#and uhh can I tag this somehow without getting this taken down

[artharakka]

🌹 XXII Vampire / XXIII Vampire Hunter 🥀

[grey-water-colors]

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.4

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else. 

Chapter Four: Hope Is A Heartache: A glimpse into your past with Spencer as you tour wedding venues together. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: you guys are incredible omg!! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account but my messages are open so feel free to say hi!! i’m so happy you’re all enjoying the story so far, honestly lost for words! 

-

It was a cold day. Cold enough to make your atoms shiver. Dark grey clouds covered every inch of the sky above, hiding the winter sun. The air was brisk. It was harsh against your skin as you got out of the car. And the unwelcoming breeze that followed made you wish that you hadn't forgotten your scarf. 

“What a terrible miserable day.” You muttered while slamming your car door shut. You ambled your way around the hood as Spencer gently closed the passenger side door. You noticed immediately how he shivered slightly when the chilly air bushed against him. A sigh escaped your lips. 

“Honestly Spencer, I can reschedule. I’m sure you would much rather spend this dull day reading in the comfort of your own apartment rather than driving around touring venues with me.” 

“If you promise we stop for coffee before the next place, then I’m all good.” He replied, mouth twitching into an awkward half-smile. 

You smiled back at him. “I’ll get you all the coffee you want doctor.” 

“One is fine Y/N.” Spencer said, the smile on his face widening. “You know there are side effects to having too much caffeine. Anxiety, insomnia, and digestive issues to name a few.” 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. “I’ll repeat that back to you next time we’re working a case and you’re on your fifth cup of coffee in the space of three hours.” 

Spencer chuckled lightly at your response. “I guess that’s fair.” 

There was a brief moment of silence in which the two of you once again found yourselves simply looking into each others eyes. Blocking off the surroundings. Basking in the comforting warm presence of one another. Something that ever since your dinner date a couple of weeks ago happened more often than it probably should have. 

The brunette doctor enjoyed these seconds. To him, they were pure bliss. To him, these moments of uninterrupted silence said more than either of you could ever say with words. Because truth be told Spencer was afraid to talk around you in case he ever said too much.

Which is why he only agreed to tag along today because Garcia was supposed to be here. As the maid of honour she volunteered to join you today since your fiancé couldn't make it. So when Spencer approached the car this morning, noticing immediately how the passenger seat was empty, he half wanted to turn back. He only stayed because of the promise he made your dad. 

Although, he really was going to have to be careful not to slip up and reveal something he probably shouldn't.

After what seemed like eternity, you tilted your head and looked away. Palms of your hands sweating inside your jacket pockets. Heart beating fast. The cold air no longer a nuisance. 

Unknown to the brunette doctor you also quite liked these silent moments. But unlike Spencer, you always felt incredibly guilty afterward. As if you were being dishonest and misleading somehow; rather your heart was. 

With an inaudible sigh, you began making your way toward the entrance. 

“Come on doctor, maybe they’ll have coffee here.” You called out after you, and shortly Spencer was by your side once again. 

The venue was beautiful. You had only stepped in the door and already you were mesmerised. Even though the space was currently empty, you had no trouble at all visualising what you hoped it would look like on your big day. From the colour scheme, to the flowers, and the decorations. 

“I am so glad you made it Y/N!” The wedding planner, Gina, appeared as you were basking in your surroundings. She hugged you briefly before turning her attention to Spencer. “And this must be the infamous Ethan.” 

“Oh actually, no.” You cut in before Spencer could say anything. Gina glanced at you once again, one brow raised. “Ethan couldn't make it.” You advised with a timid smile. “This is Spencer.”

Gina nodded slowly. She looked at Spencer, and as she was eyeing him up you were hoping that she wouldn't recognise the name. See you have known Gina for some time now. You had initially reached out to her about a year and a half ago when you were hoping to marry the very young doctor stood beside you. 

“Well, Spencer it’s nice to meet you.” She spoke, flashing him a pearly white smile. “I’m Gina, the wedding planner.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too Gina.” Spencer responded, returning the smile. You could tell he was feeling slightly uncomfortable being mistaken by your fiancé, and you took a mental note to apologise for that in the car.

“Shall we get started?” Gina asked, turning her attention to you. “Lead the way.” You replied. 

About an hour later the tour had concluded. You made plans to meet Gina at the next venue and after getting the exact address from her, you and Spencer ambled back to the car. 

“What did you think?” You asked while hopping inside the vehicle. 

“I liked it.” Spencer responded while fastening his seatbelt. You shot him a quick glance before securing your own strap. He smiled at you. “What?” “Just checking if you’re lying.” Spencer laughed at your response. “And am I?” You shook your head. “No. It appears you are telling the truth.”

You turned to look ahead before starting the engine. Soon the two of you were on the road. 

“I think it’s more important if you liked it.” Spencer spoke. “I loved it.” “Why do I sense a but.” Spencer enquired with a soft laugh. You giggled. “But I don’t think Ethan would’ve liked it.” “Ah.” 

“You can say it.” You retorted. “What?” Spencer asked. “That he’s not here so he shouldn’t get a say.” From the corner of his eye, Spencer noticed how your grip around the wheel tightened ever so slightly.  

“I’d never say that.” He replied. 

“Now that was a lie doctor.” 

There was a brief moment of silence.

You sighed. “He promised me he’d be here. Just like he promised he wouldn't get called to work during our engagement party.” You stopped the car at a red light and glanced glanced at Spencer who was already looking at you. “So you can say it. Heck, I’m fucking thinking it.” 

Spencer swallowed. He knew he shouldn't get involved. At least more than he already was. He knew he shouldn't indulge you. And he definitely knew that he shouldn't try to steer you away from Ethan. Because even though he really wanted to win you back, he knew that was unfair to you.  

So Spencer was glad the light turned green and your attention was back on the road before he got a chance to respond. 

“You know what was odd?” He said, quickly changing the subject. “What?” You asked. “How Gina didn't try to shake my hand when we met.” He noted, and immediately you bit your bottom lip. Fuck. You didn't realise it then. How could you have not realised? It means that she recognised the name and remembered how you told her he was a germaphobe. 

“She must have just been eager to get going to be honest.” You lied calmly. 

Spencer didn't buy your excuse. “I don’t think that’s it.” He said, trying to get a reaction out of you. “It’s almost as if she knew not to shake my hand.” 

“Honestly Spencer, I wouldn't read too much into it.” You countered. “I mean we are on a tight schedu-.”

“Why are you lying to me Y/N?” He interrupted causing the air to hitch in your throat. “Just like you know when I’m not being truthful Y/N, I can also tell when you’re lying and you’re doing so right now.” 

There was no point evading him any longer. Spencer was stubborn, almost as stubborn as you, and he wasn't going to stop pressing on the matter. Plus it was time he knew the truth. After all this time, he deserved to know the truth. 

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the car over on the side of the road and cut the engine. You turned to look at the brunette doctor who was already looking at you. 

“Do you remember the last time I visited you in prison?” You asked, your voice so timid you weren't even sure Spencer heard you. But he did. And he nodded his head slowly. “Of course I do. It was one of the worst days of my life.” He responded, and you could detect the hurt in his sentence. 

“Well, uhh-” You cleared your throat. Here goes nothing. “That day I came to see you I actually, eh, well I-I wanted to ask if you’d marry me.” 

Spencer was taken aback by your admission. A puzzled expression spread across his face as his mouth parted in shock. He searched his mind for what words to say but nothing seemed quite right. You wanted to marry him? The day he broke your heart by ending things with you so abruptly, you wanted to propose? He couldn't believe it. 

Of course you sensed that he had trouble with wrapping his brain around this, like you knew he would, so you continued. 

“Spencer, I loved you so much and just like the rest of the team I knew in my heart you were innocent. I knew it was only a matter of time before you would get out.” Tears began forming in your eyes and the lump in your throat grew larger with every passing second. 

“When you were locked away, and our life together was taken away from us without warning, I realised I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you.” The salty droplets began trailing down your cheeks and along your jawline. Spencer wanted to reach out and wipe them but he couldn't bring himself to move an inch. He was completely frozen.

“But between trying to clear your name, working the normal caseload, and honestly trying to get out of bed every fucking morning, I needed help to planning what I wanted to be the most perfect day.” You paused to take a quick breath. “Which is why I hired Gina.” 

“Why didn't you say anything?” Spencer asked quietly after a moment of silence. An uneasy yet somewhat freeing silence. 

“You broke up with me Spencer.” You replied. “That day I came to visit you, before I could even finish saying ‘Hi Spencer, I missed you.’, you ended things.”

“Y/N...” He whispered, and without thinking he took your hands in his. “And I know you remember what happened after that so I’m sure you can figure out why I didn't tell you sooner.” You added, corner of your lips twirling into a half-smile. Spencer squeezed your hands and let out a deep sigh. 

“If I-” The brunette agent began but you shook your head to cut him off. “I know you only ended things to protect me Spencer.” You freed your hands from his grasp and gently cupped his cheek. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that he leaned into your touch. 

“Which is why I was never angry with you, why I never resented you. I cannot take back the words I said to you that day but you have to understand it was all the initial shock considering I thought I would be leaving the prison with a fiancé and not completely heartbroken.” 

You let your hand fall from Spencer’s face and ran your fingers through your hair. You cleared your throat. 

“I hope this doesn't change anything between us.” You muttered. “Because I like where we are now, and I would hate-” This time it was Spencer who cut you off. “You have nothing to worry about Y/N.” He said with a timid smile.

“Thank you for telling me.” Spencer added.

“It was time you knew.”

You smiled at him warmly one last time before turning your attention back to the wheel. You started the engine once again and within minutes you were back on the road. 

The two of you drove in congenial silence. As you focused on the directions ahead, feeling grateful that the brunette doctor was understanding, Spencer’s mind raced. 

He couldn't help but wonder where the two of you would be now if he hadn't been so rash - married, maybe with a child by now. He shook the thought away, it hurt too much. 

Of course back then he did what he thought was the right thing to do. He was suspicious that whoever was framing him would come after you, and he knew he couldn't risk that. He would never risk anything bad happening to you. In the end his suspicions were proved correct when Cat and Lindsey kidnapped his mom. And when that happened you were there for him in unimaginable ways, you didn't leave his side for a minute. 

He should have begged for your forgiveness the second the whole ordeal was over. He should have fought harder to win you back, especially since it didn't take long for him to admit he only broke up with you to protect you. Truthfully, he was a coward. He thought perhaps you wouldn't take him back after the hurtful things that were said. 

After all this time, he learned that you only really said what you said because you thought Spencer was the love of your life. 

“I would have said yes.” The brunette doctor whispered.

Stopping at a red light, you turned your head to look at him. A confused look gracing your facial features. Spencer cleared his throat before nervously meeting your gaze. 

“I would have said yes.” He spoke louder. Now you definitely heard him. 

“Spencer...” 

“I know it doesn't matter now, but in case you ever wondered what I would have said if you got to ask me back then.” He paused. “I would have said yes.”

“You don’t have to say that.” You muttered with a soft smile. “I’m not just saying it Y/N. I really mean it.” He emphasised and your heart skipped a beat. 

The thought that crossed your mind next was incredibly wrong. The sudden pull you felt toward the man sitting beside you was inappropriate, misguided even, however it was there. You wanted to kiss him. You really wanted to kiss him. 

Perhaps if you knew that Spencer wanted to kiss you too, you would have leapt across from your seat to smash his lips against yours. To tangle your fingers in his hair, cradle his lap, feel his hands travel up your back and hold you close.

But you didn't know. So you hesitated. And as you hesitated, you were promptly brought back to reality by the car behind you. The beeping of the horn signalised the lights had turned green and it was time to move along. 

With a timid smile, you broke eye contact and began to drive. 

Heavy-sitting silence enveloped around you. Spencer noticed immediately the slight change in your demeanour but he chose not to comment on it. 

See, just seconds ago the brunette agent noticed a look in your eyes that he hasn't seen since you were dating. A look of devotion, amity. A look that burned the hope inside of him even more. 

An image formulated in his brain. Image of you walking down the aisle in a beautiful white dress, him standing at the end of the alter while your dad gives you away, both of you tearing up. It was foolish, yes. Spencer should have known better than to hold out hope that one day that image would become reality but he couldn't help it. 

And as the image became more vivid, the pain he felt in his heart grew stronger. Knowing that one day you wanted to be his forever, and now he was helping you tour venues for a wedding he didn't want to happen. The perfect image came crumbling down. Reality hit. 

No matter how much he wanted it, you weren't his anymore. 

Keep thinking about us and how things get in between But if it is love, it doesn't matter, you don't belong to me But I can't let go

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the fourth chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01​, @reverdevivre​, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy​, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​

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[cowboy-canoodler]

Paying back what you owe (Adachi Koichi x GN! Reader) 18+ SMUT

Tags: Giving Oral, Giving Blowjob, Age difference, Walk into a bar, Alcohol, Reader, Reader-Insert, Gender Neutral Reader, Chance Meetings, Reunion, Praise Kink, Dominant Reader

—

Walking the streets of Ijincho at night was always a toss of the coin. One night it’ll be quiet, no thugs, perverts, or any distractions, but other nights? All of the above. You were walking home from work, a regular day job of typing in numbers that somehow made a difference to how the company operated. Not like you cared about your job as long as you got paid right and on time but today you were in a good mood, Fridays were always your favourite day of the week as you always walked to a bar to cap off your week of working with a pricey drink.

Perhaps a whiskey today.

You realised you had been walking around deep in thought for a while and had ended up by Fukutoku park, a spot known for perverts who exposed themselves to passers by with nary a bashful look in their eye. A chill ran down your spine and you looked around, expecting to see a man in a big brown coat run up to you but there was nothing there, just the far off noise of cars driving by mixed in with the nearby river.

“Sheesh-“ you sighed and began walking towards the Bar district, “I need to calm down.” Your usual haunt, Bar Rodriguez, was still standing but had become stale and small, meagre ambient music and even worse company so, without even thinking about it, you walked past and came up to Survive Bar, one you hadn’t drank at recently but you remember they had the most divine drinks.

“I think I’m sold” you whispered to yourself as a spring jumped into your step along with the excitement of trying out a new drink.

The bar was empty, a piano against the wall by the door, a couple of seats by the bar and low seats by another wall, and a karaoke stage in the corner of the room. The bartender raised his gaze from the glass he was polishing as you walked over and sat down at the far side of the bar, placing your belongings on the floor beside you.

“Whiskey please” you replied to the bartender's silent question, he nodded and turned to grab a bottle, “not that one, the ¥4000 one please” he placed the bottle down and reached for the one you had requested, still silent which was actually rather comforting as it gave you the opportunity to take in the ambience. The music was soft and inviting, perfect to accompany the soothing atmosphere you were about to create around yourself. Maybe this would be your new go to bar.

As he placed the drink in front of you the door opened and a ragtag team of four walked in laughing and joking, shattering what you were hoping to accomplish. You slyly looked over and was greeted with, what seemed like, a familiar sight. A man with fuzzy brown hair, a bright red suit, and a smile to rival the sun. A classy woman who held herself in high regard while also staying loose and carefree with her friends. Another man with fuzzy hair except he had glasses and a large, green overcoat. Then finally another man, tall and built well, you were pretty sure nothing could knock him down should it try, he had greying hair and lines on his forehead from years of frowning, but also a gutterly laugh that seemed to be infectious.

And what did you have?

Jealousy.

You had never had friends with whom you could act this way around, and a pit of envy formed within your stomach as you turned back and sipped your liquid gold. You heard them talk and laugh as they walked past the bartender waving and collecting a few bentos on the way, the only one of them that stayed was the older gentleman who sat down at the bar, an audible groan escaping him which caused your pit of envy to turn to a breathless thought of arousal. It had been a while since you had gotten any but hearing a man groan because his back aches shouldn’t have been the thing to let you know about it. He glanced over at you and caught you staring, but you didn’t shy away and look back at your drink like others would, instead you chose to look him up and down with half lidded eyes and a small smirk before gracefully returning your gaze to your own drink.

That was sure to catch his attention.

A gravelly voice coughed to clear his throat and then rang out as he ordered a drink of “somethin’ cheap” a stark contrast to the slightly expensive whiskey you were sipping. Once more the bartender silently agreed and turned around to pour out a cheap sake but you interrupted that with a request.

“Order something with a little kick and I’ll pay for it, my treat” you glanced over at his reaction as you took another sip of your drink. He who had taken your interest pointed at himself accompanied with a smile and a half-hearted chuckle.

“Guess I’m having what they’re having then” he stood up and walked over to you, gesturing to the seat next to yours which you agreed to let him take. The bartender agreed and placed the drink down, a soft “here” as your newfound interest smiled and took it.

“Thanks for that, real nice of you” he raised his glass and you raised yours, clinking them together and smiling. “I’m Adachi”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you Adachi-san”

“Likewise, say” he took a sip of his drink and turned towards you, “you buy people drinks at bars often?”

You chuckled and looked over at your drink, “no, I actually don’t, I prefer buying my own drinks” you raised the glass to your lips and took another sip.

“So, why me?” Adachi did the same and you smiled down at the glass as you set it down on the bar.

“You and your- uhh- friends?” You pointed upstairs and Adachi chuckled knowing whom you were talking about, “you guys saved me one time, y’know, on part time hero?.” Adachi’s eyes widened as he slightly choked on his sip.

“Shit- really?” He lightly banged his chest and coughed.

You chuckled with a slight heat coming to your face, “I know right? I was actually getting mugged on my way home from work, it all happened so fast I couldn’t thank you guys properly” you turned and gave Adachi a sincere, perhaps slightly drunk, smile, “but now I can”

Adachi laughed and raised his glass, “then I’m glad we could help someone as gorgeous as you then, means we could meet again”

“Gorgeous, huh?” You raised an eyebrow and smirked, lightly biting down on the tip of your tongue between your teeth.

He smiled back at you with an equally playful stare, “I’m not one to lie, especially when I’m bought a drink”

You both took a sip and a soft silence fell over you, the sound of laughs echoing from upstairs. “Say, why aren’t you with them?” You nodded upwards and Adachi followed, looking toward the ceiling and the source of noise.

“I wasn’t feeling it, plus there’s only one futon up there-“ Adachi gestured with his free hand and chuckled, “-you do the math”

“Four to one futon doesn’t sound comfortable at all,” you drank the last of your drink and placed the glass down, the previous light warmth of alcohol now replaced with a deepening heat of bad decisions and arousal, “how would you like to have just two in a futon tonight?” You stood up and smoothed down your clothes before grabbing your belongings and turning to Adachi who looked lost. “I live nearby, if you wanna join me that is?”

“Oh y-yeah!” Adachi perked up and drank the rest of his drink before standing up and walking over to the door, a small spring in his step. You smiled and reached for your money, sliding ¥20,000 towards the bartender who looked puzzled.

“That’s for our drinks, and use what’s left for their tab” you nodded to the upstairs once more and turned to leave, walking through the door Adachi was holding open for you.

Both of you walked along the river towards your apartment, the cool night air keeping you company as the silence became awkward. You coughed and playfully bumped your shoulder into your company, “I know I just did it but I- uhh- I don’t usually do this”

“Do what?”

“Pick people up in bars, buying them drinks and sweet talking them. This is actually my first time meeting someone in a while” you shyly itched the back of your neck and looked up at your companion, who had a genuine look of surprise on his face.

“If it’s any consolation, it’s been a while for me too” a noise mimicking a ‘huh?’ came from you and Adachi smiled, “probably around three years? Sheesh could even be more-“

“Three years?!” You stopped in your tracks as Adachi laughed.

“Yeah, haha, all clogged up and a guy can only do so much, y’know? Uhh- wait I probably shouldn’t say things like that-“

You giggled and started walking again, linking your arm through his and pulling him, “it’s fine, to be honest with you,” you stopped and turned him towards you, leaning onto your tiptoes and putting your lips against his ear, “I’m kind of hoping you’ll let me unclog you, if you get what I mean” you heard a light gasp escape Adachi as he struggled for words, you leaned back and spotted his cheeks heating up with a hot blush. “Hmm? Would you be interested in that, Adachi-san? It’s not like I wasn’t hinting at it before, at the bar?”

“Yeah no I- I did get it then, but I kind of assumed maybe you just wanted me to walk you home or something and then we’d get there and you’d say somethin’ like ‘well thanks for walking me home!’ and I’d be left in the col-” Adachi realised he was rambling and coughed nervously, you smiled at him as he noticed your faces were mere inches apart, whiskey soaked breath intermingling as you admired his handsome features.

“Of course I wanted you to walk me home,” you kissed his cheek and slid your hand around Adachi’s waist, pulling him closer, “so you could join me tonight, would you like to?”

Adachi cleared his throat and nodded with an affirmative hum, you smiled and leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft within the scratching of his beard, your bodies pressed together as you pushed him towards a nearby wall, of which Adachi willingly complied. He allowed you to push him back as his hands rested on your hips, his own rolling into you and you both kissed within the moonlight. Gentle gasps and sloppy sighs resonated between the both of you as your hands explored each other, Adachi’s fuller frame a welcome feeling amongst the cool night air.

His hands manoeuvred you just the same, worn out leather sliding under your untucked work shirt, his other hand cupping the back of your head, keeping your lips locked against his as you both tongued and bit at each other. Breathless gasps interrupted the Ijincho sounds, the far off talk of passers by mixed with cars and the rolling of the river as you and Adachi ravaged each other, months and years of pent up sexual energy bursting out in the dingy alley.

“Wait-“ you pulled away but Adachi followed, his lips kissing your neck as you stood back, attempting to regain your composure within his grip was futile. Just having his beard scratch up your neck was driving you wild, not to mention the exploring hands and soft moans that threatened to put you onto your knees and worship him right now. “Adachi-san, wait-”

His voice was a hoarse whisper against your ear, “Hm? What is it?”

You breathed for a few seconds so you could at least try to sound composed, “I live nearby- hah- we should at least try to get to my apartment before- y’know.” Adachi agreed but not before planting another deep kiss on your lips and smirking, keeping that sexual energy brimming within you both.

While the walk was short, it was arduous. Your hand played around with his, kisses on the cheek were snuck in as well as playful pokes and jabs. Both of you desperately trying to ignore what was ignited within you, with no success, more than a few times you’d snuck in a look to Adachi’s half-chubbed tent within his trousers in the passing lights, each time reminding you, and your body, what you had to look forward to. A couple of minutes passed and you came up to your apartment complex, casually opening the door for Adachi, who thanked you, before following, taking the both of you to your living space.

Usually your apartment was cold and empty, but not tonight. Adachi complimented your clean living space and looked around happily taking it all in, the things you had thought as simple were stars within his eyes. “This is a real nice place, Y/N-kun!” Adachi turned to face you with a smile on his lips as you placed your things down and took off your shoes, a little more sober than you had been before.

“Is it?” You looked around confused as to what was standing out, “it’s a pretty normal place to my standards”

“I sleep in a room with 3 other people ninety percent of the time, this is some good shit” you laughed along with his wry chuckle and walked over to him offering a seat on your couch, which he gladly took.

You sat next to him, crossing your legs and placing your head on your hand, your other hand came to his jacket, fingers lightly playing around with his zipper “I suppose next to those standards I live in a palace” you chuckled and met his soft gaze, “kind of a lonely one though”

“Oh?” Adachi’s gloved hand came to your thigh, fingers resting lightly upon the fabric of your trousers, “is there something you’d like to do about that, Y/N-kun?” Adachi’s tone was playful, his hand caressed along your thigh which sent shocks through your legs into your spine, your body heating up at the physical contact and the promise of a sexual endeavour.

“Trust the ex-cop to read me like a book.”

He raised a curious eyebrow, “I didn’t tell you I was a cop.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as a hushed tone left you, “you didn’t need to.” In one swift move you lifted your leg over him and straddled his thighs, wrapping your arms around Adachi’s neck and kissing his startled lips through his heavy grunt of surprise. Your hands clasped and gripped at his hair, tugging and pulling as your hips rolled along his pelvis. You could feel him getting hard underneath you and it only served to make you want him more, your own body heating up the cold confines of your lonely living space.

Both of you moaned against each other’s lips, gasps and sighs filling the air as Adachi’s hands, once again, roamed your body. Sliding within your shirt like you hadn’t even left the dank alleyway, leather caressing along your back as his bitten to the bone nails attempted a light scratch. Your hands continued to tug at his hair, dominating the man below you and controlling just how he was allowed to kiss you, yanking on his scalp to drag his head back, with a horny gasp, so you could bite his neck, pulling him to the side just to kiss down on his jawline, but Adachi didn’t resist. In fact, he willingly let himself be controlled by you and he was enjoying every moment.

“I think,” you mumbled into Adachi’s neck before pecking kisses along his jaw, “-It’s time I cleared those pipes, hmm?”

“I think so too” Adachi pushed his dick against your ass and you got a slight feel for how big he was underneath those trousers of his. Just at the feeling of his dick on you your mouth was salivating, this newfound desire to have his flesh fill it to the brim before cumming down your throat. You wanted him moaning your name like a dog whining while waiting outside of the store for their owner to come back, you wanted his knees to twitch and his toes to curl, you wanted sweat to pool on his brow as he let go of the last 3 years.

One last deep kiss on his lips before you slid down his legs, getting onto your knees in front of him. He was out of breath already, face red and lips parted with sheen of saliva dripping into his scruff. You revelled in it, watching the burly man unhinged and shivering with anticipation of your mouth around his dick was a beautiful sight to behold, and the desperate feeling for you to satisfy him was only growing. Your hands worked quickly to unbutton his trousers and shuffle them down along with his underwear. Adachi lifted his hips to help and his cock sprang free, hitting the base of his jacket with a soft tap.

He was big. Bigger than you had anticipated, not long but god he had girth. At least 7 inches with a wide base and thick veins pulsating with his heartbeat. Your jaw was aching just looking at it but the saliva pooling under your tongue was telling a different story. You bit your bottom lip before licking them for lubrication and kissing the tip. Adachi let out a soft sigh and let his head roll back as you began to massage his dick, your hand gripping tightly as you licked and kissed at the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue, a small appetiser before the main meal.

With innocent eyes you looked up, making eye contact with a bashful Adachi, before wrapping your mouth around his dick and taking him in as far as you could go. By the shriek of his gasp you had taken him by surprise, his hand gripped a fistful of your hair before he realised and let go, instead choosing to rest his hand on the crook of your neck, ready to push you down at a moment's notice should he feel the need to. You hoped he would feel the need to.

Each bob of your head threatened your gag reflex, his tip lightly grazing your gullet as a choke rose within your throat. His girth stretched your lips as wide as they could go as your hand massaged that which you weren’t able to reach. Saliva dripped down your chin as yours and Adachi’s grunts filled the room, yours being sloppy and wet, and Adachi’s full of pleasure and relief. You lifted your mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’ of your lips off of his tip and proceeded to lick up the shaft, your hand continuing to massage what your mouth had abandoned.

Adachi was already twitching, his heavy sighs and restless grip a clear indicator that he wasn’t going to last long. “You look so cute, Adachi-san,” you commented before returning to licking his dick, a surprised ‘huh?’ escaped him but not before it was replaced by a low moan, his hand slowly entwining into your hair ready to push you down when you returned to wrapping your lips around his sweet sweet dick, “-if I were a nastier person I’d tease your orgasm for hours just to see you squirm like this some more but-“ you licked up his shaft, tongue pressed firmly against his cock, and smiled “I’m a very nice person who wants to see you lose your fucking mind as you cum down my throat.”

“Hah- it’s gonna be real soon Y/N-kun” his voice was wavering with each word, sweat clearly beading along his brow as the heat radiated off of his body and the dick within your grip twitched, getting quicker and quicker as his heartbeat rose with the incoming orgasm. By now you had stars in your eyes, living vicariously through Adachi’s pleasure to relieve some of your own pent up horniness. He looked down at you once more and you met his desperate stare before pushing your mouth and throat to their breaking points by taking all of his cock in at once, gag reflex coming up slightly as you choked but you couldn’t leave. Adachi’s grip was keeping you thoroughly pressed against him and his hips began to roll into you, fuckinf your throat as he climbed and climbed to his climax.

No longer was he holding back moans, swears were mixed in with gasps, sighs, and whimpers of your name. You were almost choking, tears built up within your eyes but you held strong knowing that he was going to cum at any time now.

And he did.

Semen painted your throat as Adachi howled in relief, your neighbours surely hearing his rapturous sighs of pleasure, knowing it was you giving it to this mystery man by the tell tale sign of him almost screaming your fucking name. It was salty and unpleasant but you weren’t one to refuse a meal, he was cumming so hard you barely even had to swallow, instead choosing to let it drip down as you attempted to encourage it with his dick still inside of you. Adachi’s hand fell down and you were free to lift yourself off, a wistful sigh leaving you as you pulled your aching lips from around his milked dick.

You sat back on your ass, resting your knees for a moment, and wiped the mixture of cum and saliva from your chin. Adachi, on the other hand, was tucking himself away, a shy look of embarrassment on his face which worried you.

“Is something wrong Adachi-san?”

He looked sheepish, “I- uhm- I came really quickly and…” he sighed and leaned forward, placing his elbows onto his knees, “I don’t think I can go again, at least not tonight and-“

“I know” Adachi raised his eyebrows in surprise and you chuckled, “I came into this knowing that Adachi-san and, to be honest, just getting to blow you and see you cum has done wonders for me.”

“Oh… but now I feel bad cause-“ he gestured up and down with his hand, “-Y’know”

Another wry chuckle before you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll be alright, consider this paying you back for saving me. Just you though, I’m not about to blow your entire friend group”

“After that display I wouldn’t let you, I’d prefer to keep you to myself”

“Well… maybe you can.”

[jingabitch]

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.2

Summary: When you were ten, Taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. Now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

Pairing: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

Warnings: smut | talk of ownership (reader is tae’s pet human) | (eventual) daddy long legs syndrome | masturbation (m) | tae goes into heat | dubcon because of the heat | somewhat (?) unhealthy relationship

Word count: 10.7k

A/N: Did this girl bang out 3000-odd words in one night so that she could post it before Chinese New Year so that she could reach 888 followers by CNY? Yes. Yes she did. I hope you guys enjoy this, and please share and follow for more if you liked it!!

Also, I don’t do tag lists, so please don’t ask. This story is cross-posted on ao3 (link to account on my blog) so you can subscribe there.

Series index

You’d learned years ago what Taehyung was like in the weeks leading up to his heat. Overly moody, grumpy, and most of all, hungry. It was probably his body trying to load up on calories before five or so days where there was intense physical exertion without much opportunity to eat.

 It had never been an awkward thing for you – after all, werewolf heat was a basic part of their biology, so no one made a big deal out of it. And since they never said anything about your own cycle, you afforded them the same courtesy, just taking it in your stride and doing your best to make it easier on them.

 So it wasn’t surprising to you when one day in the middle of winter, Taehyung wolfed down (ha) his breakfast at twice his usual speed and then started looking furtively over at your plate. Sighing, you just pushed it towards him and went to make yourself something else. You made a mental note to make more food tomorrow, and braced yourself for the coming few weeks, where he would be alternately clingy and grumpy – or, interestingly enough, both at the same time.

 His heats were never a big deal for you – if he had a heat partner, you mostly stayed out of his way, and stayed with the other boys instead. They were always more than happy to spend a whole week spoiling you and getting cute cuddles. If he didn’t, you usually ended up being the one to take care of him since the others had their own schedules and were out of the house most days. It wasn’t anything much – you just checked in on him once in a while, made sure he was eating and drinking water, and maybe wiped him down if he was too sweaty.

 You didn’t expect that anything would change this year, although obviously you’d missed his last two heats, which he’d spent in the military facility. In preparation for his heat, you went to the supermarket and stocked up on food that would be easy for him to eat, like fruit and granola bars, making sure to pick his favourite brand which was, obviously, an extremely fancy and overpriced one.

 While you continued your preparations for his heat, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, Taehyung was an absolute mess. Ever since his preheat started, he’d been racking his brains for a solution to the problem that wouldn’t arouse your suspicion, and coming up empty. There was no way he could get rid of you for a week without you figuring out something was up, since you knew he didn’t have a heat partner and it had never been a thing before for you to leave.

 Everything was, of course, made more complicated by the fact that the closer he got to his heat, the more he didn’t want you to leave. He would wake up in the middle of the night wrapped around you, his face tucked into your neck and his hands gripping your waist possessively, and he would be burning up, panting for you.

 You, of course, didn’t suspect a thing, and it truly was a testament to how comfortable you were with him that you weren’t noticing anything amiss. It really was remarkable how much could go over your head if you weren’t looking for it. If nothing else, the fact that he’d taken good enough care of you over the years that you were so complacent and comfortable around him was slight comfort. He knew your time at the shelter hadn’t been the best, and he was pleased that he’d managed to earn your trust, even if it did increase his guilt at taking advantage of it now.

 His last hope, that he was clinging on to by a thread, was that since his heat was intended for the purpose of breeding, maybe he wouldn’t fixate on you. After all, you were human – you should be incompatible with him in that way. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to go on.

 Although really, anyone could have told him that that was a stupid plan. But since he’d refused to let anyone know what was going on, there was no one around to shake some sense into him.

  His heat hit while he was at the studio. It had been a bad idea to go to work today, he knew it when he took three bites of the giant breakfast you’d cooked and turned his nose up at the rest of it, but they were starting to record their new song and he’d wanted to be there.

 Unfortunately, his enthusiasm meant that when his heat hit in the afternoon, he was in the studio instead of comfortably waiting at home. The bright lights and sheer number of scents overwhelmed his senses, and he ended up curled in a corner of the room, desperately closing his eyes and trying to shut the world out, his head between his knees. His ears flicked repeatedly, before laying flat against his head in distress.

 “Shit… we need to get him home,” Yoongi said, watching him groan pitifully, but when they tried to coax him to move, he refused, completely non-functional by this point and so uncomfortable that he couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Jimin tried to sit with him, hoping that his familiar scent would block out some of the harsher scents in the room, like the floor cleaner, but Taehyung just groaned and turned his face away, burying it in his shoulder. The rest of them looked on worriedly – his heat symptoms had never been this bad before.

 Left without any other option, Namjoon called you, hoping that the familiar scent of home would soothe Taehyung enough to stop being a moaning mess on the floor of their studio long enough to go home and ride out the heat.

 You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Hearing that Taehyung was in trouble spurred you to all but fly out of your house, speeding all the way to the studio in his extra car that he never let you drive. It was lucky that you’d learned how to drive in Geochang, you thought as you zipped into the parking lot at the BigHit building and raced up to the studio.

 You burst into the room dramatically, panting from your exertion, and immediately zeroed in on Taehyung, who seemed to be feeling a little better than what you’d been led to believe, if the way he’d sat up and was looking at you was any indicator. His ears perked up too, indicating that he was no longer as distressed as he’d been just a minute ago.

 “Hey,” you said softly as you approached slowly, not wanting to freak him out since his animal instincts were closer to the surface than usual. And, if you were being honest, the way his gaze fixated on you was almost predatory, triggering your flight instincts. Reassuring yourself that Taehyung would never hurt you, you continued to inch closer to him.

 “How you doing, Tae-oppa?” you asked softly, getting on your knees next to him and pushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the touch, and you wondered at his over-the-top reaction. Just how deep was he into his heat?

 You made to pull your hand back, not wanting to cause him any more discomfort than necessary, but his hand shot up and grabbed your wrist. “Y/n…” he shuddered as he breathed your name. “You came,” he continued, looking up at you far more intensely than you thought the situation warranted, his long fingers stroking your wrist gently.

 Hesitantly, you replied, “Uhh, yeah, Namjoon-oppa called me to come get you. Come on, let’s get you home,” you urged, trying to pull your hand away, but he tightened his grip around your wrist and made that impossible. You raised your brow at him, wondering why he insisted on staying in that corner instead of going home where he had pajamas, nice soft sheets on his bed, and could draw the curtains so the light didn’t hurt his eyes, but he stood up quite easily without letting go of you and started tugging you out of the room.

 “Uh, okay then,” you mumbled, utterly confused now. When Namjoon had called you, he’d been almost panicked, describing what bad shape Taehyung was in and getting you all worried, but the man in front of you seemed completely fine. A little off-kilter, maybe, but that was only to be expected since he was going through heat, after all.

 “Bye, oppas!” you said, waving at them as Taehyung pulled on your wrist, leading you down the hall and towards the elevator.

 “Well, you look pretty good for someone in heat,” you told him as you waited for it to arrive, looking him up and down assessingly. “When Namjoon-oppa called me he was so panicked, and I freaked out too, but he must have been exaggerating,” you chattered on to fill the silence. You understood that Taehyung wasn’t really in the mood to make conversation right now, but somehow his intense gaze made the quiet feel a little uncomfortable.

 The elevator doors opened with a ding, and your attention was momentarily taken away from Taehyung, so you didn’t see the way he shuddered. It wasn’t that he was feeling better, it was that his heat had found a target, and all that shaky, general horniness and misery had turned into laser focus on you. You walked into the elevator with that little bounce in your step, and he followed after you, almost stalking you with how predatory his gait and gaze were.

 You stopped and turned around in the middle of the lift, your eyes lifting habitually to the display on top of the doors, but Taehyung didn’t stop walking, bumping against you and causing you to drop your gaze to him. You gasped at the hungry expression on his face, but it didn’t deter him from backing you up against the wall. You squeaked in surprise as your back hit the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs, and in the second that it took you to get your bearings back, he’d moved his hands from the wall on either side of your shoulders to your waist, pulling you tightly to him as he buried his nose in your neck.

 You just about jumped out of your skin when you felt his erection pressing against you, and your mind immediately leapt to work rationalizing it away. He was in heat, it was normal for him to have a boner, and it definitely had nothing to do with you, you tried to convince yourself. He was scenting you because you smelled familiar, like home, and it was comforting for him.

 Trying not to squirm away in discomfort so you could help him, you stroked his hair in what you thought was a soothing gesture. “Tae-oppa, you okay?” you asked softly.

 He groaned in response. “You smell so good,” he said, sniffing you aggressively as he pressed you into the wall. You gulped and looked up at the numbers flashing on the screen, indicating that you were close to the basement now. The moment the elevator door opened, you pulled away under the guise of leaving the elevator, and hurried to the car.

 Taehyung insisted that he wanted to take the car he’d driven here back home, as it was more comfortable, but then refused to hand you the keys so you could drive, instead forcing you to fish them out of his front pocket. He’d boxed you in with his body against the car while you’d done it, too, staring at you so intently that it made your face heat as you averted your gaze, trying to grab his keys without any accidents.

 When the keys were finally in your hands, you slipped into the driver’s seat, trying to avoid staring at Taehyung as he went around to the other side of the car and slid gracefully into the passenger seat. You didn’t know what was going on, but you weren’t prepared for any of this, and it was making you slightly uncomfortable, especially because you couldn’t be sure that you didn’t like it. As inappropriate and wrong as all of this was, as much as you knew that this was just because of his heat and to entertain any fantasies would be taking advantage of him in this vulnerable state, there was a part of you that felt a sliver of interest. That, under all the fear and discomfort, had thrilled at having

 As you started the car, you studiously ignored Taehyung. He huffed and undid the top few buttons on his shirt, then fiddled with the seat so that he was in a more comfortable reclining position. Your mind raced as you drove home – he’d never acted like this with you before, and you wondered if he was okay. The heat seemed to be worse than in previous years, and he must be really out of it by now. Was it even possible for him to get through this heat without a partner?

 At a red light, you snuck a glance over at him, relieved to see that his eyes were closed and he seemed to have fallen into a light doze. That was good, you thought, your heart warming at seeing his cute sleeping face. He should get some rest while he could, because it seemed like this heat would be hard on him. Your heart squeezed – it seemed unfair that hybrids had to go through this, and you wondered why on earth your ancestors had created hybrids this way.

 After parking the car, you looked over at him and bit your lip. You didn’t really want to wake him up now that he seemed to be sleeping rather comfortably, but unfortunately there was no way that you would be able to carry a fully grown hybrid back to his apartment, so reluctantly, you reached over to shake him awake.

 “Tae-oppa?” you called quietly. “We’re home.”

 He stirred and looked at you with half-closed eyes, before nodding listlessly, and you felt like the scum of the earth for even entertaining the thought that his earlier actions were an advance, and especially for that tiny bit of arousal that you’d experienced feeling his erection dig into your belly earlier. He was clearly in a vulnerable position, and here you were, misinterpreting his actions and taking advantage of him by enjoying what his hormones were making him do.

 It would do you well to remember that it was your ancestors who had made him like this. In a way, it was kind of your fault that he had to go through it, and you promised him silently that you would do whatever it took to help him through this.

 You slid out of the car, then hurried over to the other side to help him out. He seemed a little woozy and weaker than normal, but otherwise fine, and even managed to get himself back to the apartment without any difficulty. A light sheen of sweat coated him by the time you’d reached the apartment, though, and he made to go straight to the bedroom, but you managed to coax him to take a shower first since it wasn’t likely that he would get another one before his heat ended.

 “Tae-oppa?” you called as he was headed into the bathroom, already stripping his shirt off.

 He grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t turn around or stop.

 “Do you want me to call someone to help you with your heat? Maybe Minhee-unnie, or Haeun-unnie?” you suggested some of his previous heat partners, girls he’d hooked up with regularly in the past. There were also services that provided heat partners, but you didn’t know if anyone would be available on such short notice.

 Taehyung thought about it. It would probably be smart to find a partner to ride this heat out – it was hitting far stronger than he’d anticipated and he could scarcely think straight, especially now that he was in the apartment where your scent was so incredibly intense and mixed so thoroughly in with the smell of home – but the thought of having a heat partner strangely made him feel almost sick.

 “No, it’s okay,” he responded brusquely, too out of it to temper his tone, and closed the door behind him in the bathroom.

 Shivering, he stripped out of the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the handle to the coldest setting possible. He hissed and growled in displeasure as the ice cold water hit his skin, but he knew it was necessary. He was burning up, way too hot for a usual heat, and even in his compromised state of mind, he knew that this could be dangerous if he didn’t cool down, and quickly.

 The cold shower didn’t do much for the desire raging through him, though, and he rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower stall and groaned. He was completely losing it, he could tell, and probably terrorizing you. He felt like an awful owner. You were so innocent and good, coming to get him from the studio, and he’d responded by basically assaulting you in the elevator earlier.

 “Fuck!” he growled, slamming his fist into the wall. Even knowing that he was garbage wasn’t enough to stop him from recalling how amazing you’d smelled, how soft you’d felt under his hands, the way you’d melted against the press of his body in the elevator. You always smelled good to him, especially since he’d been discharged from the military, but today it seemed different. Better. The scent emanating from you was just slightly warmer, sweeter, spicier than the residual scent you’d left all over the apartment, including in the bathroom. In his heat-addled state, he couldn’t figure out why, but it was messing with his ability to keep his head on straight in a big way.

 With another growl of frustration, he wrapped his hand around his cock, knowing that there was no way he could go back out into the apartment in the state he was in. It was fast and rough, and his orgasm was unsatisfying, barely enough to take the edge off the all-consuming hunger that bordered on pain, but he felt his mind clear just enough that he remembered all the reasons why bending his pet human over was a bad idea.

 He got out of the shower and dried himself off perfunctorily, wrapping the towel around his waist because he hadn’t brought in fresh clothes. He was collecting his dirty clothes to drop into the laundry basket when, as he stood up, he caught sight of the box of tampons you’d left on top of the toilet. He rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance – you were always forgetting to put them back under the sink after your period was over. It was one of his biggest pet peeves, the way you would just leave things lying around and causing clutter.

 Wait a minute. He frowned again at the box. You’d had your last period a week ago, which meant…

 Fuck.

 All the pieces fell into place in his mind then, and it took massive amounts of restraint to avoid sending his fist clear through the wall. You were ovulating, which is why you smelled so good. All his hopes of not fixating on you during this heat were dashed. In previous cycles, he’d noted your ovulation because your scent had shifted, but it had never affected him much before. Now, though, that he was in heat, the scent that indicated your fertility was overwhelming, stripping all restraint from him. The mere thought of cumming into you and getting you pregnant had his wolf instincts rising, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as his erection ached and his balls drew up, desperate to fulfil their purpose.

 This isn’t right, the part of him that was still in control screamed, but that voice was quickly being drowned out by his hormones. This was bad, he needed to lock himself in his room before he did something he couldn’t take back.

 With that thought in his mind, he wrenched the bathroom door open, and the cool air from outside the bathroom felt nice and calming on his overheated skin, helping him to maintain some sanity. Thankfully, you’d gone into your room and shut the door, and he made a beeline for his own room, thinking that as long as he didn’t see or smell you, everything would be fine.

 Unfortunately, thinking that you were being helpful, you’d gone into his room while he was in the bathroom to leave some water and snacks. He could see a few bottles neatly lined up on the bedside table, and the rest of the carton was sitting on the floor in a corner of the room. You’d also arranged the energy bars and fruit on the table, within easy reach of the bed. His heart clenched at how thoughtful you were, but even the short amount of time you’d spent in his room was enough to leave traces of your scent in his room.

 Groaning, he shut the door behind him and threw himself on the bed, facedown. He landed with his face in your pillow and growled, biting down on it as he impatiently stripped the towel off and threw it into a corner. His hands clenched into fists as he swiveled his hips, pressing his painful erection into the sheets.

 In the state he was in, thoughts about how wrong it was to get himself off to your scent flew right out the window as he took deep huffs of the pillow that had become saturated with your scent from months of you sleeping on it every night. As he worked himself closer to orgasm, he imagined that instead of the residual scent you’d left in his bed, it was you, warm and soft and pliant, letting him fuck you, use your body as he needed. You’d be so sweet to him, he thought, cooing at him as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, stroking the back of his neck and letting him mark you up as he plowed into you. Even in his fantasy, he wasn’t able to be gentle with you, holding the pillow between his teeth as he imagined the tender skin of your neck and collarbone in its place. His wolf instincts running high, he shuddered as he found his release to the picture of you he held in his mind, letting him fuck a whole litter of pups into you.

 “Y/n, shit, fuck,” he groaned as he came, holding that sweet fantasy close as he rode out his orgasm. Floating high in its wake for a moment, he rolled onto his back and shut his eyes, enjoying the small aftershocks running through his body. He wished he could just stay in this moment for the rest of his heat, where the consuming need had abated somewhat, but before the clarity of mind orgasm gave him made all his guilt come flooding back.

 He was a terrible, shitty hybrid and he was definitely going to hell. The thought made his ears droop sadly, but at least you weren’t here to witness his descent into madness. You were too good to him, such a sweet pet, he mused as he grabbed one of the bottles of water you’d so kindly put within easy reach and gulping it down. He wished he at least knew why this was happening all of a sudden. He’d never heard of or read about hybrid-human relationships, even though he knew that technically he was part human as well. It was all very confusing and scary, made worse by the fact that he had to hide what he was feeling from everyone, especially you, for fear that you would see him differently. He’d worked so hard to make sure that you felt safe in his home, and all of that would go down the drain immediately if you found out how alluring he found your scent now, and how difficult a time he was having keeping his hands off you.

 In the midst of his heat, even the thought of you finding out that he was unabashedly using your scent to get off didn’t fill him with horror and shame as it should have. Instead, his mind started to conjure up fantasies of you biting your lip, cooing his name when you found what a state he’d worked himself into. Imaginary you stroked his fevered brow softly, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then slid your hand down his body to grasp his erection as real Taehyung did the same thing.

 He’d already cum twice, so he could take his time a little more, stretch out the teasing and immerse himself in his fantasy. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip in an effort to muffle the whine he could feel building in his throat, he exhaled shakily. You’d be so sweet to him, stripping out of your clothes without him asking, leaning over him to kiss him sweetly. Your soft, gentle kisses would contrast against how confidently and tightly you were gripping his cock as you jerked him off, letting him moan and whimper into your mouth.

 He wouldn’t be pliant for long – no, even in his fantasy he was needy, burning up, and you were the only thing that could save him from certain death. It would barely be a minute of you hovering over him, your hand on his cock, before he wouldn’t be able to take any more teasing. He’d grab you and flip the both of you over, so you landed on your back with him between your legs. He shuddered at the thought, turning onto his belly with his face back in your pillow, stacking his fists under him so they made a nice, deep hole for his cock to drill into.

 You’d be wet and creamy already, letting him slide through your folds without any resistance. He thought about how soft and tight you’d be as he ran his fingers down your slit, stretching you out for his cock. Even in the state he was in, he would be careful not to hurt you, to prep you well so that when he finally took his rightful place deep inside you, there would be nothing but pleasure. Biting his lip, he slowly fucked into his fists, mimicking the way he would enter you for the first time.

 Fantasy you arched into him and moaned helplessly, your walls tightening around him rhythmically as you adjusted to his length within you, and liquid heat pooled in his lower belly as he thought about the cute, breathy sounds you would make for him. Would you beg him for more, or tell him it was too much? He rather liked the idea of being too much for you, he found, enough to ruin you for any human man or hybrid who came after him. If he had his way, you’d always be his.

 He groaned and huffed as he picked up his pace, rutting into his fists as the head of his cock brushed against the sheets. Thousand thread count sheets and yet the fabric dragged almost unpleasantly against the oversensitive flesh, far rougher than he was sure your silken heat would be.

 As he jerked himself off relentlessly, he imagined that it was you he was plowing into, biting savagely into the pillow as he imagined that it was your neck he was marking up. His climax was close now, he could feel it, and he panted heavily as he strained for it. “Please,” he grunted, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Please, I need it.”

 Like a wish granted, his orgasm washed over him, and he shuddered all over as he came to your scent again. “Y/n,” he groaned, your name like a prayer on his lips as copious amounts of cum landed in a pool on the sheets. “Fuck,” he breathed, right before he collapsed into a heat nap.

  Almost two hours had passed since you’d gone into your room. You’d spent it comfortably enough, curled into your oversized armchair reading, but it was almost dark out now and you were getting hungry.

 Putting your book down and removing the noise-cancelling headphones that ensured you’d be able to look Taehyung in the eye once his heat ended, you opened your bedroom door and poked your head out slightly hesitantly. Once, when you were thirteen, you’d been careless and just waltzed right out of Yoongi’s room and run into a very naked Taehyung gulping down water in the kitchen, and it had scared the crap out of the both of you. Needless to say, ever since then you’d checked to make sure the coast was clear before going anywhere in the apartment whenever any of them had their heats.

 When all you saw was Taehyung’s closed bedroom door further down the corridor, you slipped out of your room and into the kitchen, tying your hair back into a ponytail as you gathered up ingredients. You didn’t know if Taehyung was up to have a full meal, but if he was, a nice, soothing soybean stew ought to hit the spot. Already licking your lips in anticipation, you put the earthenware port on the stove and turned it on, humming to yourself as you prepared the food.

 When it was done, you left it on the stove and went to get Taehyung. Sometimes even during his heat he would be capable of coming to eat a meal with you, and you figured it was worth a shot. If not, you could always eat alone and leave the stew for him to reheat when he felt hungry enough.

 “Tae-oppa?” you said softly, knocking on his door.

 For a second, there was no noise from inside and you assumed he was asleep, but as you were about to walk away you heard a rustle, and then he said, in a slightly slurred tone, “Come in.”

 You opened the door, and were immediately assaulted by the smell in the room, but you tried not to wrinkle your nose as you stepped in, knowing that Taehyung would be able to see it even in the dark. “Oppa, I made dinner, do you want to come join me?”

 Your eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the room, and you were hardly able to see anything, but you heard Taehyung moving and assumed he was coming to join you for dinner. Starting to turn around to exit the room, you were caught off guard when he instead pushed you up against the door, which in turn slammed shut. The air was knocked from your lungs and you saw stars for a moment, standing still in his grasp as you tried to figure out what just happened.

 Taehyung, however, immediately took advantage of your confusion to crowd you against the door with his body. Your frame was completely dwarfed by his, one of his hands on your hip while the other was pressed to the wood beside your ear. “You smell so goddamn good,” he groaned as he bent to press his nose to your neck.

 Now you were confused for a whole different reason, because his words, his proximity, the bare erection he was pressing into your belly, all of those things confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt what you’d earlier tried to deny to yourself. For some reason, your owner wanted you, and you didn’t know what to do.

 “Tae-oppa –” you said timidly, trying to extricate yourself from this situation, but as he dragged his tongue up the length of your neck, right to your ear, your words cut off in a choked gasp. You shuddered involuntarily, hating yourself for reacting when you knew how wrong this all was.

 “Y/n-ah, you smell so good, so ripe,” he said against your ear as he started to swivel his hips, thrusting against you. Against your will, your core clenched, and you cringed as you felt a rush of wetness escape you. Your vain hopes that he didn’t know how wet you’d become, even with his heightened hybrid senses, were dashed when he groaned again, this time a long, low sound full of agony, and pressed his lips to yours.

 You were stock still for a moment, your mind blanking out, unable to comprehend what was going on. Every instinct was screaming at you to get out of there, that this was wrong, bad, sick, but your hands wouldn’t cooperate, half stretched out but not touching him, just hovering over his body.

 “Y/n, it hurts,” he groaned, resting his head against your forehead and panting heavily. It sounded like there wasn’t enough air in the room for him, and you could empathize – the uncomfortably warm and humid atmosphere wasn’t comfortable for you, let alone a hybrid going through heat at the moment.

 “What’s wrong, oppa?” you asked, stroking your hands down his side in a bid to bring him comfort, your initial reluctance to touch him or do anything that might give him the wrong idea forgotten in your haste to do anything that might make him feel better. Even touching his bare sides confirmed to you that he was burning up, and he usually ran warmer than you did as it was. Frowning, you tried to touch his face, to see whether he was feverish enough for it to be dangerous. If there was something wrong this time – and based on his strange behavior, you were already inclined to think there was – you had to call someone to come help him immediately.

 A sob ripped through him as your hand landed on his face, and he nuzzled aggressively into your palm. “You feel okay,” you murmured, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He was warmer than usual, but not so hot that you were alarmed.

 Instead of responding to your comment, he begged again, “Please help me, Y/n-ah.” The abject misery in his tone tugged at your heartstrings, and in that moment you knew you would do anything if it prevented him from suffering any more.

 “What do you need, Tae-oppa?” you asked quietly, steeling yourself for what was pretty sure would be the reply. By this point, you weren’t even thinking about whether or not you personally wanted to do this – and you were fairly ambivalent about the whole thing, if you were being honest – and your entire paradigm shifted, with Taehyung in the center of it.

 Instead of answering with words, he bent down slightly and hoisted you up with his hands on the back of your thighs, slotting himself between them neatly as he pressed you into the door. In this position, his prominent erection rubbed against your core, like a fiery brand burning through your shorts and panties.

 You whimpered. You didn’t know which way was up – it had been so long since you’d broken up with your ex back in Geochang, and you hadn’t had any action since, and the way he was moving against you triggered every carnal instinct you possessed. At the same time, your rational mind knew that this was wrong, that he was a hybrid and you were a human. You were different species, for God’s sake, and you’d never seen him in any light other than as your owner and guardian. Somehow, though, none of that mattered when he made another pained noise.

 Hesitantly, you slipped your arms around his neck and started kissing him back. Your tentative overtures were nothing like the way he greedily devoured your mouth as a precursor to the way he wanted to eat you alive, but his reaction was dramatic enough that it didn’t seem he minded too much. Pressing you back more firmly against the door, he slipped one hand from your thigh up your camisole, his long fingers stretching up your ribcage.

 You shivered at his touch, although you weren’t sure whether it was in arousal or revulsion. Nevertheless, you steeled yourself and let him grope you, kiss you, do whatever he wanted. You were quickly realizing that you would do anything to help Taehyung, even give up your own body. After all, he was the person who had saved you all those years ago. It was the least you could do for him, no matter what your personal thoughts on the matter were.

 Still, there was something about how enthusiastically he was kissing and touching you that was incredibly persuasive, stirring something deep within you that wanted to respond in kind. Slowly, your kisses became bolder, and when you tentatively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip, his whole body shuddered in a way that made you feel powerful.

 “Fuck,” he growled, and still holding on to you, he turned and strode over to the bed, dropping you unceremoniously down on it. You’d barely landed when his hands were at work again, hooking his fingers in your waistband and pulling down your shorts and panties at the same time.

 “Fuck,” he repeated more softly this time as he dropped the discarded clothing carelessly. He levelled his body over yours, an elbow planted into the bed beside you to help balance himself as he slid his other hand down your soft belly to your pussy. You widened your legs accommodatingly to his touch, biting your lip to stay quiet when his hand slid over you, just a little too hard to be pleasurable over the sensitive flesh.

 “Shit, this heat is going to be the death of me,” he huffed, sounding more lucid now that you were under him than he had at any point before. He settled between your legs and bent his head back down to rub his nose against your neck again, but that one throwaway comment stuck in your mind, causing you to stiffen under him uncomfortably. Your stomach twisted unpleasantly in panic as you realized what you’d almost done. He was in heat, unable to think straight, and instead of protecting him from making a hormone-fueled decision that he would definitely have regretted as soon as his heat passed, you’d been about to enable it.

 Whatever arousal you might have been feeling evaporated in an instant, shame and horror filling you instead. Taehyung was so out of it that he didn’t notice the chance in your body language, but he sure as hell noticed when you tried to scramble away from him, though you weren’t very successful since his entire weight was pressing down on you, pinning you in place.

 Still, you made a little headway squirming away from him before his eyes opened wide again and he frowned down at you, pressing his hips more firmly down into you to pin you down. “Stop,” he protested. “What are you doing?”

 “Oppa, we can’t do this,” you cried out, distressed, as you continued to struggle away from him. But he was bigger and stronger than you were, and pinned you down easily.

 “Why not,” he whined, his breath ruffling the hair by your temple. He was still panting heavily as you squirmed under him, and you stopped, realizing that your movement was making the situation worse. In your despair, tears began to prick at your eyes, and the scent of your distress, cutting sharply through the intoxicating aroma of your arousal, gave him pause.

 “Baby, are you okay?” he asked with some concern, lifting himself off you slightly so that he could peer down at your face. The moment you felt his weight leave you, you used your newfound leverage to push him so hard he lost his balance, falling to the mattress next to you. You wouldn’t have been able to do it if he’d been expecting it and bracing against it, you knew, because he was just so much stronger than you naturally.

 In a flash, you were up and running for your life, sprinting for his bedroom door. You didn’t bother grabbing the rest of your clothes, knowing there was no time. Even with the head start you’d gotten on Taehyung, you knew that it would be close when he snarled and pushed himself off the bed, chasing after you.

 Shit, you swore to yourself as you ran for your bedroom. It loomed ahead of you, seeming to get further away as your vision narrowed in your panic. You could hear Taehyung thundering down the hallway after you, and with his longer stride and superior hybrid strength, he was gaining on you at an alarming pace. Even though you knew this was probably nothing for him, he was panting loudly enough for you to hear it, and you cringed as you remembered how alluring the chase was to wolves. Did Taehyung have that in common with them? You were starting to realise that despite being with him for so long, there were enormous gaps in your knowledge about him. Of course, you’d never expected that you would need to know such intimate details about him, but here you were.

 You ducked into your room and slammed the door shut just in time, wincing as you heard Taehyung crash into the solid oak with a furious snarl. You flipped the lock into place right before he started abusing the door handle, banging loudly and pulling way too hard on the handle as he yelled for you. “Y/n-ie? Baby, please unlock the door. Just talk to me, baby, I just wanna talk, I won’t do anything else, please.” He continued to beg and wheedle, his voice turning into a whine.

 Oh, God. You had no clue how to handle this, and it was turning into a nightmare. You backed away from the door, trying to give yourself as much distance as possible to think. You had to call for reinforcements, you knew. There was no way in hell you were going out there, and Taehyung was out of his mind right now.

 Running your hands through your hair in stress, you picked up the phone that you’d thankfully left on your bedside table instead of on the kitchen counter. There was only one person who could help you, you knew. Namjoon.

  You sat on the floor with your back against the door the entire time you waited for him to arrive, trying to offer Taehyung comfort and companionship without actually opening the door, which you knew would lead to something you couldn’t take back given the state he was in. He’d given up on yelling and trying to break into your room, since the door was sturdy enough to withstand his efforts to knock it down. In utter despair and misery now, he was on the floor whimpering and whining, and your heart broke with every sad, pathetic noise he made. It took everything in you not to open the door and give him what he so desperately wanted, and it was only the knowledge that he would hate himself, and you, once the heat passed that gave you the strength to resist.

 Thankfully, Namjoon had a key to the apartment, because you didn’t know how you would have gotten all the way to the front door to let him in with Taehyung still camped outside your bedroom. You knew when he arrived because Taehyung’s sad, soft whines transformed into angry growls. He was infuriated at another hybrid encroaching on what he considered to be his territory during his heat, with his bitch in the vicinity, and you were terrified that he would actually attack the older man, yet another thing that he would hate himself for when he was back in his right frame of mind.

 Grateful that you’d thought to dress yourself once you were back in your room, you opened the door, distracting Taehyung from Namjoon as he immediately attached himself to you. Patting his back while trying to keep his hands from straying to inappropriate places, it took you a moment to realize that Namjoon had brought Yoongi with him, and you squinted in confusion at the snow leopard hybrid.

 “You should stay with Yoongi until Tae’s heat passes,” Namjoon explained. “I’ll keep an eye on Taehyung.”

 That sounded like a good idea in theory, but how poorly Taehyung had reacted to having them in his apartment during his heat made you skeptical of how it would play out. Even now, Taehyung’s distraction was fading away, and he was standing protectively in front of you as he growled threateningly at the intruders.

 “His instincts are amped up because of you, for some reason. If you aren’t here anymore, he should calm down.”

 You chewed on your lip indecisively. The doubt in Namjoon’s voice made you want to protest, to reject his proposal. How could you endanger both Taehyung and Namjoon on a hunch?

 Really, though, what was the alternative? You couldn’t possibly give in to Taehyung; he would be filled with regret and self-loathing once he returned to normal, and you needed to protect him from that.

 “Okay,” you acquiesced finally. You tried to step around Taehyung to go to Yoongi, but he whipped around, alarmed.

 “Baby, what are you doing?” he asked, panicked, his arms wrapping around you immediately.

 “Oppa, let me go, please?” you begged softly, hoping futilely that Namjoon and Yoongi wouldn’t hear your conversation with him. Somehow, this felt too intimate for anyone else to witness.

 Taehyung brushed his thumb along your cheekbone, wiping away the stray tear in what had to be the most tender gesture he’d made towards you since his heat started. “Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll give you everything you need.”

 “Tae-oppa, I’ll see you after your heat, okay?” you managed, forcing the words out past the lump in your throat. “Be nice to Namjoon-oppa. I love you.” You’d said it to him so many times before, but it carried a different weight this time that you didn’t want to examine too closely.

 “Y/n-ie…” He didn’t let you go, but his grip loosened ever so slightly, and you took the opportunity to twist yourself out of his embrace, and hurried over to Yoongi. He gave you a small smile as he held his hand out to you.

 As you left the apartment with Yoongi, you heard Taehyung give a heart-rending roar, and almost said to hell with it and ran back to him. As if sensing your internal conflict, Yoongi’s hand tightened on yours, making it impossible for you to leave his side.

 You sobbed in the car all the way to Yoongi’s apartment, the reality of everything setting into you only after you’d left the situation, and the adrenaline that had kept you going left your system. You didn’t understand what was going on, but the pure misery you’d heard in Taehyung’s voice as he called out for you stayed with you. It was your fault somehow, you knew. Taehyung was suffering because of you, because of your ancestors, cruel people who’d made him the way he was for their own selfish purposes. Everything was your fault.

  For the next four days, you barely left Yoongi's guest bedroom. He gave up trying to coax you to watch Netflix with him or come to the studio to interact with the other members. Instead, he left you alone for the most part, only coming to get you when it was meal time or when he had an update from Namjoon.

 Apparently, after you'd left he'd barricaded himself in his own bedroom and hadn't left. Namjoon was trying to get him to eat a proper meal, but it was tough - thankfully, there was still the stew you'd cooked and hadn't gotten a chance to eat on the stove, because it wasn't like Namjoon was capable of cooking a nutritious homemade meal from scratch. After several attempts, Taehyung had finally allowed Namjoon to hand him the meal on a tray, which he ate in his room and left the empty dishes outside the door after.

 Apart from that, you didn't know much because he wasn't interacting with Namjoon, so your secondhand information was limited at best. It didn't really help your anxiety about the whole situation, but at least you knew he was alive, and you'd really left enough food and water in his bedroom for several heats, so there wasn't a problem on that front.

 You used the time, instead, to think about what had happened during the first day of Taehyung's heat. For the entire four days you were at Yoongi's, you basically thought about nothing else. He'd wanted you. Now that you were thinking about it in that light, a lot of the other strange things he'd been doing made a lot more sense. He wasn't just reacting to your familiar scent, or pack bond, or whatever bullshit it was that he'd been feeding you. You realised with a start that he'd been attracted to you.

 That realisation didn't make you feel better - in fact, you had more questions than before. How long had this been going on? How could this happen? Was this normal? Was he normal? And, most importantly, how did you feel about it all?

 With so much time on your hands all of a sudden, you thought about it obsessively, and cycled through almost every possible emotion.

 First came the knee-jerk reaction of disgust and horror, of course. How could this happen? How could you let this happen? You sobbed as you thought about how wrong all of this was, how weird, how inappropriate it was that Taehyung was attracted to you, a human and his pet, for God's sake. And he'd fucking lied about it too, feeding you that bullshit about his pack bond and lulling you into a false sense of security so you'd continue to stay with him, when he should have told you what was happening and let you move away as soon as he started feeling this way.

 But then - and almost against your will, because you did not want to start empathizing with him and trying to justify the shitty things he'd done to you in your mind - you started to see things his way. If it was so wrong to you, it must have been a million times worse for him, the one who'd been caught so off-guard by these new, entirely unexpected emotions. He must have been blindsided, felt so lost and scared, when he realised what was going on. Your traitorous heart felt a pang of sympathy for him. Of course he hadn't wanted to tell you; he'd probably not even been ready to admit it to himself.

 Lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, you tried to sort out your thoughts. Whether you liked it or not, you were programmed to want to please your owner, and that included understanding them. Your psyche had done its job and let you understand, with very little information and no help, Taehyung's motivations and frame of mind.

 What it wouldn't help with, however, was understanding how you felt about all of this. You sighed and rolled onto your belly, burying your face in the pillows, stifling the urge to scream in frustration.

 You knew you cared about Taehyung. Despite everything else, that hadn't changed. You couldn't forget the way he'd taken you in, given you a loving home and everything a human could possibly ask for, and asked for nothing in return. He'd even done his best to hide his growing desire from you when - let's be real - he could have acted on it whenever he wanted. It's not like anyone would believe you over him. You loved him, and you were so grateful to him for taking you in when nobody else would, and saving you from a miserable childhood in the shelter. Everything you had - everything you were - was because of him.

 Still, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was wrong, that it was immoral and inappropriate and sick to be in a human-hybrid relationship. Not after everything that had happened between the two species. Not when you were literally different species.

 With a groan of despair that was muffled by the pillows, you flailed a little in frustration. What were you to do? You were still no closer to an answer than you'd been when you'd first started thinking about all of this literal days ago.

  Namjoon didn't know - and, God willing, would never know - that Taehyung had found your discarded shorts and underwear on his bedroom floor after you'd left, and had been using that to help him get off ever since. In the state he was in, he wasn't even capable of feeling shame or remorse at what he was doing, and was just ecstatic that he finally had something better than your residual scent on his sheets to get off to.

 He sniffed at the crotch of your panties - buried his face in them, really - licked and sucked at the stains that your arousal had left in them, and tried to memorise the scent as he masturbated furiously throughout the entire four days of his heat. By the end of it, there was barely any trace of you left on the scrap of fabric, something he bemoaned as he worked himself to the final unsatisfying orgasm of his heat.

 His whole room was a mess - it stank of sex and debauchery, and there was cum all over the place - the floor, the pillows from when he'd rutted them, all over the sheets. As he fell into a deep sleep, he wondered if you'd be able to smell it, even with your weak human nose, when you came back.

 He kind of hoped you would. His heat-addled mind wanted you to know what he'd done for you.

  When Taehyung woke up, finally lucid after running through his heat, the first thing he did was remove your panties from his mouth. He grimaced in disgust - how had he literally fallen asleep with them there? God, he was truly awful - and tossed them aside, grabbing a half-finished bottle of water from between the pillows and downing it. He was parched, and the the water in the bottle wasn't enough for him.

 As he got up on shaky legs to grab another bottle from the corner, he recognized for the first time how ravenous he was, and after picking up his water, brought it with him while he left his bedroom for the first time in days to find some food.

 Thinking that he was alone, he didn't bother getting dressed, so when he reached the end of the hallway and entered the common area of the apartment, he screamed like a little girl and ran all the way back to his room in embarrassment when Namjoon, sitting on the couch with his Kindle, turned around to see him in his full naked glory. It was nothing the older man hadn't seen before, of course - you see all sorts of things when you live together for as long as they had - but it was still embarrassing, especially after so long being apart.

 By the time he re-emerged sheepishly, fully dressed, Namjoon was waiting for him with a smirk. "You didn't need to react like that, you know," he teased.

 "Yeah, yeah," Taehyung grumped. "I'm starving, is there anything to eat?"

 Namjoon rolled his eyes. "What do you think this is, Masterchef?" he quipped. "I just called for delivery, it should be here soon," he continued.

 Taehyung, on hearing that, gave his leader his best boxy smile. "Thanks, hyung! You're the best!" he cheered, going to sit on the other end of the couch to wait.

 Namjoon, figuring that he would leave the questions till after the other man had eaten, went back to his Kindle. Taehyung, though, seemed to have other ideas.

 "Hyung, have you been here all this while?" he asked curiously.

 "Uh, yeah," Namjoon replied. "Somebody had to take care of you."

 "Where's Y/n?" came the next question.

 Namjoon hesitated then. "How much do you remember?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to say anything that might startle or upset Taehyung.

 "Uhh..." Taehyung frowned, thinking hard. "I remember Y/n smelling real good," he said, shivering at just the memory of it. "Then she was in my room, under me... then..." he trailed off, his eyes widening in horror as he started remembering in detail what had happened.

 "Oh, my God," he groaned, burying his head in his hands. "I'm awful," he said, beginning to sob.

 "Hey, don't say that about yourself," Namjoon said, alarmed, drawing closer as he patted the younger man on the back comfortingly. "You're not awful, you were just caught up in your heat, that's all."

 "No, you don't understand!" Taehyung cried out, obviously distressed. "I'm the worst; I'm a disgusting hybrid and pet owner, and I should be put behind bars for Y/n's safety, and probably the rest of society, too," he finished miserably, his ears drooping.

 Namjoon tried to calm Taehyung down to explain what he meant by that, but before he succeeded, the food arrived, and with that distraction readily available, the younger man clammed up as he stuffed his face full of japchae and kimchi stew to avoid talking.

 Eventually, when everything had been finished - even the weird sweetcorn banchan that no one ever finished - Taehyung couldn't put it off any longer.

 "You'll hate me," he protested dejectedly when Namjoon tried again to coax him to spill the beans.

 "Bro, if I didn't hate you after you threw up all over me when you had food poisoning, how could anything make me hate you now?" Namjoon countered reasonably.

 That made sense, so with a heavy sigh, Taehyung told Namjoon the entire sordid tale. The words came out stiltedly at first, then started pouring out, as Taehyung started speaking faster and faster, until it sounded like he was the rapper in the group. The more he spilled, the lighter the weight on his shoulders became, as if by telling someone else, he was transferring the burden. Namjoon, to his credit, listened quietly, his expression remaining open and neutral as he took in Taehyung's story, interjecting only to ask clarifying questions but never to pass any judgement.

 When Taehyung was finally done - he left out the bit about him using your dirty underwear to get him through his heat, because hyung or not, there were some things that should be kept to himself - he leaned back against the couch cushions with a heavy sigh. This was it, he knew. No matter how accepting his hyung was, there were some things that were just too much, and this was one of those. As he'd been telling the story from the beginning, starting from the day you'd come to pick him up from his army base, how awful it all was hit him again, amplified by revising the entirety of how he'd abused you and your trust.

 "So you see," he concluded his story with a small sigh, "I'm a disgusting pervert who should probably die for the sake of society."

 To his shock, Namjoon leaned in and squeezed his knee. "Don't say that about yourself," he castigated. "I'll do some reading and see if I can find out more about this, but you shouldn't panic, okay? I'm sure I'll be able to find an explanation and solution for you. Trust your hyung."

 The way he said that, so sure and steady, made Taehyung relax, almost against his will. Namjoon had been there for him for almost half of his life now, and he knew, from the determined set of his jaw, that he would come through for him again.

 "Okay."

  After their conversation, Namjoon texted Yoongi to let him know that the coast was clear and quickly made himself scarce, not wanting to get in the way of whatever emotional reunion you were going to have, knowing Taehyung.

 Yoongi, for his part, tried his best to get you back home as quickly as possible, and you didn't have the heart to tell him that you would actually have appreciated a little more time away from Taehyung. You felt bad, but you were still so unsure about everything that was happening, and you were, if you were being completely honest, a little afraid to go home and face him.

 Which led to you, standing outside your front door like an idiot, your fist raised to knock, but unable to actually do it. There would be no going back from this, you knew. Nothing would ever be the same again, one way or another. Was it so wrong of you to want to keep things the way they were, just for a second?

 With a heavy sigh, you dropped your fist against the solid wood of the door, wincing at the loud sound it made. Almost too quickly, you heard the patter of footsteps as Taehyung raced to the door and opened it.

 "Hi," you breathed awkwardly, standing like an idiot with no clue of what to say or do all of a sudden.

 Taehyung, it seemed, had no such problems as he pulled you into a hug and kicked the door shut with his foot. "Y/n, you came back," he breathed into your hair as he squeezed the life out of you.

 Even though you'd been so nervous just a second earlier, being in his warm, familiar embrace made it feel like everything would be okay again, and you couldn't help but melt into his embrace. "Of course I came back, oppa," you said quietly into his chest.

 "I thought... I thought..." Taehyung choked up and he couldn't continue as he dissolved into sobs. "I'm so sorry!" he cried instead, over and over again as you soothed him, telling him that everything would be okay, that you would always be here for him, that you were never going to leave him no matter what, as you stroked his ears comfortingly, the way you knew he liked.

 "Hey, it's okay," you repeated as you patted his back, leaning up on tiptoe to press kisses to as much of his face as you could reach. And it was. Just being with Taehyung, in that moment, gave you a clarity that you hadn't been able to find after days of agonizing over it. Taehyung had saved you, and you loved him. It was as simple as that. And listening to him blubber about how sorry he was, how he'd work on it, he promised, how he'd never do anything like that again if you would just forgive him, you knew that whatever Taehyung wanted, you'd give to him, no matter how you felt about it.

 "It's okay," you said one last time as his sobs petered out. "Whatever you want, it's okay."

 Taehyung didn't fully register at the time how much you meant what you'd said to him that day, but he would soon.

  It was weeks later that Namjoon finally made a breakthrough on his research. Weeks of obsessively searching, trawling through endless pages on the dark web and the dregs of reddit, before he finally found something. It was an old research paper, hundreds of years old, published by a now-defunct, of course, company that had manufactured hybrids. The paper was titled "Research advancements in imprinting technology in hybrids".

 "Oh my God," Namjoon breathed in shock and horror as he skimmed the paper. This was way more serious than either he or Taehyung had initially thought.

[spooks-and-tea]

Entangled (Spencer Reid x femReader) [Ch.9]

Summary: You don’t know how it happened. One moment you were watching Criminal Minds, and the next moment you were literally in the show. Can Spencer be the key to helping you find your way back home?

Warnings: minor character death, mentions of su*cide, bad explanations of quantum mechanics, bad words, sexual situations (some non-con), the usual criminal minds-type content

A/N: Uhh more quantum mechanics that I don’t fully understand.

Word Count: 3,357

Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4. Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9.  Chapter 10.  Chapter 11.

************************************************************************

Y/N (3 months later) You wanted to see the BAU again; to be in that world again. That's what motivated you to join the show and, somehow, you got the part.

Your character was new on the team, around your age, and Spencer's love interest. Of course.

Reading your character's description had almost put you off of accepting the part all together. Was it wrong to live vicariously through the show? It felt wrong. It felt wrong to pretend that tv-Spencer was your Spencer. Yet, you wanted to be on the sets, working at the BAU. You missed everyone and everything about that life.

Today, you walked onto the lot. You had a scene with Matthew. It was going to take place on the set of Spencer's apartment.

You mentally prepared yourself as you sat still for hair and makeup. This was the first time you would be in any form of Spencer's apartment since the night you were taken away.

You stopped in front of the production studio, screwing your eyes shut and counting to 10.

Your hand moved of it's own accord, over your chest. Would that magnetic feeling ever go away? Would it haunt you for the rest of your life? Would it remind you every day of what you lost, or of what you could've had?

You stepped onto the set and looked around, taking in the familiar setting that was once a place you called home. That big apartment never felt like a home. If you could go back you would've sold that place in a heartbeat to live with Spencer. Although, it was early on in your relationship, you both got along well when you lived together. You both could share the small space and still have enough room to love each other.

"Y/N! How's it going? You ready to film today?" Matthew came up to you with a coffee in his hand and a big smile.

You tried to not let that smile break your heart.

"Hey, I'm great. This is my first time on this set actually, it's cool to see it in real life." You bit your lip to mask the exaggeration in your tone.

"Ah. We won't be here long, we've got a bullpen scene later."

"Yeah."

You looked at your shoes. You knew what scene that was and, from what you read of the script, you weren't going to enjoy filming it.

Matthew studied you for a second, but was called away by the director before he could say anything else. What he was looking for, you couldn't say.

You read over this scene's lines and got into place. The director filled you in on some script changes and how he wanted your reactions to come across to the audience. You nodded in understanding and the cameras were rolled into place.

You cleared your throat and got into character just before the scene started.

************************************************************************

Spencer 3 months had passed by; 3 more months without her.

For 3 straight months, Spencer worked himself sick. People could tell he wasn't eating or sleeping. Garcia made the extra effort to bring him lunch everyday because he refused to leave the office to get it himself. Morgan would invite him out some nights, even volunteering to watch documentaries with him, but Spencer always shot him down.

His mind was constantly on the equation papers. Whenever the team wasn't working on other cases, he was looking over the equation, scribbling notes, rewriting the equation, and reading countless material on quantum mechanics. He felt so close to the answer, like it was just out of his reach.

Then, one day, Spencer received an unexpected call.

"Hello?"

"You'll find him at the warehouse at 4pm." A older woman's voice.

"Who is this?"

"You should hurry, if you want to see her again, that is. Your lives are already entangled. When the time is right, just follow the magnetic pull and it will lead you to her."

"I-" The caller hung up before Spencer could speak. He checked his wristwatch, it was 3pm. If he wanted to get there in time, he would have to leave now and drive fast. He looked around the bullpen for anyone that would let him borrow their car without asking too many questions.

"JJ!" He ran to catch up with her.

"Hey Spence? Why are you so excited?" Her eyebrows rose. She could barely contain her smile at his excitement. She'd been worried about him.

"I got a lead. I need to borrow your car. Please."

She immediately knew what case this lead was for.

"Spencer. How do you know this isn't a trap? You could be running blindly into a dangerous situation."

"I know and I don't care. This could be my last chance to find her. Please JJ, I don't have much time," Spencer pleaded.

She gave him a worried look. "Okay, but I'm driving."

"JJ, you don't have to come with me. If this is a trap I don't want you getting hurt. You have a family."

"You're not alone in this, Spence. We all want Y/N back. I'll call for backup when we get there."

************************************************************************

"4pm." Spencer suddenly said as JJ drove to the warehouse at the outskirts of town.

"It's 3:25. We still have time," JJ assured; side-eyeing him from the driver's seat.

"No. That's the answer! That's the missing piece to the equation!" Spencer's eyes were wide and he was accentuating his words with hand gestures.

"Okay, genius. What are you talking about?"

"The equation we found. I concluded that it was configuring quantum tunneling equations. When quantum particles gather enough energy, they're able to pass through barriers-"

"Like radio waves?" JJ asked.

"Yes! These pieces of equations, the Schrödinger's equation part, in particular, shows that our unsub was studying these high energy quantum particle waves. I understood that much, but valuable information was missing in those burnt pages."

"And what information was that?" JJ did her best to follow along.

"Time, the missing variable, it's time and space! Doctor Who! Dammit I've been so blind this whole time." His false memory was telling him the answers, but he had brushed them aside as delusions. His false memory of watching Doctor Who with Y/N before she woke up in his dimension.

"The Doctor travels through time and space in a loop, a void space. Time isn't linear, as we understand it, in these equations. The walls of her dimension cracked, a particle wave with high enough energy got through, but barely; cracking her end. That's how she got through, or at least that's how someone got her through."

"Okay Spence, watch the language, you're starting to scare me a little." JJ gave him a worried look. He hadn't been eating or sleeping, should she be driving the doctor to a doctor?

************************************************************************

Y/N You were stronger than you realized. The scene in Spencer's apartment had called for your character, Agent Audrey Stryfe, to subtly flirt with him. Being able to separate Matthew from your Spencer outside of your scenes was proving to be a helpful coping mechanism that you kept at the back of your mind during filming.

What wasn't going to help was the scene you were just getting into place for.

"Aaaaand, action!"

"Dr. Reid." You strolled over and sat at the edge of his desk in the bullpen set. He looked up.

"Explain to me again how our unsub was able to pull off all of this in one night." You tunnel visioned, no longer seeing the cameras or edges of the set in the peripherals of your vision.

Matthew twirled his pencil, flicking his eyes down at your skin that peaked out from under your fitted skirt.

"Actually, I don't think our unsub was acting alone. Remember the box of ticket stubs located at the first hideout? Those were momentos; kept in pairs. I believe we're dealing with 2 unsubs, a couple."

"Star-crossed lovers, a new-age Bonnie and Clyde," your character considered.

Matthew nodded and stood up, walking up to the pinboard.

"Based on the geographical locations of the crime scenes and hide outs, we can see that they're making their way west." He ran his fingers along the map's red markings.

"Will they cross state lines?" You walked up next to him.

"There's a high probability they will, yes."

"Can we confidently say that one is the aggressor and one is just tagging along?"

"Yes, in cases with couples like these, typically the male is the aggressor. For example, Bonnie and Clyde. Clyde had a history of committing crimes long before he met Bonnie. She only became a criminal after they became a couple."

"But why would the unsub's partner go along with these killings willingly?" You asked.

Matthew turned to look at you.

"Love. History says Bonnie fell in love with Clyde and that's why she stuck by him as his partner; though he was a terrible criminal. He made multiple failed attempts at robbing banks. Clyde actually wrecked their car at one point, nearly killing her with these 3rd degree burns that nearly lost her a leg. She was also struck by bullets multiple times, but still she stayed by his side. We know he loved her too because a smart, or ruthless, criminal would have left her behind after the leg injury. Clyde carried her around; sometimes she limped. She couldn't properly walk for the rest of her short life."

"Devotion, idolization, justification. These unsubs are recreating the Bonnie and Clyde crimes. I can't agree that it's love that drives them, though."

"Why is that?"

"When you love someone, you want what's best for them. You'd never put them in harms way. If Clyde really loved Bonnie, he would have never taken her along with their gang in the first place," you nearly choked on the familiar words.

Matthew nodded, eyes scanning the map.

"I suppose a more appropriate defining word for their relationship would be 'obsession.'"

"If you were in the male unsub's position, what would you do, Dr. Reid?"

"I'd protect her." He looks at you again. "I'd turn myself in, admit that everything was my doing." Matthew was a great actor, but he couldn't recreate your Spencer's expression when he looked at you.

"Hmm," you hummed.

I'm going to be sick.

"Have you ever been in love, Agent Stryfe? You seem to know a lot on the subject."

"Yes, in fact. I have." You swallowed, eyes going glossy.

"May I ask with whom?" He smiled, slyly.

"I'll tell you if you promise we can take a break from this. We've been working all night. You promised me dinner, Dr. Reid." You poked his chest.

Stay in character; just stay in character and get through this scene. You can cry later.

"I didn't think all this talk of murder would work up much of an appetite," he chuckled.

"We've worked here long enough, catching murderers is normal. " You smiled.

Matthew nodded, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

"We could raid the snacks in the break room, then get right back to work." He suggested.

"Oh no. You're going to properly wine and dine me, Doctor." You stepped forward, placing your hand over his chest.

He went quiet for a heartbeat.

You shrugged. "Fine, then I'll just have to treat myself." You smirked at him and turned to grab your purse from your desk.

Matthew grabbed your wrist, stopping you. You gave a sly look to the edge of the nearest camera.

Matthew spun you around, placing his hands on either side of your face and bringing you into an intense kiss.

You disassociated from yourself, right then, letting him lead you through the kiss. He pulled away, still holding you.

"Dr. Reid. If I had known you kissed like that, I would have asked you out sooner." There it was, your final line.

"So-" He cleared his throat.

"Dinner?" Has asked, holding out his elbow. Your character giddily wrapped her arms around it and swept up her purse.

"Cut! That was great! Take a break, we'll come back in 5." The director called out.

You breathed heavily, practically running out of the studio. You needed fresh air.

As soon as you broke through to the outside lot you felt the tears begin to fall. You gasped for breath, sobbing for someone who didn't exist here. Sobbing for the Spencer Reid who originally wrote that script for you.

5 months you had gone without him. You could no longer remember the exact last words he spoke to you. Your mind hazily pictured his eyes as he watched you begging for him. He was becoming a fading dream.

You wondered if he was still searching for you. Was the whole BAU on your case? He must've known by now what really happened; that he could never get you back. He must have blamed himself.

You cried harder.

If you could just send him one more message. You could properly tell him that you loved him and that it wasn't his fault.

You clenched your aching chest.

"Y/N?" You held your arms around yourself tighter at the sound of his voice. You knew it wasn't your Spencer, you would only hear him in your dreams now.

"Sorry Matthew. I just need a moment alone." You were facing away from him, but your posture and voice gave away your emotions.

"Listen. I know that I remind you of someone important. You have the most difficulty filming scenes with me, more than with Shemar or anyone else. I feel super bad about it. Let me take you out for dinner later. I'll even sing Disney songs in the car at the top of my lungs with you." He stepped in front of you.

You laughed a little through your tears. Matthew was a lovely friend, he didn't deserve to feel guilty about something he couldn't control.

"You don't have to take me anywhere. I'll be fine, really." You sniffled, looking up at him.

"Nope. I think you need junk food. The greasiest food that Southern California has to offer." He smiled, pulling you into a tight hug.

You giggled. He wasn't going to let this go.

"Fine," you grumbled.

************************************************************************

"So let me get this straight. I strongly resemble your ex and that's why you've been acting strange around me?" Matthew spoke through a mouthful of In-N-Out cheeseburger bits.

You nodded, sipping your milkshake. You'd never eaten on the hood of a car before, but Matthew thought it was absurd not to watch the sun set turn the sky pink and orange. It did make the semi-empty parking lot look more ethereal.

"You seem really torn up over him, did things end badly?" Matthew asked.

"Neither one of us wanted it to end. I was taken away from him." You lay your head back down on your elbow, looking up at the sky.

"What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Y/N I believe in a lot of things. A lot of things others don't believe in. I know there are things out there that we can't explain and I know you have no reason to lie about something I see effecting you every day. I'll believe you." You did know he was into the paranormal. Would he actually believe you?

"Alright you asked for it." You turned on your side to look at him.

"Remember how I told you that I missed the first Criminal Minds casting call I was lined up for?" He nodded while biting into his greasy food.

"Well I missed it because I woke up in another place, as in, not-of-this-dimension." You paused, bracing yourself to be verbally torn apart.

He blinked, but motioned for you to continue. You were stunned he hadn't immediately laughed at you.

"I woke up in a dimension where the plot and all the characters of Criminal Minds were real. I woke up in the BAU and everyone there knew me."

"This sounds like a dream," he commented.

"I thought it was, so I tried to jump off a cliff into a lake to wake myself up. It's my greatest fear, but it didn't work. Spencer Reid saved me before I drowned. After, I stayed in that dimension for a month." Matthew's eyebrows raised.

You continued to explain everything to him and he stayed quiet, just listening, barely giving reactions.

"Spencer Reid is your ex." He realized just before you got to the part where you had confessed your love to Spencer at the BAU.

"Yes, he is."

"Does he- look like me? Does he act the same way he's written in the show?"

"He looks and sounds just like you, but he has his minor differences with his facial expressions. He's a bit different than how the showrunners write him."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"But how did you get back here? How did you get separated?" He frowned.

"An unsub kidnapped me and brought me back here. I think he has something to do with how I left in the first place."

"So you really were taken from him," he breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"Yes, but I'm coming to terms with it. There's no way I can ever see him again. It was nearly impossible that I ended up in his dimension in the first place."

"Y/N, I've been playing the guy for 15 years. If I know him, which I believe I do pretty well, I know he won't stop trying to find you."

You sighed.

"That's what I'm afraid of; I don't want him to go the rest of his life feeling guilty and searching for something he can't possibly find. I just want him to be happy."

************************************************************************

Spencer

When JJ parked outside the warehouse at 3:53pm. Spencer practically took off running inside.

"Spencer!" JJ called.

He burst through the doors and drew his firearm. He spun around, checking his surroundings. The warehouse had only one large space at this point, with beams to hold up the roof. The integrity of the interior, individual room walls, had given out; leaving only rubble behind.

Spencer's eyes widened as they landed on a platform machine that stood in the middle of the old warehouse. It was connected to a generator, filling the room with a humming noise. A dim, white light emanated from the circle in the middle of the platform. Near it was a table with scattered paperwork, identical to the notes Spencer had found at the abandoned house. A large computer with maybe 100 multi-colored wires connected to a box-shaped machine with blinking red, blue, and green lights. This box connected back to the platform with two large black wires on either side.

Spencer slowly neared the computer, the humming of the machinery matching up perfectly with the wavelength of the magnetic humming in his chest; it pulled him closer.

"Spencer watch out!"

Spencer spun on his heel just as JJ called out. He dropped to the floor just as an older man in a trench coat reached forward to grab him. The momentum caused the man to trip over Spencer, landing hard on the concrete floor in front of him. JJ took this opportunity to lunge at the man, quickly and skillfully handcuffing him.

"Oh you are lucky I came with you! What the hell do you think you're doing Spencer?!" JJ yelled.

Spencer caught his breath, looking at the man. He was the one Y/N saw; he was the unsub.

"That's our unsub He's the one who took Y/N." Spencer spoke quickly.

He checked his watch; 3:57pm. He had 3 minutes. The unsub could wait, Spencer needed to find you.

Spencer sprung up and sprinted to the computer. A white box with a blinking line waited for an input. Spencer tuned out JJ reading the unsub his rights and calling for backup.

His eyes glanced over the scattered papers. He willed his brain to work faster than it ever had before as he calculated the full equation, with time and space included, in his head. He mumbled incoherent variables and squeezed his eyes shut.

The humming grew louder. 3:59pm. His eyes flew open as he typed in the answer; harshly clicking 'enter'. He stumbled to the platform, standing over the glowing white circle just as 4:00pm hit.

The last thing he saw was a blinding white light.

Next Chapter

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo Preview | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk but it’s... not on purpose??, jungkook looks soft but he’s tattoed and pierced, accidental edging (you’ll... understand) → words: anticipated 10-15K → a/n: ...listen. i am not in the right state of mind right now. i am actually bordering on insane... but that’s not gonna stop me from being a clown so this is!! something i’ve been working on for a Year now but @jincherie​ literally commissioned me to finish writing this piece of shit so here we are... here we fucking are... idk when i’m posting this but it will be Soon and i’m not ready

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there. 

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that. 

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. He feels his eyes bugging out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you. 

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

[lonelyandlovelorn]

Adore You

A/N: Wow, this is my first request and I really liked it. Sorry it took me a while to get written, it’s been a wild week, as I’m sure you all know. To @marvel-madness, I hope this is close to what you wanted, I’m sorry if it’s not perfect. Also, tagging is being weird so I hope this works. 

Genre: fluff and like, a smidge of angst that’s hardly angst

Warning: uhh, none

Word count: 1500

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem reader

Summary: You’re weird and afraid Loki hates you.

Request: marvel-madness asked:

Hi I read your marvel fanfics and I love it!! Could u do a fanfic where reader is like super quirky and tries to get to know Loki but he’s a bit cold and she feels that he hates her. And one day she confronts him crying and he’s all like I love you and I felt someone perfect like you wouldn’t want to be with me. Love your works and hope you’re having a good day :)

Masterlist

You’re weird. Even if you didn’t have superpowers, you would be weird, and that never bothered you. Until now, it seems. You have always been okay with being the strange girl, because anyone who thinks that’s a bad thing isn’t worth your time.

But then you met Loki. You greeted him in all of his stoic glory and were immediately drawn to him. Wanda later let you know you had gone a little doe-eyed upon meeting him. However, as warm and welcoming as you tried to be, he never looked at you with anything better than indifference. Worse than that, you often felt as though he judged you for the way you acted and dressed. You know your social skills aren’t exactly the norm, but you don’t think you’re terrible. And maybe your style is a little eccentric, but it makes you happy. 

You have spent your whole life ignoring judging looks and funny stares from those around you, and that was okay because they were just people who thought they were better than you. But now, the man you’ve been fascinated by since you met him seems to look at you the same way. And now, it breaks through the armor you had built up in childhood. It hits you right in the chest to see what you’re sure is judgment reflected in his gaze.

A few days into Loki joining the team in the tower, Thor assures you that his brother is always like that. He tells you not to take it personally. Thor is a sweet man (god?) and you think that if Loki cares so deeply for someone so much his opposite, then maybe he’s just hiding a kindness. You decide you need to get over your fear and possible prejudices and make it your mission to get to know him. 

You begin by joining him on the couch as he sits alone reading. He has found a common area most of the rest of the team avoids, but that you happen to frequent for the peacefulness. As you sit a seat away from him, jostling him in the process, he glances at you from the corner of his eye. You can’t be sure that’s a look of judgment, but it resembles many a side-eye you’ve gotten in your life. You shake the feeling off and push forward. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, chipper and enthusiastic. 

“Reading,” he responds shortly, briefly looking in your direction. 

After a moment, you continue. “What are you reading?”

“A book.”

There is an awkward pause where you had hoped he might continue talking, but he doesn’t and you have to keep trying. “So, how has your time here been so far?”

“Fine.” This time, he doesn’t even look away from the page. Your shoulders sag, seeing how obviously he doesn’t want to speak to you. You give a quiet goodbye before trudging out of the room. 

--

It’s really okay that he doesn’t like you, but does he have to look at you like that? You hadn’t noticed originally, but a few weeks after his arrival, you could feel eyes on you. You casually glanced around, only to find Loki looking at you, stone faced. You had blushed in confusion before quickly looking away.

But he keeps doing it. Sometimes you’ll just be wandering around the tower in some strange and unmatching outfit, and you will be able to feel that sensation of someone watching you. Almost every time, he’s the only one in the room. It would feel flattering if his look came with the heat that people always describe in romance. He doesn’t look at you like he wants you, though. He looks at you almost in complete indifference. Maybe if you were trained like Natasha, you would be able to read more into it, but all you can see is the exact same stare you had gotten all throughout your adolescence, riddled with condescension and judgment. It could have just been the fact that he was raised a prince that made it feel like he was always looking down his nose at you, but a lifetime of being a target of mockery and ostracism could really shake one’s confidence. 

You know you talk a lot about strange things, your laugh is weird, and on and on. But why does he have to watch you as though he’s waiting for you to make a fool of yourself? Why does he hate you without even knowing you?

--

Your worries are interrupting your sleep schedule. You’re too anxious and wrapped up in your fears to sleep, so you go to your favorite lounge. You like it because whoever designed it hadn’t felt the need to add a TV or any fancy technology. It’s just some big and comfortable couches with a great view. You stare numbly into the lights of New York. At least in the dark, no one is there to think you odd. 

Of course, you have to think something like that. Moments later, you hear steps coming towards you. You look over your shoulder to see the God of Mischief himself walking into the room, seemingly unaware of your presence. He walks around the couch to sit down, only to finally notice you as he settles in. The book in his hands closes as though you startle him. 

“Oh, hello,” he greets quietly. 

You’re a nice person, but you’ve lost a lot of sleep over this man, and you can’t hold in the huff of frustration at his words. He quirks a brow at you. “Have I done something?”

You realize as soon as he asks that you should have left when he entered the room. You’re a lot less nice when you’re tired, sure. Unfortunately, you’re also much more emotional. You are reminded of this when you immediately feel your eyes sting at his words. You try your hardest to hold the tears in, but your sniffle gives you away. His eyes widen momentarily and he scoots slightly closer to you on the couch. 

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, your voice obviously choked up. You train your eyes on the city lights once more, afraid to see disdain in his eyes. 

“Hate you?” He genuinely seems confused by your question, and that somehow makes it so much worse. Without warning, your face scrunches up and your tears fall, out of your control. If you were to look at him, you would see the frantic concern on his face now, more emotion than you’ve ever seen. 

“I was so excited to meet you. I wanted to get to know you and maybe be friends or something, but you didn’t want that. I tried to be nice, but you hated me no matter what. I know I can be to excitable and clingy, but I wasn’t even that bad! And then you look at me like my presence is offensive. Please don’t hate me for being weird, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I swear.” The exhaustion is surely the reason for your lack of filter. While you speak, you tuck your knees to your chest and hug them. Somehow, every insecurity you had ever had in a friendship or relationship leaks into this conversation. You bury your face in your knees in shame at your outburst. 

You’re startled to feel a cold hand on your arm. You look up quickly into his eyes to see him looking at you earnestly. “My dear, you are absolutely perfect the way you are, I don’t want you to change.” A small, almost bashful, smile appears. “I swear on my life I do not hate you.”

You wipe your nose in the most un-ladylike way, keeping your eyes glued to him. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Darling, I adore you.” 

You’re sure you’ve never felt more like a deer in the headlights. “You what?”

He looks down at his hands, which you now see are fiddling with his book. “I adore you. You’re lovely and energetic, you light up a room with your smile, and to top it all off, you were kind to me from the moment I got here. I was quite taken with you. I hoped to hide that by seeming unaffected by you, but my intentions were not to make you feel bad about yourself.” 

“Then why…?” you trail off. 

He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I didn’t want to fool myself into believing myself worthy of someone as wonderful as you. You could do much better.”

You don’t speak for a long time, shocked to your core. He adores me. His eyes never leave his book as you appraise him. You can see in the hunch of his shoulders that he is preparing for rejection. In a split-second of courage, you set your hand on top of his, stopping it from messing with the book cover. When he doesn’t pull away, you let out a shaky breath and intertwine your fingers with his. He watches in fascination, and you can feel a grin overtake your face. 

“Will you tell me about what you’re reading now?” As he finally meets your eyes with a small smile, his expression can only be described as adoration. 

[snarkwrites]

summer sizzle | selfish - sweet pea | mature.

PROMPTS USED:

To the music + dirty dancing + “I like you this close to me. You’re warm.” + “You are so fucking beautiful.” + Kiss on the neck +“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” + comfort sex + needy/clingy + touching / kissing heavy + “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” + afterglow; talking and cuddling -

AUTHORS NOTES:

Look at me, being all productive and shit, posting content not once but twice in a week. Ya’ll, it’s been a while. I’m rusty as fuuuuck I won’t lie, but.. This was fun to write, even if it was a complicated little bitch in the beginning. If enough people want it, I might actually develop an actual fic for this Andrews!Oc and Pea, because I think it could be very interesting. In the meantime, unless you’re not 18+, enjoy the smut?

PAIRING:

Sweet Pea x Andrews!Ofc. [ RIVERDALE FANDOM ]

WARNINGS:

I am baaadly out of practice writing smut, first of all. Slightly jerky behavior to start with on Pea’s part, biting, s*x, swearing, overuse of petnames, angst to start with. Porn, but heavy af on the plot because apparently, I cannot write it any other way. BUT HAHAHA! THIS BITCH REMEMBERED TO HAVE THEM WRAP IT UP. I REMEMBERED THE GODDAMN CONDOM.

No children allowed,m’kay? This is smut. Not the filthiest, probably not even the best, but it’s out there.

TAGGING:

uhh.. given that this is smut, I’m gonna tag @rampagewriting​. If anyone else wants to be tagged in my stuff, follow the link below to my google doc and add yourself, yeah?

Life edit, I also tag @xxghostnappaxx​ to this. 

[ four seasons masterlist ] | [ tag list google doc ] | [ faq ]

  ----> SELFISH, a sweet pea x ofc oneshot.

“If you want to go to the dance, Alyssa.. I’m

not

stopping you.” Sweet Pea spoke calmly, giving a shrug as if he didn’t care either way. As he gazed down at me, I sighed and shook my head sadly. I tried stepping a little closer but he backed away like usual.

At this point, I find myself seriously wondering what exactly keeps me coming back.

,, oh, that’s right you stupid, stupid girl, you’re in love with the jerk.” - the thought came, taunting me in it’s brutal and raw truth.

But a girl can only be pushed out so far and honestly?

I was sick of paying for the pain Josie McCoy caused him. I was sick of having to prove myself over and over, I was beyond tired of being tested and questioned. I was tired of hoping against hope that one day, he’d finally get it. He’d realize that unlike pretty much everyone else in his life to this point, I wasn’t going anywhere.

A talk I had with Betty came back and I turned back to look at Sweet Pea, shaking my head. Something in me snapped and before I could stop myself, I was saying something I knew full well I’d come to regret.

“You’re dense. All this time and you don’t get it. You can’t see what’s right here in front of you, begging to be taken. I loved you, okay? Nothing would’ve changed that. But you… You had to keep pushing me away, you had to keep questioning my motives. I’m going to the dance, Sweet Pea. And I think,” I paused, taking a few deep breaths to keep myself calm. 

If I didn’t do it, I was most definitely going to break down sobbing. I wouldn’t ever go through with this because the last thing I want to do right now is turn my back. I mean, I love the guy. I don’t want to give up like pretty much everyone else in his life has. After I’d taken a few seconds to get myself calm again, I kept going, “ I think that I’m also going to leave you alone from now on since that’s obviously what you want.”

I grabbed my backpack and before he could say anything, I walked out of the empty classroom we’d been sitting in. Almost the second I was out in the hallway and standing by my locker, what I’d just done hit me and I wound up sitting on the hallway floor, my head resting against my knees.

“Alyssa?”

I looked up to find Reggie Mantle standing there, staring down at me in concern. “Are you crying?”

I shook my head, wiping at my eyes. I could’ve easily told Reggie Mantle exactly why I was sitting in the floor of the hallway crying, but in the end, I still cared entirely too much for Sweet Pea and the last thing I wanted was for him to get into another fight.

,, don’t flatter yourself. Did you not see just how little he cares when he didn’t try to stop you? When he didn’t wake up at the last second and at least try to fight for you?” the thought sat in my mind, taunting me bitterly. And I still kept the reason I was crying to myself.

Reggie flopped down next to me and kind of awkwardly slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Hey, c’mon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that… Please?” I glanced up at him, wincing a little at the use of the pet-name. Given that pretty much all of Archie’s friends called me that, I realized suddenly that when Sweet Pea called me that, it had taken on a whole new meaning for me. It changed from just a dumb nickname given to me by my older brother and all of his friends to something… Special. Intimate.

And now, I was going to hear it all the time and yeah, it was probably going to hurt like hell.

Reggie eyed me and I gave him a pleading look. “There has to be a million other things you can call me. I’m not a little girl anymore, Reg.” I said it quickly, hoping it wouldn’t raise suspicion or anything.

I didn’t want any of this getting back to Pea, putting him into a situation with my brother or any of his friends. I let out a deep breath that I didn’t even realize I held when Reggie smiled and nodded, seeming to accept my hasty explanation.

“There’s a lot of things I could call you, angel.” he said it so smoothly that I had not a single doubt in my mind that yet again, he was hitting on me.

But I was hurting so much at the moment, I didn’t immediately put him off. I looked up at him and gave a weak sort of smile, shrugging. “Whatever you wanna call me… Just not princess, okay?”

Reggie flashed a grin and gave me the thumbs up, springing up off the hallway floor. He held out his hand and warily, I eyed it a few seconds before finally allowing him to pull me off the floor. He walked me to class and just before I disappeared in the door, he stopped me, dragging his fingers through his hair as he eyed me up. “You gonna be alright, angel?”

“Yeah, it just hasn’t been a good day.”

“If you wanna talk.. You’ve got your old buddy Reggie.”

Somehow, when he said it, I got the distinct feeling that he meant something more by it, but I shoved the thought down. 

--

I could feel his eyes burning a hole through me and several times, I almost turned around. I almost said something. But I remembered what I was trying to do, and I remembered the way he didn’t say anything to stop me when I did it and the hurt came back all over again.

Sweet Pea hissed my name from behind and I stared straight ahead, blatantly ignoring him. The teacher gave him a dirty look and he went quiet after that. Despite my resolve not to, I found myself turning around now and then, watching him when he wasn’t looking.

But I can’t keep letting myself be a doormat. I have to stand my ground. Even if this is killing me. Even if it’s the last thing I want to do. 

Bearing that in mind, for the rest of the week, I went above and beyond to either avoid Sweet Pea or make sure I was never alone in the hallway or after class so he couldn’t find me or talk to me. I made myself scarce. I bottled everything up and I shoved it all down. And I thought I was doing a pretty damn good job at it too...

--

“You! Explain yourself right now.” Cheryl and Toni stormed into Pop’s and glared at Sweet Pea angrily as they stood by the booth he sat in by himself.

“Hey to you too, Blossom.” Sweet Pea grumbled, not even bothering to look up from the barely touched plate of food sitting on the booth in front of him. He growled quietly when Cheryl and Toni took it upon themselves to sit down in the other side of the booth without bothering to ask.

“Obviously, you two are gonna say something, so just say it and go. Kind of not in the mood.” Sweet Pea spoke up as he stared out the window, into the parking lot. 

“What kind of idiot are you?” Toni asked, shaking her head as she reached across the table, taking some of Sweet Pea’s french fries and eating them herself. He gave her a dirty look but she shrugged, wiping away ketchup from the corners of her mouth before repeating herself. “I repeat, Pea… what kind of an idiot are you?”

“A pretty big one, if you want my opinion, lover.” Cheryl answered Toni’s question before Sweet Pea could say anything.

“Can you two stop dancing around whatever this is and say it?”

“We heard about what happened with you and Alyssa. Are you seriously going to sit here and do nothing? She said she loved you, Pea. What? That’s just not good enough?”

“I know what she said.” Sweet Pea barked the statement, making both girls share a look. After quiet whispering, the two looked at him again, determined. “It was, okay? I just..” he trailed off, swearing under his breath and shaking his head as the two of them shared a look and then directed their gaze to him in unison.

 “What?” Sweet Pea grumbled, taking a sip of the soda on the table beside him.

“You’re going to fix this, you giant idiot. You have to fix it. I can’t have one of my Vixens going around all mopey or even worse, missing Homecoming festivities entirely. Need I remind you, we Vixens have a strong reputation in this school? And if one of us is lacking spirit, it makes us all look bad.”

Sweet Pea laughed. The laughter died away when he realized that they were being serious. “That’s what this is about? Your stupid cheerleading shit? You do realize I can’t fix it, right? Do you not think I’ve tried, Blossom?”

“Try harder, you big oaf.” Cheryl leaned in slightly, glaring at Sweet Pea in frustration. She added as an afterthought, “ I hate seeing her like this, okay? She’s a sweet girl and honestly, it kills me. I need her happy and bubbly. You broke my Vixen, you fix her now.” 

“Don’t hold your breath, Blossom.” Sweet Pea shrugged, his shoulders sagging as he went back to staring down at mostly untouched food. Toni eyed him and spoke up.

“Wow. I have never seen you just sit and pick at your food, Pea. This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Gee… whatever gave you that idea, Topaz?” Sweet Pea snorted sarcastically, giving an eye roll as he shifted around in his seat, eyeing the door. All he wanted to do was escape right now. Because the more they said, the more it made him replay that day over and over again.

And it hurt like hell. It only made him angry at himself all over again.

“You know, you’re a stubborn ass, right? You could fix this if you really wanted to. But I guess you don’t. So I guess she’ll just wind up moving on and you’ll go back to being the miserable man-bitch we all know and love yet want to strangle.”

Toni smirked as her words hit their mark and the two of them stood, walking out of Pops, leaving Sweet Pea to stew in Toni’s parting remark. And it took hold, rooting itself in his mind.

That’s the one thing about friends who are like family. They always know where to hit at to illicit an actual reaction.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Sweet Pea stood, tossing his half eaten food and the empty soda into a bin and he strode out the door into the parking lot.

He happened to look across the parking lot, spot her getting out of the truck with her father, Fred.

He called her name and for once, she looked back. The hurt look in her eyes and the sad shake of her head was what really got him. He couldn’t have felt worse if he tried. He stood there, watching her walk into Pop’s with her father and in that moment, he made up his mind.

One way or another, even if it took a long time, he was going to fight. He couldn’t just give up. He couldn’t let her slip through his fingers.

--

My father cleared his throat from the seat across the booth. “Everything okay, shortcake?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s all good.”

“Well then what was all that outside?”

“What?” I asked the question, tensing a little. Sometimes, having such a perceptive father isn’t really a great thing. Especially when I don’t really… like acknowledging pain. Or dealing with it. I mean, my whole idea of dealing with the situation with Sweet Pea has been to just pretend I’m okay, but to go above and beyond to avoid him. 

“You know what I’m talkin about. The kid called your name and you gave him that look. The one you always gave Archie when you were little and Archie wouldn’t let you tag along to play.”

I plastered on my best convincing face and shook my head, taking a noisy sip of my chocolate milkshake. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, dad. He’s in my class. He was just saying hey.”

“It sounded like he was trying to talk to you.” my father pointed out and I bit my lip, glancing over at him. “Yeah, well.. If he wanted to talk, he should’ve done it earlier. At school. I’m starving. Can we order now?”

My father chuckled and for a few seconds, he eyed me as if he wanted to ask more questions. Thankfully, he let it go. “Yeah. What do you want? I think I’m gonna get my usual.”

“I think I’m going to try your usual, actually.”

“That’s a lot of burger, kid.” my father laughed.

I shrugged and did my best to laugh. As I happened to look over at the window, I did so just in time to see Sweet Pea’s truck pulling out of the parking lot. For a second or two, I wondered what he might have said if I’d walked over.

But I quickly shoved that out of my head.

-- LE TIME SKIPPE.

Cheryl spotted me making my way into the gym. “You came!” she pulled me into a hug and I nodded, shrugging. My eyes roamed around the gym and I swallowed hard, stomach sinking just a little when I saw no sign of Sweet Pea anywhere.

,, did you really think he’d show, Alyssa?” - the thought had me frowning a little, but I quickly plastered on my best attempt at a bright smile when we pulled back from the little hug. Cheryl smiled. “I love the dress. Let’s see if we can’t get you circulating…”

“Actually, I’m just gonna go get some punch? Maybe observe until they play a song worth dancing to?” I bit my lip as I said it and Cheryl eyed me a second or two, before finally giving a nod under Toni’s gaze.

If not for Toni, I have no idea Cheryl would’ve ignored me and gone ahead, doing what she wanted. It used to annoy the hell out of me when we were all kids, but now, I kind of see it as her, trying to show that she really does care.

And she’s been a lot more help than she realizes since things with Sweet Pea crashed and burned so badly. She hasn’t really… let me mope a lot. I’ve wanted to, but she and Toni always find a way to manage keeping me from it.

I made my way over to the punch bowl and the refreshments table and I turned around, my back to the crowd as I scooped punch into my cup, grumbling to myself as soon as I felt the burn of alcohol as it crawled down my throat and into my stomach. “Figures. Somebody would have to spike the punch.” I mused to myself as I sipped from the cup and momentarily toyed with the idea of just grabbing the entire chocolate cake on the table and a plastic fork, disappearing for the alcove beneath the stairs on the freshman wing.

But I told myself that I was coming tonight. I’m trying to get over him. And damn it, I’m determined to fake it til I make it.

“Wanna dance, angel?” Reggie leaned against me from behind, muttering the words quietly against my ear. I bit my lip, trying to brainstorm the best way to politely turn him down.

There’s only one guy I want to dance with, but apparently, I’m not and will never be good enough.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, frustrated with myself.

I was about to turn around and accept Reggie’s offer  when I heard Sweet Pea speaking up from behind Reggie. “Beat it, Dog.”

“How about you fuck outta here, Serpent?” Reggie gave Sweet Pea a dirty look. 

I stood there, eyes darting from one to the other, both of them tensed and squared up, ready to go in the snap of a finger.

“Guys, no.” I spoke up, warning tone as my hand rested against my hip. “You’re not about to start this shit.”

“He started it.” both responded, glaring at the other. I rolled my eyes and tried to make  it a point to avoid Sweet Pea’s intent gaze. The way deep brown eyes roamed over every single inch of my body, lingering just enough to make my breath catch in my throat. In the end, I just couldn’t though, and I found myself getting sucked into his gaze.

I sighed quietly and managed to tear my eyes off the way he looked in a borrowed suit, the tie undone at his neck, even though the sight of him had my knees utterly weak. I focused on Reggie instead and plastered on a smile, nodding to the dance floor.

“Didn’t you ask me to dance, Reg?” I asked, stepping away from Sweet Pea and a little closer to Reggie. He held out his arm and I looped mine through, letting him lead me out onto the dance floor.

I didn’t dare look back at Sweet Pea. I didn’t have to. I could feel his eyes penetrating me, I could feel his gaze shift to Reggie and I, despite Reggie moving us towards other parts of the gym floor several times during the dance we shared. At one point, he chuckled against my ear as I grinded against him, hips swaying in time to the song playing, “If looks could kill right now, huh?”

I swallowed hard, catching eyes with Sweet Pea. He was leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. If he glared any harder at Reggie, Reggie would drop dead on the spot. I did my best to look like I was having the time of my life and finally, the song came to an end. Reggie chuckled and dragged his fingers through his hair as he winked at me and told me he’d find me later on tonight, maybe we’d dance again.

I nodded, even though I had every intention of disappearing long before that happened. I was heading back towards the punch bowl for another cup of punch when I felt arms wrap around my waist and I found myself body to body with Sweet Pea.

“That fuckin guy?” Sweet Pea nodded to Reggie, who was already dancing with another girl. I bit my lip and stepped back a little when Sweet Pea moved closer, towering over me.

“He asked me to dance. Seeing as how I’m here alone tonight, all dressed up, I didn’t see the harm.”

“You didn’t see the harm.” Sweet Pea was doing his best at keeping a calm tone, but I could see the exact second his fists clenched at his sides and I could hear it in the way he exhaled. What I didn’t understand was why exactly he was so jealous.

“No. I didn’t.” I swallowed hard as he stepped closer. His hand ghosted my side, fingertips digging in ever so slightly when they stilled on my hip. He leaned down just a little and muttered quietly, calmly, “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you, princess.” using my moment of confusion to pull me closer, pressing me against him. The way he said it had my heart fluttering a little and I barely managed not whimpering at the look in his eyes when mine met his after a few seconds.

I tried to keep some distance between us, attempting to pull back a little even though that was the absolute last thing I wanted to do. I was trying to keep my defenses up. However, he seemed to pick right up on it and something softened in his eyes as he tried again, pulling me close all over again, arms around my waist. 

I couldn’t formulate words or string a single coherent thought together and it was a damn shame because there was so much I wanted to say to him. To yell at him. He’d hurt me and honestly, I just wanted to let him have it.

Instead, I sighed and melted into his arms a little, my hand raising and catching in the collar of his borrowed suit. His mouth grazed right against the shell of my ear and he muttered huskily against, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” before tilting my chin so that I had to look up at him. I gulped, taking a deep breath.

“You really hurt me. I mean, you really, really hurt me.” I pouted a little, at least making a valiant effort to stand my ground and make him own up to his part in the way things played out almost two weeks ago. He flinched, his hand leaving my hip and raising to rake hair back out of my eyes as he continued to stare down at me intently, lost in thought. I took a deep breath and continued, “I should just walk away. Right now.”

“Princess, don’t.” Sweet Pea spoke up quietly with his tone torn between firmness and fear, leaning his forehead down, resting it against mine. Somebody got the DJ to play Love Me Like You Do and for a second, I heavily considered it, just walking off the dance floor and maybe even leaving the dance altogether.

Instead, I took a deep breath and met his gaze, eyeing him expectantly. “Do you have nothing at all to say for yourself, Sweet Pea?”

“Oh, I got plenty to say, princess. I’m just not saying it here, in front of everyone.” Sweet Pea muttered the words quietly, his lips brushing right up against mine as he spoke. I sucked in a sharp breath but I also pouted again, tensing against him a little, because obviously, that was the entirety of our problem to start with. I knew how he felt, hypothetically, I never really doubted it until that last day I talked to him, when he didn’t try to stop me, when he didn’t come after me and trust me enough not to hurt him like he’d already been hurt to let it all go. I did manage to step back just a little, putting space between us and I shook my head. “Wrong answer, Sweet Pea.”

He swallowed hard, looking around.

I bit my lip, shuffling my feet against the gym floor. I didn’t want to do this, but I also didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to risk anything until I knew that this time, things were going to be a little different.

If not, I couldn’t just stick around and keep waiting, no matter how much I wanted to. What if he was never ready to let me in?

“What do you want me to say? I love you? Fine. I love you.” Sweet Pea was stepping closer all over again, hands firmly planted on my hips this time to hold me in place. At first, I thought about bolting because I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was just saying it now to get me to stay or whether he meant it, but then I looked up and my eyes actually met his.

“I love you and this whole thing is driving me fucking insane, princess.” he pulled me completely against him this time, staring down at me almost hungrily. He grumbled and rolled his shoulders making muscular arms strain against the ill fitting suit and I found my eyes fixated on that, distracted. 

“I see you checking me out, princess. Is there something you want? Just tell me and it’s yours, I promise.” the question was posed with that trademark cocky smirk and I gulped, locking eyes with him. Seconds felt stretched into hours and neither of us said anything, we just stared. At least until I felt his hands wandering all over me as we danced. He leaned in closer, a hand leaving where it rested against my ass to raise to my cheek, gripping, guiding my mouth straight to his own. 

My back hit one of the gym walls softly and I found myself pressed right up against it, his hand lowering from where it rested on my cheek to roam all over my body as his mouth devoured mine hungrily. I could feel my lips starting to bruise and swell and when his teeth sank into my bottom one, tugging at it, I whimpered and raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck, only after I dragged my fingers over his scalp. His other hand tangled in my hair, using his grip to pull my lips into the kiss even deeper still. By this point, we were both gasping for breath, panting heavily and a whimper bubbled out of my throat when he bucked himself against me and growled into the kiss quietly just before it broke, both of us pulling away, wide-eye and trying desperately to catch our breath.

“I asked you a question. Is there anything you want right now, princess?” his voice was a low rumble when he spoke and the way he towered over me, staring down, with an arm raised and his palm flat against the wall I was pressed up against had me leaning against him heavily, all the bones pretty much leaving my legs and reducing them to gelatin just a little more with each little touch, with each on purpose graze of his mouth against my ear or my neck, even the front of my throat. I finally managed to rub against him a little and he growled quietly, biting his bottom lip as he looked down at me, the lust burning bright in his eyes. 

The music changed to a slower song and I shivered at the way he rubbed himself against me, the way he strained against the suit pants making me bite my lip and cling to him, rubbing against him right back. I was grateful for the fact that we were in the back of the gym and nobody was really paying us any attention, because I’d never really danced this dirty with anyone before.

The next thing I knew, I was being scooped up into his arms and carried out of the gym. I clung to him, my lips grazing up and down the side of his neck, little whimpers as he whispered things to me while carrying me out of the dance.

He unlocked his truck, opening the passenger door and sitting me in the seat, stepping between my legs as his hands wandered up and down my sides, then over my thighs. My head fell back and I licked my lips, earning me a growl and him leaning in against me heavily to whisper against the shell of my ear, “You know what that does to me, princess.”

“No, I actually don’t. I didn’t, I mean.” I managed to gasp out in a shaky breath against his ear as my hands wandered down the front of the button up top, unable to still, touching him in any way I could. My legs wrapped around his hips and squeezed against, my heels digging into his ass to pull him against me even more. It ended up leaning me back against the seat a little and Sweet Pea followed me down, his lips ghosting down the front of my throat, littering soft skin with bites and marks.

“We’re leaving, princess… If that’s okay with you.” he managed to gasp out the question when he pulled himself away from my neck and throat, catching his breath as he stared down at me, almost anxiously. It was a switch from the way he usually carried himself, so cocky and self-assured at all times. It let me know just how much I’d truly gotten to him.

“Mhm.” I purred against his neck after I’d melted into him again, muttering a few seconds later, “I like you this close to me. You’re warm.” and batting my lashes, making him growl quietly when the movement tickled his skin. His fingers dug into my body even more, squeezing as if he were trying desperately to hang onto any shred of self-control he might have left. 

“This isn’t getting us outta here, princess.” he gave a low and dark chuckle against my mouth as he zeroed in on it again, another bruising and deep kiss that left my lips swollen and achy. I whimpered, almost needy as he stepped away, tucked my legs into his truck and shut the passenger door firmly. He jogged around to the driver seat and got in, wasting no time in cranking the truck and spinning out of the parking lot and onto the street that ran right past it.

His hand left the steering wheel, moving slowly up and down my thigh, making me whimper and squirm as he nodded to the space next to him in the middle of the bench seat. “C’mon, princess. Get closer.”

I moved closer, leaning against his side and my breath caught in my throat when I felt his hand venture up my dress, rubbing me through the pink satin beneath it. He leaned in a little at the one redlight in town and muttered almost cocky against my ear, “Princess, you’re dripping.” and bit his lip as he pulled away, turning his attention back to the road in front of us as the light went green. The more he rubbed, the more I rocked myself against his hand, making him chuckle quietly. “Good girl. Such a good girl. Just a few more minutes, okay? And then, if you let me, I’m gonna take real good care of you. I mean that, princess.” 

My head fell back against the seat with a soft thud and I whimpered as I rocked myself against his hand even more after he started to rub harder, faster. “Sweet Pea.” I choked out, panting heavily, “Don’t stop. Feels so good.”

The truck pulled to a stop and he killed the engine, wrangling me into his lap, making me pout because he’d taken his hand away. His lips were all over my face and neck until I couldn’t take it anymore and I was literally dying to be kissed again, my hands resting against his cheeks and pulling his mouth against mine greedily.

He bucked himself into me from below and as I rocked myself back and forth in his lap, his fingers dug into my sides, pressing me down harder. “Fuck. I can feel you dripping, princess. This feel good?”

“Yes. So good.” I gasped as I buried my lips in his neck, leaving a mark of my own behind, making him groan and buck into me harder, holding my hips still so that he had control over the friction as he looked me up and down, almost as if he were sizing up mentally just how long it would take to strip me down.

He stepped out of his truck, not bothering to put me down, carrying me up the steps and into his trailer, the door shut and locked behind us. My back pressed into it as his hand made it’s way back up my dress and he bucked against me, rubbing his hand harder against soaked pink satin. 

“Sweet Pea.” I moaned out, shattering the silence in the trailer. “Yeah, baby girl?” he breathed against my ear, his fingers trailing a line straight up my slit after slipping into my panties. “Now. Need you now.” I nipped at his neck as I raised one of my legs to his waist, trying to keep myself steady.

“Now, hmm? If that’s what you want, princess.” he broke the kiss and pulled back, searching my eyes, almost as if he were making sure that I wanted to go this far. I licked my lips and whimpered, rocking myself against his hand all over again, begging for it breathlessly until he pulled me up his body and carried me over to the mattresses he slept on, my back hitting them softly as he sank down, sitting next to me. I climbed into his lap, my fingers pulling at the buttons on his shirt after I’d managed to tug down the jacket of the suit, letting it fall to the bed. His hands disappeared up my dress, fingers catching in the waistband of my panties, tearing them away with a quiet rip and tossing them onto the floor by the bed. He laid me back, positioning himself over me, pressing himself down into me and his mouth rolled over my neck, leaving more bitemarks and little nips behind, smirking against my skin as he did so.

“Everybody’s gonna know you’re mine, princess. You sure you’re okay with that?” his voice was husky, laced with sex and want, almost raw and primal as his lips brushed against my ear and he rocked himself against me. I got my hands free from where they’d been caught and immediately, I went for the button and zipper on his pants, tugging pants and boxers down at the same time. They pooled at his feet as he stood up and he kicked them free, sending them skidding quietly out into the middle of the floor before turning his attention to the little tray table at the head of the bed, digging around on top of it, coming up with a condom in his grip. 

He pulled himself away from me, because he’d been pressed against me again, tearing the wrapper with his teeth and spitting the foil onto the floor after he’d torn the packaging.As he prepared to put it on, I gently pushed his hand away, gazing up at him as my hand circled his cock, working the rubber sheath down in place over it. He growled, bucking himself into my hand and almost the second it was fully on, he had me on my back again, lowering himself down over me.

My legs wrapped around him and he rose up, his hand circling his thick member, guiding it right over my slit, making me gasp as he stared down at me and bit his lip, leaning down just a little to murmur against my ear, “Don’t let me hurt you, princess.”

I hissed as I felt the tip slowly slip in and my nails dug into his shoulders as I tensed all over. He went still, staring down at me, kissing me all over my face before zeroing into my mouth again, but not until I begged for it first.

He started to fuck into me slowly as I began to relax, and I rocked my hips up to meet each thrust, the tips of my fingers gripping at his shoulders a little harder with each one. “You feel so so good, princess. So good. You’re okay, right?”

“Feels good.” I gasped, my eyes fluttering open and shut as I started to feel myself tensing, this slow and lazy heat settling in my core. I could feel myself dripping, and the soft smack of our bodies with every single thrust echoed off the walls of the trailer. He slowed to a stop again, muttering against my lips in a daze, “Gotta slow down, princess. I wanna take my time with you.” and I nodded. I wasn’t really in a hurry to get home, my father told Archie and I we could be out late tonight because of the dance.

Honestly, I’d told him I’d probably just stay over at Cheryl’s or something and he’d been okay with it.

The prospect of having a whole night alone with Sweet Pea was exciting. 

His thrusts sped up a little and when I raised my arms to wrap them around his neck again, he chuckled, smiling down at me, a softer version of his usual cocky smirk. “You feel so good, princess. You’re takin me so well. C’mon, move your hips, baby girl. That’s it.” he groaned out against my ear as he started to slam into me harder, more erratically. 

By now, that slow and lazy heat in my core had turned into a dull throb and I moaned out, rocking my hips to meet his thrusts with more urgency because I could feel myself getting closer and closer with each stroke. He growled and gripped at my hips, trying to hold me still and stay in control, chuckling against my ear almost teasingly, “You gonna come for me?”

“So.. so close.. Don’t stop.” I begged over and over as his thrusts got deeper, rougher, and his fingers dug into my hips, the smack of his body against mine almost in competition to overcome the sound of our combined moans and groans and the soft sucks and slurps every single time his mouth conquered mine. He licked his lips and his jaw clenched, I got the feeling he was holding back and holding off and I dug my heels into his ass, driving him even deeper inside. He groaned against my skin, “Fuck. C’mon, princess. Let go.” as my orgasm shattered through and it pushed him over the edge too, his cock pulsing, my walls vising tight around it as we clung to each other and tried to catch our breath.

After peppering my face and neck and collarbone with kisses, he flopped onto the mattress next to me, rolling onto his side, trailing those thick fingertips slowly over my bare skin as he stared down at me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We’re okay.” I yawned out, rolling onto my side to face him, slipping my leg over his hip. He raised his hand, gliding it slowly over my thigh, gingerly trailing his fingertips over a few light bruises his hands and fingers left behind on my body. 

“You sleepy, baby girl?” he laughed, teasing me a little as my eyes started to get heavy... 

[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: Four

“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.” 

― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Previous Chapters HERE

tw: Death, Loss of Parent

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

12:02pm, October 5th, 1989

“Uhh, earth to Roni.”

A shrill voice followed by a few obnoxiously bubbly giggles brings fifteen year old Roni out of her own mind, and she looks up with a hot face. She uses a finger to push her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose, but she knows the voice before she even sees who it belongs to.

Lainey Prescott, one grade above Roni and just about the bane Roni’s existence.

She stands no taller than Roni, her two best friends Olivia and Janet standing on either side of her like her little minions. With their matching pink fingernails and Pom Pom hair accessories, they look like little clones. Roni has to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

This happens nearly every day during free period. They come up to bother her, get their little digs in wherever they can, and then continue walking their laps around the track because they’re “working on their figures.”  Roni has tried everything to put an end to it, even going so far as to sit in the dirt under the bleachers, but they’ve always ended up finding her. So now Roni sits out in the open, expecting it almost every day and thanking her lucky stars when it doesn’t happen.

“Hi, Lainey,” she mutters.

“Hey, super cute high-waters today, Ron!” Olivia and Janet snicker behind Lainey, who looks incredibly pleased with herself.  “Whatcha reading?”

Roni sticks her finger between the pages of her book to mark her place and averts her gaze, ears growing hot. “Nothing.”

Olivia speaks up. “I bet it’s another one of those sci-fi books. We all know she gets off on weird shit like that.”

Olivia’s words feel like a blow to the chest, but Roni keeps her composure and swallows around a lump in her throat. Lainey doesn’t seem to notice when she nudges Roni’s sneaker with her sandal. “No seriously, what is it? Looks cool.”

Roni looks up sheepishly. “Do you really care?”

“Totally, babe.”

Roni lets out a sigh, somehow taking the bait.  “It’s called Timescape,” she explains.  “It’s set in two different time periods: the sixties, and the nineties.”

“Wow,” Lainey says,  “The future.  So cool.”

Roni licks her lips in hesitation before continuing.  “Anyway so, everything in the nineties goes wrong, and this scientist guy is  trying to contact the past so that he can prevent whats happening and essentially stop it in its tracks.”

Roni hears Janet mutter an “oh my GOD, so like time traveling? ” to a ridiculously giggly Olivia, but Lainey doesn’t acknowledge them. She instead raises her eyebrows. “Wow, tell me more, Ron.”

Now Roni knows for a fact that the girls are making fun of her, and she’s about to say something when Lainey adds, “I mean, it must be super interesting. You’ve been sitting over here reading out loud to yourself. Did you know you did that?”  She laughs over her shoulder with the other girls before continuing. “It’s adorbs.  I’m sure any guy would find that super cute.”

“Lainey—“

Lainey cuts Roni off, as if this thought has just occurred to her. “Hey, speaking of, you don’t have a boyfriend yet, right?”

Roni sighs. “I don’t.”

You know I don’t, asshole.

Lainey giggles. “Awww, it’s okay, I figured as much. But listen, my parents are out of town this weekend and I’m throwing a party. It’s gonna be a boy-girl party, and you’re invited. I’m sure we could find you a guy there.”

“Yeah,” Janet adds, “and it’s BYOB. Bring your own Book.” Her stupid joke coaxes a cackle our of Olivia, and Roni rolls her eyes.

It wasn’t even that clever.

“Yeah, you can show us all your super cool time traveling tricks.” Olivia snickers. “Or at least spew out more time traveling facts. That’ll be a hit.”

Lainey smirks. “Totally. You should come.”

What Roni wants to do is tell them to fuck off. She wants to tackle them to the ground, rip the pom poms out of their hair and shove them down their throats until they’re all blue in the face. But she can’t do that, because there’s more of them than there is of her, and frankly they scare her.

So she clears her throat.  “Guys, I don’t think—“

“Oh come on,” Janet groans. “What, do you have to ask your mommy for permission?”

Roni’s heart stops the moment the words leave her mouth, and even Lainey and Olivia shoot Janet an incredulous look, as if even they can’t believe she’s just said that.

Janet looks back at them, completely oblivious. “What?! You know she probably does.”

“Janet,” Olivia says quietly, “you know her mom died.”

Roni doesn’t know why people do that; say “died” around her like it’s a filthy word.   She’s noticed that everyone does it, including her own grandmother, and it makes her feel sick to her stomach every time.

Janet’s mouth forms a wide O shape as the realization dawns on her. “Oooooohhhh. Shit. My bad. But she doesn’t care.” She turns back to Roni. “You don’t care, right? Like, you know we’re just joking around.”

Roni feels her eyes welling with tears and she wills them to stop, please stop— at least until the girls walk away.

“Please leave me alone,” is all she manages to say.

Lainey’s perfect smile returns to her face, only far more nervous than before, and Roni can tell she’s trying to do damage control. “So anyway.”  She glares at Janet before smiling sweetly. “The offer still stands. You better be there, girl.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Roni mumbles at the ground, vision now completely blurred with tears.

“Sweet! Catch ya on the flip side.”  Lainey waves her perfectly manicured fingers in Roni’s direction before she and her minions turn on their heels— each executing a perfect hair flip as they proceed on their way.

When she’s sure they’re out of ear shot, Roni lets out a quiet sob, reaching up to rub at her runny nose with the back of her sleeve. How girls can be so cruel, she’ll never know. But these three in particular have tormented her since elementary school, and it’s exhausting.

She doesn’t know why they do it. Why they can’t just leave her alone.  She’d never spoken a word  to any of them before it began, always minded her own business, and still they were relentless. Even after her mother passed, they kept it going. In fact, it almost seemed to get worse.

But Roni is not about to let them see her cry. Not today.  So she stands, flings her backpack over her shoulder, and walks off.

She doesn’t have a destination in mind, all she knows is that she needs to get far enough away from them as possible— even if that means hiding out in the girl’s bathroom until the end of free period (Which she’s also tried doing before. It didn’t work. They always found her).

She makes her way back into the building, heading straight for her locker.  The halls are surprisingly quiet, which doesn’t surprise Roni.  It’s a gorgeous day out.  That was the whole reason she was even outside in the first place. But then Lainey and her friends had to go ruin it, and now Roni isn’t even sure what else to do except grab some things from her locker and wander aimlessly for the next thirty minutes.

Roni rounds the corner and nearly bumps into someone exiting the boy’s bathroom. She’s about to say something snarky when she realizes who it is.

Staring back at her with an apologetic smile lighting up his entire face, is Oliver Ward.

Oliver is one of her friends, she guesses.  A grade older than her, he’s not exactly considered popular but he has more friends in general than Roni does.  She doesn’t talk to him as much as she should, despite the fact that he’s always treated her with more kindness than most people at this school.  He softens once he recognizes the person he’d nearly taken out.

“Roni! Hey!”

Roni reaches up to wipe at her nose and half-heartedly reciprocates his smile.  “Hey.”  It comes out rather unenthusiastically, and she diverts her gaze from his. She doesn’t mean to come across as so pathetic, and she definitely doesn’t want him to know that anything is wrong.  But the way his face falls when he hears her response lets her know that he is most definitely on to her.

“Have you been crying?”  His question is right to the point, and it makes Roni want to start crying all over again.

“No,” she lies.

“You have,” he says, his voice softening.  “What happened?”

Roni knows there’s no use lying to him, so she shrugs.  “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Oliver scowls.  He knows what that means.  “Did Lainey do something shitty again?”

Finally,  Roni looks up and gives Oliver a weak nod.  “I don’t know why she won’t just leave me alone,” she admits.  “I leave her alone.”

“Oh, Ron,” Oliver coos.  “Fuck her. Why don’t you tell someone?”

Roni shrugs again.  “That would do more bad than good, Ollie, you know that.”

Oliver tries his hardest not to smile at the nickname she’s given him.   Nobody’s called him Ollie since the first grade, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s always hated it.  Because for some reason, when she says it, he doesn’t hate it at all.

“I dunno,” Oliver says.  “It might finally put an end to her shit.”  He nods his head towards her.  “Where were you headed?”

Roni sniffs pathetically.  “Anywhere.  Just trying to kill time I guess.”

Oliver smiles.  “You can come with me!  I was just gonna finish up some homework in the library, so I don’t know how interesting it’s gonna be.  But at least you’ll have some company!”

Roni eyes Oliver, weighing her options.  On the one hand, she doesn’t want to tag along; be his little sidekick while he finishes up his work.  The last thing she wants is for him to feel the need to entertain her.  But on the other hand, she figures it’s better than moping around without any direction feeling sorry for herself. And besides, the way Oliver grins at her so full of hope and light, makes it hard to resist.

So Roni giggles and nods.  “Okay.”

“Cool.”  Oliver beams, nodding over his shoulder to signal Roni to follow him.  As they begin walking, he launches right into casual conversation.  “So, what’cha reading?”

Oliver is the kind of person who can hold a conversation with just about anyone and make it feel completely natural.  Roni hasn’t talked to him too many times, but each time she does, she thanks her lucky stars that he’s so good at keeping conversation going because otherwise she knows they would be screwed.

However, her ego is still a bit bruised from Lainey’s words, and she’s not too keen on sharing any more information about this book with anyone else.  “It’s nothing.”

“What?  It looks really cool.  What’s it called?”

Roni can feel her cheeks growing hot, and she refuses to look at Oliver when she answers him.  “Timescape.”

“Ooooh!  That sounds cool.  Is it about time?”  Not a hint of sarcasm is attached to his words, and although Roni can’t see his face she knows he’s genuinely interested.  The thought lifts her spirits just the tiniest bit.

“Kinda,” Roni says.  “It’s like, time travel stuff.  Someone in the future is trying to go back and warn people in the past about like, these catastrophic events happening in the world.  It’s actually really cool.”

Oliver whistles.  “No kidding! That sounds rad.”  They round the corner and open the large doors into the school library.  Oliver lowers his voice as they make their way to a small round table with empty seats.  “Think I could borrow it when you’re done?”

Roni nearly stops walking.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah!”  Oliver smiles at her, slinging his backpack off of his shoulders and onto the table.  “Hell yeah.  I’d love to read it.”

Roni realizes she’s been smiling because her cheeks ache, and she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth to hide it.  She clears her throat.  “I mean yeah, if you want to.”

“Sweet!” Oliver starts unloading the contents of his backpack before pausing and looking back at Roni.  “I mean like, no rush or anything.  Finish it on your own terms.  Don’t like, freak out trying to get it to me.”  Roni notices the slight red tint to the tips of Oliver’s ears, and for some reason it’s beyond endearing.  She giggles, taking her seat beside Oliver.  

“Don’t worry, I’m a fast reader anyway.”

Oliver smiles, seemingly relieved.  “Well that’s good.”

There’s a silence that doesn’t necessarily feel awkward, but it’s charged, and now it’s Olilver’s turn to clear his throat.  He turns his attention to the textbook in front of him, opening it up and flipping through to find a specific page.  He effectively changes the subject, but it feels more like a bookmark has been placed on the tension that Roni just experienced.  She doesn’t necessarily hate it, she’s just never felt it before.  Not with Oliver Ward.

“So anyway,” he says,  “Are you any good at chemistry?  I’ve been stuck on this one problem for ages.”  

-----

8:19am, January 2nd, 1925

Roni wakes earlier today, refreshed and optimistic after spending a good bit of the previous night dancing and laughing with Harry.  She feels much more at peace and surprisingly less disappointed to wake up in 1925 than she was yesterday. In fact, she’s optimistic at the prospect of what today might hold, and she’s feeling thankful that she’s here with Harry instead of with any other guy. She does however, feel a pang of guilt at the fact that she’s made Harry spend yet another night on his couch.  She decides she’s going to work something out with him; maybe they switch off the bed every other night she’s here-- for however long that may be.

With a long stretch that cracks her entire body,  she rolls out of bed-- careful not to move too quickly since she’s already seeing stars.  She adjusts Harry’s boxers around her waist, combing her hand through her hair and preparing herself to find Harry cooking breakfast again. Maybe she can even help him. She smiles to herself at the thought.

Roni tries not to think about last night. How good it felt being so close to Harry, and how wonderful he had smelled.  She refuses to acknowledge the tension that had singed the air, the way he’d watched her and clung to her every move, and the way he’d laughed not at her, but with her.  The night had been Roni’s first taste of normalcy in the past few days, and she’s beyond grateful to Harry for making that a possibility-- tension or not.

The closer to the door she gets, however, she notices she doesn’t smell or hear anything. In fact, it sounds almost completely silent in the other room. Harry hadn’t mentioned having to work today.

That’s odd.

She pushes the door open as quietly as possible , deciding that Harry must still be asleep. She doesn’t want to bother him and she figures she can sneak a shower in before he wakes up— effectively minimizing any awkward encounters that involve her in a towel.

And then she sees it.

Roni stops dead in her tracks at the sight before her. There’s Harry, splayed out and sitting so ungracefully-- legs spread wide and toes curling into the carpet beneath the pooling fabric of his trousers, and a hand wrapped tightly around his cock.

His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, eyes closed in concentration as his hand pumps up and down, slower towards the bottom of his shaft and more rapid jerks of his wrist the higher up he gets.  When Roni hears him muttering a curse word under his breath, her blood runs cold.

She can’t help herself. It feels like a train wreck or some other disaster that she can’t help but watch.  He’s so much longer than she would have guessed. Not that she’d given it any thought in the past few days, because truth be told she really hadn’t.  If she’d had to guess, she probably would’ve at least been a bit generous with her assumptions, sure, but never this generous. He’s so well endowed she can’t tell if she wants to drool over it or just shake his hand and congratulate him.

The whole vision is just so… beautiful in an odd way, and Roni’s mouth waters when she spares a thought for what he must taste like.

Get it together, Roni. Fuck.

She turns to head back into the bedroom to leave him to it, but her ears perk when she hears him mutter another curse word and a few other filthy things that he would probably say if he were fucking up into someone.

No fucking way.

She’s not doing this right now. There’s no way she’s going to indulge in any of this, and she knows she really needs to close the door and get back in bed. Never mind the fact that she’d had the same idea as Harry last night once she’d gotten in bed, and had to physically stop herself from doing anything to ease the dull ache and wetness between her legs.  She’d settled on squeezing her thighs together every now and then to see if that would relieve any pressure (it didn’t) and had simply gone to bed telling herself she was absolutely batshit crazy.

She wasn’t going to get herself off in this boy’s bed, and she certainly wasn’t going to entertain any crazy fever dream fantasies about him either.

But now here he is, doing the exact same thing that she’d been so tempted to do, whimpering out what sounds like maybe the filthiest dirty talk she’s ever heard, and she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Harry’s head falls back against the couch, and his eyes flutter closed as an almost inaudible sigh passes his wet lips.  “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he mumbles.  “Soaked for me, aren’t you?”

Does this happen often?  Who is he thinking of?  Who, in his mind, is fucking him so good that he’s practically crying alone on his couch?  Roni feels a brief pang of jealousy followed by guilt and a mental slap to the face to remind herself to get it the fuck together.

Roni allows herself a few more moments to watch him tease himself, watching his swollen cock drip with his pre-cum, and she can’t help but to lick her lips when she sees the way his lips curl around his teeth. With eyebrows furrowed, Harry slaps a hand across his mouth to mute his pitiful whimpers.  He’s close, and Roni decides that now is as good a time as any to go back into the bedroom and grant him his privacy.

Silently closing the door behind her, Roni lets out all of her air in one long exhale and stares at the wall opposite her.  Try as she might (or might not), she can’t get the image out of her brain.  How is she supposed to face him later? Is this even something she should bring up? How would she even start that conversation? And what kind of response would that warrant from him? Surely he’d think she was snooping, and probably be mad at her for invading his privacy.

Roni presses the heels of her palms to her eyes, willing the image of him getting himself off to completely exit her brain.  She takes a few minutes to breathe, pacing around the room to get this strangely nervous energy out of her system, before sitting down on the bed with another long sigh.  She knows she’s got no choice but to wait it out now, and for some reason it makes her anxiety a million times worse than it was before.

It’s a few minutes later when Roni hears the bathroom door close, and finally she feels brave enough to make her way back into the living room of the apartment.  She moves slowly, still, as if afraid to make too much noise, and bites at her lip as she makes her way into the quiet room.

No one would ever guess that the events of a few minutes ago had even occurred.  The couch looks completely untouched, the little blanket Harry’s been using at night folded up and slung neaty across the arm.  The air does feel unmistakably hotter in here (or maybe that’s just Roni), but otherwise everything is perfectly still and normal.

She makes her way unsurely into the kitchen.  Should she make herself at home and start cooking?  It would be a nice gesture on her part, and a somewhat wordless apology for the slight invasion of privacy.  Even if she wasn’t outright apologizing, it would definitely clear her conscience.

Roni reaches up to open one of the cabinets to see if there’s anything available to make for breakfast.  It blows her mind that Harry doesn’t have a simple pantry in his apartment, although she’s not even sure a pantry would fit given the size of the place.

She frowns when she’s met with stacks of plates behind the cabinet door.  Where the hell does Harry keep his food anyway?

The refrigerator in the corner of the kitchen is no bigger than a box, and when she opens it she’s met with even less food than she’d been expecting.  Does Harry even eat?

“Oh! Morning!”

Roni turns with a start when she hears Harry’s pleasant greeting, his tone now a stark contrast to the desperate whimper it was just minutes ago.  Roni’s entire body shivers at the memory.

“Hey!” she greets as normally as possible. “Morning.”

Harry walks over to pour himself a glass of water.  “Sleep alright?”

“M-hm!”  Does he know that she knows?

“That’s good.”  Harry smiles, completely innocent.  “You’re up earlier this morning.  Did I wake you?”

“What?”  It takes Roni a moment to realize he’s not referring to that, and she laughs nervously.  “Oh, no, you’re good.  Just like, my natural clock I guess.”

“You’re getting more used to being here.”  Harry grins.  “Wonderful.”

Roni smiles at him a tick too long, and she turns her attention to the cupboards.  “Anyway,” she says,  “Can I help with breakfast?”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“I want to!”

“You’re a guest.”

Roni shrugs.  “Not really.  Not anymore.  I told you I’ve gotta earn my keep around here.”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head at her.  “Alright.”  He blows his messy morning hair off of his face and glances around the kitchen, pondering what to even suggest. “Well, I haven’t got much.”

“Eggs are fine again!” Roni suggests, before a thought pops into her mind.  “Actually, got anything to make pancakes?”

Harry beams.  “I think I do.”

“Perfect! Pancakes are my specialty.”

Roni and Harry set to work then, falling comfortably into step side by side as they weave their way around the kitchen.  They launch immediately into conversation as they work, and it all feels so disgustingly domestic and comfortable that Roni almost forgets there’s anything abnormal about her situation. (She also temporarily forgets what she just saw on the couch minutes ago, although every time she catches a glimpse of his hand she is so painfully reminded.)  They discuss buying Roni new clothes, since she is going to be here for the foreseeable future, and Roni asks several questions about what to expect when entering the roaring 20s.  Harry answers her, “lots of lions” and when she doesn’t understand right away, he giggles through his explanation of,  “‘Roaring.’ Get it? Sorry.”

It’s when they’re sitting at the table side by side, shoveling pancakes into their mouths, that Roni shifts topics.

“Your eye looks better!”

Harry chuckles.  “It does, doesn’t it? Just got a look at it in the mirror.  The swelling  has gone down significantly.”

“Thank goodness,” Roni nods.  “We have to be looking our best tonight, after all. We’re still on for dancing?”

Harry smiles around his glass of milk as he sips, and there’s a brief moment where he forgets to wipe his milk mustache off in which Roni completely melts.  “‘Course we are,” he says with a nod.

“What kinds of places are we going?  Like are we just gonna go bar hopping?  Or like… what’s the plan?  What should I prepare for?  Should I wear comfy shoes?”

Harry makes a face, not answering her right away. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.  He takes another sip of milk, and now Roni is wondering if she’s said something wrong, because his entire demeanor shifts.  “What?  Is that not how it works here?”

Harry won’t even look at her, but the smile on his face hardly falters-- if anything it just looks a bit more regretful.  “No,” he says.  “It’s not that.”

Roni frowns.  “Well, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to! We can just--”

“It isn’t that either.”  Harry finally looks at Roni with embarrassment.  He hesitates to speak, until she presses him with a look.  He sighs.  “Veronica, I have to tell you something.”

Roni hates those words.  Any time someone has said something to her along those lines, it is almost always followed by bad news.  She leans closer to him.  “What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t have enough money… to take you to several places. I can only afford one, and it’s only because I know the guy who owns it.”

Roni still doesn’t understand, so she shakes her head and places her hand on Harry’s arm reassuringly.  “Harry, that’s not a big deal, I don’t mind if--”

“No, listen.  Please.  I have to tell you this because it’s gone on for too long, and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to hide it from you.”  

Roni swallows, preparing herself for the worst.  Harry’s got a wife and child living somewhere else that he has to support, and they don’t know about this apartment.  Harry is sick and dying and only has enough money to pay his medical bills for the next couple of months until he shrivels away.  Harry has--

“I don’t have a job.”

Oh.

Roni blinks back at him, trying to find the proper words to go about responding to him.  She isn’t mad by any means, but he’s looking at her like she should be.  His cheeks burn red, and his skin under Roni’s hand feels hot to the touch.  He licks his lips, raising his eyebrows expectantly at her, and she realizes she’s just been sitting here with her mouth open.  She shakes her head, and speaks with as much gentleness as she can conjure up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.  I really don’t.  I don’t think I anticipated you being here as long as you are-- which, I’m so happy that you are, by the way-- so I didn’t think it would come up.  And now I want to take you out and buy you clothes, and I still very much intend to do that, because I do have money left over for that.  But I just can’t do it to the extent that I would like to.  And it’s awful, because I really would love to show you around, take you to several dance places, etcetera etcetera, but…. I can’t.”

The amount of sadness in Harry’s eyes makes Roni’s heart feel heavy, and she gives his arm a squeeze.  “Harry,” she sighs.  

“Are you disappointed?”

“Of course I’m not disappointed.  If anything, I’m disappointed in myself.  I’ve been so selfish this entire time--”

“Don’t do that.”

“--But if I’d known, I could’ve helped!”

Harry chuckles, and it’s the first time in a few minutes that he seems like himself again. “How on earth could you have helped?”

“I don’t know,” Roni shrugs, “but we would’ve found a way.  You’re doing so much to help me, I can’t just sit here and let that happen without returning the favor!”

“There’s no favor to return,” Harry says with a smile.  “It’s my pleasure.”

Roni sits back in her chair, already brainstorming and completely ignoring his words.  “Lets see,” she says, drumming her fingers along the table top.   “I don’t need clothes--”

“Yes you do.”  Harry snorts.  “You’re practically swimming in mine.”

“Yeah but--”

Harry holds up his hand to stop her.  “I’ve got that part covered, Veronica.  I promise you.”

Roni rolls her eyes.  “Fine.  One outfit--”

“Two.”  Harry cuts her off again, his cheeky smile fully returning to his face.  “At the very least.  You need one for tonight and another for anything else.”

“But--”

“I’ve already got it all sorted.  You’re not going to persuade me otherwise.”  

“So you’re just gonna blow the last of your money… on me?”

“Not the last of it!” Harry shrugs, then laughs when Roni scoffs.  “Love,  I didn’t tell you this to worry you.  I’ll find another job sooner or later.  I just told you so that you wouldn’t be let down when I turn out to be a rather disappointing date.”

“You’re not disappointing.”  Roni frowns.  “We’re gonna get you a job, alright?”

“I believe you!” Harry says, popping another piece of pancake into his mouth.

“Starting today.”

“Today?!”  Harry speaks through a mouthful and swallows a bit harder than he’d intended.  “No, love, today is about finding you clothes--”

“And finding you a job.”  Roni grins brilliantly at him.   “We’re doing both at the same time.”  When Harry narrows his eyes at her, she only giggles and echoes his own words back at him.  “You’re not going to persuade me otherwise.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but his dimpled smile has returned full force.  He shakes his head and takes another bite.  “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Roni pops the ‘p’ at the end of the world before taking a sip of her milk.  “So hurry up and finish breakfast.  We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

----

It’s three hours later when Roni and Harry find themselves downtown, after an hour of cleaning up their messes in the kitchen and Harry awkwardly explaining to Roni how the shower worked.  They’d wasted no time in buying Roni the appropriate outfits,  and she’d changed in the restroom at a high end cafe.  (The looks she’d received were actually quite hysterical-- dressed in Harry’s clothes and entering the women’s restroom only to emerge wearing a brown dress, stockings, and brand new shoes.)

Roni’s first time stepping out of Harry’s apartment and into the daylight had been surreal.  She’d felt dizzy several times, especially when comparing the shops and restaurants along the streets now to the ones of her own time.  It wasn’t that she didn’t know her way around; she knew this city like the back of her hand.  But seeing everything-- and everyone-- so different is a feeling unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

But now here she is, dressed the part and feeling a hundred times more confident and present than before.  She and Harry had visited numerous businesses for him to apply to, and each one had given them roughly the same answer.  Promises to call seemed to only crush Harry’s spirit, which Roni understood.  But she’d remained as positive and enthusiastic about the entire process as she could, and now here she is-- encouraging him to just pop into one more store with her.  

“What if they’re the ones that are gonna offer you a job, you know?”

“Or they’ll just promise to call me,” Harry says with a shrug.  “You know how those things work.  They promise to call and they never do.”

Roni is about to launch into an entire spiel about how Harry is only going to attract what he puts out there and he shouldn’t be going into this with a negative attitude, when something catches her eye.

“Oh my god.”  

She stops dead in her tracks, and it takes Harry a moment to notice she isn’t behind him.  He turns to see Roni staring in disbelief at one of the little shops along the strip.  He follows her gaze to understand what she’s so struck by, but it only confuses him more.  “What, the tobacco place?”

“No, the book store.”  Roni feels like crying and she doesn’t even know why.  It’s not a particularly emotional moment by any means, but it’s strange and surreal and the only thing her body can think to do with all of the unusual feelings she’s feeling is to expel them through tears.  

She doesn’t end up crying, not really, but she does have to blink the mist out of her eyes to make sure she isn’t seeing anything.

The sign above the book shop is the same one she’d gotten so used to seeing nearly every day of her life in the 90s, but now it’s got a fresh coat of paint and it’s bright and shiny rather than weathered with time.  It reads, loud and proud in white paint: The Little Read Book, and Roni laughs in disbelief.

If Roni remembers correctly, the shop was opened in 1920-- which technically is five years ago-- by Eileen’s grandmother, and Roni realizes that that means Eileen isn’t born yet, and won’t be for another ten years.

“Harry,” Roni says quietly to a patient Harry who’s been waiting for her to say something,  “I work there.”

“What?”  Harry scoffs, glancing from the shop to Roni’s awe-stricken face.  “What on earth do you-- oh.”  It finally dawns on Harry, only now he isn’t sure at all what the proper way to respond to this situation would be.  He clears his throat.  “You don’t say?  Well, that’s interesting.”

Without thinking, Roni grabs Harry’s hand and yanks him with her as she makes her way to the shop.  “We have to go in,” she says, completely unaware of the way Harry is blushing at her small hand in his.

A familiar bell rings the moment Roni opens the door, and out of habit she wants to call out a greeting to Eileen. The shop smells exactly the same, and it’s organized almost identically to the way it looks in the 90s. The difference is on the walls- there are significantly less photographs covering them, and the ones that are tacked to the green wallpaper are fresh and not yellowed with age.

A few customers walk among the shelves, talking quietly to themselves, and faint jazz music plays from the radio behind the front desk.  The radio is still there in Roni’s time, but it has long since stopped working, and seeing it in all its glory is something so surreal that Roni gets dizzy all over again.

“May I help you?”

Roni turns her attention to a girl much younger than her rounding the corner carrying an armful of books.  Roni’s knee-jerk reaction is to go help the girl but she refrains-- reminding herself that she does not, in fact, work here at the moment.

The girl plops the pile onto the desk and Roni gets a glimpse of her nametag.  It reads “Daisy” in a plain blue font, and Roni wracks her brain trying to remember if she’s ever heard this name before and if this person holds any significance in Eileen’s life.

It’s Harry who speaks first.  “Hi, I was wondering if you had any available positions open?”

The question takes both Daisy and Roni by surprise, and Roni can’t stop her jaw from falling practically on the floor.  Of course it makes sense for him to work here, and she wishes she’d come up with the idea herself. She’d been so shocked to see this place in the context it’s in now, that she’d forgotten all about the task at hand.  A pang of guilt strikes her belly for a brief moment.

Daisy blinks back surprise, a pleasant smile growing on her face.  “Really?”

“Yes ma’am.”  Harry beams,  “I’m looking to start as soon as possible.”

Daisy eyes Harry for a moment, stopping briefly on his still faint-purple eye, before leaning against the counter and grinning.  “What’s your name?”

“Harry,” he replies, holding out his hand.  “Styles.”

Daisy shakes his hand with a smile before turning expectantly to Roni, and now Roni suddenly feels put on the spot.

“Uh,” she stammers, reaching to shake Daisy’s hand.  “I’m Roni.”

Daisy makes a face, cocking her head to one side.  “As in Ronald?”

Harry snorts, and Roni sighs.  “No, Veronica.  Sorry, I should’ve been more clear.”

“No!” Daisy says, “It’s just a unique name.  I’ve never heard anything like that before.  I like it.  Are you interested in a position as well?”  Her bright beautiful smile returns back to her face, and it’s the first time that Roni’s really looked closely. She can clearly see the almost chilling resemblance to Eileen now, and it makes her feel woozy.

It takes everything in Roni not to explain the situation, but how would she even start?  

Actually, I do work here, but not right now-- seventy-four years into the future, and I can give you my official employee reference for you to hire Harry!

Roni sees Harry smirking at her as if he’s thinking the same thing she is, and she giggles nervously.  “No.  Thank you though.”

“Alright, but if you change your mind, I’m always hiring!”  Daisy makes her way behind the counter to organize the books as she speaks.  “My name is Daisy Hartford. I actually recently took over the business with my husband Lawrence.  My mother opened the shop five years ago, but she gave the business to us when we got married last summer.”

Roni tunes Daisy out as she comes to the realization that Daisy is Eileen’s mother.  It feels so strange to see this young girl, likely no older than nineteen, running a business that Roni knows by heart, and speaking of her mother and her husband so candidly.  She doesn’t know that she’s going to have four children, and that one of them is going to be Eileen.  She doesn’t know that Eileen is going to take over the shop one day.  Hell, she probably doesn’t even know that the shop is going to make it another seventy-four plus years.  She doesn’t know any of this-- but Roni does.

Daisy continues rambling, bringing Roni out of her thoughts.  “I love it, but I could use all the help I can get.  Especially once we start having little ones running around, do you know what I mean?  I’m sure the two of you understand.”

Harry’s smirk only deepens while Roni feels her face is on fire. Her voice is so quiet that even she has a hard time hearing herself. “Oh, we’re not--”

“Well” Daisy unintentionally cuts Roni off, smiling sweetly.  “I’m sure I don’t need to bore you with my story.”  She turns to Harry with a pointed look.  “Mr. Styles.  Have you any experience working with books?”

Roni can almost hear the panic bells going off in Harry’s head, but his exterior remains cool and collected.  “I do not,” he says,  “But I am a fast learner.”

“Excellent.”  Daisy flips nonchalantly through a book before setting it aside.  “And your current employer is whom?”

Harry swallows, his ego clearly slightly bruised.  He fidgets with his fingers when he talks, drawing Roni’s attention to the fact that even she’s fidgeting with her ring out of pure nervousness.  “I don’t have one, ma’am.  But my previous employer was Milton and Sons.  I made shoes.”

“Oh, how funny!  I’ve got a pair of Miltons on right now!”  Daisy kicks out her leg a bit to show off her shoes, and it makes both Roni and Harry giggle.

“Those are quite nice,” Harry says.  “I’ll bet I made them.”

“I’ll bet you did!”  Daisy beams, before realizing that this is still a job interview-- albeit a very lax one. She clears her throat and settles herself down.  “Alright, alright.  Next question.  Why The Little Read Book?”

It’s another one of those moments where Roni wants to jump in, and Harry can see her internal struggle.  “Well,” he says slowly,  “A dear friend of mine recommended this place.”

“Did he?  What’s his name?”

Harry’s lips twitch.  “Ronald.”

Roni nearly chokes, but Harry remains completely serious as Daisy thinks long and hard.  “Ronald…. Mr. Whitley?  He comes in here quite often.”

“Maybe,” Harry says with a shrug. “I’ve never caught his last name before.  But in any case, Ronald has been coming here for years now.  He speaks very highly of this place.  Says it feels like home to him.  And I can see why.  You’ve got a remarkable business here, Mrs. Hartford.”

Daisy beams.  “Thank you! That’s lovely to hear.”  

After a few more questions that almost all lead into a conversation of some sort, Roni, Daisy, and Harry feel like three chums just hanging out and having a chat.  Which was something Eileen had constantly told Roni about Daisy.

“My mother could befriend a rock if you gave her enough time,” Eileen would say.  “She would hold conversation with just about anyone.  Everybody loved her, and with good reason.”

Now that she’s meeting her, Roni would have to agree.

“Well, Mr. Styles,” Daisy says through a sigh.  “I suppose I’ve just got one question left for you, and it’s the most important one.”

Harry nods.  “Shoot.”

“When can you start?”

Roni can tell that Harry wants to leap up in the air and celebrate.  She knows how much this means to him and, frankly, she’s feeling the exact same way.  She beams at Harry, expectantly awaiting his answer.  While he remains as calm as possible, there is no denying the dimple on his cheek showing just how happy he is.

“Tomorrow?” Harry raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“We’re closed tomorrow.”  Roni and Daisy say this at the same time, and when Daisy shoots Roni a look of confusion, Roni fumbles over an explanation.  Truth be told, it was merely force of habit.  But that isn’t something she has time to explain to Daisy, so she shrugs.

“Sorry, I’ve just-- tried to come in here a few times on Saturdays and Sundays and always realized you were closed.  Made that mistake too many times.  Ha. Sorry.”

This is a tradition no longer kept in 1999, but Roni remembers the days when both Saturdays and Sundays were off days.  In 1998 Eileen had decided to open up Saturdays for business, keeping Sundays blocked off because “I’m a God-fearing woman, Veronica.”   But still, it is Roni’s knee-jerk reaction to respond the way that she just has, and she’s thankful that Daisy bought her explanation.

“Right,” Daisy giggles.  “Well, in any case, Mr. Styles, are you free to start Monday around eleven?”

Harry nods.  “Monday around eleven sounds great.”

“Wonderful!  I can’t wait to work with you.”  She turns to Roni.  “And I’m sure I’ll be seeing much more of you in here, Mrs. Styles.”

Roni opens her mouth to say something but is cut off immediately by Harry taking her hand and tugging her towards the door.  “Right, lovely to meet you, Mrs. Hartford.  I’ll see you Monday at eleven, and not a minute later!”

The door closes behind them and they’re back outside, squinting at one another in the sunlight.  Harry’s smiling like an excited little boy, and after a moment of watching him, Roni presses him with a nudge.  “Well?”

“Veronica,” Harry says softly, “We fucking did it.”

It’s the first time Roni’s heard Harry (knowingly) curse in front of her, and it makes her giggle at his unfiltered excitement.  She takes both of Harry’s hands in hers and squeezes, beaming up at him before just giving in and wrapping her arms around his torso.  She gives him a tight squeeze and leans affectionately into him.

“Hell yeah,” she says,  “We fucking did.”

----

“Harryyy,” Roni whines from the bathroom.

“Yes, love?”

Roni sighs loudly, and the noise makes Harry chuckle to himself from his spot on the couch.  “You can’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because.”  Roni opens the door a crack, barely peeking her head out to look at Harry.  “I need help.”

It’s a few hours later and Harry and Roni have found themselves back at Harry’s place to freshen up for the evening.  Roni had insisted she’d be fine changing in another public restroom, but Harry had refused-- saying that he needed to get changed into something “spiffier.”

The outfit Harry had bought for Roni seemed nice enough, but now that she’s actually trying to do up the buttons in the back while keeping the sash tied correctly, she’s realizing just how complicated the entire outfit is. It doesn’t help that the only bra she has is the one she’d been wearing the night she arrived, which is very modern in comparison to the rest of the dress.   Try as she might, there is no way she could manage getting the buttons all done up herself.  So she’d swallowed her pride, and now here she is-- pitifully asking Harry for help.

Harry looks lovely, of course, and it’s the nicest Roni has seen him dress the entire time she’s been here.  He’s in a gray suit buttoned up the front, and a nice pair of leather shoes that, admittedly could use a bit of a shine but are altogether so handsome and so Harry.  He completes the entire ensemble with a little gray cap on his head-- because of course he does-- and Roni suddenly feels self conscious when he looks at her.

He smiles knowingly, rising to his feet and heading towards the bathroom door.  “Too advanced for you then?”

Roni pouts, stepping out of the bathroom in the half buttoned, half tied mess of a dress.  “I just can’t get the buttons done,” she huffs.  “And the belt won’t stay tied!”

Harry snorts, picking up the ribbon that droops around Roni’s waist.  “It doesn’t go there.”

Roni rolls her eyes.  “Well that would’ve been nice to know ten minutes ago.”

“Alright, alright,”  Harry says through another laugh.  “Turn around.”

Roni complies without thinking, and Harry’s breath catches in his throat the moment she does.  

It’s the first time he’s seen a woman’s bare back in, god, he doesn’t even know how long.  She’s gotten the buttons done up herself all the way to the spot just before her back dips into her bottom, and Harry subconsciously licks his lips at the involuntary thought of what lies beneath the southernmost button.  The lace of her brassiere clings delicately to her back, and although Harry has seen a decent amount of brassieres in his lifetime, he’s never quite seen one this intricate.  He would give anything to unlatch it and place his lips to the spot on her skin where it rested, but he knows he can’t.  He knows he’s got a job to do here, and she’s waiting.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s been staring for so long until Roni speaks. “What, did I mess it up?”

“Yes” Harry says, praying that Roni doesn’t notice the audible crack in his voice.  “But it’s okay.  Nothing I can’t fix.”

With shaky hands Harry works to fasten the buttons up her back.  Roni sighs, seemingly unaware of the way Harry trembles behind her.  For some reason the fact that this is completely normal to Roni, in a time where it’s scandalous for any unwed woman to present herself to a man this way, is making this all the more sexy to him.  He licks his lips, focusing on getting this done as quickly as possible so as not to make it weird, while also savoring the moment as much as he can.  

He can feel the heat from her skin, and he can smell his shampoo in her hair, and he closes his eyes to allow the scent to fill his nose.  Should he say something?  Is he being weird by not saying anything?  Can she feel how absolutely tense he is as he tries to focus on not touching her for too long?  He’s completely short-circuited, and he gulps trying to come up with something to talk about.

When Harry’s finger accidentally grazes a spot on Roni’s back, she jolts, starling Harry.

“Sorry, sorry!” Harry blurts.  “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it’s just-- your hands are cold.”

“Oh.” Idiot.  “Sorry.”

“No,” Roni says again.  “It felt… good.”

“Oh.”  

Can he say anything other than oh?

Harry watches as goosebumps prickle Roni’s skin, and he moves slower now, taking special care to brush his fingers against her back occasionally.  If she said it felt good, it’s all he can do to keep her feeling that way.   She swallows and audibly exhales,  and the goosebumps never fade or shrink.  

Harry doesn’t know why it happens this way with her.  Everything is always so friendly and normal, and then the most casual and mundane thing sets him off.  He knows she feels it too, because even over her shoulder he can see her eyes nervously darting around with every controlled breath she takes.   She, too, looks like she wants to say something and can’t find the words, but Harry doesn’t mind.  The higher he gets with her buttons, the slower he goes.

With a shaky hand, Harry reaches up to gather Roni’s hair in his hand and gently brushes it over her shoulder and out of his way.  She shivers when he does this, and it makes him smile to himself.  If ever he should be lucky enough to be this close to Roni again, he needs to remember that she likes to have her hair played with.

When he finally reaches the top button, he takes his time fastening it.  He doesn’t realize that he and Roni are both holding their breaths until both of them let it out in a sigh.  He closes his eyes briefly, willing time to stop just for moment so that he can savor this longer, but he has no time to linger on the thought before Roni is spinning around to face him.

“Does it look okay?  Like seriously, do I like… fit with the times?”

She looks genuinely worried, and her eyes scan his for any sign of humor in his response.  

How can Harry tell her that she looks like a dream?  She looks like everything he’s ever wanted and so, so much more.  Of course he’d gone a tad over his planned budget in buying her this outfit, but seeing her here, wearing it and looking like that makes it all worth it.  Were dresses like this supposed to fit this way?  He’s never seen a dress look so good on anybody before, and he doesn’t know how on earth to tell her that without frightening her off.

So he keeps his composure as much as he can, smiling mischievously down at her.  “Not yet.”

He reaches for the tie that Roni had mislabeled a belt and, feeling bolder now, unties it from around her hips.  She squirms a bit in his grasp but she isn’t smiling, not yet, and Harry realizes that fitting in is something incredibly important to her.

“Right, hold still.”  Harry loops the tie around the back of Roni’s neck, brushing her hair up over it and smiling when he notices the goosebumps on her skin once again.  He watches her face closely as he ties the tie in a loose knot in the middle of her chest.  She won’t look at him anymore, but there’s a hint of a smile gracing her pretty lips, so he knows he’s got her where he wants her.   He secures the knot and takes the two loose ends of the tie in his hands, yanking her gently closer to him.

Roni stumbles and gasps softy, before glaring up at him.  “Hey, careful! I could’ve--”

She trails off when she sees the way he’s smiling at her, and she softens immediately.  Her eyes hold an almost indiscernible worry, and if Harry had blinked he would’ve missed the way they darted down to his lips for just a split second.

Harry smirks.  “Now you look perfect.”

Roni giggles nervously, a red tint glowing from her cheeks as she averts her gaze.  She seems to come back to her senses slowly, and Harry is pleased with the effect he has on her.

“Thanks,” she says softly, stepping back and out of the circle of his arms,  “For… helping me.  I don’t mean to be so helpless it’s just…. You know.”

Harry nods.  “I do know,” he says with a reassuring smile.”  He places a hand on his belly.  “I also know that my stomach has been growling for the last hour, and I’m itching to show you off on that dance floor.”  He offers her his arm, grinning smugly down at her.  “So.  Shall we?”

---

The New York air is much colder now, and Roni leans closer to Harry for warmth as they walk.  She’s significantly less afraid now that she looks the part, even going so far as to give passersby a few polite head nods and a quick “good evening!”

Harry grins down at her, squeezing her arm with his own.  “You’re a proper lady now, aren’t you?”

Roni takes on her best posh accent, making Harry snort when she talks.  “Well I look the part, darling, but now I’ve got to act it, haven’t I?”

Through residual giggles, Harry shakes his head.  “You had me up until the accent.”

“What a shame,” Roni says, making her accent even thicker and giggling to herself.  “I’ll have to work on that.”

A clocktower in the distance chimes six o’clock as Harry and Roni finally approach their destination.   It’s busier than Roni had anticipated, but then again it is Friday night. This seems like the place to be, and if this is the only place Harry can take her tonight, he definitely picked a good one.

Harry talks briefly with the host at the front desk, who he’d mentioned to Roni that he was friends with, but Roni doesn’t even pay attention to anything being said.  She instead takes this time to really study the place.  Several round tables surround the large dance floor.  If Roni remembers correctly, this building is a roller rink in her time, and it’s so strange to see it as something so drastically different now.  

It’s also strange to see how many people are smoking indoors here, and Roni coughs when a woman walks by and wafts cigarette smoke into her face.

They’re seated shortly at a smaller table in the corner, and when the host returns back to his post, Harry beams at Roni.  “So? What do you think?”

“It’s cute!” Roni says. “It’s weird because I’ve been here but you know, like… in the 90s.”

“Yeah?  Is it pretty much the same?”

“Not at all,” Roni laughs.  “I mean the big dance area kind of looks the same I guess.  But it’s a huge roller rink.”

“A what?” Harry scrunches up his face, but doesn’t even give Roni a chance to answer him. “Oh, like for roller skates?”

“Yeah!”

Harry looks out at the dance floor thoughtfully. “Gee. So that area is just filled with people roller skating, huh?  That’s odd to think about.”

The waiter approaches, quickly shifting both Harry and Roni’s attention.  He informs them that his name is Stanley, goes over a few of the food specials for the evening, and then asks them what they’d like to drink.  Harry orders a lemonade, and then both he and Stanley turn to Roni expectantly.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll take a rum and coke, please.”

If a record-scratch silence was such a thing in these times, it would have happened at that exact moment.  Stanley, the people at the next table over, and even Harry all stare at her as if her order is the most scandalous thing they’ve ever heard.  Roni stares back blankly, trying to gather what on earth the problem could be, before finally looking to Harry for help.

Harry catches on quickly, laughing dryly and leaning across the table to place a hand on Roni’s.  “She’s joking, of course,” he says.  “She’ll just have a coca-cola.  Please.  Thank you so much.”

Stanley lingers a moment, as if processing what just happened, before turning slowly on his heels and making his way to the kitchen.

When Harry is sure the waiter is out of earshot, he leans across the table with a serious look.  “Don’t do that,” he hisses quietly.

“Do what?!” Roni asks incredulously.  “Order a drink?  What, are women not allowed to drink here?”

Harry chuckles.  “Actually no one is.”

“What the fuck?” Roni says, biting her tongue the moment it escapes her lips because she knows she shouldn’t be cursing like that in public.  Not here at least. She glances around to make sure no one heard her, then lowers her voice.  “Why not?”

Harry grins smugly.  “You mean to tell me the prohibition isn’t something significant in the future?  Like it just… ends?”

Roni rolls her eyes.  “Oh god,” she says.  “The prohibition.  Forgot about that.”

“Ah.”  Harry nods.  “So you’ve heard of it.”

Roni pouts.  “Yeah, and it sucks.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry says through a laugh.

“I guess just a coke is fine though,”  Roni admits.  “Probably don’t need anything making me more disoriented me more than I already am.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Roni sighs, glancing around the restaurant again in another attempt to take it all in.  When she catches the eye of an older lady a few tables over, she notices the woman is frowning at her, and she shifts in her seat. “Are people staring?  They’re definitely staring.  Did you button me up wrong?”

“I didn’t,” Harry says. “Maybe they’re staring because of how beautiful you look.”

Roni’s cheeks grow hot and she rolls her eyes, but she can’t suppress the smile on her face. “Harry--”

“I’m serious!” he says.  “That dress is divine.  I must say, whoever picked it for you has excellent taste.”

“Hey, I picked it out, too.” Roni sticks her tongue out at Harry.

“Maybe so,” Harry says with a shrug,  “But of the two of us, I’m the one with the fashion sense here.”

Roni opens her mouth to protest, but Harry only rises to his feet and holds his hand out for her. “Anyway,” he says, “care to dance?”

At first Roni feels awkward on the crowded dance floor.  Everyone around her seems so experienced, and there she is stumbling around like she’s never even heard music before in her life.  She accidentally bumps into several people, and Harry always calmly apologizes for her before jumping right into the impromptu dance lesson he’s giving her.  Of course she feels bad, but he’s so encouraging (and went through all the trouble to get them here), so she puts on a brave face and soldiers through it.

By about four songs in, however, Roni’s insecurities wash further and further away with every smile or word of praise Harry gives her, and suddenly it feels like they’re the only two in the entire building.

The familiar opening chords of The Charleston begin booming from the orchestra, and Harry and Roni immediately exchange open-mouthed grins.  “You know this one!” Harry yells over the music, already beginning to tap his feet.

“No I don’t!” Roni giggles, already being swept off her feet by Harry.

Once again they’re laughing like children, stumbling over one another while Harry shouts incoherent commands at her.  

“Remember? Left, kick, left--- Veronica, focus!”

“I can’t! Not with everyone around!”

Roni finally allows her giggles to get the best of her, letting go of Harry and hunching over to clutch her belly.  Harry watches her, an endeared smile on his lips, before reaching to take her hand again. “Veronica--”

“Wait!” Roni stands up straight. “Wait, it’s my turn. Let me show you how it’s done. Ever heard of this one?”

She starts half-jumping, half- running in place and Harry lets out a loud cackle. “What on earth are you doing?”

“It’s called the running man!” Roni calls back.  “All the rage where I come from!”

Harry’s face grows redder by the second from laughing so hard, and he lets out a hacking cough. “Oh my god, you look ridiculous!”

“Yeah? Like that one? How about this one?”  Roni places her hands on either side of her face, framing her head and moving her hands from her cheeks to her chin and top of her head. . “This one is called Vogue-ing.”

Harry wipes at his eyes, clutching his stomach. “Veronica,” he says through a wet laugh, “Please, no more.”

“And here’s a classic!”  Roni goes completely stiff, bending her arms at the elbows and moving robotically. “They call this one the robot!”

“God,” Harry shakes his head, face now beet read from laughing. “You’re so bloody weird.”

“You aren’t gonna try it with me?” Roni asks.  “I try your weird dances with you!”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he knows she’s got a point. “It’s not the same.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Roni calls back. “C’mon, just try the robot one time.”

Harry glances nervously around before deciding to just completely throw caution to the wind and join her.  He goes stiff as well, mimicking her movements in the most forced and uncomfortable looking way.

Now it’s her turn to laugh, and she lets out the most adorable cackle Harry thinks he’s ever heard. “Ha! You’ve got it!”

“Do I look absolutely mental?” Harry asks through a grin.

“Absolutely, babe,” Roni says with a nod.

“Good!” Harry starts moving faster, knowing damn well he isn’t doing this dance correctly at all, until Roni can’t even dance anymore. She’s nearly on the ground with how hard she’s laughing, and both she and Harry completely ignore the dirty looks from everyone around them who’s actually taking their dancing seriously.

Harry is completely out of breath by the end of the song, and he genuinely feels he’s going to be sore tomorrow.  

But if it meant seeing Roni this happy and full of laughter, he’d take her out dancing every single night.

---

“So what was it like?”

Roni turns to Harry.  “What?”

Roni and Harry are walking home side by side, and Roni is carrying her shoes-- even though Harry had informed her several times how filthy the ground was. When they’d finally decided to stop dancing and sit down for dinner, they’d launched immediately into conversation, covering just about any topic under the sun. Harry marvels at how easy it is to talk to Roni, and he reckons he could sit and listen to her talk about absolutely nothing for days on end.

“The moment you traveled back.  I know you said it was a lucid dream of sorts, but what was it really like?  Was it like you were flying?”

“No, not really,” Roni says, and she takes a moment to think of how to explain this to him.  “It was just like walking.  But I couldn’t walk fast enough.  I wasn’t being threatened or anything.  I just knew I had somewhere to go and I didn’t think I’d get there in time.”

“Where were you trying to go?  You’d mentioned something about the 1980s… is that correct?  Something about your mum?”

Roni smiles sadly at him.  “You remember me saying that?”

“‘Course I do.”  Harry notices the sadness of Roni’s features, and he lowers his voice.  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay,” Roni says wistfully.  “I wanted to go to 1985. That was the year I lost my mom.  In a car accident.”

“Oh, Veronica,” Harry coos. “I’m so sorry.”

“Cars were… well, are a lot different where I come from.  People drive like assholes.  Pardon the language.”  Harry smirks to himself.  Since when does Roni feel the need to apologize for her language?  He doesn’t have time to tease her, however, and he figures now is not the time.  So he lets her continue.

“So mom was driving to work one morning.  And this guy fell asleep at the wheel.  A trucker.  He’d been driving all night.”  Roni seems lost in her own thoughts, and Harry hangs on her every word.  “And it sucks because… it was just like any other day, you know?  We just said a normal goodbye.  She was planning on ordering pizza that night when she got home.   I asked her to take me to the pool, and she couldn’t.  She was working overtime so that she could pay for this stupid class trip for me.”  Roni shakes her head bitterly, and Harry wants to say something, but he decides to let her sort through her own thoughts.

“I just thought that… maybe if I could go back to that day I could stop her, do you know what I mean?  I thought I could maybe warn her not to leave.  She would’ve listened to me.”  Roni chuckles softly to herself.  “I was always good at persuading her.”

They round the corner, beginning their ascent up the steps to Harry’s apartment.  He finally speaks as he fumbles with his keys.  “You know you can’t give up, right?  You’ve proven that time travel is real, now it’s just a matter of perfecting the specifics.”

Roni shrugs as Harry pushes his creaky front door open for her to walk through.  “I suppose,” she says, “I just don’t know if I want to risk going to another unfamiliar time period.  I’m not sure anyone else would be as kind as you.”

Her words tug at Harry’s heart strings as he locks the door behind him.  “Can I say something?”

Roni kicks off her shoes.  “Of course.”

“I’m really glad you showed up here.”  When Roni shoots Harry a look that says “don’t be cheesy,”  he giggles.  “I mean it! You’re somebody that I feel very, very lucky to have met.  You’re an incredible person.”

“Oh stop it.”  Roni and Harry make their way through the living room, while Harry begins unbuttoning his jacket and Roni fumbles to untie the neck-tie that has been itching her skin all night.

“I’m serious,” Harry says.  “You’re intelligent.  And witty.”

Roni smirks at him.  “Alright fine, keep going.”

“And funny,”  Harry adds with a pointed look.  “Gosh, Veronica, no one makes me laugh as hard as you do, you know that?”

“The feeling is mutual, dude.”  Roni frowns down at the knot that she still hasn’t been able to get untied, and Harry keeps talking.

“You keep me on my toes, but in the best way.”  Harry wiggles out of his jacket, placing it neatly over the back of a chair. “I never know what to expect from you.”

“Good,” Roni says, distracted and still scowling at the stubborn knot.  “I want to keep it that way.”

“You’re unlike any woman-- no, any person in general, I have ever met in my life.  And I’ve met a lot of people, you know.  You’re someone special.  I feel like you were meant to come into my life, even if you came from the future.  And--”  Harry trails off when he notices her struggling. “Do you need help with that?”

Roni frowns up at him, finally giving up.  “How tight did you tie this thing?!”

Harry laughs, making his way over to her.  “Alright, c’mere.  Let me see.”

It feels good to be this close to Roni again, and although they’d spent the last roughly three and a half hours dancing closely, this feels so much better.  Harry feels the same nervous energy he’d felt while tying this thing, but somehow he’s more confident about it now, and he doesn’t shy away from standing so close to her.

“You can keep going on about how great I am if you want,” Roni teases.

“Oh can I?” Harry asks.  “Thank you for your blessing, madam.”

“Anytime!”

Harry smiles, working at the knot gently and really searching to find the right words in his mind.  “Suppose everything I’ve been saying is rather sappy, innit?”

“I don’t mind.”

Harry’s heart pounds at her words, although he isn’t exactly nervous.  “Well, may I say something else sappy?”

“We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“Fair.”  Harry smiles.  Admittedly, he’s got the knot figured out and could easily side the tie off with no problem. But he likes having something for his fingers to fidget with, and he definitely  likes having his fingers so near her body.  “On top of everything else I’ve said, you are… undoubtedly… the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

Roni’s mouth falls open so subtly that Harry would have missed it if it wasn’t for the almost inaudible gasp that accompanied the movement.  He doesn’t look at her eyes, he instead focuses on the knot-- which he is now halfway done with.

“Harry.”

“Pardon me if I’m being too forward, Veronica.  I just think it’s high time that I let you know that. ��You deserve to be told that every day.”

Harry shakes the knot a bit, effectively loosening it so that it practically slides off.  But he doesn’t let go of the fabric, holding it loosely on either side of her neck.  He swallows and she lets out a shaky breath, eyes darting frantically along his face as if she can’t decide on a place for them to land.  The mood in the room has shifted entirely just from his one confession, because they both know that his words hold so much more depth to them.  He isn’t just complimenting her to fill the silence.  He means it, and he means so much more by it.

“Can I say something as well?”  Roni says quietly, and Harry only nods.  “You’re… the most wonderful person I’ve ever known, Harry.  And I wish… I wish I’d met you sooner.”

“I consider myself incredibly lucky to have met you,” Harry says.  “And I... I don’t know how long you’re going to be here with me for.  But I already wish I had longer with you.  And I wish you were mine.”

Roni licks her lips as their eyes finally meet.  They both wear looks of confusion, a bit of fear, and so much yearning that it would make Roni sick on any other day.  But now she’s here, and she’s feeling something she’s honestly never felt in her life.  She smiles, reaching up slowly to cup his cheek and run her thumb over the spot where his dimple lives.

“I wish that, too,” she says breathlessly.

Finally. Finally it’s the moment they’ve both been waiting for for so long.  Harry tugs lightly on the tie, pulling Roni in so close that their faces are practically touching.  It would be so easy for them to just do it, just tilt their heads the slightest bit and kiss already.  Roni feels jittery and shaky, and Harry reaches up to take the wrist of the hand that cups his face.

They’re so close that Roni can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and she swallows down all of the words that she’s dying to say.  She licks her lips, only briefly giving in to the “what if’s” swimming around in her brain, and she removes her eyes from his swollen pink lips.  She scans the dip of his cupid’s bow, the little mole on the corner of his chin, the point of his nose, and finally his green eyes that match the intensity on his face.  Memories of the image she’d woken up to this morning float back into her mind,-- images of him, naked and swollen and whining-- and this time she lets them linger for a moment.  Enjoying the way the sight had made her feel.  Enjoying the way that that same hand feels now against her wrist.

“Harry,” Roni whispers.

Harry bumps his nose to hers, lips so close that she can practically taste them.  “Yes, love?”

Roni wants to stop herself from saying what she’s about to say.  More than anything she wants to give in to this boy who’s standing so close to her, she wants to fasten their lips together and taste him.  She wants to kiss his neck, and she wants him to kiss hers.  She wants to touch him, lick him, bury him inside of her until they pass out from exhaustion.  And she wants to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again.

But instead, she says something she almost instantly regrets.

“I can’t.”

[sherlollydramoine]

Here’s just a quick preview of some stuff...

The last day I’ve felt somewhat inspired to write. I have a few different pieces that I’m working on right now. Thought I’d give you all a little preview of the currently unedited pieces I’m working on. These are NOT all of my WIP’s, but just a small handful. Keep in mind all of these are unedited, and mostly in the rough draft phase of writing. I hope this gives you all some hope that I will be back. I have a few ideas for a few other fics as well. The ideas keep flowing but I just can’t write them fast enough. If any of you other Rami/Rami character writers would like some ideas, I have several that I’m willing to give away if you need some inspiration or ideas.

Again these are just previews, some of them are little snippets, some are a good little chunk of each WIP. Please enjoy! :) Be sure to give me feedback on anything that you want to see, and as always even though I’m a little slow moving... my ask box is ALWAYS open for requests. Please, start submitting requests through my ask box and not through messages because they get lost. Thank you all! Love you! :)

WARNINGS: Most of these contain language, some are just pure angst, some are just fluffy and cute, referenced or outright drug use, unprotected sex (y’all for reals.. wrap it before you tap it), dom/sub sexual themes, and some are the beginnings of just plain smut, 18+ only. Please, if you are under 18, DO NOT read this content.

1 BoRhap boys piece:

“So basically lads, she’s not getting out of bed unless we make her.” Gwil adds from his position by the window. He gets a devious smirk on his face before he pulls open the curtains with a yank of the chain, causing you to yelp, and everyone else to  start laughing. Suddenly you find the bed being invaded by three very male bodies as each one settles on a different side of you. Joe on your left, Rami on your right, and Gwil at your feet; wearing matching devious smiles. Without warning you find your body being forcibly lifted off the bed and carried out into the communal area of the shared suite before being unceremoniously dumped onto the sofa.

Shooting death glares at all three men you speak up, “I’m outta bed, someone give me coffee now or I’m gonna tell the press that Joe and Ben had an affair and that Rami and Gwil non-platonically share a bed every night.”

Gasps could be heard followed shortly by the full on dramatics of three trained actors as Gwil pretended to be somehow mortally wounded, Rami just threw himself on the opposite sofa while dramatically sighing and throwing his arm over his face as if he had fainted, and Joe decided to dramatically yelp out “Y/N how could you? I thought that was our little secret.”

2 A Tasty Snack piece:

You can't ever help yourself when it comes to Rami. He's just so beautiful and playful that he makes you laugh just as often as he makes you horny. 

One afternoon on a lazy day, you were both lounging by the pool, him munching away on his Red Vines, you laying on your back on one of the lounge chairs. You feel his eyes on you and you can't help but to turn your head toward him. 

With a brow arched you casually ask him what has caught his attention. 

"I want to eat you out. I want you on your back, legs spread, and my face between those beautiful thighs." he dead pans, as he loudly continues chewing his red licorice. 

Taken aback by his casual response, you smirk to yourself. 

"Is that right sir?" you ask as you stand.

 "You want to taste my pussy?" you question as you begin to slide your bathing suit down your legs. 

You feel his eyes on you, his body never moving from the spot he had earlier claimed. 

"Because I want to feel your hot mouth on me. If you're hungry, come and get."

3 A random piece with 2 OC characters

“Fine then, why the hell don’t we play the compliments game? You guys remember how it works right? I think I’ll make this easy for everyone. Rami you compliment Lily and then I guess that means that Joe can compliment me. Once the guys have gone, the girls will compliment the guys back. I think that’s the best way to start the game. Yes, that’s the rules. I think those are good rules?! Does everyone understand because I am looking at a gaggle of confused faces?” Rose suggested, with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll go first.” Rami volunteer with a smile while openly staring at Lily.

Rose and Joe share a conspiratorial smile with each other before leaning back in their seats.

“This outta be good.” Joe giggles before Rose kicks him in the shin.

“Joe stop. This is the compliments game not the how to be an asshole game.” Lily scolds while Joe rubs his sore shin. 

4 Your Fantasy, My Game - a role-play with Rami in character as Snafu & Joe as Sledge. This is getting hot!! 

As you kicked your front door behind you, you balanced your work bag and a small bag of groceries. Setting your keys on the hook by the door and bags on the ground, you sighed, relieved. You wanted nothing more than to curl up with the one man who had been occupying your mind all day, so you called out,

"Babe, I'm home!" 

An eerie silence followed, as did a familiar smell.  It only took a second to discern what it was - cigarette smoke. Brows furrowed, you walked cautiously toward its source. It was unlike Rami to smoke sober, and inside - what on earth would possess him? 

Any further questions vanished the moment you stepped foot in your living room. A thin cloud of smoke parted slowly, almost cinematically to reveal a sight so thigh clenchingly appealing, you did just that - clenched them, hard. 

Sitting on the couch was your husband Rami and his friend and sometimes guest star of your wet dreams, Joe. Both were shirtless, wearing nothing but marine green pants, boots and dog tags, loosely hanging from their necks. 

A series of incoherent noises escaped you, you didn't know what to think, or say.

"Hey uhh...What are you? Oh Man is this - Babe?" you stuttered out, anticipation growing as you realised that your husband decided to make your fantasy a reality.

Rami simply smirked, nudging Joe as he scoffed,

"Naw, look at dat. Baby girl is already a mess boo, and we ain't even touched her." 

It was with a thick Cajun accent he spoke, his dark eyes piercing yours. Undeniably wet and suddenly flustered, you coughed into your clenched fist, your other hand flailing about before resting on your hip.

 With a practiced carelessness, Rami smiled, before lazily directing his attention to Joe beside him.  

"Whad'ya say Sledge?" He quirked a brow.  "Ya ready for a taste? I promise she's a-b-s-o-lutely delicious."

Joe gulped, head turning and eyes locking with yours. He gave you a once over, eyes raking up and down your worn out office attire as his pale cheeks began heating up. The only response he could muster was a nervous giggle and lip bite that made your stomach flutter. 

You couldn't believe the sight before you. 

It was then Rami - no - Snafu spoke again,

"Baby girl, I want ya to take Sledge to the bedroom. I'll be there in a minute. An’ Sledge, don't be scared to touch her. She loves it."

Both of you nod, fully aware of who is in charge of this whole thing. 

5 All The Things He Said - a modern AU Snafu piece

With tears falling freely, you were able to muster up the courage to tell him the news. It had taken you several weeks to even be brave enough to call him to inform him that you wanted to talk. You were sick to your stomach with nerves and morning sickness; wanting nothing more than to run away somewhere and never return. But you couldn’t, you had to face your demons head on, and tell him the news you weren't expecting to go over very well given the volatile nature of your complicated relationship, or rather un-relationship, at this point.

“You wanted to talk Y/N. So fucking talk.” Merriell snapped at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Merriell, I’m pregnant.” you stated with your arms folded across your chest, and 

He just stares at you with an unreadable expression for far longer than was comfortable, before he decides to open his mouth and speak. Of course, because it’s him, it had to be the worst possible thing that anyone could ever say in that moment.

"Well, is it mine?" those piercing green eyes staring at you, accusatory. 

"I swear to God Merriell, I ought to punch you in your beautiful fucking mouth. Just because you can't keep it in your pants, doesn't mean that I cheated. Jesus. Fuck. Seriously? I gave you way to many years of my life, you piece of shit, and that, that is the first thing you could think to say?! Fuck. Really? Seriously? I really, fucking hate you! You know what, fuck you asshole, I'll make an appointment at the clinic first thing in the morning so that way we wont have to deal with this. How about that? "

His eyes cast downward in shame, the slightest tinge of red to his olive complexion, as he shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning against the wall. 

" I'm sorry. Y/N, please, please, don't kill our baby. I love you." 

You couldn't help but scoff at his statement. All of the anger rage that you’d been holding in for way to long is bubbling its way to the surface, and you can’t help the venom that came flying out of  your mouth.

"Oh you fucking love me? Ha!!! Years of me putting up with your drunken shenanigans, constant infidelity, and all of the gaslighting? You think that’s love? Jesus fucking Christ, Merriell, were you dropped on your fucking head as a baby? The never ending fighting, cheating, and lies that made up the foundation of our relationship, that’s love to you? Hahahaha! You wouldn’t know what love was if it hit you in the face asshole. You know what the saddest part about that fucked up statement coming from you is?”

@xmxisxforxmaybe @txmel @itsme690 @free-rami @mezzomercury @mrhoemazzello @lablanchett @rami-malek-trash @ramimedley

[fallingin-like]

november 21

push to talk by @alexjosten​ [requested by @nikothespoonklepto]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is a delightfully engaging fic based on the game firewatch that follows neil as he spends a summer as a fire lookout, isolated except for radio communication with andrew, a fire lookout in the adjacent sector of the park. this is such an intense, fun, beautiful, and humorous fic.

i remember enjoying this so much as it came out, eagerly awaiting each new chapter. you drew me in so easily and deeply that i watched a whole playthrough of this game. i can fully appreciate how well you were able to translate the plot, gameplay, interactions between characters, and the stunning visuals so so seamlessly and have it aftg so well.

some parts that stood out to me:

”dusk settles on the trees like clay powder, dusting the evergreens with a red tint” woah this is such a gorgeous way of starting off this fic.

”the moon extends her helping hand to guide him out into a clearing. here, neil can see. but also, he can be seen” i love these descriptions, and our introduction to neil. 

”he ignores his sleeping bag and the strict instructions to camp at nightfall and continue during the day” ah yes, Neil I Do What I Want Josten strikes again, with little regard for what people tell him to do

”if he’s not careful, the black dirt beneath his feet could bleed crimson. the exact combination of colours he came out here to avoid” this is stunning. i am immediately drawn into this fic, wanting to know what or who exactly neil is running from, and where he’s going

”buttermilk rays whisk the shadows of leaves into a dance on the forest floor beneath his feet” !! buttermilk?? somehow that works so so well

”the irony of calling it that in his head isn’t lost on him, and he vows to avoid that comparison again” what a subtle detail, but so telling! i am pretty bad with reading tags a lot of the time, so this was a great introduction to raven!neil

”it’s as exposing as it is freeing. he can’t feel trapped when he can see for miles every way he turns” wow it’s still so early in the fic, but you’ve already done an exceptional job at justifying neil choosing to come here, to escape.

foxtrot tower is such a cute name! i love that it’s not something directly taken from the books, this name seems to fit this au so well. i know that you likely had the game as reference for the tower, but i really liked the way you describe it, you were able to establish the same tone that exists in the game, but you did it through words instead of visuals and audio, something that really impresses me

”glad to hear you’re literate enough to have read the dossier” ohmygoodness ANDREW

”andrew’s tone is playful. neil thinks it might even be flirtatious, but he doesn’t care enough right now to find out” as much as i enjoy oblivious!neil, i appreciate that this version of neil is more aware, he seems more in tune with things around him. it fits better with this story, with the isolation and only communication being through the radio

”the sky slips into a more comfortable pink, the sun laying down to rest amongst the mountains” am i ever going to get over your descriptions of the environment? i don’t think so

of course neil goes for a run, basically right after doing a super intense two day hike in one day

”andrew sounds agitated” I LOVE THIS

oh dang, neil’s panic is so sudden, i’m so immersed that i immediately felt nervous too

”it’s our job to watch the horizon, neil. it’s not my fault you’re on mine” oh this is so good

”neil doesn’t believe in coincidences. he believes in traps and ill intentions, because that’s all his life has been until now”  it’s honestly amazing how quickly the atmosphere of this fic has turned to something a little bit darker, kind of scary. we know neil as a runner, but the idea of someone finding him so soon and trying to lure him out? gives me chills

“he doesn’t realise his hands are shaking until he struggles to press the push-to-talk button” PUSH TO TALK I AM SO FOND OF FICS THAT INCLUDE THE TITLE OF THE FIC IN THEIR FIC. also shaky hands are my kryptonite

”he also takes the cleaver from the kitchen counter” NEIL I- I AM SPEECHLESS

”a small sensible part of his brain tries to convince him that there are much easier ways to kill him than leading him out in the middle of nowhere, in a forest that he told nobody from his past life that he would be living in, where he uses a new name that nobody knows” !! good to hear that neil has a sensible part of his brain LOL

”but underestimating his enemies and their taste for dramatics would be a mistake” neil of all people does have a good reason for being paranoid. i love that you have this separated as a different paragraph, i read it differently because of it and i think that it adds more gravity to the sentence

”there, he finds a lipstick-red tent, zipper teeth yawning open to reveal two pink sleeping bag tongues” the imagery!!! incredible

”he feels like a walking timebomb” yeah i am definitely nervous for neil

”’girls don’t do it for you?’ andrew’s curiosity has a hopeful slant” OHMYGOODNESS ANDREW

”andrew’s voice is a firm, solid reassurance” bless andrew

”neil never thought he’d be relieved to meet someone who didn’t like exy” i also never thought that. neil you are a changed man

ooh the backstory to the fireworks is so good! i was also thinking it was a little out of character, but this is the perfect reason that renee would let it slide!

”the stars are withering in the purpling sky” i could cry because i love your writing so much

A MAN I AM FREAKING OUT. WHO IS HE

the easygoing banter between andrew and neil is so great, their conversation is interesting and flows really well

”he’s almost home” it amazes me and really shows something about this version of neil that he’s so quick to call this tower his home

”i know i needed to do this, but i am not sure i am ready to be so alone” woah break my heart why don’t you? this hits really close to home,, how dare you make me feel emotions

”i usually take a more straightforward approach” andrew never lies, but this is the truest thing he has ever said

”they’ll probably never meet, because neil intends on spending the rest of his summer without meeting another soul, andrew included” hmmm why do i have the sneaking suspicion that this will not be the case?

”neil’s not sure what grindr is but his face heats up all the same” this sentence is a MOOD (except i do know what grindr is)

”andrew’s response is sharp like a blade. ‘why? because one of the girls called you scarface?’ neil feels himself flinch” hhh i am secretly a very big fan of scenes that include neil’s scars, so you got me here

”andrew keeps neil company on the hour hike up to the north of his sector, but his usual commentary seems a bit strained today” uhH what’s going on, i’m getting scared

DID ANDREW BRING NEIL OVER JUST SO HE CAN SEE WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE? 

ohmygoodness, neil leaving andrew pictures and a sweatshirt? so so so cute

”he imagines the fear they felt when they saw him holding it wasn’t too unlike the fear that used to paralyse him when his father, or lola, would threaten him back home” woah this is good

i would bet that allison was the one to write that letter haha i can imagine that renee is likely kind of shaken by the incident, otherwise she might not have let allison leave it behind

andrew is such a good companion for neil, calming him both by his presence and by logically explaining what could have happened to the tent. he’s an anchor

”he feels like the cleaver he had attempted to defend himself with on his first day now carries a foreboding aura” YEAH I’M GETTING PRETTY NERVOUS TOO

WAIT NATHAN IS DEAD? THANK GOODNESS

woah so interesting to learn about neil’s backstory and his reason for not going pro “his offers to join pro teams curled up like dead leaves in a fire” dang, referencing both his burns and his new job? so good

ANDREW MINYARD IMITATING A VALLEY GIRL I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE PLEASE

oo that subtle way of mentioning andrew’s memory

i am so emotional, andrew is just so so good. makes me feel all the feelings ;-;

”andrew sounds like a bristled up cat tail” CUTE!!

i am dying to know what is going on in andrew’s head, during this conversation, when he left his tower to see neil, and really, just throughout this whole fic

woah i really like the way that you had neil describe his asexuality. it’s something that i recognize in myself and i like the way that you handled it.

 >:C 

them drawing each other?? peak cute. i want that to happen to me (have someone who doesn’t know what i look like try and draw me)

”neil waits for him to say more. he doesn’t. oh. that’s why. ‘heh’” LOLOL

you know what, i actually,,, only recognized the name draco malfoy LOL

ANDREW PRETENDING THAT HE DOESN’T ACTUALLY KNOW AARON OH MY GOODNESS. I CANNOT BELIEVE HE PRETENDED TO GET HIS NAME WRONG. “i look like him. but hotter and better dressed” ANDREW HOW GOOD TO YOU DRESS YOU LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FOREST. this whole section is hilarious and really helps lighten the tone and keep things playful

”’why would i wear that?’ andrew’s response is too quick and defensive” *unintelligible screaming*

ANDREW DRAWING NEIL IN TINY RUNNING SHORTS. THIS! MAN! I CAN’T HANDLE HIM

”neil gets into the routine of falling asleep next to his radio, talking to andrew deep into the night, far past his ability to keep his eyes open. they take turns drifting off mid conversation…” this is the softest thing ever

”considering neil’s job is to prevent forest fires, there’s a certain irony in how beautiful the park is when painted the colours of flames” oh (like a good oh)

ANDREW REJECTING NEIL REALLY JUST BROKE MY HEART WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO ME

”his heart tumbles from his chest and falls to the bottom of the ravine. he doesn’t understand why it was so close to the railings of his ribcage in the first place” this is so so beautiful even though it’s describing something so sad. makes me feel achy

drunk andrew. how is it that you, alexjosten, seem to know everything that i love in a fic?

”neil’s cabin floods with light. how real is neil josten without nathaniel wesninski filling his shell? with a snap, it’s gone.” uh this is so incredible, i love how you split everything up into its own paragraph, their conversation so similar to the storm. ugh i can’t get enough

”still, neil feels the change: the undeniable part of him where his branches have been torn asunder and his bark has been scorched away to expose his core” every time i think that this sentence is the best, and every time you blow me away again. i can’t describe how this sentence makes me feel

the scene of neil rescuing allison and renee fills me with adrenaline, it’s so intense

having the girls recognize neil was like being trapped in a nightmare, there was nothing i could do but read on and see how it ends. dajsflks. but also i really hope that neil got back his jacket and sweater lol

WHAT IN THE WORLD NEIL HAVING TO PLAY A GAME ON CODEINE, RIKO TRYING TO KILL NEIL ON TV, THIS IS SO INTENSE. also, i love what you’ve done with this

dang, how does andrew know kevin?

andrew’s gifts for neil are so cute. i am here just freaking out!!!!

A PUFFBALL DANDELION 

“you sweet, sheltered city child” oh my goodness adorable

”you’re going to go nuts when i tell you what a caterpillar turns into” ANDREW

THE BEAR. THE JUMP

honestly, i’m a little surprised that neil wasn’t supplied with bear spray

”’andrew, i don’t think they’re coming for me.’ ‘of course they’re not.’ neil’s heart sinks. ‘they’re not?’ ‘i am’” KFAJSDFJPOJAFD THIS GLORIOUS INTERACTION WILL FOREVER BE WITH ME

THEM TRAVELLING AND EVERYTHING WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE BECAUSE OF THE DARK. ALSO ANDREW BEING SUPER BUFF AND PICKING NEIL UP NO BIG DEAL

”we had your face on a dart board in the break room” AHHHH

”the only consolation is it smells of the andrew who just walked two hours to rescue him from the side of a cliff, and then spent another two hours carrying him here” i don’t even know what to say

wait andrew knew who neil was the whole time oh my goodness

THE GAME IS ANIMAL CROSSING. this is now and forevermore considered canon! 

ANDREW DROPPING THE GAME HE’S SO TIRED. ANDREW MY BABY

ANDREW’S DRAWING OF NEIL

”half of andrew’s sandwich is in his mouth, and he kind of looks like a hamster” adorable!

okay okay jean and jeremy being the two trading letters? so so good.

THE ENDING WITH ANDREW TELLING STORIES ABOUT NEIL BEING DEAD

the last chapter was amazing, i loved the way that you wrote the interactions between andrew and neil, they fit so well together. i also appreciate that you deviated from the game and had them meet! it is infinitely more satisfying. this was such an easy fic to read, everything felt right. i love your characterization of both of them. to have andrew treat neil the way that he did, knowing who neil was? amazing

also, can i just say that the moodboards that you include at the beginning of each chapter are amazing? they really helped with establishing the tone of the fic.

this fic is so intense, i was constantly amazed by how i was so fully immersed in it. everything that neil felt, i felt. your descriptions were gorgeous and i could not get enough of them. there were so many small details, sentences that were pure gems, that rereading this was just as, if not more, enjoyable than the first time. i really cannot put to words how much i loved reading this. thank you so so much for writing it!

[uglypastels]

Here’s a Tom Holland request: Tom is working on a film away from home and he is dating the reader. They facetime every night or as often as possible because they miss each other so much, and Tom eventually tries to heat things up with her over facetime and she’s down but she actually doesn’t know how to masturbate. Tom doesn’t know this and feels really bad when he gets off and she physically can’t finish and she’s embarrassed. Just an idea, I understand if you don’t want to write it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It is 1 am. I am miserable and eating pretzel sticks in bed while trying not to burst out into tears. I certainly did not think I would be writing this at the same time, but thank you nonnie for the request. I have no idea what I’m doing but I hope you enjoy (I also realize that while writing I completely lost track of what you requested so it is a bit different. I’m sorry)

“smut” under the cut ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

______________________________________

You just got out of the shower when your phone starts to ring. Hair still wet and only a towel around your body. Droplets of water follow you everywhere as you walk around the room. At first, you want to ignore the ringtone. Let it go to voicemail or let the person call you again when you weren’t naked.

Then your eyes fall on the actual screen of your phone. The picture of your boyfriend lit up brightly. You basically lunge yourself forward on the bed and grab it, swiping your finger across the screen to start the conversation.

“Hey babe,” Tom’s voice is filled with sleep. The light around him was dimmed. Probably only coming from a little light next to his bed. He was sitting in bed. A pillow behind his shoulders. A tired smile on his face, but a smile nonetheless. A smile you had been deprived of seeing in real life for the last few weeks. A smile you missed so badly that you dreamed about it every night.

“Hiya Tommy.” you smile back. You stay flat on your stomach. Phone in one hand as you use the other to push away the wet strands of hair from your face. One, in particular, got in your eye. You blinked a few times for the sting to go away. When you look back at the screen, you see your boyfriend staring. It was as if he was in a trance.

“Babe?” you ask worried, “What’s wrong?” Now he blinks. Twice. His eyes gain back the focus and he starts to stumble over his words.

“Uhh, nothing. Did you just get out of the shower?”

“Yeah. I got out right before you called. Why you asking?” you mindlessly play with your hair as you talked.

“So you only got that towel on?” He had to clear his throat as his sentence ended a bit croaky. You glared at him, also a bit confused. Then you see his face. His eyes slightly darker than they were moments before. His lips wet from when he had run his tongue over them just seconds ago.

“Yes, Tom. I’m naked. God, can you like, not be horny for one second.” You laugh.

“Sorry babe. I don’t think I can. I miss you too much and seeing you like that literally drives me crazy.”

“Oh does it now?” You smirk. You pull yourself up on one arm and move to the headboard of the bed to sit in the same position as Tom was in, only thousand and thousands of miles away.

“Uhum, love,” he clears his throat again. You look at him and see that suggestive glimmer in his eyes. You find yourself looking at the corner of your screen, where you see yourself. You notice that your towel had moved while you were moving around, now revealing most of your chest.

“Tom, how old are you again?” You try to pull up the towel with one hand but then hear a groan come from Tom’s side of the call.

“No, babe. Please don’t cover yourself. I miss you.” You stop as he continues. “I miss your gorgeous body. Fuck, please just drop that towel darling.” With an eye roll, you do as he asks. The smile on his face becomes brighter and wider.

“Happy?”  

“Yes, Fuck, babe. Remind me again, how did I ever got so lucky to call you mine?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think for a moment. “I don’t know. All that charity you do must bring you some really good karma I suppose.” you laugh and he chuckles, throwing his head back just a little.

“Seriously though, seeing you like that makes me want to get on the next flight home and just-” he groans. You know pretty well where he had been going with that sentence.

“Love,” he speaks with a sudden softness. You quirk an eyebrow at him, showing him to go on. “Can you touch yourself for me?”

The question made your face heat up all the way to your ears. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a solid good ten seconds, you forget how to talk.  

“W-what?” you stutter. You had never done anything like that in front of Tom. Or, actually, ever at all. At least not properly. You just weren’t comfortable with your body that way. It had taken you a few tries with Tom until you were sure what to do with yourself but now, without him, you felt completely lost.

Tom had in the meantime scooted up in his position on the bed. The arm that had been lazily placed behind his head was now lowered. Most definitely busy untying the string of his sweatpants or pulling down his boxers.

“Please love, make yourself feel good. On my behalf.” he winks playfully.

You see his shoulder moving. You see how he bites his lip, most likely holding back a moan. The sight of your boyfriend touching himself like that, even though you didn’t actually see anything, was definitely a turn on… but your lack of knowledge about your own body threw that arousal away right at the same time.

“I can’t.” you blurted out. Tom’s whole body freezes. For a second you think that the connection messed up again. His eyes were wide open.

Then he shakes his head. “What? Why? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Of course, that idiot thought you were sick.

“I’m fine Tom, I just- I just don’t know how…”

He was clearly confused. “What do you mean you don’t know how?” he gasps. “Love, do you not know how to touch yourself?” You just nod, too embarrassed to answer appropriately.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“For one, its embarrassing, two, I never needed to do it myself. You always make me feel so good Tommy.” That was true. Tom was amazing in bed. He somehow always knew what you needed without a single point of guidance. He just knew how to do it.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend doesn’t know how to masturbate.” Tom laughed.

“Fine, be like that. I’m hanging up.” of course you weren’t going to but the panic that jumped up on Tom was rather enjoyable.

“No, babe, please don’t. It was just a joke.”

“Yeah, it’s funny for you when you have it so easy. You barely have to do anything.”

“So have I never made you cum with my fingers?” Tom raised an eyebrow. It always stunned you how easy it was for him to talk like that. Your cheeks immediately heated up again.

“You have. But-”

“That’s exactly the same thing! It’s really not that hard babe. If I can do it, so can you”

You just sighed. That little sound being enough for Tom to understand what was going on in your head.

“I understand but know what, babe,” he was back to his soft voice, “When I get back in a week, I will teach you.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous Tom.”

“I’m not being ridiculous. When I get back, I will make sure that you know how to work those pretty fingers of yours to get you to your release in mere seconds.” He smirked. “But, before we can go all the way to the advanced classes, you got to know the basics first.” This made you a bit nervous.

“Let me tell you how to feel good kitten.”

the End 

tagging (idk why, pls ignore this): @thelazypangolin @andwhatdostarsdobest @tomhollanders2013 @dtftomholland @summernykole @nerdraging4point0  @butwhyduh

[damienthepious]

*taps mic* hello y’all! for this week’s LKT, i proudly present to you... *checks notes* ... *coughs* ... uhh it’s just pwp!!

Awake With Wolf Teeth

[ao3]

[Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, (i'm not a scalie but i'm also not a coward), Pining, Reunion Sex, (jesus fuck how do people tag things i'm such a disaster), Biting, Quiet Sex, Sneaky Sex, (adflkajds i hope y'all like this...... i mean... i do? but what the hell do I know??????)

Summary: Sir Damien has been gone for weeks now, and Lord Arum is incapable of waiting a single moment more before he can hold him again.

Notes: Look. I swear I'm writing smut that's NOT just these two. I have uhhhh three more in the works, two with all three of them and one that's Arum/Rilla. This one just. Took over my brain. uhhhhhhh have fun I hope????? *slinks away anxiously* Title taken from the song Heartbeats, by José González.]

~

What Arum is doing today ranks on the list of the riskiest things that he has ever done. It is dangerous, and foolish, and completely necessary because if Arum does not get to touch his knight again very soon he feels as if he is going to catch fire and burn up to a husk.

Damien has been gone for more than a month now. The Citadel has him and a cadre of less skilled knights on a pointless hunt for a creature they will almost certainly fail to catch (then again, with Damien’s considerable skill he can be sure of nothing), and Arum has, bit by bit, been losing his ability to function with each day of his absence.

It’s madness, really.

His entire life, it has been just himself and the Keep, but suddenly now that Amaryllis and Damien have insinuated themselves into his life and his heart and his bed, he has become terrifyingly reliant on them. He is furious with Amaryllis about it as well, because she seems to be handling the lack of their knight with substantially more grace than Arum is.

“Hey,” she says as she strokes his arm soothingly, as she kisses the scales beside his frill. “It’s alright, Arum. I’ve just had a lot more practice, worrying about Damien while he’s gone. Of course you want him back. Missing him is nothing to be ashamed of.”

He scoffs, of course. He’s not ashamed, not of this and not of anything. What Arum is, is irritated. He is irritated with Amaryllis, for being so earnest and understanding about the whole thing (he clings to her in bed when she stays the night, and he knows she is as acutely aware of the empty space in their bed as he is). He is irritated with himself for his new and unwelcome weaknesses (like a missing limb, Damien being gone, like his mind is a fuzzy and unwelcome place). He is irritated with Damien himself (a vague mental litany, oscillating between how dare you leave and please come back). He is irritated with the knights that are so ungratefully lucky to share their time with Damien in his absence. He is irritated, he finds, with everyone and everything involved in keeping Arum away from his poet.

“Saints above, just go to him then if you’re so torn up about it,” Amaryllis says a few days later, and behind the exasperation in her tone there is a worry that rankles. The idea of it, though, of seeing Damien early- the very idea sets his heart racing, and he can tell that Amaryllis sees it in his eyes. “According to his letters he’ll be passing pretty close to the western edge of the swamp over the next day or so,” she says. “Just- go and see him before you drive me crazy right along with you.”

“I-” he scoffs. Again. “I am perfectly fine, Amaryllis. I do not need to be coddled or- I do not need to see him.”

“I know,” Amaryllis says with a sigh, and then she lifts a hand to cup his cheek. “But I know that you want to. I get it, Arum, I really do. When we started seeing each other, the first time he left to go on a longer mission, I didn’t even know that I could miss a person like that. Just- promise me if you do go see him, you’ll be careful? Last thing we would need is for one of his little traveling buddies to spot you sneaking around their camp, you know?”

Arum doesn’t even know what part of that to be most offended by, which he later suspects is intentional misdirection on the part of the herbalist, but when she affectionately pats his cheek and departs through a portal back to her hut for her next appointment, Arum can’t stop thinking about the possibility.

Can’t stop thinking about seeing Damien, holding Damien. When he tries to do some work in the greenhouse he drops an entire tray of tools at the unbidden memory of Damien’s dexterous fingers, twirling an arrow before he notches it. He snarls at the Keep when it asks if he is feeling ill, then quickly, quietly apologizes. Obviously he is in no state to work, which has begun to feel more demoralizing than infuriating.

By the time Amaryllis returns to join him for dinner, he relents, defeated, and over their meal she helps him work out the most likely spot for him to potentially intercept their knight. Arum wants to bring her along as well (he does not simply wish to trade which of his lovers he is missing, he wants to have them both, they belong in his arms-), but she shakes her head.

“Maybe you can sneak into a camp of sleeping knights without any issues, Arum, but I don’t exactly have your stealth. You go,” she says, and kisses him on the cheek. “Tell him I miss him and he’d better hurry up. Have fun,” she says with a sly grin, “and be careful.”

And Arum grumbles, and clings even more tightly to her for a long, quiet stretch before the sun goes down, but as soon as it is properly dark he nuzzles a lingering goodbye into her hair and then portals to the westernmost reach of his land.

It doesn’t take more than a few hours to find evidence of them – humans are not adept at crossing the wilderness without leaving a rather obvious trail – and then perhaps an hour more to follow that trail to its conclusion.

The knights are all sleeping in small, individual tents arranged around a central campfire which has already burned down to the dimmest embers, which is rather convenient as far as Arum is concerned. There is a knight he does not know standing watch, but Arum slips past easily with a combination of subtle camouflage and cunning, and it only takes a moment of scenting the air to find the only tent he cares about.

(Arum feels a senseless pulse of fury with the watchman; a monster with half his skill and none of his affection could slip past in the night, endangering his honeysuckle, and that possibility is utterly unacceptable-)

It is too dark for human vision inside Damien’s tent, but Arum is beyond those sorts of limitations. He can see the sleeping form of his knight easily, and he looks smaller without his armor on, looks vulnerable curled alone in a thin bedroll on the uneven ground, and Arum has the hot urge to scoop him up and simply use his emergency packet of swamp dirt to ferry the both of them back home right this instant, to put Damien back exactly where he belongs, in Arum’s bed between himself and their herbalist.

He takes a breath, putting a stopper to his more unreasonable urges, and then he slinks closer.

Damien is a trained and skillful knight, of course, and Damien is also, in a word, vocal, so the first thing Arum does when he is close enough is to very, very gently place one of his palms over Damien’s mouth, running a second hand soothingly through his hair and hissing in a shushing way as Damien’s eyes flutter open in the dark, as his body jolts underneath Arum’s own.

“Only me, honeysuckle,” Arum says in his lowest whisper, close against Damien’s ear, and the knight relaxes so instantly that Arum fears for a moment that he has somehow fallen right back to sleep. Damien lifts his hands, though, pressing his palms against Arum’s chest as if he’s checking that the lizard is actually real. “I hope you will forgive me for waking you,” Arum hisses, uncovering Damien’s mouth now that he’s sure Damien is not going to shout.

“What are you doing here?” Damien whispers, words tumbling together in his haste. “How-”

“You have been gone entirely too long, honeysuckle. I wanted-” Arum starts, but almost every way that he could end that sentence is actually too embarrassing to stand. “I wanted- you,” he settles on eventually, and Arum is close enough that he can feel the way Damien’s breathing shifts deeper.

“I… this is like a dream, Lord Arum,” Damien whispers, joy and desire balancing perfectly on his tongue as his hands drift across Arum’s shoulders. “Each night out here, each night alone, each night has been spent wanting you, wanting Rilla, wanting the both of you together, dreaming of your touch and then waking alone, and to dream your touch and then to realize that it is no dream at all-”

Arum purrs low, Damien’s words working their usual obscene magic on his body, making his own heart race, and he has missed this, he has missed this foolish little creature so absurdly much. He flicks his tongue out to run up the delicious column of Damien’s throat, his hands in Damien’s hair, on his shoulders, pulling the bedroll down. “No dream, honeysuckle,” he breathes. “I… I thought that perhaps you could do with a reminder of what is waiting for you at home, when you complete your little errand out here.” He scrapes his teeth gently back down Damien’s neck, over his shoulder. “I thought I should give you a taste of what you have surely been missing, while I have this chance, while you were close enough to reach.”

“A taste,” Damien repeats breathlessly. “Oh Saints, oh Saints I have been dreaming of a taste nearly every night, my lily-”

“Then allow me to indulge you,” Arum says softly, his hands working quickly and efficiently to pull away the fabric of blankets, the fabric of clothing which separate their bodies, baring Damien's skin and his own scales in the safety of the dark. “Though, you must promise me that you will try to keep control of that tongue of yours as you take that taste. I believe this is what one might call a tryst, honeysuckle, and I do not think that either of us would appreciate interruption by any particularly sharp-eared cohorts of yours.”

Damien’s eyes widen, and Arum suspects that the knight is only now remembering his surroundings in earnest, as surprised as he is with this nighttime visit.

“O-of course,” he pants, and Arum grins in the dark before he slithers his body down.

“Good,” he hisses. “I think, however, that I will take my taste before I give you yours.”

Predictably, Damien makes a soft noise when one of Arum’s hands presses down on his hip and his tongue flicks a tickling line down his stomach, but Damien slaps a hand over his own mouth just in time to muffle the gasp he gives as another of Arum’s hands impatiently finds his hardening cock. He gives Damien a few slow, soft strokes to start, drinking in the way that he trembles and jerks his hips up towards Arum’s touch. This- this is how Damien should be, reveling in joy and touch, utterly spoiled by the caresses of his lovers, appreciated and adored.

Arum moves his hand faster, purring low and entirely out of his own control, and he watches Damien near-silently writhe beneath him.

Damien’s heartbeat- Damien’s heat-

He still and forever fills Arum with an urgent, desperate sort of hunger.

Arum loosens his grip, wrapping his thumb and two fingers around the base of Damien’s cock so that when he slips his tongue out he can twine it around the rest of his length. Damien muffles the noises he can’t help but make, the joyous-overwhelmed gasp that Arum is gleefully familiar with by now, and Arum chuckles, low enough not to be heard but just enough that he knows Damien will feel it.

As his tongue works, twisting and squeezing and flicking, his free hands are quietly busy as well, uncorking the small vial of oil he had the foresight to bring and slicking his fingers (on one of the hands he keeps with claws blunted and softened, just for this, just for giving pleasure to his fragile humans), before he slips them teasingly up the inside of Damien’s thighs.

“Arum,” Damien whispers through his fingers, and his other hand reaches clumsily down through the darkness until he can caress Arum’s face, until he can run his palm up over one of Arum’s horns and grip there, not pushing or pulling Arum where he wants him, but merely scrabbling for purchase as Arum plies and pleasures him. Arum growls low and careful, squeezing his tongue around Damien’s length in a rippling wave, and then he presses a slick finger slowly up and in.

Damien holds his breath rather than whine, and Arum pauses, waits for Damien to relax around him and catch his breath before he moves his hand again. He unwinds his tongue from around Damien’s cock, letting the hand around its base resume its previous determined stroke as he lifts himself to better watch Damien’s reactions as he slowly twists his finger, slowly pumps it in and out.

Careful, careful. Arum is… particularly careful, this night. Particularly attentive, particularly focused. It has been too long since he has been allowed this, and he wants to indulge himself- but more than that, Arum wants very dearly to indulge Damien. To give the poet as much satisfaction as possible, to pleasure him as thoroughly as he is able. He moves his fingers with care, taking his time, treating the poet to the kinds of touches Arum knows he will most enjoy and ensuring that he is more than ready, that he is nearly coming apart with desire before Arum allows a second finger to join the first.

Damien is painfully beautiful. Shatteringly beautiful, like this. Alight from the inside out with rapturous joy, with his strange soft hair falling over his forehead, with his strong, lean musculature tensing and his entire body near-glowing with heat. Arum feels lucky, feels greedy, feels like all his foolishness and yearning in the last few weeks were entirely justified for the sake of this gorgeous, loving creature coming apart beneath him now.

Arum has a hand in Damien’s hair, another carefully circling his nipple with a claw, a third working his cock and the fourth plying him open, every touch focused and just barely skirting the edge of teasing, and only when Damien can barely keep from letting his tiny, torturous noises grow beyond his control, only when he scrabbles his hands desperately on Arum’s sides, clutching and pulling and whispering please please please, only then does Arum oblige him with a third finger.

“If only you could see yourself, honeysuckle,” he murmurs against Damien’s ear, and Damien pants hard and presses his face into Arum’s neck, burying a quiet whine in Arum’s frill. “Oh, the poetry you could compose, if you could see the way you come undone-”

“If I c-could only see you,” Damien mutters in response, his hands clutching tight to Arum’s back as he tries to press himself down harder onto Arum’s fingers, and his voice wavers almost too high when he continues, “a thousand times curse the darkness for keeping your beauty from me tonight, for keeping me from drinking in every single detail of this impossible encounter, for hiding your eyes from me-”

“Shhhhhh,” Arum warns gently, then flicks his tongue quick over Damien’s lips. “I know, dearest creature. When you return home, you may take every single detail from me, you may take me in plain sunlight if you so desire, and you may tell me every single comparison to my eyes and scales and claws you plan to weave into your works, and I even promise not to complain because I will be too spoiled to have you safe and home in my arms again.” Arum pauses long enough to press his mouth against Damien’s, only an almost-kiss until Damien kisses back, until he gasps lightly and dances the tip of his tongue along the sharp edges of Arum’s teeth. “But for now we must be careful, honeysuckle, and quiet.”

Damien nods, panting against Arum’s mouth, and when he whispers, “Sorry,” it comes out nearly soundless.

“No apologies.” Arum nips at Damien’s lip, playful. “I would make you scream for me, honeysuckle, if I could. You know that I would.”

“I know,” Damien whispers, and Arum can feel the pleased heat in his cheeks so he nuzzles against them.

Arum’s hands slow during that exchange, but he still pleasures his poet as they speak their hushed words, and now he twists his fingers inside Damien, watches and feels him squirm underneath him. “So tempting…” he murmurs. “So delicious you look…”

“Please,” Damien hisses, writhing, trying to press the fingers deeper, trying to press his cock into Arum’s hand more effectively. “Please, my lily, I feel as if you are taking me apart- the most blissful torture but torture nonetheless, please, please-”

“You know as well, honeysuckle,” Arum growls, low and slow, “that I can never deny you anything, especially not when you ask so prettily.”

He keeps his grip on Damien’s cock as he slips his fingers away, as he properly slicks the lower of his own two cocks and then lifts Damien’s legs until the angle is just right, until he can line himself up and press forward.

Damien quietly keens as Arum slowly, slowly fills him, heat coiling low in his stomach at how easily the poet takes him, at how eagerly he presses his hips up to meet Arum’s first thrust. He pauses there for a moment, ensuring that Damien is ready, waiting for Damien to give a breathless eager whine before he starts to fuck him in earnest.

He wraps his hand around Damien’s throat. He does not squeeze- he only holds him like that, another layer to the way he is pinning Damien against the ground, feeling Damien’s heart thudding against his fingertips, feeling the vibration of all the tiny noises Damien is holding in as Arum fucks him slow and thorough. One hand tangling in the bedroll beneath him, one hand clutching Arum’s shoulder for purchase, Damien bites his lip hard and doesn’t even seem to notice that his helpless whines are growing lewder and louder with each thrust, and Arum’s heart feels hot with affection but clearly they cannot risk-

“Hush, shhhhh little honeysuckle,” Arum hisses low, pressing a hand over Damien’s mouth gently but firmly to muffle the noise, and Damien rolls his entire body up into Arum, shivering, and Arum blinks in surprise because- he is quite familiar with that reaction from his poet.

“Arum,” Damien gasps into his palm, and Arum feels the vibration of it more than he actually hears the word.

“You… you enjoy that, honeysuckle?” Arum whispers, both teasing and pleased all at once as he rocks fervently, steadily into Damien, holding Damien’s noises carefully back. “You enjoy that I must keep you quiet? You know that I adore every single skill of your tongue, of course, and it pains me that I cannot bask in your noises. I have missed them, missed pulling such sweet song from your lips.” His own lips he keeps close against Damien’s ear, and he flicks his tongue over the seashell curve of it as he pauses to hiss. “Of course, in my greed for you I never paused to consider- do you enjoy being denied, honeysuckle?”

Damien squeezes his eyes shut, panting hard, and nods so slightly that Arum would not have noticed it if he couldn’t feel it through his hand upon him.

“Ahh,” Arum hisses, slips a hand into Damien’s hair, cupping the back of his head and licking up his neck. “You delightful creature… I will indulge you in anything you desire, honeysuckle. I will indulge you even in denial, if it pleases you-”

Damien whispers against his palm, a near-silent litany that Arum takes a long moment to recognize as a repeated murmur, echoing love love love love into his scales, and then Arum has to focus beyond the unceasing rhythm of his hips on burying the helpless growl he wants to make in response.

Damien taps Arum’s side, a small signal but one that Arum quickly responds to, slowing his thrusts and lifting his hand away from his mouth immediately.

“Arum,” Damien breathes, and then bites his lip for a moment, humming low and clinging tighter. “I- I want…”

He trails off entirely and Arum slows further, more rocking them together than thrusting anymore. He scrapes his claws through Damien’s hair again, flicking his tongue out to tease Damien’s neck, then up by his ear. “Whatever you desire,” he says again, low and sure and hungry. Anything Damien wants he would give, anything to make his honeysuckle happy, to keep himself bright and beloved in the poet’s memory, Arum would do anything. “I will give you whatever you desire, if you only ask-”

“Mark me,” Damien chokes, half-swallowing the words, and even in this darkness Arum can see his face darken further, can feel even more heat rushing to fill his cheeks. “I want you to- to mark me.”

Arum blinks, his fingers still caught in the softness of the poet’s hair, his movements still slow and careful. “Honeysuckle?”

“I still feel within a dream, my lily,” Damien murmurs, his own hands caressing up and down Arum’s back. “I fear I will wake and I will be convinced that I imagined you in the depth of my homesickness, my heartsickness. I want- I want proof I can carry with me. I want your teeth upon me,” he says, and Arum’s breath catches sharp. “I want to feel you, I want to feel you still tomorrow. I want the echoes of your touch upon me when you are gone, I want to feel this,” he rocks his hips, meeting Arum’s movements, and Arum has to clench his teeth to keep from growling his overwhelmed pleasure, “I want to feel you for as long as I am able. If you- If you put your teeth to my shoulder, if you bite me there, only I will know-”

“Honeysuckle,” Arum repeats, a shiver running through his body from his horns to his tail.

“It will be hidden by my armor, but I will know,” Damien whispers, and presses his lips against Arum’s neck. “If you leave a mark. It will be proof to remind me, to remind me that you love me, that you gave this pleasure to me, that you wanted me enough to claim me-”

Arum can’t help the way his body responds to that, thrusting deeper into Damien’s heat with a low, controlled purr. “I want you always, Damien,” he murmurs, and then he drags his teeth lightly, so lightly over the skin of Damien’s shoulder. Damien gasps, clasps a hand over his own mouth again as Arum’s teeth tease at his collarbone, as the monster rolls his hips with more purpose. “I want you enough that it makes me foolish, makes me take ridiculous risks, makes me come for you like this, like a thief in the night-”

“A thief,” Damien hisses through his fingers, and then his voice takes on a familiar, lilting, sing-song cadence, though he keeps his volume careful-low. “O come you now to thieve my heart, you beast of fae-wild night?”

Unfair tactics, Arum thinks as his body shudders at Damien’s voice, and then he slips a hand down between their bodies so he can wrap it around Damien’s cock again, stroking in careful time to his thrusts, making Damien’s breath come as ragged as his own between his rhythmic words.

“All craft and guile undone, in vain, your questing overdue,” he gasps. “Within your garden blooms my heart, ‘neath silver stars alight, an off’ring free, my fruit and tree, my monstrous love, for you-”

Arum clenches his teeth, hisses through them, and then he buries his unoccupied hands in Damien’s hair, tilting his head to the side so he can better lick and nip at his throat, so he can drag his teeth with careful promise over the crook of Damien’s neck, over his bare, strong shoulder. “That- clever- tongue- of yours,” he grits out between helpless thrusts, “will be the death of me.” He lets his hands roam as he nuzzles Damien’s throat, as the poet throws his head back and bites his lip to keep the noises in.

“Please,” Damien whispers, reaching out in the darkness, and Arum has no choice but to reach back, tangling their fingers together as Damien rolls his hips, pushing Arum deeper. “My lily, my lily, please-”

Arum growls, burying his face in the crook of Damien’s neck and panting there as Damien provokes him to move faster. “Honeysuckle,” he purrs, “you know I can deny you nothing.”

“Your teeth, Lord Arum.” Damien clings, writhes, tries to press Arum’s snout towards his shoulder. “Please, please-”

“Shhhhh,” Arum soothes, pressing his hand over Damien’s mouth again, gently. He knows the poet too well to do anything else. “Patience, my honeysuckle,” he says, soft with his mouth against Damien’s collarbone. He adjusts his grip, lifting Damien’s hips so he can more easily speed his movements. Arum loosens the careful control he’s been keeping on his pace, reveling in the tiny choked-off noises Damien gasps into his hand as he fucks him harder, fucks him more urgently.

He can feel Damien’s lips moving against his palm, can hear the barest edge of his pleas and quiet cries, but he keeps his teeth light and teasing on Damien’s skin, delays that gratification to instead focus on drawing out every bit of pleasure he can with his thrusts, with his hand around Damien’s cock. Delays, until he can feel Damien trembling beneath and around him, until he can feel Damien start to come apart, overwhelmed tears pooling at the corners of his eyes as they press closed in the darkness.

Then, Arum bites down.

Careful, even in this- his teeth are less sharp than his claws but still he has no wish to draw blood, he only means to give the poet what he asks for, clamping his jaws down over his shoulder with just enough pressure to bruise. The hand he has pressed over Damien’s mouth only barely manages to muffle his cry of mingling pleasure and pain, and it is enough, it is just enough-

Damien comes with a gasp, and Arum holds him, holds him, slows and deepens his thrusts as Damien squeezes around him and spills hot over Arum’s hand and both of their stomachs, and that is just enough as well, the victory of bringing his honeysuckle to the heights of pleasure, and Arum pulls his teeth away from Damien’s delicate skin so that when he finds his own release he can clench them together without worry as he rolls his hips helplessly and comes inside his poet, comes onto his stomach with a muffled hiss.

After a long, panting moment Damien draws on some reserve of strength that baffles Arum and lifts his head, kissing along the line of Arum’s mouth with unselfconscious adoration, and Arum nuzzles back in kind, buffeting their foreheads together and purring his satisfaction as he pulls his hips back slowly, slipping from his lover before they grow uncomfortable.

Arum fishes out a cloth from his cast-aside cloak, cleaning the both of them off with gentle attention and then resettling the blankets around them, curling close and soft and satisfied around his poet.

“You do not know how viciously I wish to carry you off home with me right this instant, honeysuckle,” Arum sighs into Damien’s neck, clinging tight to his warm, pliant body as both of their heartbeats slow. “How terribly I want to spirit you away and keep you in my clutches, to bring you to where you belong, to kidnap you back to the Keep and drop you triumphantly into Amaryllis’ arms…”

“I imagine that you desire it precisely as desperately as I do, my love,” Damien whispers, nuzzling Arum’s cheek with his own, exhaling deeply. He lifts a hand, then, and brushes it over the vivid purpling arc on his shoulder with a distinct look of pleasure, of satisfaction.

Arum feels, just a little, as if his heart is trying to climb up his windpipe.

“Damien,” he whispers, and then he leans down to lick his tongue over the mark, feather-light and soothing. “Perhaps… perhaps I shouldn’t have-”

“Thank you,” Damien interrupts, and then he kisses the corner of Arum’s mouth and comes away smiling. “Not even my unsteady mind could ignore such bold, lingering proof of your affection.”

Arum swallows roughly, then flicks his tongue up Damien’s cheek with fond affection. “Hate having to miss you, honeysuckle,” he admits in a whisper, clinging as if he wishes to pull Damien into himself, as if they could possibly be any closer. “Love you too fiercely to be without you.”

Damien makes a small, pained noise, cupping Arum’s face in his hands and kissing him again, kissing him soft, sweet, like petals and rain. “Oh, my lovely lily,” he says, and Arum can hear the tears he his trying not to shed. “I love you so much. So much that it breaks my heart to be without you, without Rilla…”

“She asked that I pass along that she wishes for you to hasten your quest and hurry home,” Arum mutters, “as, of course, do I.”

Damien sighs. “I know. I intend to be home as soon as I am able, as soon as the Saints allow.”

Arum shifts, and Damien- Damien makes another small noise, clinging tightly, and Arum hears his heart stutter fast for a moment.

He blinks, and drapes himself back over the entirety of Damien’s body indulgently. “Not going anywhere just yet, honeysuckle.”

“I… I am perfectly aware that I cannot keep you here forever, my lily.”

Arum growls lightly. “Nnnno,” he admits, “not forever, not that, of course. But I can stay a little longer, yet.” He buffets his cheek against Damien’s, nuzzling closer, closer. “I can stay until you are asleep again, at least. Until you are dreaming, until I can leave you safe in slumber.”

Damien kisses him, kisses him, cups Arum’s face in his hands, kisses him. “Soon, soon I shall return to the both of you, with new tales and triumph. Soon shall we have our homecoming, earned and exultant, and then I will give to the both of you every single word I have had to carry with me during our separation, every kiss I have wished to press to your lips, every pleasure I have dreamed of spoiling you with… soon, my lily. Soon.”

Damien’s singsong cadence is almost too soothing, and Arum feels as if he could outright melt into Damien’s arms. He sighs, flicks his tongue out to tickle Damien’s jaw, drifts his claws softly up and down Damien’s arms. “It will not be soon enough, honeysuckle. I am an impatient creature. But for you…” his words falter, and he brushes some errant curls away from Damien’s brow. “For you, I will wait.” He pauses. “Impatiently, of course.”

“With an abundance of complaints,” Damien says with a soft laugh, and kisses Arum’s nose.

“Needless to say,” Arum growls, and then he gives a wry sort of smile. “But I have taken enough rest from you already, my poet. No more teasing, now. Return to sleep. I will hold you until you are safe in slumber, and when morning comes…” he drifts his claws careful over the purpling arc on Damien’s skin, “you can carry me with you, until you can return to us in fact and not just in dream and memory.”

Damien purses his lips, expression gone yearning and wild for a brief moment before he nods, lifting one of Arum’s hands to kiss his knuckles, pressing them against his cheek with a sigh. “I love you so dearly, my Arum,” he murmurs.

In this moment, quiet and dark, Arum even feels like he might deserve that.

“I love you, Damien,” he answers, voice rough. “Now sleep, little honeysuckle, and I will watch over you.”

After a few more kisses, (three or four, nine or ten, impossible to say because neither of them count), Damien drifts, his breaths evening out, his heart beating slow and gentle, and Arum holds him close and safe.

And with the poet asleep, no one has to know exactly how long it takes before Arum can bear to tear himself away.