mark wanders out of his room after a few minutes because Chris has forced him into attending the party as well, though he refuses to wear anything resembling a costume, opting for his usual hoodie and ill-fitting jeans.
Edi’s heart races a ridiculous amount when Mark settles in next to her and snatches her beer to take a sip of, fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment. With her hands free, she makes a spectacle of adjusting her cleavage.
Of course, Dustin’s the only one paying attention. If the boy had a tail, it would be wagging, she swears.
It’s halfway into the night when they show up to the Lowell party. Chris is almost immediately dragged to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the suite by a couple of girls from his public speaking class, likely because they don’t have to worry about him popping a boner while bumping and grinding on him. Mark retreats to his usual spot at parties: in the corner, drinking and observing, so Edi is left with Dustin at the drink table.
“Dustin,” Edi begins, leaning closer to him because she knows it’ll get his attention, “is Mark, like, um-does he-is he, I don’t know, interested in anyone?”
Dustin lets out a snort that shakes his body so much, he nearly dumps vodka from the tipped bottle all over the floor. “Mark? Interested in anyone? Edi, you’re the only girl I’ve ever seen him say more than two words to.”
Edi fights back a smile at that, but it disappears when she glances Mark’s way and sees him leaning against the wall, a brown-haired girl in a Dorothy costume grinning at him over her red plastic cup. She’s pretty, almost painfully so, like a Disney princess come to life, and Mark’s smiling the dimpled smile that he usually reserves for Bad Movie Friday with Edi in the boys’ suite.
Edi narrows her massive brown eyes and grabs Dustin by the wrist, dragging him right into Mark’s line of vision. When the song switches to a fast-paced dance track, Edi loops her arms around Dustin’s neck and shoves her body close to his, grinding in time against his hip and leg without letting her eyes stray from Mark and the girl.
But of course Mark doesn’t notice. He never does.
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Her name’s Erica. She’s nineteen and is majoring in psychology at BU. She spends a lot of her free time in the Kirkland suite.
Edi’s goal is to make her as uncomfortable as possible.
It’s Friday night and Edi’s got a bootlegged copy of Gigli for the bad movie marathon she and Mark have had every Friday night for the past year. Allegedly, the movie’s so bad that Christy’s cousins got kicked out of the theater for hysterically laughing at inappropriate times. It should make for an excellent start to the marathon, except…
Except Erica’s sitting on the couch when Edi walks into the suite.
“Erica,” Edi says, only showing mild annoyance in her voice. “What are you… doing here?”
Mark enters the room before Erica can answer, a Red Bull in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He hands the water to Erica and looks up at Edi, eyes glazing over with an oh shit I forgot it’s Friday kind of look. He clears his throat to dispel the uncomfortable silence.
“Edi. Hi.”
Between being the only one to remember Bad Movie Friday and the fact that Mark’s forgotten it because he’s got a new person taking up his time, Edi feels about a thousand kinds of awkward and upset. She thinks on her feet to make up an excuse for her being there.
“Hi. Um. Just here to drop off this DVD for Dustin.” She flashes the bootlegged film before a darker thought creeps into her mind. She raises one eyebrow up and lets a sly smile spread across her face. “You mind if I use your shower, Mark? Alice used all our hot water.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Mark replies. His tone says that he doesn’t buy her excuse, but Edi doesn’t really care because she’s hatched the most brilliant plan.
She doesn’t even say anything to Dustin when she tosses the movie on his bed, just breezes past his and Chris’s door to the bathroom, grabbing a towel on her way there and nothing else. She keeps the shower brief - she doesn’t know how long Erica’s going to be sticking around - and steps back out into the main bathroom, drying off and slipping back into her bra and underwear.
Edi is quite aware that she has a smoking hot body. She eats well, goes for runs with Alice before class, and hits the gym with Christy at night, so she’s got curves in all the right places. Her waist is thin, her hips narrow but still shapely, her breasts are perky and just the right size, and she thanks whatever deity is listening that she decided on the black lacy panties she’d gotten for her twentieth birthday, because they make her ass look awesome.
She swallows the small tingle of nerves creeping up in her stomach and flings the bathroom door open with a light thunk that neither Mark nor Erica notices because they’re too busy making out on the couch. The couch that Edi’s supposed to be curled up watching Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez make fools out of themselves on. The couch that has been exclusively reserved for Edi and Mark every Friday night.
She doesn’t feel guilty for what she’s about to do anymore.
“Mark,” Edi says loud enough for him to hear her over the mmm-ing he and Erica are doing into each other’s mouths. When he pulls back from Erica’s kiss, Edi steps in his direction, exaggerating the sway of her hips and the arch of her back.
“Edi, Jesus, what happened to your clothes?” Mark coughs, shifting where he sits. His movement displaces Erica and she glares heavily at Edi from Mark’s side.
“Uncomfortable,” Edi lies. Her skirt and blouse were actually quite comfortable, but she wants an excuse to plant the word into Erica’s mind. She purposely lets a hand brush up Mark’s shoulder. “Can I borrow a sweatshirt?”
Mark shrugs and points at the navy blue hoodie draped over the recliner in the corner, but Erica isn’t as relaxed. She glowers at Edi the whole time she crosses the room in her undergarments and the glare deepens when Edi slips the hoodie over her head and takes in Mark’s scent (a mix of junk food and Pert shampoo that shouldn’t smell good at all but it’s warm and intoxicating and so very Mark).
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“It’s just Edi,” Mark reasons. Edi fake grins and pretends it doesn’t sting, but Erica makes her true feelings known.
“Mark! It’s not ‘just Edi’ to you! She walks around here practically naked, she’s always touching you, she’ll call you in the middle of one of our dates and you’ll completely ignore me for her. Do you-do you know how shitty that feels, to be your boyfriend’s second priority? No, you don’t, because you’re an asshole, Mark.”
“Erica, wait,” Mark stammers, standing up when Erica scrambles off of the couch and tugs her coat back on as she heads to the door.
“No, I am not going to wait for you anymore,” hisses Erica, “because we are done.”
Mark’s expression when Erica slams the door shut behind her is hard to read, some mix of regret and anger and apathy. He turns to Edi.
“You should go.”
Edi blinks a few times, thinking he’s joking. But he isn’t. His face is stoic except for his eyebrows, knitted together in what could be either anger or frustration or a mixture of the two.
“Mark, I-”
“Edi. Go home.”
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All Edi wants to do is get really fucking drunk.
It’s been a week since Erica broke up with Mark over her, and Mark hasn’t spoken to Edi since. According to Dustin and Chris, he’s been holed up in his room, coding and drinking every Red Bull in sight and hardly sleeping. She doesn’t allow herself to wonder if it’s because of Erica or because of herself. She doesn’t know if she can handle the answer.
That’s what makes it so shitty when she looks across the bar and sees Mark at a table in the corner, not even pretending to be listening to Chris’s friend Billy rambling in his ear. The thought crosses Edi’s mind to find Christy and Alice and head back up to their dorm, but she doesn’t have time to further reflect upon it because Dustin’s heading her way.
“You’re dressed like the old Edi again!” he announces a little drunkenly as he plops down on the barstool next to her, gesturing at her ruffled blouse and navy skirt, the peacoat that she’s using as a seat cover. “Cool. But I kinda miss the boobie dresses.”
“It helps me pass for the twenty-three year old that my fake ID says I am.” Edi rolls her eyes and ignores her own drink to grab Dustin’s beer in a way that makes her heart pang, remembering how Mark had done the same to her before the stupid Halloween party. She takes a long swig and grimaces at the taste. (Seriously, Dustin, who the hell drinks Miller Lite?)
“Has Mark, um… How’s Mark?”
Dustin sighs. “Are you still not speaking? Can you two just kiss and make up already? I will temporarily suspend any and all urges to hit on you if the two of you just talk it out and admit to each other that this ‘will they or won’t they?’ stuff is way too Ross and Rachel and, I don’t know, realize you’re meant to be or something.”
Edi chokes on her gin and tonic because it’s the last thing she expects to hear out of Dustin’s mouth (well, maybe not the Friends reference). She was honestly waiting (and hoping) for him to answer with a quick, “oh, you know, just coding and hating you and shit” , not “get your head out of your ass and be with him” . Edi’s heart thrums inside of her ribcage, but when she steals a glance at Mark’s table this time, he’s not there. Billy is sitting at the edge of his seat, flirting with Christy, and Chris is a couple of tables down, leaning against a booth and grinning at a dark-haired boy beneath his own soft mop of blonde tresses.
If anything, Edi supposes, this is her chance to freshen up before Mark reappears. She passes the rest of her drink to Dustin and tells him she’ll be back.
The bar’s bathroom lighting is that terrible half-dark fluorescent that’s supposed to be chic, but it’s really just unflattering and makes her tan skin look green and veined. The air’s thick with the stale scent of vomit from a girl who’d probably overestimated her liver’s strength, and Edi’s pretty sure she can hear someone in the last stall, the large handicapped-reserved stall, getting what she can only imagine is a blowjob. Fantastic.
Edi’s halfway through pulling her hair out of its loose ponytail when the lucky guy in the back stall starts grunting and moaning unintelligible things and-
Wait. That voice. Edi knows that voice. Her skin prickles with the familiarity of the short, clipped, monotone rumbling of the guy’s voice. Her stomach churns with an uncomfortable feeling that she refuses to call jealousy.
Maybe it’s not Mark. Maybe it’s someone else with a low, drowsy voice. There’s bound to be tons of those at Harvard, right?
Edi glances over to look at the stall, and she doesn’t know if she’s relieved or horrified to see Mark’s ghastly socks-and-sandals combination peeking out from underneath the door. She examines the shoes of the girl in the stall with him and-oh.
Alice’s favorite pair of black Louboutins. That Edi has borrowed many a time. Facing Mark. Black leggings crinkled to show that she’s crouching down to crotch-level. So much for her thinking that Mark was a hermit.
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“Edi. What the fuck. Why. Why are you. Why am I not happy about making out with you?” Dustin stammers, hazel eyes flickering with confusion. Edi doesn’t say anything, just eyes the bathroom door until she sees an Adidas flip-flop poke out and she grabs Dustin by the collar of his crinkled button-up and kisses him again, making sure Mark sees.
He barely acknowledges them, though, just glances in their general direction. Edi pulls back from Dustin and grabs her coat from the barstool, shrugging it on with her hands balled into such tight fists in the pockets that Mark’s Kirkland keycard snaps in half.
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Breaking the keycard was not a wise choice.
It’s the last week before Christmas break and it’s raining so hard that half of Edi’s classes have been cancelled because her professors can’t make it in. She should be inside, studying or sleeping or drinking hot cocoa and pretending she doesn’t know about Alice and Mark’s one-night stand, but she’s sitting on the railing outside of Kirkland with no umbrella, waiting for Chris or Dustin to unlock the door and let her up. She’d texted both of them with little to no information other than unlock the door. i need to come up.
Chris is the one that appears behind the door when it creaks open. He ushers Edi in and places a cautious hand on her soaking wet shoulder blade. “You okay, Edi?”
She’s not okay. Edi hasn’t spoken to Mark in an entire month, the longest she’s gone without talking to him since they met. She’s numb and tired, her body aching though she’s done nothing to physically damage it.
“Just fine,” she lies when Chris opens the suite door for her.
Edi’s boots squelch and make all kinds of unattractive noises that startle Dustin when she steps in. She’s spoken to him a few times since the kiss, mostly apologies that Dustin says he’ll only accept if she rectifies this, this thing with Mark.
She hopes Dustin will accept her apology by the end of the night.
Without a word, Chris jerks his head in the direction of Mark’s room, makes a motion with his hands that tells her it’s unlocked. He gives her elbow an affectionate little squeeze before she barrels into the room without even knocking.
Mark’s not wired in, but he still doesn’t look up from his laptop. “Chris, I told you half an hour ago, I’m not hungry.”
Edi’s hands tremble as she yanks Mark’s chair out from its position by the desk, tugs him up by the collar of his hoodie, and, hesitating for a moment, pulls him against her mouth. Mark’s stiff at first, arms still held tightly to his sides, but when Edi lets go of his collar and curls her arms around his neck, he loosens up and puts both hands on her hips.
When they stop kissing, Edi’s eyes are full of hot tears that would feel good against her cold, wet skin if she wasn’t so damn conflicted and confused. Mark’s still holding her hips in his hands, lips red and eyes confused. Edi shakes out of his grip and backs herself up into the door, covering her face with both hands and emitting a quiet sob.
“God, Mark, fuck, Jesus Christ,” she murmurs before biting the edge of her hand to prevent any more meaningless words from tumbling out of her mouth.
“You’re soaking wet,” is all Mark says, as if it wasn’t completely obvious.
“No shit, Mark, I-Fuck. That’s not what I was supposed to-That’s not what I was here to do. Or say. And… fuck.”
“Edi.” Mark takes a step forward and Edi wishes she didn’t close the door behind her so she could easily just run away and pretend nothing ever happened. She scrubs a hand across her face and dries up any tears or leftover moisture from the rain.
“Please. Mark. Let me-don’t say anything, just let me talk.” She waits until Mark nods disconcertedly before she continues. “Do you know how miserable I am, Mark? Not just-not just because of the fight, but… Do you not notice me ever or something?”
Mark blinks a few times, eyebrows only slightly furrowed.
“Because, I mean, I’ve been here, right in front of you, for a while now, and it’s fucking ridiculous if you haven’t. Do you know how hard I try to get your attention, only for you to ignore me for coding or sleep or-or Erica?” Edi grimaces when she says the name still. She can’t even look into Mark’s eyes to see the glassy blank stare she knows he’s giving her. “I’ve been trying, Mark, so hard to get your attention with the dresses and the hair and the underwear and the slutty Halloween costumes, because…”
She physically cannot get the words out of her mouth. Edi’s throat dries up and any sound she makes comes out as a cracked sigh. The can of Red Bull on Mark’s desk catches her eye and she snatches it up, taking a long gulp before finally meeting Mark’s eyes.
They’re so different now, not blank and unaffected like usual, but wide and almost pained. He takes another half-step towards her so the gap between them is just an arm’s length.
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Mark blinks a few more times. “That was the day we met.”
“That was the moment. we met,” Edi clarifies. She feels the warmth of Mark’s hand against her cheek. He brushes away a tear that’s fighting its way down the bridge of her nose.
“You’ve been in love with me since the moment we met,” Mark echoes, mostly to himself, like he doesn’t quite believe it. His hand is still feather-light on Edi’s face, fingers tracing along her jawline.
When he kisses her, it’s so unlike her kiss, forceful and confusing. Mark’s mouth is gentle and soft, the opposite of how Edi imagined it. He buries one hand in her hair, the other curling around her torso, pulling her body against his.
Edi lets out a happy little moan into Mark’s mouth because since when is he like this? She never expected him to be so caring and - dare she say it-loving, caressing her body so tenderly that her heart stutters. When he pulls back to slowly unbutton her coat and blouse, he whispers with more emotion than she’s ever heard in his voice.
“I notice you, Edi. I notice you all the time.” He plants a soft, wet kiss on her long neck. “But when you tried, that’s when I had to act like I didn’t. Because the Edi who wears her suitemates’ clothes and makes out with Dustin isn’t who you really are.”
Edi frowns a little, hoping Dustin will forgive her, but she can’t for very long because Mark is kissing her chest and simultaneously lifting her up in his arms, carrying her to his unmade bed.
“I was drunk… that night at the bar,” he explains between kisses. “And I thought you were with Dustin.” Kiss. “And Alice was drunk too.” Kiss. “I wanted to make you jealous.” Kiss. “And it was shitty of me, and I apologize.”
At this point, Edi’s down to her panties and Mark’s hovering above her in nothing but blue boxers, kissing a trail down her stomach.
“Mmm, don’t mention Alice in bed,” Edi chuckles, squirming out of her underwear when prompted. “Dustin was giving me advice, actually-”
Mark shuts her up with a kiss. “Don’t mention Dustin in bed.”
“Mmph,” Edi mutters, point taken. She gropes and Mark’s sides while he maneuvers his tongue around her mouth, stopping when she finally finds his boxers and tugs them down his hips. He only breaks the kiss when he kicks them off so they fall next to the bed and to grab a condom from his dresser.
And there they are, completely naked. Mark stops kissing her for a moment and surveys her body, and Edi does it back. Mark is beautiful, all angles and pale skin and jutting hipbones. She lifts her head, gently nibbles on Mark’s collarbone while he slips on the condom, face pressed into her neck, whispering, “Is this okay? Is this what you want?” and Edi doesn’t even have to say anything, just continues to work her lips and tongue and teeth against the collarbone.
When Mark first pushes into her, Edi gasps, not used to the feeling. (She’s had sex before, with her high school boyfriend and a couple of Christy and Alice’s friends, but nothing like this.) Mark pauses, watches Edi’s face for a moment, but she urges him to continue on because shit, he’s good. Mark’s mouth covers hers then, so any gasps and moans and grunts are muffled by his kiss, still delicate and sweet. Even the way he thrusts is gentle, the way he steadies himself and holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world.
Edi is so far gone. If she ever doubted that she was in love with Mark, she sure as hell doesn’t now.
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haha shit
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Edi wants to look straight in his eyes, tell him how much she absolutely loves and adores him, but she refrains. Mark hasn’t said it back yet, and she’s surprisingly okay with it. She knows Mark’s feelings aren’t something he’s very open or even comfortable with. It’ll take time, and she’s got time. For now, she just curls into Mark’s side, tangling her legs with his and letting one arm settle across his chest, feeling him smile against the top of her head, press a kiss to her still-wet hair.
Somewhere behind the door, she can hear Dustin saying, “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”
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MDFMSAKFDHSA I AM NERVOUS ABOUT THIS ONE. IDK. HI.
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I can't stop gushing.
Espically about Dustin. Dusssstiiiiiin. *flails*
This piece was amazing and thank you sososososososososososososososo much.
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and you are more than welcome. <3
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THE AMOUNT OF LOVE I HAVE FOR YOU.
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