#i know i just started posting yesterday but please bear with me i swear i am cool

[rowwiz]

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[jasntodds]

Penance Chapter 2 Teaser - Full Chapter coming 6/12

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader Teaser Words: 1,716 Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, mentions of canon violence Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞ It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right? Right? A/N: I'm having problems with my taglist?? I'm trying desperately to get it to work properly so please bear with me lol I'm always going to post some sort of update when this fic will be posted just in case so you can search my blog under "penance" if you haven't been tagged in anything in a week!! A teaser or chapter will be posted every week!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

Jason heads out to find Tim, daunting his Red Hood gear and helmet. The drive isn’t too far from his safe house but it is raining tonight, on and off. Yesterday was nice, warm and no rain. It's a bit of a depressing contrast between the two days. The street lights reflect off the wet pavement and Jason isn't entirely sure what he's going to do when he gets there. All he knows is Tim will probably need help and he'll just take it from there. It's not exactly how he wants to approach any situation but he's not sure what Tim will even be doing.

Jason pulls up to a building across the street from an alley where some, surely, illegal deal of sorts is going down. Apparently, Tim is supposed to be here eventually so Jason parks the bike in the dark of his alley before he uses a grappling hook to get to the roof of the building just so he can see better. And then he waits.

Meanwhile, you've made your place on the roof overlooking the alley with the van, knowing this is where Tim will be. And you can’t help but feel excited to see him. You miss him a lot even if it is a little hard to be happy it's under the circumstances of Robin. There's also the bit of dread and excitement over seeing Jason, working with Jason.

Seeing him means there's going to have to be some sort of conversation over the two of you being unable to pick up a phone and call each other. There's going to be some sort of conversation about everything that happened. It's going to bring back all of the pain all over again. Will you even be able to pick up where you left off? Or will you fall into an awkward dance where you both just fumble over each other until Tim leaves? Or will it be worse? But, seeing him, being around him, always felt the most like home and you really hope he's okay and happy. You're excited just to see how he's doing.

You're laying on your stomach to take cover while you watch over the ledge but your fingers tap wildly against the pavement at the thought. It’s the hope this goes okay, that he doesn’t hate you. That Tim is happy to see you both. That Tim doesn’t get killed in the first five minutes of being Robin. Excitement, dread, and anxiety flood your system. Why did you agree to this?

Commotion starts from below you and you see Tim on the top of a car while the goons are loading their van. Even in the low light, you can tell the suit is a little different than Jason's and Dick's. The cape definitely is with its jagged edges and it's longer. It fits him actually. You stand on the edge of the roof, grappling hook in hand and knife in the other, ready to slide down the second things get out of hand. 

Tim handles himself okay at first but then they outnumber him and they’re faster than he is and better. You know Tim has had a few training sessions but by the looks of it, they could not have been very long or helpful. Things start looking pretty bad for him so you use the grappling hook to lower yourself down but before your feet even hit solid ground, shots ring through the alley, taking out one of the men and then the other. Just as your feet hit the ground, you nail the last one with a knife, turning to face down the alley with your arms crossed. And there he is, walking confidently with a gun in hand.

Of course, he beat you to it.

Jason's eyes widen behind his helmet. He did not expect to see you tonight. Kind of like last night, seeing you throws him off. It's a bit jarring somehow. Gotham might be a big city but you travel in the same circles, it was bound to happen. Just...two nights in a row seems...odd.

“I had that covered.” You state through your mask.

Jason can taste his heartbeat in his throat as he keeps closing the distance between you. Your mask always muffled your voice a little but it's still his favorite sound. He can feel his cheeks burning and a smile desperate to cross his lips. Jason bites it back, trying to keep his composure.

“Where the fuck did you even come from?” Jason quips back.

You point to the roof. “Clearly. And you?” You question, keeping your voice flat and curious, trying to conceal your own nerves.

Jason points a thumb over his shoulder. “Clearly.” He echoes as he stands next to you.

It all clicks then, this was definitely a setup by Dick. Of all fucking people, Dick Grayson is doing this shit? Jason swears up and down this is getting ridiculous. Bruce, Molly, Gar, Dick? They are all trying to get them to communicate and...maybe they have a point even if Jason never wants to admit it. Not when two of those people are Bruce and Dick. But, he can’t focus on that or how this is sending his head into a tailspin.

He needs to help Tim which means he can't let his feelings for you get in the way even if ignoring them is one of the hardest things he's ever done. He has to act normal and like being next to you doesn't make him want to explode. He needs to keep his cool, keep the smile from ripping apart his lips because even if this is a setup and he should be mad, he misses you so fucking much it physically pains him. He can't find himself to be mad because you'll never abandon Tim so even if you don't speak to Jason while you help him, at least he gets to see you as you. Like old times even if it doesn’t last and for that, Jason is happy.

Jason reaches behind his head, releasing the helmet before he takes it off and you swear you swallowed your heart. He looks so good. “Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Jason calls, eyes locked on Tim and you think you've melted at the sound of his voice.

His voice is somehow better than you remember it. A little calloused, a little rough, but not too deep. It always fit him so well and you've never been so thankful to have a mask that covers the lower half of your mouth because your lips are curling into the most uncontrollable smile. Every piece of reservation you had about seeing him completely flies out of the window.

Jason Todd has always had his type of gravitation pull like a planet lost in the universe and you've just been sucked right back into it.

You miss him so fucking much.

Tim looks down to his chest, right at the R symbol before he looks back to Jason. “I’m Robin.” Tim states as if Jason should have known.

The subtle hint of a smile comes over Jason’s lips seeing someone else in the Robin suit. It’s weird because it almost feels…hurtful. It hurts a little seeing someone else in a position where he was, not in a jealous way but in a way that he is reminded that was him. He was Robin and he fucked up and now he’s not. It hurts in the way he’s reminded of it being ripped away from his bloody hands. The suit is different, Jason clocks almost every difference in the first few seconds but it is similar. Jason was beaten to death in something similar with the same mantle. There’s almost this part of him that even worries about it. Robin didn’t work for Dick. He didn’t die as Robin but it didn’t work for him. Jason was killed. Where’s that going to leave Tim?

On the other hand though, there is something about someone else taking up Robin that feels good. Jason died but Robin didn’t. Robin never had to die with Jason and he shouldn’t. The people need a Robin and he doesn’t really know Tim but you do and Gar does. He trusts you both and Tim looks thrilled to be here. It’s a mix but there is something kind of nice seeing the resurrection of Robin.

“Hey.” You chime as you walk closer to him.

Tim’s smile splits his face. “Hey, how’d you know I’d be here?”

“Molly tracked you the second a Robin showed up. Knew it was you.” You laugh softly before you pull him into a gentle hug. “You should have told me.” You say as you pull away, your hands coming to his shoulders as you look over the suit, noticing all the difference between this one and Jason’s.

“Yeah, I thought I could handle this.” Tim chuckles sheepishly, realizing he was a little in over his head tonight but not lacking in any of his confidence to do this job. 

“Clearly, you were wrong.” Jason closes the distance between you. “You’re lucky we showed up when we did.” Jason stands right beside you as you drop your hands from his shoulders, maybe you looking over the suit makes him want to chew his tongue out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I got that.” Tim nods his head. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The smile reaches your eyes as you beam back at Tim.

Jason’s eyes narrow at you slightly. You seem awfully happy. He knows Tim is your friend but you just seem overly happy or maybe he’s in his own head about it. He just remembers that day picking you up from Titans Tower and it was...similar. It's like he's getting stabbed in the chest and the base of his throat knowing you were not happy to see him tonight. The very thought of your feelings disappearing makes him feel like his rib cage might collapse on itself. So, he pushes it away as far as he possibly can and bites back his own words, trying to just be relieved you look happy instead of pissed off Dick set you up. He’s just thankful you haven’t run away. Yet.

prev. chapter

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[slade-067]

okay I'm gonna hop off my usual fuckery and be real for a sec. people say you should live for yourself, not for other people. fat lot of good that did for me when I was going through the shits. that is to say it was the last shit I wanted to hear. I didn't wanna live, as far as I was concerned, I was only there because it'd kill my family if I wasn't. not that that made me feel any better either. I swear I'm going somewhere with this, just bear with me please.

so my boyfriend is very melancholy and emotional by nature. gets in his head a lot, been hurt a lot in the past. one of his biggest fears is the people he loves dying. he lost his father years back, and it’s been a big source of anguish. so it makes sense that the prospect of his family or close friends or me passing scares the hell out of him. I mean like, he started crying at work because I forgot to text I made it home okay and fell asleep, so I stopped texting back and wasn't replying. when I finally did, he apparently started crying from relief. (I haven't since made the same mistake)

but my point:

yesterday we were laying together in his bed and he started getting in what we call a "subby mood" (yeah yeah, I know, we're not getting into that, leave us alone). he basically just gets very clingy and emotional and needy, and it’s one of my favorite things to just spoil him and love on him when he gets like that.

now our relationship isn't the easiest in terms of family and whatnot. while we were laying, he started talking about it and...

"I don't think we're going to work, but will you stay with me anyway?"

I kissed his head and told him "of course, always" and that I loved him.

"I want us to work, I really want us to. I can't lose you." and that was when he started sobbing. he kept apologizing for snotting on my shoulder and for being too emotional, and I told him it was okay and that I needed to wash the sweater anyway.

but the whole time I was thinking. he was referencing losing me in terms of a break up. but it got me thinking about things. like how I never looked both ways crossing the street, or how I never buckled up and drove too fast in the rain. little habits I picked up when I stopped caring about whether I lived or died. I thought about about what'd happen if I passed. how it'd affect this man in my arms.

"I'm not going anywhere, mi amor."

I don't know how to articulate this properly but. that was the second I decided that I couldn't die. that I didn't want to. it's not that I wanted to before that, just that I didn't care if I did. but then I decided I actively didn't want to.

I guess what in trying to say is I think for some people it's okay to live for other people. if your person is the reason you're hanging on, because of love, no one gets to tell you that's a wrong reason to be alive. I love him. because I love him, I'm taking care of myself in a way I never did before, and I've seen him doing the same. I don't know, just something I've been thinking about.

anyway, if you read all the way down here, sorry for the long post. thanks for reading❤️

[the-madrigals-bitch]

Hey! I saw your requests are open! How about Bruno dearest x reader with the prompt “Are you ashamed of me?”, hopefully some angst with fluff at the end? Can’t wait to see what you make of it 😊💛

Hi! I wanted to start this by saying thank you personally for giving me my first request, you're the best! I also wanted to thank everyone who interacted with my post and left a request, it really means a lot to me. All the ones I've gotten so far will be written! I work throughout the week though,so there might be some time between them, but I will write them I swear!

This request was a fun challenge as I never write angst because I'm a big baby when it comes to sad stuff, but I hope I did right by you with this writing!

Ashamed

Bruno Madrigal x gn reader

Words: 2.8k

Angst with a fluffy ending

--

Y/N found themselves outside of Bruno Madrigal's vision cave, as they did everyday. Bruno sat in the sandy chamber, his forehead pressed against his knees, a bright emerald slab glowing in the sand beside him.

"Bruno?" You spoke softly as you approached. "What's wrong cariño?" You knew the question was stupid the second it left your mouth, you knew exactly what was wrong when you asked.

He dropped one hand from his knees onto the tablet beside him and held it up for you to look at. His hand hit the sand with a soft pelt when the weight left it, your brow quirked up in confusion as you started at Bruno's vision.

"A dead fish?" You whispered, unsure of what that could possibly mean. Finally, he raised his head and you realized how tired he looked, the bags under his green eyes were thick and dark.

"I saw her pet goldfish dying yesterday and today pfft," he blew a raspberry, dramatically putting his thumb down in front of you. "She came back today calling me a murderer, a bad omen, a freak," he spoke, dejected.

You frowned, watching your love retreat back into himself. You hated that Bruno's gift left him with a bad reputation in Encanto. Why could no one seem to understand that he didn't cause these futures, he merely saw them. Maybe they just needed someone to blame for their shortcomings and the person they chose to bear that burden was the youngest Madrigal son.

"Amor," You frowned, reaching forward to take both of his hands into your own. "Let's get out of here, you need a break from this place and the fresh air might do you some good.”

“I can’t go out in public Y/N, you know what’s waiting for me out there. They’ll be all like ‘oh look it’s Bruno Madrigal the creepy future seeing goldfish slayer’. It’ll be better for you if you aren’t seen out with a weirdo like me-”

“Bruno Madrigal,” You spoke sternly before he could finish. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” His lips pressed into a thin line as you spoke and you stood slowly, prompting him to stand with you. “You are not a weirdo and I don’t ever want to hear you call yourself that again, entiendes?”

He nodded, eyes trained on your hands, “I just...don’t know if it’s a good idea Y/N, I could just wait for you here and-” he was cut off once again, this time by you leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Please Brunito?” You asked in the sickliest sweet tone you could manage. “When I stopped by the bakery this morning Senor Herrera was putting a fresh batch of pandebono in the oven. If we leave now we’ll get it while its still hot.” The pair of you had a puppy dog eye contest that you would inevitably win before you made your way into town. The horrified gazes people gave you pair as they whispered amongst themselves was making you more self conscious than you thought it would as you walked through the plaza.

“How could they be seen with him,” one woman whispered.

“Such a shame to see someone like them end up with a troublemaker like him,” another added.

The men, women, and children that usually greeted you with beaming smiles stayed clear of your path and wouldn’t meet your eyes as you walked with the Madrigal man. Most of the baker's customers cleared out the second the two of you stepped inside, the few that stayed gawked like you had a second head growing out of your neck while you ordered,

“Good morning Señor Herrera!” You exclaimed.

“Buenos dias Y/N,” the usually enthusiastic baker spoke in an abnormally unenthused tone that made your heart sink. "How can I help you today?"

"Two pandebolos with cafe please."

He didn't say another word or look you in the eyes as he gave you your bread and rang you up. Bruno began telling you about his day when you'd sat down, but all you could focus on was the way people who you'd previously called friends now looked at you in disdain.

"Y/N?" Bruno asked, promoting you to bring your focus back to the man in front of you. "Are you alright mi vida?"

You nodded just a little too quickly to be believed and he turned to see what you'd been so distracted by.

"My cafe needs more sugar!" You exclaimed, standing so quickly that your chair fell behind you, only adding your embarrassment. "I was looking at the table with sugar and leche on it back there. Do you need anything?"

The dark haired man eyed you suspiciously, but shook his head no. You tried to ignore the gazes that burned holes into your body as you walked to the small table. You gave a small smile to the woman and child already standing there, you recognized them, you’d helped the mother locate her child after he'd gotten lost in the dense jungles surrounding town. They didn’t smile when the noticed you approaching though, instead the young mother grabbed her son by the wrist and pulled him away as quickly as she could. You faltered, standing in place while they watched you closely as if you were some dangerous animal and when you stepped forward, they flinched.

It was too much, you turned on your heels and rested your hand on Bruno’s shoulder. “Let’s go Bruno, please.” He looked over his shoulder at you, mouth stuffed with the savory bread.

“Are you sure? We just got here and you haven’t even touched your pan,” he questioned once he swallowed the food in his mouth. He had just begun to relax despite the glares and whispers, you always made him feel better. The small corner where you were sat quickly calmed him as he had only his beloved to look at, it was like his own perfect little world.

“I’m sure, we can take it back to your place,” you responded, once again just a little too quickly for comfort. “I’m sure the rats would appreciate some bread anyway, just please.”

He nodded, more concerned for you than anything else as he stood from the table, the still warm bread wrapped in a towel in his hands. You glanced quickly over your shoulder to the people who watched you and your boyfriends movements carefully, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Bruno. He turned to see what was bugging you and his heart dropped as he realized now why you were suddenly so eager to leave. Bruno always felt like he wasn’t enough for you, everyone in Encanto adored you and it was obvious how they felt about him. He knew he’d drag your reputation through the mud because he was Bruno and he always ruined everything for the people he loved the most.

He felt your body tense when he reached down between you and caught your hand in his own and although didn’t tear your hand from his, the action hurt him deeply. He noticed the way you held his hand looser than normal and the way yours eyes darted between the people around you nervously. You both sat at the long table in silence when you made it back to Casita, occasionally a rodent would skitter onto the table to graciously accept any crumbs you were willing to part with and break the tension. You left swiftly after you’d finish eating, pressing a quick kiss to your boyfriends cheek and telling him you’d see him again tomorrow before exiting the house.

--

You hadn’t tried to set up another date in public with Bruno for a few days following the incident, instead opting to stay inside for what you called ‘quality time’ together. He knew it was bullshit, he knew how much you hated being cooped up inside and he knew how much you loved to be under the warm sun. His stomach twisted at the thought of you being too embarrassed to be seen with him, but he wouldn’t be surprised, he’d be embarrassed to be seen in public with him too. His thoughts raced as his head rested on your chest while your fingers ran through his dark locks.

“How about we go out today? Pepa was telling me that Senor Herrera has started experimenting with new bread recipes, she brought back like 7 loaves yesterday so they must be good,” he suggested quietly, peeking up at you though his lashes.

You shook your head allowing your hand rest atop his head, “If Pepa bought so many then why don’t we just ask her to share one? I’ll replace it tomorrow when I come by.”

“Well why take hers when we can go pick up our own mi vida? The bakery isn’t far and the bread will be warm and fresh if we go pick it up, besides the fresh air would do us some good. We’ve been spending way too much time inside.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, “I just want to stay inside with you amorcito, why do we have to go out?”

Bruno sighed, removing himself from your chest and staring at you with piercing green eyes, “Because you always want to go out Y/N, in all the years I’ve known you this is the most time I’ve ever seen you spend inside. What’s wrong with a short walk to the bakery?”

“And you never want to go outside,” you countered, a dry chuckle following your words.  “Nothing is wrong with walking, I just don't feel like going out. Maybe I’m just doing what you want for once.”

“Or maybe,” the dark haired man mumbled to the floor. “You're embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“What?” You questioned, eyes wide in shock and horror at his words. "Don't be ridiculous amor, where are you getting this from?" You played dumb, hoping he'd drop the subject.

“You seriously think I didn’t notice how you all of the sudden wanted to leave the bakery after you suggest we go there Y/N? You think I haven’t noticed the way you look around to see if anyone's watching us when I say my goodbyes to you outside?” he spoke softly, but each word drove a nail into your heart as you realized how terrible you’d been. “You think I didn't notice how you look around to make sure no ones watching before you let me kiss you goodbye?"

You sat in stunned silence, you wanted to tell him that he didn't know what it was like to have people stare at you like you were a monster, but he knew exactly what it was like, people looking at you like a monster was Bruno Madrigals whole life. Your heart went heavy with guilt as you realized that he was right, you’d been treating him horribly, you had made him think that you were embarrassed of him. Tears began welling up in your own eyes as you searched for the right thing to say.

“Are you ashamed of me Y/N?" He asked, eyes glazed over with tears. The question was like a punch to the gut, it sucked the air out of you as he spoke. "It’s okay if you are, I would be too. I mean look at me, I’m a freak who’s never done anything right in his life. No matter how hard I try I just can't make anyone happy-”

“Bruno.” You interrupted as tears started rolling down his cheeks.

“I ruin everything for everyone, even the people I love, I even managed to ruin this!" He motioned between you two as he spoke. "Maybe everyone’s right, you’re too good for me and this relationship should've never started in the first place-”

"Bruno." You tried again, the sound of your heart shattering in your ears far too loud to hear anything else Bruno was saying. You weren't mad at him, you couldn't be, you did this to yourself. Tears fell freely from your eyes as you tuned yourself back in to what he was saying.

“They’re never going to stop looking at you that way until you distance yourself from me. Y/N, you mean the world to me, but this relationship is going to ruin your reputation. They’re going to ostracize until this ends, it has to end. I can't ruin you any further, I love you too much to let you ruin yourself Y/N."

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage, you hadn’t exchanged ‘I love you’s’ yet and he just said it, but not under the circumstances you'd hoped he would. You couldn't stop yourself, you surged forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and burying your wet face into it. You thought he'd push you away and ask you to leave, you'd understand if he did after the way you'd made him feel, but he didn't. He didn't hug you back either though and after a few moments of him not reciprocating, you pulled away, wiping at the tears on your cheeks and sending him a small, sad smile. You understood, you did this to yourself,

"You're wrong Bruno," you finally spoke. "You didn't ruin this, I did. How could I ever be deserving of you when I'm just as bad as everyone else?" He stared back at you, eyes wide, but not moving, you took his hands gently, "I wish you nothing but happiness from this point forward Bruno, even if it isn't with me and I'm so sorry for how I've treated you these past few days, it was wrong of me to give into my own insecurities. You are the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me Bruno Madrigal, and you are not a freak. You're an amazing man blessed with an amazing gift that's gonna help so many people, you're just misunderstood and I feel so lucky to have loved and to have been loved by-" You were cut off, this time by Bruno surging forward and pressing his lips to yours. His mouth smashed onto yours a little too roughly and you were sure that your lip would be bleeding when you pulled away, but you wrapped yourself around him again, a small sigh of relief escaping your mouth while you kissed. If this was the last time you'd ever kiss Bruno Madrigal, you were happy for such a beautiful goodbye. You weren't sure who broke the lip lock, but another sad smile overtook your features when it was over.

"I love you too, Bruno, and I'm so sorry that I ruined us," you spoke, tone gentle as you cupped his cheek lightly. He said nothing as you turned and made your way out of Casita, you broke once the door closed behind you. You had almost made it home before you heard a shout behind you,

"Y/N! Y/N wait please!"

You turned to see your now ex boyfriend running after you, arms flailing as he yelled. The people of Encanto stared at him in confusion and concern as he ran over to you.

"Bruno? What's wrong?" you asked, a spark of a hope igniting in your heart as he came closer.

"Give me a second," he said, doubling over and breathing heavily. "I need to catch my breath, you walk really fast for a person with short legs you know." You stood in silence until he revealed why he'd chased after you. "You forgot something," he finally spoke, snuffing out any hope you'd previously felt.

"Oh," you spoke, trying not to sound too disappointed. "Thank you." You held your hand out, waiting for him to drop whatever it was you'd left behind in your palm. Nothing fell though, instead Bruno placed his hand in yours and smiled awkwardly, you looked at him in bewilderment.

"It's me," he explained once he'd realized that you didn't understand. "You forgot me...okay that doesn't make any sense. What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for saying that this, that we should've never happened. I love you Y/N, more than anything else. I was just hurt and I know that isn't an excuse and I know that I'm an idiot for letting you go, but I just-"

A bright smile spread across your features as he spoke and you pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss. It took him a bit to kiss you back, but when he finally did he scooped you up in his arms, causing you to laugh against his lips. You stood in silence for a few seconds, foreheads pressed against each other as you basked in his warmth.

"I love you mi cariño, but you talk too much" you whispered, before leaning down to catch his lips for another soft kiss.

You could feel the stares of the people around you. They burned holes in your skin just like they had in the bakery, but you didn't care about them, you had the greatest gift you could ever ask for in Bruno Madrigal.

--

Okay, I know the ending was super cheesy, but I loved it and I hope you did too! Have a nice day/night ♡

[adorethedistance]

All Day Affair - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (18+)

JATP Masterlist - Valentine’s Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Smut, swearing, light embarrassment (minors DNI)

Words: 2757

Summary: A rough night before leads to a slow morning after, causing you and Charlie to be late to Valentine’s brunch plans. All is forgiven and all is forgotten when he makes it up to you in the best way he can.

A/n: This weekend has not at all gone the way I’d thought/hoped it would and so I apologize for the slow churning of fics lately but I promise I am working on some much requested fics. On a lighter note, here is my contribution to the Valentine’s Day

My eyes groggily flutter open when I hear my phone rapidly buzzing on the bedside table. Charlie’s arm is draped over my exposed midriff, no doubt a position of his own doing. As I go to move his arm off my bare skin, he holds onto me tighter groaning an incoherent string of words. I attempt to grab the maniacally buzzing device with my eyes still closed. I’m incapacitated via Charlie’s hold on my waist, and thus, all I feel under my flattened hand against the cool surface are the discarded condom wrappers from last night.

“Charlie,” I scold, still not fully awake. He knowingly loosens his grip, allowing me to sit up and it isn’t until I’m upright and Charlie’s arm drops into my lap that I realize I’m completely naked under his t-shirt. My phone has not stopped vibrating like crazy much to my dismay. Haphazardly grabbing it off the nightstand, I wait for my eyes to adjust before I read the time.

11:26.

“SHIT. Charlie! Charlie, we’re late!” I try and shake him awake. He whines miserably,

“Mmmmm, what?”

“It’s 11:26, we’re late!”

The messages are from Owen and Savannah, both of whom we were supposed to be meeting for brunch at 11. While Charlie and I wanted Valentine’s Day plans alone, we also wanted to spend time with our friends whom we love dearly. Since the original plan was for the two of us to have the evening all to ourselves, we agreed on having brunch to start the day off well. Look how that turned out for us. I scramble out of bed, and I nearly hit the floor as my legs give out from under me. Luckily, Charlie was right behind me and was able to catch me in time.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore.”

“Yessss.” I fake slap his chest before we resume in the chaos, frantically throwing on decent outfits. I toss Charlie one of his band shirts turned muscle tees after hopping into a pair of jeans. Once dressed, I run to the bathroom and pass a brush through my hair in a frenzy before I begin brushing my teeth at lightning speed. Charlie appears beside me to brush his own teeth, and I’m practically sprinting out of the bathroom as he does.

“Don’t forget to fix your hair!” My legs nearly give out once more as I struggle to slip on my favorite pair of sneakers. Once I’m upright again, and stable, I grab both of our wallets and the keys to the house and car and shove them into my bag. Together we bolt out the door and clamber into Charlie’s orange Subaru.

In a nice contrast to all the rushing around we’ve done this morning, Charlie drives at a regular speed; thankfully, we make it to the restaurant in one piece. As soon as he puts the car in park the two of us run to the entrance to see our friends waiting at an outdoor table on the patio. Charlie and I finally made it, albeit a tad out of breath.

“Charlie, Y/n, nice of you to finally join us.”

“11:44 on the dot. Not your latest arrival, but an honorable mention,” Savannah jeers, waving me over to sit beside her.

“What happened this time?”

“Overslept. My usual alarm didn’t go off, I must’ve forgotten to turn it on last night.”

“Classic.” I’m distracted from Owen’s teasing when Savannah’s humorous smile drops. She’s looking at me with an emotion I can’t distinguish.

“You okay?” She simply nods and then pushes her chair back.

“I need to pee and you do too. Come on, Y/n.” And without allowing me to reply, she has me up out of the chair and briskly walking toward the bathroom. It isn’t until we’re outside the single stall that I noticed she grabbed my bag from the back of my chair. Once she’s locked us both in the room, she looks at me with wide eyes and a suppressed smile.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s this?” She answers my question with a question, before using her left index finger to poke the right side of my neck.

“Ow!” My face drops once I realize. Brushing past her, I move to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the assemblage of love bites all over my neck area. Savannah merely giggles at the realization before opening my bag.

“You don’t have a sponge, so we’re gonna have to use our fingers.” I turn around to look at her, not through the mirror and find a bottle of full-coverage concealer in her hands.

“How did that get in there?”

“I put it in there last week after you had to spend the whole day adjusting your shirt around your collar bones to hide more of these.” She gives a vague gesture to the marks on my neck and begins applying the makeup.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“And you are unbelievable. That was literally last week, and you’re already marked up again. Don’t you and Charlie ever just make love? Does it always have to be ‘ravage one another’s body’?”

“I mean, occasionally. I don’t know, sweet and tender isn’t really our thing.”

“Clearly.” Savannah steps back to survey her work, “Okay, you’re covered but be careful because I didn’t pack setting spray.”

“I am forever indebted to you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. It’s Owen that you should pray doesn’t notice.”

“God, you’re right.”

“If I were solely judging by his hair, I’d have guessed you guys went at it this morning and not last night.”

“Shit, he’s probably marked up, too.”

“Well, I didn’t bring him concealer, and you two are not the same shade soooo… sorry.” I shake my head dismissively as I hold the bathroom door open for her behind me.

“Better him than me.”

“How was it though? You told me you’d text me updates.”

“Yeah, and then I didn’t set an alarm. But no, it was… so good. I’m like, sore.”

“Okay, we’re entering TMI territory so let’s find something to talk about before we’re back within earshot.”

“What are your Valentine’s plans for the rest of the day?”

“I might get frozen yogurt and watch a movie, haven’t really decided. I would ask what you and Charlie are doing, but based on this morning, I think I can guess.”

Just as Savannah and I did, the two boys fall silent once we approach the table; when the four of us are settled, I take a quick glance over the menu, as if I’m unsure of what I want.

“Okay, in the spirit of St. Valentine, let’s talk love. Tell us about your first kiss, Y/n.” Savannah eyes me, already knowing the horrendous story. I deadpan,

“No.”

“Wait, I’m actually curious. I don’t think I know this story.” Charlie leans forward in his seat, placing his forearms on the table in front of him.

“See what you’ve done?” Savannah merely shrugs and takes a smug sip from her water glass. “No, I’m not doing this. Why don’t you tell us about your first kiss, Sav?”

“I asked you first.”

“Fine, be that way. Charlie, tell us about your first kiss.”

“Well, I don’t know I-”

“Come on, what’s ‘love-master’ Charlie’s origin story?” Owen teasingly pats Charlie on the back, and the four of us all fall under a shocked silence at the sound of Charlie hissing in pain. My lips part in surprise but quickly press shut in a moment’s realization.

“You okay?” Don’t do it, Owen.

“Yeah, I’m fine just-”

“Oh my god.” Upon patting Charlie’s back, the fabric of his shirt moved out of the way to reveal a conglomerate of scratches across the surface of his sun-kissed skin. Owen laughs out in disbelief before poking one of the scratches again, causing Charlie to smack his hand away.

“Holy shit, did you get mauled by a bear?” Owen then gasps in a realization that I’d pray he wouldn’t have, and he begins to laugh even harder. “That good, huh Y/n?” My face heats up a million degrees and I cover my face with one hand as a desperate defense mechanism.

“It’s not a big deal, Owen.” Thank god, Savannah’s come to the rescue. “They just got a head start on Valentine’s Day is all.”

“Okay, can we please change the subject?” I plead as I’ve already had enough of their laughter. Charlie gives me a look that is both apologetic and embarrassed and I let out an exaggerated sigh as a response.

The rest of our brunch date is still a good time minus the occasional interjectory joke about my and Charlie’s romantic all-day-affair yesterday. Our foursome disassembles, already planning the next group outing post-Valentine’s intimacy.

“That was absolutely humiliating,” I state, buckling my seatbelt in the passenger's side as Charlie begins pulling out of the parking spot.

“You want me to be gentler next time?” Charlie asks sincerely and extends his right hand over the center console to rub a comforting circle on top of my thigh over the fabric of my jeans. The gesture pulls the warmth in my heart and the butterflies in my stomach a little lower.

“...No,” I admit shyly. The confession elicits a small, cocky chuckle from Charlie. He then gives me an affirming squeeze before tracing the seam along my inner thigh in a way that is too sensual to mistake his intentions.

The entire car ride home, the feeling of Charlie’s fingertips ghosting up my leg makes my heart beat a little faster and ignites a subtle heat where I wish he’d trail his hand up to. I’m sure my desire is apparent to Charlie but he doesn’t say anything about it. When we get back to our home, I stick the key in the lock and open the front door but freeze as I feel Charlie pressing into my entire backside. He leans down to playfully bite part of my earlobe as his hands come to rest on my hips.

“You said you didn’t want me to be gentle?” All of my senses are clouded by dense arousal so all I can do is nod. He airily laughs, a warm breath dusting the surface of my skin and I shudder involuntarily. “Go inside.”

After closing the door behind us, Charlie shoves me up against it, his hand behind my head to prevent me from actually getting hurt. He kisses my lips forcefully but doesn’t linger, and instead trails down the column of my throat. The kisses are rough in between small bites of affection, surely leaving more marks that I’ll have to wake up early to cover tomorrow. Or just not go anywhere. After this, it’s looking like the latter.

“You want me to rough you up a little bit? Huh?”

“Yes.” The love bites Charlie’s leaving behind become harsher on my skin, as he trails further down my neck, across my collarbones. “Charlie, can we…?”

“Can we what? Tell me what you want.”

“Please-“

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.” And with that Charlie pulls me into the bedroom, stealing kisses in between steps. Charlie moves to sit me on the bed but as he grabs me by the hips, I maneuver to switch places and push him down onto the bed. He looks at me with a mix of surprise and excitement, taking the hand that pushed him between his own. I smile delicately when Charlie presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. That is the last trace of softness.

The two of us begin stripping out of our brunch clothes as fast as we can. It’s as if we’re running out of time. We’re both almost fully naked but before I can get my panties off Charlie’s lips are back on mine. His movements are swift, kiss after kiss is filled with an unrivaled lust that is glorious.

Crawling onto the bed, Charlie stays close behind, never allowing any loss of contact between us. I recover to a sitting position and Charlie wraps his arm under my stomach and presses a line of kisses across my shoulder blades.

“Can I take you like this?” He asks earnestly, running his hands over the vast expanse of my bare skin. I choke out a desperate plea and my breathing softens once I feel the absence of Charlie’s touch on my body. When I turn around I see him searching the room like a madman.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t find any more condoms. I think we used them all last night.”

“What? We only used three.”

“I don’t know! Maybe I dropped some?”

“Fuck it. Charlie if I’m not getting absolutely rawed in the next ten seconds I will walk out that door.” He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that and is back on the bed. Charlie grabs both sides of my face to bring me in for a long passionate kiss before taking his place behind me. His warm hands fall from my face to my waist, gripping the skin slightly.

Charlie sits back on his heels and moves my body back to hover over his. He runs a sensual path with his fingers down the sides of my body and slips one down through the growing wetness between my legs. Tracing the arousal over my quivering clit. The anticipation of the moment has heightened my sensitivity and as a result, I let out a whine. My whimpering continues when I feel him run the tip of his erection through the wetness. As I open my mouth to nag him for moving so slow, Charlie slams his entire length inside of me at once, causing me to cry out in pleasure. I can tell it feels incredible for him too by the way he’s gripping my hips. If he didn’t leave bruises yesterday, he definitely will today.

It doesn’t take long for him to figure out a tempo that’s comfortable for the both of us and my labored panting fills the room. Charlie lets out a groan followed by a laugh because we could both feel the physical reaction I had to the noise he had let out. Wrapping his right arm across my stomach, Charlie reaches the left up to grab my tits, and roughly bite another hickey on my shoulder. He uses his right arm to pull my body into his own torso, and shifting his hips he makes a few adjustments. Charlie shifts one more time and when he thrusts back into me I cry out so loud surely our neighbors will put in a noise complaint.

“There we go,” he grunts to himself, but our proximity allows me to hear. Repeatedly thrusting into that spot, my eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Charlie resumes leaving harsh, lingering kisses, and love bites down the side of my neck, moaning into them in ecstasy. As I feel my heat begin to pulse, Charlie knows I’m close and tries to grab my attention.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” I will my eyes open and turn to look. The pleasure of his movements is so overwhelming that in between moans and shallow breaths, I find myself leaning my head back to rest on his bare shoulder. “I want you to look at me as you come undone.”

“Okay.” I swallow hard from how dry my mouth is from panting so hard for so long. Each next thrust is measured and the sound of our labored breathing and pleasured moans fill the electrified air.

“Charlie.”

“I’m close. Where do you want-”

“Just stay inside.”

“You sure?” Before I can give a coherent response my orgasm tears through me like a wildfire. I’m doing my best not to scream and what comes out is a mix between a strangled cry and a deep, guttural groan. Adding to my ecstasy, Charlie reaches down to trace tiny circles over my clit and I feel tears of overstimulation prick the length of my lower lash line. While Charlie fucks me through my high, I feel his movements stutter and the familiar twitch before he relaxes his hold on my body. The two of us collapse back onto the bed in a symphony of gasps and bliss-fueled laughter.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” he says behind a smile.

“I love you. That was the first time I’ve forgone condoms…” I state to the ceiling in a moment’s realization, “How do I get this out of me?”

***

A/n: I really am so sorry about the slow churn of writing. I’ve gotten busy with classes and though I knew this was coming I’m still upset that I can’t spend more time writing. On top of that being in a block has been really rough but it’ll pass with time I hope :)

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell​ @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

[broiunno]

License to Steal - Act IV

License to Steal

ACT IV

Act I // Act II // Act III // Act IV

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summary: Min Yoongi is your new protection detail upon your return to your father's side after being sent away during a bloody gang war. Now the dust has settled, you've been called back to your old controlled life, and leaving you an unwilling participant in your family's plans. You don't know what they are but you are no longer willing to be the obedient, protected daughter. You don't really care in the least of it makes Yoongi's new assignment hell on earth- So you'll carve your own life out back home on your own terms.

-rating: 18+

-pairing: min yoongi x reader

-word count: 5.8k

-warnings: swearing, gang activities includes drug mention and eventual drug use, the slowest of burns, organized crime, toxic af family dynamics, BEWARE IN THIS ACT: graphic family abuse (father initiated verbal and physical assault- does not fade to black), violence, blood, graphic descriptions of torture, and graphic sex scenes will be included in this work.

-authors note: @chelsea-chee leading the au as usual. I love her the appreciate her as my love, writer, and my beta. Her works are *chefs kiss* Thank you again beautiful <3 PLEASE NOTE: I AM REALLY NOT EXCITED TO POST THE NEXT FEW ACTS. They deal with heavy subject matter and I don't fade to black at any point so please note my works are for mature audiences, warnings are there for a reason and in bold. You are an adult if you are reading this work (per the warnings) and you are responsible for the content you consume. Thank you. ILY all and I love asks about the characters. And that's all I have to say about that...I'm sorry for the wait. I've had covid. I'm back on a better schedule now.

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You fumbled with your hair as you tried to rip your fingers through the still damp strands to assemble it back into a semi-presentable pony tail as the door slid open to your father’s office. You really did wish that you had been able to go upstairs and shower. Or at least change your clothes from the workout gear you currently felt sticking to your skin from the cooling sweat. As a breeze drifted from the vent as the air kicked on, you shivered violently, shaking your head and shooting a hateful stare in Yoongi’s direction as you stepped into the office. Appearances were everything in your family. They were the first level of protection to ensure threats stayed at a minimum. A show of strength and cohesiveness discouraged any hair-brained ideas from a weaker or less organized opposition.

Your father raised a dark, thick brow, turning from the man was speaking quietly to, his expression unreadable as you inclined your head slightly in greeting. “You asked to see me?” you said quietly, keeping your eyes downcast. Since Yoongi had mentioned your father was summoning you, you knew it couldn’t be anything positive. This soon after your arrival? Nothing good would come of this. You had just grabbed onto the distraction of Yoongi until you both stood in the office, feeling stripped bare, awaiting whatever admonishment was about to be delivered.

“You couldn’t make it a full forty-eight hours without causing me a migraine,” your father said sharply and you kept your eyes trained on the floor, as you replayed yesterday in your mind.

“Father, I don’t know what you-”

“Y/N, you weren’t even back a day and you spent how much?” he said, aggravation lacing his tone. “I had to call in Kim to look at your accounts immediately. You’re a fucking hassle.” He huffed and your eyes finally lifted to the stranger that stood next to your father, noting that he stepped away from your father and bowed quickly.

“Nice to meet you, miss. I’m Kim Namjoon. I’ve been handling your accounts and will continue to do so.” You felt your lips part in a soft ‘oh’ as you studied the broad planes of his face, full lips and intense eyes. You felt like he was picking you apart in that moment as you took your time to absorb his ash blond hair in a relaxed, but carefully crafted style. His skin tone was golden; a contrast to Yoongi’s milk-like skin. He glowed, and you couldn’t tell if it from his melanin or the fact that he was radiating intelligence.

“N-Nice to meet you too,” you stammered and managed to close your mouth as he pushed up the rolled sleeves of his white button-down shirt. You swallowed hard and tried to claw through the mental fog that had overcome you. With the teasing from both Jungkook and Yoongi, being presented with another god-like man was the last thing you needed. “I will admit I’m a little confused; my spending was never a problem when I was away? I mean, it’s not like I bought a car.”

Your father barked a laugh and threw up his hands. “You have no grasp on what I do to make this money that you just piss away Y/N! And you COULD have bought a car with the amount you spent yesterday! Like I said: a god damn burden!” he hissed and you flushed slightly, taking a step back unconsciously as you watched his neck flush. Yoongi hadn’t said a word, but you knew you could still sense his dark presence in the corner of the room, not looking at him to notice his eyes narrowed slightly as the scene unfolded.

“Y/N, I’ve had an idea. You’re a daughter. I can’t do much with you. Your brother who I could actually have used is dead. Your mother-” He stopped as he watched your eyes bulge and he shook his head. “I can’t have more children. I’d consider it disrespectful to her memory,” he mused, a hand running along his chin and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you, but your jaw snapped shut audibly as your teeth clacked together after the noise passed your lips.

Your father’s eyes flared to life in challenge and he glanced at Namjoon, lip curling. “Did you calculate her estimated cost of living and monthly expenditures? Do you have solid numbers?” he said shortly and Namjoon just nodded, eyes flicking between the family members silently. “And did you adjust for a profit at the margin we discussed?”

“Yes sir,” came the deep steady voice, Namjoon’s eyes traveling your figure, his gaze not heavy with lust or desire, but full of curiosity. “The monthly amount that you should request for that profit is in the proposal if you would like to review it.” He finished and cleared his throat. “I can return if you want me to look over the contract,” he said softly, clearing fishing for a dismissal and your father granted it, offering his hand and you felt your mouth tighten in confusion.

“What contract?”

Namjoon grabbed a briefcase and inclined his head to you stiffly in farewell before his long legs carried him out the doorway. Your father’s gaze didn’t leave your eyes as he spoke. “Yoongi, see him out.” Yoongi nodded and started after the tall man in silence, not sparing you a second glance on his way out.

“I asked you what contract?” you said softly, struggling to keep your voice even as your father stepped closer to you.

“Well, you went out. Spent a lot of money that you’ve done nothing to earn, and caught someone’s eye in the process. Someone worth a lot of money and who would be an asset to have closer to the family at this point in his career.” Your father clasped his hands behind his back as he continued to close the distance between you, each step he made, you felt your heart plummet further.

“Father… what exactly are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, Y/N. I’m telling you. Someone’s made a bid for your hand, and it’s the only thing you’ll be good for at this point. The shopping sprees, your lifestyle. I can maintain them, but if someone else is willing to do so, and the marriage benefits me in my business, I’d be stupid not to pursue it. Do you think I’m stupid, Y/N?” he said, voice getting dangerously quiet as he reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had escaped the rapidly put-up ponytail behind your ear.

“You can’t sell me off like fucking cattle!-” you said, flinching away from his touch, and his large, calloused hand shot out to grab your chin tightly. He forced your face back towards his as you tried to jerk away, squeezing hard enough to make your eyes begin to water. Your heart thudded out a dangerous irregular rhythm as you breathed hard through your nose.

“I can’t? Y/N, you seem to be under the delusion that you are free from the responsibilities that come with being in this family. I suppose that may be my fault. I was too soft on you, pitied the losses I caused you to have. I always had your brother anyway; there was no harm in indulging you. But now, you’re the only one with my blood in your veins. You’re home to do a service for this family. Everyone else has given their lives in some way. Did you think you were special?” His words were measured and cold as he studied you, grip not loosening on your face. You would be bruised tomorrow as you felt the throb set in from the pressure he was applying.

“You may order me to do it, but I don’t have to go along with this,” you hissed, barely able to open your jaw, but clenching your teeth to get your words out, rage licking up and down your body. He had taken your entire life as a child, as an adolescent. Did he really think giving you a few years of freedom put you back in his debt so far that you owed him the rest of your life?!

No sooner than the words were out of your mouth you heard the sharp crack, and felt yourself stumbling backwards into the wall. You blinked quickly as you registered the pain in your head, immediately starting to pound as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You barely had time to regain a semblance of your bearings before your father was upon you again, face chillingly blank as his ringed fingers gripped the base of your ponytail, ripping your head back at an awkward angle, a scream breaching your bloody lips. The noise was cut short by another blow, snapping your head to the side before he jerked your face back to center.

“Who do you think you are, you little bitch?” he said with a lilt to his tone as you choked out a sob, unable to keep it from escaping your lips. “You really thought you weren’t going to do shit to replace that money you spent?” When he finished speaking he gave your head a violent shake, as if to scramble your thoughts further. It was completely unnecessary, as your head felt as if it was splitting with the pain he had rocked through you with his blows and harsh grip. You felt the start of a purely hysterical giggle break through, spitting out the fresh rush of blood that ran in your mouth due to the cuts in your cheek from your teeth. You noticed a piece of the skin from inside your mouth flapping loosely that made you nauseated if you dwelled on it.

The laugh was probably the worst response you could have had.

You heard a soft hiss, and your father stepped into your space further, hands darting from your head to wrap themselves around your throat and squeezing. As your hands scrambled to scratch at his hand, his arm, his face, anything, you wished you were surprised at this. You wished you were hurt because you were shocked, but you weren’t. There was blood in the water and he was a shark. He built his life this way.

“You don’t have to go along with this…” he said softly, voice void of emotion, “but you also don’t have to keep living here either. How long will you make it without this family? You’d never make it out of the city.” He mused and continued to squeeze, your vision starting to spot as you tried to draw in any bit of air within the hold he had, the choking heaves under the weight of him making the blood that had pooled in your mouth from his blows spill over your chin grotesquely as it began to stream onto his hand. “So will you behave for once in your fucking life?”

You were hyper aware of the tears streaming down your face as you managed the smallest of nods. You supposed he was right; you had never imagined you would be used in the family in any way. Your entire life had been lonely, and even though you hated it, you had resigned yourself to it. His hands unwrapped themselves from your neck, letting you inhale a burning gasp of air as you slid down the wall, and onto the floor. You coughed and rocked forward onto all fours as the shaking of your body didn’t allow for much more than consciousness.

Your father pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the crimson of your blood off his hand before tossing it to you on the floor. You could barely recognize the quick but unhurried footsteps coming back down the hallway to the office before they stopped short.

“Yoongi, take her upstairs.”

==

The flush from hustling back to his boss’s office drained from Yoongi’s face as his eyes widened at your figure hunched forward onto your elbows on the floor. He watched you hack as your body tried to clear your airway. Yoongi stayed silent as he reached down, crouching next to you and attempting to offer you a hand so you could stand on your own, for which you were thankful. You felt the physical pain, but no emotions as your mind sluggishly screamed at you to just accept his hand and stand. You needed to walk out of here on your own. You knew you wouldn’t make it all the way to your room after the assault, but you didn’t need to. Just to the elevator.

You reached out your hand, shaking hard, as you clasped at his large palm and hoisted yourself up, letting him pull lightly as he stood with you, noting that he was still silent. You tried to ignore how your vision swam before you, willing your knees not to buckle. You couldn’t pinpoint if the unsteadiness was from the blows to your face, the lack of oxygen, or the tears that had thankfully stopped streaming down your face but still filled your eyes.

Yoongi seemed to read your mind, shifting his grip from your hand to your upper arm, nestling in your underarm and gently steered you to the door, but let you support most of your weight on the way out. You walked in silence as he didn’t rush you down the hallway, both of your eyes trained on the lift door as he typed in the code. As you waited for the door to open you felt your shaking legs betray you and start to bend. You glanced away from him, the movement of your eyes causing a piercing pain to shoot through your head. “Please,” was all you rasped wetly as you put more weight and started to sink, but the pressure holding you up immediately doubled, Yoongi’s support forcing you upright, even if it made your shoulder raise. It would be almost imperceptible from your father’s office if he was still looking in your direction, but you doubted he would. He had already received your submission; he didn’t need you for anything else.

Yoongi didn’t seem to want to take the chance that he was still watching, stepping into the elevator and continuing to only hold you in one place. His grip was still disguised as if he was walking you out in the same way he may escort an associate who was no longer welcome - in such a manner that would deter any further escalation. No one would be able to tell he was the only thing keeping you upright.

As the door slid shut to the elevator the facade crumbled, you lurching forward and gasping out a sob of pain, tilting your head down to let the blood that had been collecting in your mouth pour out onto the floor. You forgot how much mouth wounds bled. Yoongi was not bothered with the grotesque display as he swiftly adjusted his grip to wrap around your shoulders, his other arm sweeping at your feet as he lifted you with apparent ease. You shut your eyes as the tears began to flow once more, unable to restrain the moans and whimpers of pain that escaped between gasps as you cried. He still hadn’t said a word, even as you turned your face into his suit jacket, inhaling jaggedly as you tried to focus on the scent permeating from him, trying to place it through your snot-filled nose. The only thing you could recognize was the warm, woodsy scent of patchouli as you reached a shaking hand up to hold onto his jacket tightly. You knew he wouldn’t drop you, but it grounded you all the same.

You tried to slow your breathing, but failed as the elevator door opened and Yoongi strode quickly to your bedroom door, bending at the knees and somehow using his crook of his elbow and his body to turn the door knob, the only change in your positioning being that you tilted slightly as he spun it. He kicked the door with his foot gently as he stepped in, by-passing your bed as he carried you into your bathroom, carefully getting on his knees as he lowered you into your large bathtub as he placed you there. You continued to breath quickly, your gasps becoming sharper as your gentle shaking soon became uncontrollable. You released his jacket as he stood and you pulled your knees to your chest, shutting your eyes finally as you heard the tap briefly run before a cool rag brushed your chin, eyes flying open as you flinched away.

“Shh, I need to see your face. I have to get the blood off,” Yoongi whispered, and you finally looked at him, noting his face was still paler than normal. “Princess, I need you to take a slow, deep breath okay? Can you do that? Your lips are turning blue; you’re hyperventilating. You’re safe,” he murmured, brows pinching together in a pained expression you had never seen on his face as you tried to nod, attempting to take a long breath in but ended up gulping in air multiple times on the way, the blurring of your vision worsening as Yoongi grimaced, your breathing speeding up again, your shoulders shrugging with the effort to take in air. The last thing you heard was Yoongi’s tense exclamation of “Shit!” before you blacked out.

==

When you awoke, you were under the covers of your large bed. You sat up quickly before groaning from the ache in your head, then realizing that opening your mouth made you want to scream from pain. Between the squeeze on your jaw and the cuts inside your mouth, it was safe to say you would be saying very little for a while. You glanced towards the window, noting it was inky black outside.

“How long has he hit you?” came a cool voice from beside your bedside and you turned to face the source, seeing a figure standing beside the small table, casting a shadow with the aid of a lamp. Had he even left? Yoongi had shed his stained suit jacket, but still wore the white shirt and same suit pants. You only knew it was the same shirt due to the blood stain from where your mouth must have painted him. Instead of attempting to speak, you shrugged in an attempt to get his gaze off of you. It was piercing and unnerving. You felt as if this was the beginning of an interrogation, and you didn’t fail to notice the color had still not returned to his normally pale face. Now that your mind was a bit clearer you were able to recognize why it registered so deeply with you. He was the embodiment of white with fury. “How. Long?” he said again with such harshness you swallowed hard, ignoring the fire that licked down your throat as you did so.

“That’s a joke right? He’s always been like that. I just normally am better at avoiding it,” you forced out; your words were almost incoherent as you tried to move your jaw as little as possible as you spoke. That was bearable. Good. Not that you had expected it to be, but at least your jaw wasn’t broken; that would have been a pain in the ass. “What time is it?”

“It’s three am,” Yoongi hissed as his eyes glimmered in the near darkness, pushing off the wall and grabbing a glass of water off the table and sweeping a few pills into his hand. “Take these.” You took his offering and a small sip of the water before carefully throwing the pills to the back of your throat and washing them down, sighing softly. “They’re pain pills. They’ll help and you’ll be able to go back to sleep in a bit.”

You didn’t answer but pulled back the cover of your bed and slid out, noting that your bloody shirt had been changed but you still had on your sports bra and leggings. And your ponytail had been taken down, which was probably a good thing since your scalp was still aching from the hold your father had you in.

“Y/N… don’t.” Came Yoongi’s voice, still unemotional but a bit gentler than his earlier tone. You didn’t turn back to him but stopped your path to your vanity, obviously trying to look at your reflection in the mirror to assess the damage.

“Is it that bad?” you grumbled, turning to him and you watched him shrug.

“It’s not good. Don’t worry about it tonight. No bones are broken from what I can tell. I wiped you down the best I could. Just change once I leave and get back into bed.”

You let out a deep breath but finally stepped towards your closet instead to grab an oversized t-shirt. You could work the bra off under it and slip your pants off once you had it on. “Why did you even stay?” you said softly as you set to work, your muscles aching as you attempted to change modestly. You don’t know why it even mattered, but in this moment it did.

“I needed to know if he had done this before. I needed to know if this was the first time. When we were kids, you weren’t around all the time. Sometimes, I’d go months without seeing you. I didn’t know if this was a part of it,” he spat out, visibly tensing as he took a loud steadying breath.

You shrugged as you pulled off your leggings, successful in stripping your bra off under the shirt, and padded back to your bed. “There were a few reasons he kept me separated from everyone. It wasn’t all because he thought I was too precious to see any of this.” You climbed back into bed and tried to settle back into the plushness. Yoongi took a step closer to you, his mouth slightly open as he watched you try to get comfortable, seemingly unable to stop himself.

“Y/N…” he said softly and reached a hand towards you and you stiffened, eyes narrowing, and he took note, dropping his hand slowly.

“Yoongi, I never asked for your fucking pity.”

“I know, and it makes me want to help you even more.”

You blinked and tried to register what he was implying. “Help me?” you repeated, shaking your head as you felt the same hysterical laugh bubble up that had made your assault that much worse in your father’s office. “No one can help me!” You laughed, eyes widening as the smile twisted your features. “This is my life, this is what I was born into. This is what all those shiny things cost, Yoongi! I always knew it but I forgot.” You watched as the pained expression from earlier slid back over his features, and you raised your eyebrows in response. “I appreciate it, but unless you’re willing to put a bullet in my fucking head there’s no saving anything.”

“Who says it has to be your head, Princess?” he said gently and you swear you felt the world stop.

“Don’t say shit like that Min,” you hissed, baring your teeth and shaking your head. “Even if we don’t always get along, I don’t want you dead too.”

“Whatever you say Princess,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he cocked his head to the side. “Are you alright to sleep? You don’t feel like you’re going to vomit?” he asked seriously, watching as you shook your head.

“I don’t have a concussion,” you grumbled but as you watched him smirk and go to grab his jacket you felt your heart speed up. “Yoongi- w-wait.” He immediately stopped, as if he was anticipating your words. “Can you stay here the rest of the night? I know he won’t do anything but I-”

“Let me go change my clothes. Is that okay Princess?”

“Yeah… I just don’t want to be-”

“It’s fine Y/N. I’ll be right back.” You stayed sitting up, watching him as he dismissed your attempts at explanations and justification as he walked out.

You sighed, leaning against the leather headboard and let your breathing even out, even as your heart still raced. The pain began to slowly ebb as the medication took effect; what had you even taken? It had to be something strong as a comfortable fog began to cloud your thoughts.

You didn’t know why you felt the need to have him here. Did you even need to explain? He was technically your bodyguard. You had known each other most of your lives. You had just suffered through an assault; staying with you was reasonable. Even if the assailant wasn’t unknown, nor were the motives. At the end of the day, Yoongi’s presence made breathing a bit easier. His presence made you feel safe.

The door opened again and you sucked in a breath as Yoongi re-entered your bedroom, one hand carrying his gun and holster, the other a hanger with a clean pressed suit. “I’ll wake up before you,” was all he said in response to your surprised expression as he studied you. He mistook the shock on your face as being accredited to the suit. He was an idiot if he thought you cared about the fact he would dress here. You were too busy drinking in the sight of his lean figure in low-slung grey sweatpants. You tried to rip your gaze back to his face but you got caught on the black ribbed tank top and the swirling black tattoos covering his shoulder and chest before disappearing under the material.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” you choked out, feeling your face flush and mentally slapping yourself. He may look like sex on legs, but you looked like you just had the shit beat out of you. Which to be fair to yourself, you actually just had the shit beat out of you.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said, a small smirk tilting his lip up but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He draped his suit over the chair to your vanity and carried his gun with him towards the plush armchair in the corner of the room.

“The bed is big enough Min. I won’t touch you,” you said breathlessly, trying to force away the blush that was deepening across your face. He seemed to freeze and take a few steadying breaths.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Princess.” His voice was controlled but quiet.

“Please Yoongi…” you said just as quietly. “It’s just for tonight. I won’t feel safe if you’re all the way over there.”

It was definitely an over exaggeration. You hadn’t really expected him to even agree to stay in your room with you. The chair was the reasonable option. You knew you were pushing it.

“Princess, I-” He breathed, the airiness of his tone making your belly somersault and it gave you a tiny shiver.

“Yoongi, please. I need you next to me. Just tonight.” You shouldn’t be so worried about getting this man into bed with you, but now that he was here in front of you and it was so close to happening, you felt you might cry if he denied you.

You watched his back muscles rippled as he tensed and tried to relax. He turned wordlessly and walked to the opposite side of the bed, setting his holster down and climbing into the king-sized bed with you. “Go to sleep Princess.”

The drugs had to be prescriptions, not that you really expected a member of an organized crime family to just take a regular aspirin when they were in pain. “Is the oxy working yet? It should start soon if it hasn’t.” You hummed your assent as you squirmed down into the bed and tried to keep the smile from your face as you reached over and turned out the lamp. You took a deep breath and shut your eyes, savoring the heat that quickly built from having two bodies under the covers of your bed, ignoring the slightly annoyed sigh from the other side of the bed.

“Be quiet Min, I’m trying to rest,” you said softly and a soft dry chuckle cut through the silence as you let sleep take you.

==

Yoongi’s POV

Yoongi listened to the soft sounds of your breathing as they lengthened and deepened, the pain pills having done their job perfectly. If only he could have done his job in such a manner. He had been given a job: to keep you safe, and he took it seriously. Even if the one assigning his work was an abusive piece of shit. Yoongi let out a sigh, glancing over at your figure in the dark to make sure his huff hadn’t disturbed your slumber. It didn’t. You were still laying there, eyes closed and unaware, your face turned towards him to afford him a view of what exactly your father had done in his absence.

He felt his teeth grind against each other as even in the dark, he could make out the near black bruises covering your neck in the clear shape of hands, a bloom crossing your smooth cheek as well. Even your chin and jaw were dark from bruising; evidence that your father had held your face to force submission. It had worked. He opened his mouth and stretched his own jaw to try and stop himself from continuing to grind his molars down to nothing in rage. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to forget how you looked and how he felt when he entered the office, watching the blood drip onto the floor. How he wanted nothing more than to simply pull out his gun and lodge a bullet into your father’s knee before proceeding to swing the butt of his gun down onto him until he shattered every bone in the pig’s disgusting face.

Until he begged him to stop. Until he begged his daughter to tell Yoongi to stop.

The daydream made Yoongi smile a full gummy smile and chuckle for the first time today. He would stop when you told him to. If you told him to. Now that he knew your father had put his hands on you before this, he wondered if you would just let him continue until his mania at seeing what had been done to you was sated. He knew it wouldn’t be until he heard your father’s death rattle, knowing it had been at his own hands.

You stirred slightly to readjust in your sleep, drawing his attention back to the present as you moved closer to him in the bed and he sucked in a breath. Even beaten and bruised you affected him. Even carrying you in that elevator down the hall as you clutched onto him. He had been spiraling down into violence but as soon as you grabbed his jacket, he knew you wouldn’t withstand even him raising his voice to anyone without shattering. You were normally so fierce and seeing you broken made him want to tear apart this entire society you both lived in, even if it was all either of you had ever known.

It was then he had decided he would be what you were asking of him with your sobs and how you clutched onto him; he would be as gentle as could be and give you whatever you needed tonight. Tomorrow he would begin the undertaking of dismantling your father piece by fucking piece.

He had watched over you after you passed out; you had woken up briefly for him to get you to take pain medicine once before you actually were able to speak to him. Before you asked him to stay with you. He wanted to pretend it didn’t make his icy heart crack, the way you tried to explain and justify his presence. He would never ask you to in this kind of situation. When Yoongi returned to his room, he attempted to steel himself for a night of sitting in that uncomfortable chair, and a sleepless day tomorrow. He had gone more than twenty-four hours without sleep before.

But when your eyes, even if they had started to become glossy and dilated from the drugs, began to run over him, he had to try and think of every unsexy thing he could fathom. You had just been fucking violated and just with one look he felt the blood travel away from his brain and pool below his waist. Why did he think he would be able to wear sweatpants while staying with you? You destroyed every semblance of self control he had. He still hadn’t forgotten your teasing in the elevator prior to this shit show.

Then your soft drowsy voice had called out to him just as he had regained his mental fortitude and continued to the chair. You would be the fucking death of him and he didn’t think he would really mind. Now, as he laid here in bed with you trying to ignore the fact that you were shifting closer to him in your sleep, seeking his warmth, he closed his eyes. He had anticipated the pure fury of tonight keeping him awake, but instead it was the fact that he could feel your breath on his neck, that if he turned his head back to you he could still make out your absolutely gorgeous feminine form from under the blankets. The dip in your waist and the curve of your hips, sloping into your soft thigh. Yoongi’s eyes shot open as he let out a soft hiss as he felt his member stiffen in his sweats, one large hand reaching down to palm himself, and he willed his hard-on to disappear.

He dropped his eyes again, confident he would get his bulge to go down without waking you, and as he tended to it, a soft small hand reached across his middle, making his forehead furrow. He tried to take a steadying breath, and tried to not imagine that the events of last night weren’t the reason he was in your bed. That you had just invited him to bed because you wanted him there, not for security but because you wanted him as a man to share your bed and body. That he could roll over to face you, slip his own hand up that oversized shirt and rub soft circles into your skin before slipping his hand down in-between your thighs.

Yoongi felt his cock twitch and himself harden further, forcing another deep breath in and out as he circled back to try and think of grotesque things to make his longing subside. You at least had stopped wriggling in the bed in an attempt to get closer; he was thankful for that. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to calm his heart and regulate his breath to make it possible for him to drift off.

This was going to be a long night.

[b-chansbbygirl]

Bake the Cake

Summary: A sweet surprise for Bucky turns into a disaster only he can fix.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 945

Warnings: messes are made, fluff, a few tears, a little bit of panic, Bucky is definitely out of character in this so bear with me.

A/N: This is the first thing I’ve posted in almost 6 months and I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty proud of myself. For those of you that have asked if I’m going to update my series, there’s a large possibility that I may in the future. I’m just starting to dip my toes into this stuff again so it’s going to take a while but I still appreciate for patience. I’m a bit rusty but I hope you enjoy! I also couldn’t find an appropriate gif.

~

4 missed calls, 2 voicemails, and 5 unanswered texts. 

He hasn’t heard from you since the previous night and he’s worried. It’s not like you to not answer, and it’s definitely not like you at all to at least tell him you won’t be free that day. 

Of course, his mind goes to the worst possible scenario. Bucky would beat the hell out of himself if you got hurt - or worse - but he tries not to think about it. You’re probably fine and just having a day to yourself but he can’t help but check his phone every seven minutes with his anxiety nagging at him in the back of his head. But it’s almost four in the afternoon and you haven’t even looked at his messages. 

Finally, he loses the battle. He’s throwing on his jacket and locking his apartment door behind him before he can think twice about his decision. 

~

Your door is unlocked when he gets there, and he can feel his heart race through the flesh of his hand as he turns the knob. Bucky’s tried to remind you multiple times to lock it when you’re home alone after the creepy old guy next door got evicted but you forget almost everything so he’s not surprised. 

When the door clicks shut behind him, it’s quiet inside. Everything looks like it did when he was here the night before, except there’s no you. And then he smells it - multiple smells, something sweet and something...burnt? It’s something familiar, so familiar he can almost taste it. 

“Y/n?”

No response. 

He takes a few light steps into your living room and takes a peek through the doorway of your kitchen. Finally, he’s able to release a sigh of relief. Nothing’s broken, there’s no mess like he’d think he would find. It’s just you, sitting on the kitchen floor with your head in your hands….covered in flour. Everywhere.

Then he notices the real mess. It’s not just you; it’s the whole kitchen. Sticks beyond sticks of butter, flour, sugar, and a few dozen eggs litter every inch of countertop he can see - there’s some on the floor, too. And there’s enough both burnt and raw dessert in the trash to feed Steve and himself four times over.

“Y/n?” 

Bucky’s voice is more hesitant this time as his boots thump quietly on the tile of the kitchen. You mumble into your hands and his eyebrows furrow on his forehead. “Are you okay?”

There’s a sniffle, then you look up to him in his crouched position in front of you with puffy eyes. “I just wanted to do something special.”

“Special?” Yeah, he’s confused, but he goes along with it.

“You weren’t supposed to know or even be here. And was gonna bring it over to your place and we were gonna eat it together and-” 

Bucky’s heart breaks when he sees more tears spring to your eyes. More flour gets smudged onto your cheek when you attempt to stop the tears from falling. He knows when you’re truly upset about something; you get so infested, so passionate about something and when it doesn’t work out all hell breaks loose. 

He sighs through his nose and reaches to wipe his thumb across your cheek, taking some of the mess with it. “Well,” he starts, a sympathetic smile on his lips, “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise. I just haven’t heard from you since yesterday and got worried, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffle, dropping your hands in your lap and looking around at your mess, disgusted with the aftermath of your first attempt at baking. 

With a huff, Bucky lowers himself to the floor beside you, resting his arms on his knees. “What were you trying to make, anyway?”

Suddenly, you’re sheepish. You duck your head and wipe your nose with the back of your hand, shrugging your shoulders in that cute way you do when you’re embarrassed. Bucky watches and waits for a moment with an amused smile as the gears turn in your head. With another sniffle, you tilt your head up to him. “It was supposed to be gooey butter cake…”

He pauses, his smile falters, and it clicks. Gooey butter cake...he used to make it with his Ma and little sister all the time before he was shipped off to war. The memory of a messy kitchen and laughter and smiles - it puts a bittersweet sting in the back of his throat. Bucky can’t help his grin, now.

“Do you want help?”

Are you offended? You look like it. “It was supposed to be a surprise, Bucky. You don’t make your own surprises.”

“Please?” he asks, a hopeful gleam in his eye. “I haven’t had gooey butter cake in decades.”

You debate his help for a moment. Do you try to redeem yourself by going for another attempt by yourself? It’ll probably end up being part of the mess that’s already in the garbage can if you do. With a sigh through your nose, you nod and sniffle one last time.

Bucky jumps to his feet with child-like excitement and pulls you up with him. But he pauses for a moment and eyes of the mess of the kitchen, the disaster that was an attempt at doing something for him. He turns back to you, his heart full, and places a featherlight, lingering kiss on your forehead. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles into your skin. And he means it.

With help, a sweet treat finally gets made. It’s not like Ma’s, but he’ll swear on his grave that it’s the best damn 21st-century gooey butter cake he’s ever had. 

~

Like it? Let me know!

[meenah-chan]

A Smear of Blood

A Mammon x F! MC fanfiction

Genre: Angst

1.38k words

Trigger Warning: Lots of blood, mention of death & violence. Read at your own discretion.

You two were just sleeping together in your room. It's the same old night. Yet for some reason, when he woke up that day, the one beside him is not you, but a smear of blood.

Everytime he wokes up he will usually see you still asleep in his arms. Or sometimes you staring at his sleeping face, which never fails to send his visage into flaring.

But that morning is different. The space beside him is empty.

He shouldn't be thinking of it as you may only be doing your business in the bathroom.

But no...

That morning is different. When he lifted the blanket covering him and the space beside him, an ample amount of blood, as large as his two stretched palms, spreads across the sheet.

His mind went blank for a second. He froze, sitting on his spot as if time went on a total halt. His own blood drains from his face. And in an instant, everything came back, rushing through his veins. Thousands of thoughts he never wished to have invaded his senses.

Did something happened last night? Did someone attacked her? Is it a grudge towards his human? No, there's no way that's possible. She's way too kind for anyone to held any ill intent towards herself. Is it because she is a rare, appetizing human? Or maybe the monster want to settle past misdeed he committed and chose to attack the most important person in his life?

No, he should have felt any danger if that's the case... Or... Could he?

Mammon is one of the strongest in the Devildom. He also have been alive for who knows how long. He barely experienced some lesser demons attack him in his sleep, much less in the House of Lamentation.

No. No one aimed for his head in his own abode. Entering the den of the most monstrous beasts in the Devildom is a suicide for any assassins to test their luck.

It doesn't make sense! It doesn't...

Yet... That blood... That metallic scent invading his sense smell right now... He'd be dumb if he could ever forget such scent. He knew it so well. Why does he knew it so well? Of course he...

The image of that day flashed through his mind and he never knew his heart would sink deeper than it already has. The image of her lifeless body in his arms, soaked with her own blood and bruises. Limp. Breathless. Cold. Too cold. With her lifelessly gentle eyes staring at his useless self, who couldn't do anything to protect her. It's too late. His tears and screams won't bring what she have lost.

His loss. He lost her once already and swears he'll protect her this time around. He'll protect her with his life. He'll... Protect her?

A lightning strucks his system as he force his stiff limbs to motion. He wants to scream but a lump in his throat blocks all the sound he want to gouge out.

He flails out of the bed. He reach for the knob only for it to move a few feet away from him and his hand.

When he raised his unfocused eyes to the person who opened the door, he gasps for air he didn't knew he's been holding.

"Ahh. You're... Awake." His human peeked inside the room for a second. "And you saw that..." She sighed.

But the demon stood there motionless. He scans her with his eyes for any visible wound and blood stains. Any trace of blood on her. Yet he saw nothing but her sweaty self gasping for air, holding what seems to be a comforter.

"...mon... Mammon? You don't look so good." A touch of her warm fingertips is enough to push his last button to tears, which he did. "M–Mammon?! W–Wha, H–Hey!" Tears streams down like falls on his cheeks to the back of her hands as she held his face.

"What... the hell..." They both melted to their knees as Mammon start sobbing. "Hey, Mammo—" her palms slid past his slippery wet cheeks as he pulls her to tight embrace.

"'Ya idiot... human... Ye're killin' me." He whimpered in a muffled voice, face buried on the crook of her neck.

His words snapped all the dots connected in her head of what is actually happening. It probably is because of that incident. The day she died... or atleast her other self. It was a sight, to see herself bathing in a pool of blood, as if it was a different person. It was a sight, really. But it was not the one that sparked her emotion. It was the demon that held her so tight as if she'll slipped away from his grasp. It was Mammon.

She couldn't really comprehend what happened when she was attacked by the youngest brother. She was stranggled, passed out and woke up under the staircase.

It never left a mark on her. She held no ill will towards him. But as the demon with the strongest bond with her, Mammon, was so devastated that time. He cling onto her. He wail with his futile pleads for her to hang on. To not die.

Seeing him like that made her regret the event she have no way of ever predicting. The event she have no control of.

The only thing she could do is to protect him from the ghost of the past. She have to give reassurance to the second oldest— her first demon.

So she hugged him back as firm as he did, caressing his hair lovingly. "There, there... I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

He squeeze her tighter she could hardly breathe. But even if it's hard, she let him because right now, she could finally feel the grip her other self felt that time. She's be lying if she said she didn't felt a hint of jealousy oozing out within her that time. "Don't you dare leave me like that ever again."

"I won't. I'll be with you as long as it takes. This won't happen again."

She gave him featherlight kisses that soothes his pain. A gentle yet firm embrace to gave him assurance and warmth. And within a few moments, Mammon pulled himself back, his eyes and cheeks dusted with shades of red.

"But wait... Are you really not hurt or something?" The white-haired demon close his eyes as she wipes his tears with her thumb.

"You wanna check with your own eyes?" She smirks and wiggle her brows at him, earning a darker flush on his tan face.

"Then what the hell's with the sheet? That isn't your blood, right?" Now it's her turn to blush.

"Uh... Can we just forget that..." Azure orbs glare through her soul. "... or maybe not." She nervously laugh while evading the piercing looks towards her.

"Ugh... This is embarrassing. How should I put this..." She scratch her nape as she search for the right words. "Well, it is mine." Mammon's eyes widen and without hesitation, he lift her shirt and frantically check her torso.

"H–Hey! Sto– Wait! I'm not hurt! That time of the month just came a bit too early is all!" She hastily pulled the hem of her shirt off his grip and down.

"W–What time?" He stares at her, confusion and worry evident on his expression.

"I'm on my period, okay. I woke up with it staining the covers. I panicked and run out after changing to search for a replacement. And yeah, I was late." She pat the sheet on her side. "You saw it before I arrive." She look down to hide her flustered face.

"... Seriously..." Mammon's forehead drops to her shoulder.

After a few seconds, he cups her face and face her to him. "Why'd'ya have ta hide it? And from the Great Mammon? Really?"

"Well, it's embarrassing you know..." She pouts.

"Like hell it's embarrassing. It's normal. It's a part of being a woman. If somethin' like this happen, don't hesitate to ask for the Great Mammon's help... Well it's not like I'm worried or anything. I just wanna help ya. Ye're my human after all." He squishes her face as he grin from ear to ear tinted with pink.

"Yes, my tsundere demon." She also smiled like he did as she held the hands on her cheeks.

"Huh?! Who're ya callin–" he protested, only to be silenced with a peck on the tip of his nose.

"I love you, my Great Mammon."

I was too hyped yesterday I just finished 2 fanfics. That OM! anime announcement left me on edge.

And to anyone waiting for my series Quintessence, I'm on it hahaha 😅😂 I'm torn between two twist and still can't decide but I'll surely post it as soon as I finished it. Please bear with me for the last 2 chapters.

P. S. To anyone who watch BL Romance and haven't seen Given yet, I highly recommend it! A real tear-jerker with amazing plot and masterpiece songs 😭💖💖 I won't go with details but there's something really unique with it and you wont regret watching it sksksk 😚😚

Masterlist

[amintyworld]

I'm Like You - Origins SMP Oneshot

A/N: So... Origins SMP may be over but that won't stop me from posting this-! :D

Origins SMP please come back

Anyway here's some hurt/comfort more on the fluffy side. - Minty

TW: Blood/gore, mention of death, kidnapping, mention of chopping one's wings off, mention of selling body parts, almost drowning, cursing. (Let me know if I need to add anything else!)

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

Phil remembered the day they found him - he was tangled in some seaweed and reeds, floating along in the water, leaving a trail of crimson red in his wake. The teenager's right wing was a shamble of blood and feathers, bruises and cuts littering his skin that ignited Phil's anger - he had half a mind to find that damn village and set it ablaze. But, his mind made sure the boy was the priority. Phil untangled him, thankful that the ocean hadn't let him float out to sea, and pulled him on land, quickly searching for a pulse and practically sighing in relief when he'd found one. Phil wondered how long the kid had been out here - he felt ice-cold to the touch, skin ghostly pale.

He remembered, holding the teenager close in his arms as he took off in the air, wondering why. Why would someone hurt a kid, a child, for something they couldn't control? Why would someone have so much hate in their hearts to land deadly hits on a defenseless person? Why then, after everything they did to him, did they leave him in the river to die? Phil never really got an answer that night as he returned toward Ghostbur's mansion on the mountain. He guessed that maybe the world just didn’t have an answer, or rather, they just didn’t have an answer he wanted to hear.

Phil’s roommate, a good-natured phantom called Ghostbur, practically rushed the kid upstairs to a bed, grabbing supplies before Phil even had a chance to explain what happened. “Ghostbur, you really shouldn’t-!” Phil huffed as he launched himself to the second level, grabbing his friend by the arm, feeling his friend’s body shake with adrenaline, emotion. “Wil, he’s got a broken wing - wings are very sensitive and extremely delicate, we need to be careful.” His hand reached up to steady his phantom friend. “Can you grab a couple of potions, bandages, as well as a needle and thread for me? I’ll work on cleaning him up.”

The phantom took a deep breath, silently phasing through the floor beneath his feet to grab the items Phil requested. He understood Ghostbur’s worry - damaged wings for winged creatures could quickly turn detrimental, it was a natural part of who they were, how they felt, and sensed danger around them. Without it, they’d feel incomplete, empty, but most importantly - they’d be in their most vulnerable state.

Phil’s fingers were soft and light as he cleaned out the wounded wing, picking out and straightening feathers that were stuck, misshapen, or out of place. Gently, using lukewarm water, he washed the dirt, rocks, and dried blood from the wound, careful to move slowly so as to not cause alarm to the kid. Ghostbur floated up next to him, placing the things he asked for on the bedside table, crossing his arms, and looking over to the teenager. “Is he gonna be okay, Phil?”

“I…” Phil sighed. “I dunno. The wound’s deep, half his flying feathers are gone… thank gods whoever left him had a shit aim, it looks like they were trying to take the wing off at the source.”

“Can you fix it?”

“...I can try.”

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

Tommy’s head pounded, his body wrapped in a comforting warmth that practically screamed at him to sink into. His muscles ached for rest, but Tommy knew he needed to get moving. His head ached so much it made his brain go fuzzy as he struggled to remember what happened yesterday. He and Tubbo were moving to go collect some honey… Did he fall asleep again?

Tommy would admit it wouldn’t be the first time he found a good sunlight patch to catch a nap and the shulker hybrid had to carry him back to their base on the mountain. How long had he slept? Why was he still tired?

His ears perked up as he heard shuffling around him. His instincts began to flare, sending signals up his spine. Wait… the hunters… the hunters took him… Tubbo’s in danger-

He felt someone touch his wing, gently moving it toward themselves. His wing… they tried to take his wings, they wanted to sell them for money-! Tommy’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t home. He didn’t know where he was and a stranger was touching his wing.

dangerdangerdanger-

Ignoring his body’s protests to rest, he leaped up, surprising the attacker as he tackled him toward the wall quickly to restrain him, pinning his neck with his arm. A crash sounded behind him but Tommy didn’t care. He was getting out of here and saving Tubbo no matter what. His eyes bore into the ill-intended stranger, ready for a fight. “Where am I?!”

The stranger’s eyes flicked up toward Tommy’s, at first matching his intense gaze before quickly softening, silent as he became acutely aware of the razor-sharp talons digging into his leg. “You’re in my house.” He did his best to keep his voice calm. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Where’s Tubbo?”

“Who-”

Tommy slammed the man back against the wall. “Don’t act dumb you fucker, where’s the shulk?!”

“I don’t know, okay?! Just-!”

Tommy’s eyes flicked over toward the window - an escape! He needed to get out of here, clearly Tubbo got taken somewhere else if the stranger didn’t know him. He needed to get free and… and come up with some kind of plan...yeah! Adrenaline pumping like mad from the close encounter, the stranger noticed his gaze as realization hit him.

“Wait… hold on, you really shouldn’t-!”

Tommy felt the wind flow underneath his wings, perched on the window ledge. They were achingly sore - who knows how long he’d been trapped here? Moving to crack a tense spot in his back, Tommy felt a sense of relief. He smiled, knowing that his wings wouldn’t be sore for much longer. They just needed to stretch.

Phil rushed forward, an inch too late as Tommy leaped from the building.

The teenager stretched his wings out to catch himself on the breeze, confident for the span of at least a minute. He closed his eyes like he usually did to better focus. Why couldn’t he feel his wings picking him up? Why wasn’t his body doing what he needed to - it was as simple as taking a step! Just stretch and glide on the breeze.

Stretch, and…

For the first time since the avian learned to fly, Tommy found himself crashing down onto the grass. Shame welled up in his stomach, paired with confusion. Hearing the door bang open behind him added to it all a twinge of fear. He stumbled, trying in vain to gather his bearings. Ignoring the sting of scratches from the crash, he ran into the forest.

“Wait! Mate, just wait for a second!”

The wind picked up through the trees, tangling through hair and setting practically every nerve on Tommy’s wings aflame. There was danger. He needed to fly. He needed to fly away, but… but he couldn’t. He was trapped and alone with hunters chasing him down to finish the job they started. He couldn’t stop running. He couldn’t, because if he did he could say goodbye to flying ever again. He’d never grow his wings back, and he’d look like a useless disgusting human.

He’d be normal.

Flying was the only hybrid skill, the only uniqueness about him. Tommy would rather die than ever have that stripped away from him. Chopping away bone, muscle, and feather - all in the interest of earning a few gold coins! Well, fuck them. His body barely running on energy as it was, his legs gave out on him as he fell to the ground again.

No. Please.

He heard footsteps, flipping around to see the blonde man. Pure fear gripped him for the first time in his life. He scooted backwards as the man tried to approach. Another pathetic attempt at escaping - why was he even trying anymore? His back hit a tree trunk, his wings shrinking back, as scared as he was. Yet, the blonde man moved closer.

“Stay back! Stay back, or…” Tommy struggled, quickly moving to grab a rock, holding it up in some sort of threat. As if a rock could take down a hybrid hunter. “...or I will mess you up, bro!”

The blonde man stopped walking forward. “Look, I know you’re confused and scared, I would be too. But I promise, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Liar! I won’t let you take them!”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Take them…? I…” He looked down at the teenager in sympathy. “I don’t want your wings, I swear!”

“Bullshit!” Tommy yelled. “I know your game, stop acting so innocent! You can’t lure me in, you can’t make me trust a single word you say, hunter!”

“I’m not... I’m not a hunter, okay?” Phil said, stepping closer and making Tommy tense. He sat down four feet away from the teen, taking a deep breath before shouldering off his green robe, leaving the white tank. Immediately, a pair of translucent, metallic wings unfurled from his back, so large Tommy almost felt intimidated. Tommy wanted to say something, but words died on his throat. Phil shrugged his shoulders after stretching his wings out looking up toward the avian. He awkwardly smiled. “...well mate, I’m like you.”

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

General Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added/removed!):

@bones-sprouts

@benzel

@foolishcaptains

[writersrealmbts]

My Gift is You

Description: Jimin picked out a special gift for the other boys and himself for christmas--You, a ragdoll cat hybrid. You definitely aren’t opposed to all of this, but how will the boys react?

“Can I please request a Poly!OT7!Human!BTS x Ragdoll Cat Hybrid fem!reader where Jimin wants to surprise the rest of the boys with a Christmas present, so he decides to adopt an adorable cat hybrid who loves cuddles, Y/n. 💜🥰 ”

Warnings: Fluff and stuff

Posted: 12/24/2020

Tags: jimin x reader, everyone x jimin, hybrid au, hybrid reader

2,694 words

A/N: For @kpopgirlbtssvt​, idk how many of yours I’m going to finish, I have one more that I’ve started but I ended up picking up more hours at work yesterday so I haven’t really worked on anything. But I really enjoyed writing this, so thanks!

“Ok, you stay here until I come back for you.”

Your purr stopped as he started to leave you. “But why? We were cuddling?”

Jimin giggled softly, cupping your face in his hands and pressing soft little kisses on your forehead and cheeks. “Because it’s almost time to surprise the others. You remember what I told you?” He asked, carefully straightening the ribbon in your hair. He then carefully straightened the fur on your ears.

“Yes! I remember their names and faces and that I’m a surprise and they might not be as excited as we want them to be but you’ll always love me,” You recited proudly, then the nerves hit you. “What do I do if none of them are happy about me? What if they hate me? Will they make you take me back?”

Jimin shushed you gently. “They won’t. Trust me.”

You nodded slowly.

Jimin had been getting to know you for the past three months, working through the adoption paperwork. It took longer for him because they couldn’t do a house inspection, and because he had to fill out extra paperwork that said the other members of his household would be monitored by himself and that he would take responsibility of protecting you should the need arise. Eventually, everyone just said that he should take you home on Christmas.

He’d gotten very excited about that and looked to you for your approval.

You hoped you were an enjoyable Christmas present.

You stayed hidden in the specious closet Jimin had been hiding you in since three in the morning (cuddling with you until he had to go out to make it seem like he hadn’t left the apartment, then checking on you after he got ready for the day), waiting for Jimin to come get you and double checking that you looked as adorable as possible. You had a bright red ribbon in your hair, and you were wearing the softest clothes in existence, the soft cream sweater matched the fur on your tail and the pants were a tan color that matched the tips of your ears. You were comfy-comfy. Cozy. Ready for more cuddles. It was your favorite thing.

You could make out lively conversation, and laughter, and then quiet and hints of Jimin’s voice.

Then you could hear him hurrying back to you.

He was grinning as he opened the door. ��Grab your presents.”

You grinned and grabbed the pretty tin, and he hooked the bag carrying the other gifts that you had made.

He kissed your cheek and then took your hand and slowly led you out to where six boys were waiting with their eyes closed or covered. He positioned you carefully in front of them, gave you a thumbs-up, smoothed your hair and gave you a reassuring look.

You resisted the urge to purr, holding your tin and waiting for them to open their eyes.

“Alright, you can open your eyes now,” Jimin said, a joyful tone to his voice.

Stunned, surprised, and confused faces met you as they took in your presence.

“This is Y/n,” Jimin said softly, squeezing your hand. “She’s part of my family now, and I really hope she’ll be part of yours too.”

“You adopted her?” Namjoon asked, a mix of surprise and apprehension.

Yoongi was frowning.

The others didn’t seem to know what to feel.

Surveying their faces, you let your gaze drop to the floor. Sure, you had acknowledged that they may not be welcoming to the idea of you being around.

“I adopted her. I’ve been getting to know her for the past three months, and I think she belongs here. With us. She’s sweet and caring and she’s a really great cuddler and…and look at her! She’s adorable. Don’t you think she’s adorable?” Jimin asked, holding your hand tighter. “Either way, she’s my responsibility now, so whether you like it or not she’s here to stay!”

“Whoa, slow down,” Seokjin said quietly. “No one has said anything negative. We’re just…surprised.”

“She likes to cuddle?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded.

“She does! She’s so soft and she purrs if you even touch her hand, it’s really adorable. She’s adorable and lovely, and she brought presents for all of you,” Jimin answered, talking quickly like that would make everything okay.

You peeked up at them, and they had all schooled their expressions by then.

“Y/n?” Jimin prompted gently.

You glanced at him and then shuffled forward, to the coffee table. “I…um…brought these for everyone. They’re snowball cookies, three types: Pecan, lemon, and chocolate chip. But I also brought little gifts for everyone. Nothing much….” Your voice was just above a whisper, nerves taking over you.

“Cookies?!” Jungkook shifted off of the couch and onto the floor to look at them. “They look so good!”

“I hope you like them,” You whispered, nervously gripping the gift bag the other presents were in. The gifts weren’t much. You only had a small budget at the shelter for making their presents, so you had to be creative.

Jimin knelt beside you, a hand on your back to try and calm you down as Hoseok stopped Jungkook from immediately trying one of the cookies.

“But hyung—”

“Y/n has gifts to give us,” Taehyung replied instead. “She’s already nervous.”

“Oh.”

You grabbed the first gift, glancing up nervously. “It’s not much.” You held it out to Yoongi.

He blinked and took it, handling it carefully.

“I…wasn’t sure what to make you…but I tried….” You trailed off as he carefully unwrapped it. “Jimin said you liked coffee.”

Yoongi regarded it with surprise, unscrewing the lid to sniff it.

“It’s vanilla coffee, I was going to do regular coffee, but we didn’t have any in the shelter, and Jisoo said that while it smelled amazing the coffee didn’t taste as amazing so she said I could use it to make you a candle, which I did and I hope it’s okay,” You rambled, shrinking toward Jimin.

“Smells great,” Yoongi said evenly, sniffing it again. “Thanks, y/n.”

Jimin gently rubbed your back. “See, he likes it. Keep going.”

You pulled out the next package. “This is for Namjoon-ssi.”

Jungkook passed it to him.

Namjoon opened it, then looked at you in confusion.

You swallowed. “It’s a bike lunch box. You use the velcro to secure it to the bike frame. And I made an insulating liner to help maintain whatever temperatures you want your food at…it can be used for other things too if you want. It also has a strap so you can wear it like a messenger bag if you want . Jimin said you like biking and…and….”

Namjoon smiled. “Thanks, y/n. That’s great. You’ll have to show me how to secure it later.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry it isn’t much.”

“It’s great,” Namjoon reassured you.

Yoongi was sniffing the candle and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear he was trying to get high off of it. “Why does this smell like I could drink it….”

“What about me? Did you make me a gift?!” Taehyung asked excitedly, scooching forward and then off of the couch, kneeling and waiting for you to answer.

You nodded, carefully pulling out Taehyung’s present.

Taehyung eagerly unwrapped his present, eyes widening slightly and holding up the ornament. “Pretty!”

“I wasn’t sure what to paint so I just chose a beach sunset, and the jar is hot chocolate mix that I made. I heard you liked hot chocolate.”

Taehyung grinned, hugging the jar and still studying the ornament. “So pretty!”

“He likes hot chocolate, and he likes his gift,” Jimin said, patting your shoulder. “How about Jin-hyung next.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t have a gift for him, but because you felt the worst about his. You’d been running out of budget and ideas when it came to him, so you’d…just worked with what you had. Because you felt bad, his was a little more, technically.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Jimin whispered. “Just give it to him. It’s okay.”

You pulled out the box and handed it over to Jin, staring at the table.

It was quiet as he opened it.

“I…it’s…two of the jars…I know they’re small…and you all don’t actually cook that often…but…two of them are homemade ramen seasoning. One is fish seasoning, because Jimin said you like fishing. Korean Barbecue seasoning. One is burger seasoning, a recipe I found from the U.S. The last is curry seasoning. It’s not much, I’m sorry.”

“It’s more than I could ask for from you,” Jin said gently. “It’s great. Impressive. Thank you. I can’t wait to try it.”

“It’s good with homemade noodles,” You murmured, ears flicking as you leaned toward Jimin.

Jimin kissed your cheek. “They do look good. Alright, only two more.”

You blinked at the three presents left, then corrected the count silently before pulling Jungkook’s gift out.

“Kimchi?!”

“And hotteok mix, the filling is in the top one,” You added quietly. “It only makes a few.”

Jungkook grinned. “I’ve never made it before.”

“It’s not hard,” You told him quietly, pulling Hoseok’s gift bag out. “I didn’t have enough paper to wrap it.”

Hoseok chuckled. “No worries.”

You watched carefully as he pulled out the bags of gummy bears. “There are five types. The pale pink are champagne, the yellow are orange, dark pink ones are fruit punch, mid-pink ones are raspberry lemonade, and the clear ones are apple. There are extra fruit punch and apple ones for everyone else in the bag, as well as regular flavored ones.”

“You…cook a lot, don’t you?” Yoongi asked.

You glanced up. “Um…well…we didn’t have much else to do at the shelter other than learn helpful things for if we’re adopted.”

“The shelter makes candies and other things to help raise money to keep the hybrids.” Jimin rubbed your back. “She is a good cook, though.”

You felt a little blushy under his attention.

Hoseok pulled out the nutcracker with an interested sound. “Oh cool.”

“I…painted that….” You curled into Jimin’s hold, reaching over and pulling his gift out. “And this is yours.”

Jimin looked surprised. “I thought you were my Christmas gift.”

“I wish I was enough of one to suffice,” You answered. “And this isn’t much more. But…I thought you could use it to organize photos, and I put in some letters. I wrote one every time you visited. So I could look back on it if you ever stopped visiting.”

He took it and unwrapped it, running his fingers along the sides and then opening it. “Every visit?”

“Every visit,” You confirmed.

Jimin grinned and closed the box, setting it aside and pulling you onto his lap to hug you tight.

You purred in spite of your discomfort around the others, snuggling into Jimin and letting your tail flick around him.

“You’re such a sweetheart, y/n,” Jimin said, peppering kisses to your face. “These were really nice gifts. Thank you very much.”

“Now can I try the cookies?” Jungkook whispered.

“Seriously, smell it. Doesn’t it smell like you could drink straight from it?”

“You’re going to share those gummies, right?”

Jimin nuzzled your cheek. “See, they liked your gifts. They’ll get sick on the gummy bears you made, and then beg you to make more. Food is a good way to their hearts. And thanks for putting some of those special gummy bears in mine.”

You nodded, letting his warmth lull you a bit.

You tensed as you heard someone get closer.

Taehyung gave you a soft smile. “It’s really nice to meet you, y/n. Can I…what breed are you?”

“Ragdoll,” You whispered. “You can touch my ears if you like.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

You shook your head, then tilted it toward him a bit.

He was hesitant at first, then let out a sort of sigh. “They’re so soft and fluffy!”

Jimin laughed a little, hand running over your tail to comfort you and keep you calm. “Tae, do you want to cuddle with Y/n while I get her present for her?”

You darted a look up at Jimin.

Taehyung grinned. “Will you cuddle with me, y/n?”

You looked him over again, then slowly extricated yourself from Jimin.

Taehyung fell back slightly as you pounced into him, not wanting to be without cuddles for a second and knowing yourself well enough that a quick transition was best, but he laughed and easily snuggled up to you.

“Cute,” Someone breathed.

Taehyung was a whole different set of smells for you, some undertone of what was possibly cinnamon, or maybe nutmeg, but whatever it was he smelled like it smelled good. And he was warm, and strong.

They all looked strong. At least strong enough to hold you close.

Jungkook had tried all three types of cookies and was now helping Hoseok taste the gummy bears.

Jin was talking animatedly with Namjoon.

Yoongi was still sniffing the candle.

Jimin came back with a tiny present.

You tracked his path to you, noticing that everyone was paying attention if the quiet that descended meant anything.

“Merry Christmas, y/n,” Jimin said softly.

You took the gift carefully unwrapping it, and tilting your head at the box. Jewelry box? You didn’t know why anyone would get you jewelry, so it must just be a box he reused.

But inside lay a necklace with your name engraved on the front. And the back was all of Jimin’s information as your owner, and a small heart.

“The only purpose a collar serves is to identify you as being adopted. This does the same thing but is much prettier and less…overbearing,” Jimin explained softly, taking it out and putting it on for you. “It’s delicate, and pretty, like you.”

It took you 0.001 seconds to be back in Jimin’s arms, wrapping around him and purring and rubbing your head against him, which probably was messing up your hair and the bow in your hair, but it was Jimin so nothing else mattered.

“So…where is she going to sleep?” Jungkook asked in a whisper.

“With me, duh,” Jimin answered, arms hooked loosely around you. “She likes sleeping with me. Right, baby?”

You nodded, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“But…we were going to sleep together. Like we do every Christmas,” Taehyung murmured.

“So, Jimin can be on the outer edges and she can still cuddle him,” Hoseok said sensibly. “Like Jimin said, she’s here to stay. Might as well start getting used to her staying.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jimin said softly.

Jin came over and bent down to drop a kiss onto Jimin’s lips, then gently rested a hand on your head before kissing your forehead. “Anything that makes our Jiminie happy must be special and good. We’re glad you’re here, y/n. And thank you for the thoughtful gifts. They’re great.”

“Why does it smell like I could drink it?” Yoongi asked again, suddenly right next to you.

You made a face. “Um…I mean…technically you could ingest it…it’s beeswax and vanilla coffee with a little extra vanilla…but I wouldn’t recommend it. It wouldn’t taste as good as it smells. Trust me, one of the dog hybrids tried, then was brushing his teeth for an hour. I had to remelt your candle to make it pretty again,” You huffed, rolling your eyes at the memory. “Plus the coffee beans I put in there emit more of a coffee aroma when they get warm, so…yeah. I was going to make you coffee soap, but I couldn’t get a couple of the ingredients I wanted.”

Yoongi stared at the candle, then muttered something about coffee and hurried to the kitchen.

Hoseok and Namjoon were studying the bike bag, Hoseok attaching the messenger bag strap and figuring it out while Namjoon just made an astonished sound.

Taehyung and Jungkook had liberated the extra gummy bears you had made and were tasting them.

Jimin snuggled into you. “Welcome home, baby.”

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Hello! I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfy but I was wondering if I could get a bit of advice? From your recent posts, you said you left your home from toxicity and just bad things in general.

I’m in a similar situation, but my dad will be taking me away from my mom. And I just know it’ll be a shit show. And I’m absolutely terrified when we tell her and what the backlash will be afterwards towards my brothers and me and dad in general

How did you do it? How did you take the leap? Do you possibly have any advice on how to deal ?

Hello, friend!! ☀️

Thank you so much for reaching out, it means a lot that you value my advice <3

Hmm, okay from what I can tell of your situation, that is indeed a tricky one, but nothing can’t be overcome!

It’s important to remember, though, I was 19 when I left (now 20), so the way I handled things is going to be a lot different than how a minor can handle things (legally at least, feel free to replicate my insane stunts lmao)

Advice below the cut! (family violence trigger warning, I suppose?)

My entire family was and is extremely volatile, and I don’t speak to any of them anymore except for my older brother, but I’ll be cutting him off in 3 weeks too when I move.

Fortunately, my dad and brother were both kicked out of the house years ago due to violence, which left me with my mother, who’s quite insidious herself (just watch any Conjuring movie and that’ll give a good idea of what it was like living in that house lol)

I get the same feeling watching this scene as when I was around her in that house. Granted she didn’t try to change my gender, but the hatred for my father getting taken out on me is pretty accurate lol, paired with the immediate “motherly love” afterwards (she never hit me though, pleased to say — she wasn’t physically violent, just emotionally, financially, mentally and verbally. She did try to run my dad over once though, so, there’s that too)

Yikes…yeahh the same eerie feeling for sure, still makes all my hairs stand upright in memory.

(For further context this clip reminds me of my father and this one of my brother)

In the clip about my father, he definitely reminds me of Frank Gallagher, except he despises my mother instead of revering her. He’s a workaholic instead of a drug addict, too. But the mannerisms are the same. I always handled him in the way Fiona does.

Regarding my brother, I think everything about our family hit him the hardest, despite being the oldest. He developed a very violent streak, and has very poor impulse control. I love him dearly but he’s a snake in the grass, and has thrown me under the bus multiple times to get ahead in life. I mostly just pity him, since I know what our life was like growing up. But still, I can’t defend him forever, especially not at the cost of myself. Literally yesterday I woke up to a text from him asking me to come pick him up because he got arrested for starting a fight at a bar and smashing their windows.

When things started getting pretty bad with my mother earlier this year, I started to realise in my heart that there was no way I could go forth in life with her in it. I focused on the future relationships I would have one day when far away from this town — romantic partner, children, friends etc

I sort of realised one day I’d care about them a lot more than I care about my mother, because those future people would care about me. That in turn got me realising that I do deserve love, despite how my mother made me feel, and that I don’t want her to deprive another second of that in my life.

Something very unique that triggered this too was going to go visit an old family psychic, who’s basically just the Gandalf to my Frodo (ily, Chris <3). He very accurately predicted my birth years ago after my mother was told she was infertile — he got the date, year and time right three years in advance, and even knew ahead of time what my personality would be like, which he was spot-on about.

Well, I went and visited him a few months ago because I was lost with my direction, and he ended up pausing and had a sudden feeling, which led to him telling me that he’d just found out I would be having twin boys one day.

Normally I don’t buy into that stuff, but this Gandalf dude…well I knew he was right.

Knowing I’d have sons of my own one day took me from a scared daughter mindset and into a maternal mother bear in an instant, and I knew I didn’t want any children of mine around my mother or the rest of my family, for their safety alone, which made me realise, “Well, if I wouldn’t allow my own children near them, why do I allow myself?”

I started grey-rocking her in the lead-up to me leaving, which of course frustrated her (she’s a malignant narcissist), but it was a necessary step to start emotionally detaching myself from her.

It all bottled over one night after a pretty distressing argument (I had locked myself in my room to avoid it, but she was still at my door carrying on).

My cat, who’s been my best friend for years, was sitting on the floor next to me, and sort of looked up and I swear he spoke with his eyes, saying, “You know we can’t keep doing this, right? You know this abuse has an expiry date?”

I agreed with my cat and knew right then and there that I’d be leaving that night after my mother fell asleep.

Well, when she was finally done (with threats that there’d be more in stock in the morning, mind you) I went to bed early and set my alarm to 3am (was a little inside joke with myself, since that’s biblically the “witching devil hour”)

I started quietly packing my quilt and cat up (I’d already been secretly packing the boot of my car up with all sentimental and important items weeks in advance, except she caught on and took all my baby albums and more to her boyfriend’s house, so I don’t have any baby photos or information on me when I was a baby anymore, like first words, size and just general things I’d have liked to compare to my own kids one day, rip)

Once that was all in my car, I quietly said goodbye to the old family dog and cat (they weren’t mine to take, not that I could’ve anyways, since it was troubling enough taking Buddy, who’s actually my pet and not the family one). That was pretty heartbreaking, as I knew that’d be the last time I’d see them (I grew up with them and was the only one who took care of them — mother neglects kids and pets alike lmao).

Once that was over, I looked around my house with my hand on the front door and was very melancholy, but knew Buddy was right: it had all reached its expiry date.

I left very quietly and drove to McDonalds for a coffee, as I had a long drive ahead (I had organised to be a nanny in this rich family’s house far away in the city — two hours drive). Luckily they were away on their country farm 4 hours away, so I had time to sneak Buddy in.

The nanny thing recently backfired horribly because they discovered Buddy, which led to more AM escapes with my car, but I’m staying with my older brother and his gf for 3 more weeks only. Something I’ve been working towards for months now is moving to a wilderness island to live in my country’s equivalent of Bag End — a beautiful country cottage, amazing job and fantastic study opportunities.

Best feature yet: it’s 60 hours away from my hometown by car, and then you’d have to take a boat for 10 more hours!! They shall never find me hahaha

One of my friends has also told me recently that my mother has started spreading horrible, defamatory rumours about me around town, but I don’t care anymore because I’m almost out.

So, although I can’t offer any practical advice (idk if you’re a minor or not, but regardless it’s great your dad is helping you!) this is the best advice I can offer:

Find a dream and hold onto it, one that doesn’t involve your immediate family. For me it’s moving to that island and enjoying all the fresh air. It’ll push you forwards and remind you of what you’re fighting for when at your lowest.

Remind yourself there will be other people in your life, whether a spouse, friends, children or even a dog! (I’m getting a golden retriever next year 🐾) And then remember that you deserve all of them and the unconditional love they offer you.

Remember that if you don’t want your mother/family screwing those people over by proxy of her/their relationship to you, then there’s no way in hell you alone should put up with it either, as I guarantee those future people only want good things for you ☀️

There is a good life after abuse, I’ve seen it, and I know you can achieve it, too!

Be prepared for tons of backlash and bullshit — it’s inescapable when dealing with people like this, but I recommend educating yourself on narcissistic parents and tactics to deal with them.

Finding a good therapist who deals in PTSD regarding childhood abuse is important, too. I found an amazing one in the town I’m moving to, who had nearly the same upbringing as me!

So while I’m still struggling with a lot of fear (scared my mother will find where I’m working and living one day) and guilt (I feel horrible about leaving the family dog and cat behind, especially when they need veterinary help, only to then go and get myself another puppy) I understand I’ve done the best I can in a very abnormal situation, and that I can only do better from here.

Also, this song has been a saving grace when going all angsty over wanting to leave your current situation:

It’s from my favourite Broadway Musical, “Newsies”, and lemme tell you — discovering this as a 17-year-old when I was just starting to realise the severity of my situation was pure divinity.

Jeremy Jordan, my beloved Broadway Bard <3

When I finally get my cottage, I’m getting a wooden plaque with the name “Santa Fe” engraved on it, and am hanging it on my front door.

I wish you much luck and love, my little anonymous friend! And please know my inbox is open any time you need anything — vent, advice, a laugh or something else, ANYTHING, it feels good to know my past can maybe help someone else’s present ☀️

Please update me, too! I’m following your story along ardently now! (Also, be sure to take your sentimental items and store them somewhere safe away from your mother — ie baby albums, birth certificates, other paraphernalia/memorabilia etc).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hit the road. DESTINY AWAITS!

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 137

Trying to figure out Author’s notes is hard.... Sometimes I just don’t have anything pithy to say, or have too much to say and don’t know where to put it all.

Obviously I am an overthinker.

So, for the sake of everyone reading: Let’s cut to the Shoutouts!

The obvious first: @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog! I love all of you, you are the best.

Special mentions to: @zommbiebro bc I miss you and hope you’re okay. @nekohuntslight for being the OG person to message me about liking the story (yes, Bael, this is the dirty secret behind why I thought you lived in Australia when we first started talking.... shhhhhh). And alllllll the binge readers who blow up my inbox every day, Iloveyousomuchyoudon’tunderstand. Very much adore all of you, you have no idea how serious I am being right now. I need to go through and make one post just screaming all your names to the universe.

Tyche brought drinks and snacks from my kitchen before flopping on the couch in my quarters. The guys were at work, along with Antoine, but my office was closed down for the day. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” she asked.

“Vati and Hannah have everything planned to the smallest detail,” I shrugged. “They’ve already coordinated with Xio and Evan for all the crowd control and monitoring shifts, and the murals are going up today.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware of the logistics stuff. I literally handle all the staffing for the humans on the Ark, and Antoine was also part of the crowd control conversations.”

“Then why did you ask?” I laughed, grabbing a cracker and carefully stacking cheese and other toppings on it. 

Before I could get it to my mouth, she snatched it and held it out of my reach. “Because I’m asking how you feel. You’re only attending as… well, an attendee. No monitoring, no calling the shots, no working from the floor.”

She surrendered my cracker, but I found myself setting it down, appetite gone. “I’m okay - “

“Lie.” There was suddenly a finger levelled between my eyes like a gun. Just as quickly, it was lowered, and my sister was tilting her head at me. “Come on. You know you can’t lie to me - I’ve known you longer than literally anyone on this ship except yourself.”

“Fine! It’s weird!” I admitted in frustration, standing to pace and shoving my hands through my hair. “My skin is crawling with anxiety, my hands are twitching to snatch up the files and nitpick everything to the smallest detail….”

“Except they locked you out.”

“Except they locked me out, yeah. But I’m pretty sure I could get Derek to let me in, which is why I’ve made a point to tell him not to, no matter how much I ask.” Dropping my hands, I sighed. “But if I ever want to leave this position, I have to let them do this.”

She shrugged and stole my cracker, this time chewing and swallowing before she responded. “You could have kept some involvement in it, you know.”

“Pfft, yeah right. I would have taken it over, and you know that.”

“Yep.”

“Then why even ask.” I dropped back down on the couch.

“‘Cause you needed to hear yourself say it,” she explained, nonchalant as ever, snagging an olive and watching me calmly.

I sat in silence, processing it.  I hated when she outsmarted me like that, especially when she was right. “Can I at least eat first?”

She laughed and let it go, telling me how well the murals for the Festival were coming.  I hadn’t even gotten to - allowed myself - to see the designs, and the more Tyche talked about them, the more I wanted to see them.  By the time I finished my share of our snack, I decided to check out the progress.

We finally made our way to the decks where the Festival would take place, and I thought Tyche was going to die laughing at the way I gaped. The alcoves where the vendors would stage looked the same on first glance, but a closer look revealed very subtle shapes added that would give them a more savage, wild look in the right lighting. Metal sconces had been added to hold what looked like torches, but with special light emitters to simulate open flame. As we walked further, swirls of color revealed themselves slowly, first in light, curling tendrils, but slowly sharpening and taking on a more angular shape, twisting together into phantasmal images that vanished as soon as you tried to focus on them.

“It’s like walking through a garden, or a rainforest, but when I turn my head, I’m in a city.”

“Right?” she laughed as we came around the final corner. 

At this point, we were surrounded by this mural.  Just up ahead, there was a messy head of black hair tied back with a green piece of cloth. Bare feet and arms show smears of paint, and overalls covered a tank top - that, or the cloth for the hair had formerly been sleeves, I couldn’t tell.  One hand propped up on hips while the other hung down, holding a very familiar paint pen.

“Christ on a triscuit, Vati, this is incredible,”  I gasped softly.

She turned and smirked at me over her shoulder. “Not yet, but it will be when I finish.”

“I mean, all of it. The sconces…”

“Those were Hannah and Ivan.” Parvati walked over and touched one with her finger tip, stroking it gently.

Tyche made an impressed noise. “I’m only a little shocked that he had enough time.”

“The materials are on loan from the engineering departments, and we wanted them to be rather rough in the finishing. It helped. Sophia, no matter how curious you are, please do not lick the walls.”

A giggle bubbled up through my chest. “The thought never crossed my mind. I was trying to put together all the flavor profiles here. It’s… a lot.”

“Forgive me if I focused more on color than how the walls would taste. I don’t generally cook, remember.”

I stared down a swirl of pomegranate, popcorn, and gochujang. The colors - blue, pink, and yellow, respectively - worked well together, but the thought of the flavors made my stomach churn. “I solemnly swear not to lick the walls,” I promised. “How much of this are you expecting to still be up by the third night?”

“We have a team that will specifically come touch up the mural in specific places the morning before the second day.”

Tyche turned toward me and away from her study of the art. “Also, you would be surprised how much paint is on the walls. It will take a lot for Else to eat it all, once they are allowed in the area.”

“Before you ask,” Parvati cut me off. “We just asked them nicely. Well, Sam and Derek did.  They’ve become quite the ersatz diplomats to Else.” 

“Anything left?”

“Hannah is putting the final touches on the curtains for the alcoves and the seating areas. She’ll have a team installing them tonight once I finish.”

It was clever, and explained why she was only touching up part of the mural halfway between now and the closing of the event. “You two have really put your stamp on it.”

“Feel better?” She held one hand up gesturing at the entire entire project, eyebrow arched  to show me that she hadn’t been fooled for a moment.

I rubbed my neck, and glanced at her from underneath my eyelashes. “Busted, I guess.”

“That would imply that anyone had believed your charade,” she smirked.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around us again. “I honestly do. I could never have done all this. Holding on would have…”

“Kept you in a position you frankly hate,” Parvati interrupted gracefully. “It’s the same reason Sebastian went back to the Undine. He’s passionate about it, and it shows in the quality of his work.” When I gaped in insult, she held up a hand. “Not everyone can succeed through fear of failing and a determination that things be done right if they must be done at all.”

“Everyone talking about me needing to retire, like I’m old or something,” I joked, throwing my hands into the air.  “Physically, I’m only thirty-five.”

Tyche nodded to concede my point. “What about the food? I haven’t seen a menu come out yet.”

The change in topic made Parvati’s face collapse. “What? It should have gone out yesterday…” She flicked open her datapad, which flickered from the overspray that covered it. Frantically scrolling, she groaned. “This was scheduled, why didn’t it send?”

“Did you check the date?” I asked calmly. “Specifically the year.”

“Three times, it’s scheduled for tomorrow,” she insisted. “Right here: May seventeenth, twenty-forty aw fuck….”

“At least you got the decade right,” I pointed out. “You wouldn’t believe how many scheduled emails I’ve tried to automatically send out for ten or fifteen years ago.”

She nodded and seemed to get her bearings back. “So, protocol for this is… just send it right now and apologize for the late notification, don’t try to make excuses or explain?”

“Exactly. They won’t care why, they’ll just be excited the list is out.”

With a couple quick gestures, she sent the email and dismissed her datapad. “Okay, that was the last thing, then.” Turning back toward the wall she was working on before, she waved to us over her shoulder. “I’m not trying to be rude, but I really do need to finish this up. Thank you for coming to see everything… it was oddly reassuring to have both of you give us your stamp of approval before the Festival instead of making us wait until after.”

“For the record, you two have always had my stamp of approval, or I wouldn’t have tried so hard to keep my nose out of it.” I knew she couldn’t see me, but I still smiled. “We’ll catch up with you after the Food Festival.  Remember: both of you need to plan on taking the day off afterwards. I’m serious.  Have your unofficial advisors drop in and chat about everything, that’s fine. But no actual work, and I won’t let either of you see the survey results until the second day after. So rest.”

“Got it, boss lady. Have a good night!”

Tyche and I turned and headed back to my quarters. We remained silent as we took in all the preparations that had been done, waving to the handful of vendors who were bringing their supplies in already. Once we were back in normal corridors, the silence broke almost immediately.

“I think they’ve got this,” Tyche suggested nonchalantly.

“Oh, I know they do.”

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[poppysmc]

You Bet

CHAPTER 2: All Over Me

Poppy's group leave Belvoire early in the afternoon after their classes. They planned on perusing several stores downtown for the stuff she needed.

Why did she let Veronica talk her into this? If I get humiliated, I’m going to kill her. Poppy silently curses herself and her friend.

“V, if you’re not going to help, go outside.” Poppy’s eyes start twitching at all the frilly and fuzzy things that Veronica is sticking under her nose.

“But I am helping.” She drops the bear she’s holding and sulks, Chloe pats her in the back.

Several hours of shopping and she’s ready to pull all her hair out. Who knew it would be this hard. She normally likes shopping, but this? She can barely tolerate.

Poppy planned a full on romantic apology and then she’ll ask her out. That’s what girls want right? She just assumes, she's never been the romantic type. Even with numerous men and women clamouring for her affection, she never really felt a romantic connection with any of them.

She sets everything up, with the help of Chloe, her ever loyal pup. Veronica is tasked to distract the roommate, for a few hours at least. She’s confident that she’ll succeed in the first try, she could almost see the look in Veronica’s face. “I can’t wait to be driven around by Veronica.” She grins and continues preparing with renewed confidence. After all, who could ever resist her…

Poppy waits in the room; Chloe goes outside, hidden, keeping watch for Morgan. Tasked of texting her when she gets close.

Earlier, Veronica suggested that she surprise her. “Hide under the bed. Then when she enters jump out and offer her your flower."

" What the hell, V! Stop being gross.” Poppy turns away, blushing.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. Get your mind out of the gutter, Pop. I meant your bouquet obviously. Why would you even think that?” She wiggles her eyebrows at Chloe, who silently laughs behind Poppy’s back.”

Should I do it? Ugh, who knows what I’ll find under there.  She decides to crawl under anyway, the floor was surprisingly clean, to her relief. She almost falls asleep, Morgan was taking way too long. Before she dozes off, Chloe texts her informing her that her target is entering the room. Poppy hears the bedroom door open, then she sees legs slowly coming closer over to her hiding spot.

Okay, deep breaths. One, two, three. Poppy tries to get it together, preparing for the surprise. She was ready to jump out when a shirt drops in front of her, followed by jeans. She instantly knew what was happening, Morgan is undressing above her.

“Oh god, no. this isn’t happening to me.” Poppy’s eyes widen and was blushing furiously. She thinks of ways on how she’s getting out. Her plans very quickly turns out into a disaster.

She sees Morgan’s legs retreat. She waits for a moment until she hears the door to the bathroom close, giving her a split second chance to escape, she slowly and quietly crawls out of the bed. There’s a soft click and the lights flick on.

A blood curdling scream is heard throughout the building. “God, what’s wrong with you, newbie?” Poppy straightens up and approaches her.

“If you’re here to kill me, you better make it quick.” Morgan croaks out, slowly backing away, forgetting her state of undress.

A beat passes between them. Poppy finally gets it. “Wait! No, I’m not here to-” She tries to defend herself, she was caught in an awkward position. Before she can eloquently pry herself out of the situation, almost half of the floor’s occupants rush in to see what the commotion is about. They see them both looking at each other, Morgan half naked with Poppy standing beside her.

Poppy realizes what’s happening, she comes closer to her and places her body to cover Morgan’s, to preserve her decency.

Poppy was absolutely mortified. She musters up whatever’s left of her bitchy aura to glare at the surrounding crowd, they mumble and retreat. She grabs the towel and throws it over to Morgan, not before catching sight of her toned body.

Oh, she’s hot too.  She walks out averting her eyes. She drags an equally embarrassed Chloe, who lingered by the doorway, she shoos the lingering crowd back to the hall and closes the door.

Poppy leaves Morgan all confused. She sighs helplessly and leans her back to the door. “What the hell was that?”

Morgan finally gets the chance to look around her room. The floor was scattered with rose petals and unlit candles. “What is happening?” A notification from her phone interrupts her train of thought. She reaches for it and surprise, surprise it’s their photos from earlier posted in The T.

 Good Evening Thoroughbreds!

Our very own newbie, Morgan Hughes is caught climbing something (or should I say someone) other than the Queen B’s rank. Kudos to Queen Min-Sinclair, Hughes is a catch.

- Kisses The T

Morgan sighs at the misunderstanding, they make her sound so desperate. She catches sight of a paper left in her bed, she picks it up and sees that it's a letter from Poppy. Of course her handwriting’s perfect too, all curves and loops.

Morgan,

I know we didn’t have a great start earlier, but it’s not entirely my fault that you were being too annoying, but anyway let me make it up to you.

-P

God, can she be anymore abrasive? Morgan tosses the letter over to her dresser, she could almost hear Poppy's voice as she was reading it.

Poppy and Chloe cut across the quad running, she quickly grabs Veronica who’s still flirting with Zoey, dragging her along. Veronica makes a “call me” sign at Zoey, who laughs at her. “Wait I’m still- W-what are we running from?”

“Poppy’s disaster.” Chloe casually replies, earning a swift slap on the back of her head.

“Shut up Chloe, and it’s not my fault anyway.” She grits her teeth at the memory.

They can finally catch their breath in the safety of the Zeta Sorority House. Their phones chime simultaneously a moment later. Poppy already knows what it's  about.Veronica pulls her phone out and bursts out laughing, earning a dirty look from Poppy. “How can you go from an apology to this? Only you Poppy.” She shakes her head, still snickering.

“I can never show my face to her ever again.” Poppy groans as she lies down in the sofa and buries her face on the cushion.

“Are you conceding? It’s been what, barely a day?” Veronica makes grabby hands, asking for her car keys.

“No. Stop that, not yet. I just have to think of something else.” It all comes out as a muffled reply.

“Maybe you should try for a more direct approach.” Chloe advises her while patting her head.

“How much more can you be direct, Chloe?” Veronica asks.

“You two just shut up.” Poppy growls, exasperated.

“Guess what? What in the hell?” Zoey walks in Morgan’s room; she sees her miserably picking off all the petals Poppy scattered in her carpet, which were too excessive.

“Zoey…”

“I think someone’s trying to tell you something.” Zoey chuckles, getting the vacuum from the storage. “She must have bought all the flowers in the shops downtown.”

“Please, I’m not going to fall for it. If she thinks for one second that I-” She picks up a bouquet on the other side of the bed, one that Poppy was supposed to surprise her with.

“You what?” Zoey looks at her knowingly.

“I’m still apprehensive, she’s all up in my throat earlier. What changed?” Morgan looks at the bouquet suspiciously.

“Maybe she just likes you and has a terrible way of showing it.” Her room mate shrugs.

“I seriously doubt that, maybe it’s a keep your enemies close sort of thing. Who knows what’s going on inside her head.” Still, as she says that, she can’t stop the warmth blooming in her chest. “I’m going to talk to her tomorrow.”

THE NEXT MORNING

Morgan tries to find her before her classes, to clear up the misunderstanding she caused but she couldn’t seem to find her. She sees a flash of strawberry blonde hair here and there but when she tries to follow, she immediately loses sight of her.

“She’s hiding from me.” Morgan comments over her burrito bowl, while having lunch with Zoey.

“Maybe she’s just busy?” Zoey cringes at her weak reply, even she didn't believe what just came out of her mouth. After the disaster yesterday all splashed over the T, she couldn't blame Poppy from hiding.

“I saw her try to duck behind the hedges when I called her name.” Morgan deadpans.

“Try to ask Chloe, she’s always following her around like a lost puppy.”

“Nevermind. I just found her.” She catches sight of Poppy walking inside one of the nearby buildings. Morgan jumps up and sprints towards her. "You’re not getting away from me this time" She mutters under her breath. When she enters though,  she looks around but she sees no sign of Poppy anywhere. “Damn, I lost her again.”

“Hi Morgan!” She almost jumps when someone suddenly spoke right next to her. A scream was stuck in her throat.

“Uhh… Do you need something?” Morgan questions the girl.

“T-This is for you.” The girl hands her a bear, she leaves immediately after handing it to her, offering no explanation. She looks down at the card attached.

Morgan,

I’ll pick you up at 7pm tonight, be ready.

-P

Her again? Why can’t she just speak to me like a normal person.  “Ugh, can she even be more annoying?” She walks back to Zoey, and she does the unthinkable; she hugs the bear to her chest. It smells like her...What am I doing?

“So, you followed her and came back with that?” Zoey asks her, eyebrow raised. Morgan didn’t know what to say, she just blushes. The students milling about were starting to look in their direction, snapping a couple of photos, presumably for The T.

“Let’s go Zoey, I hate when people stare.”

“You’ve been hot topic from day one, get used to it.” Zoey chuckles and stands. They begin their trek to the dorms.

POPPY POV

She has been trying all morning to avoid Morgan and she’s sort of proud that she’s doing a good job at it.

Veronica texts her: I heard you were avoiding Morgan. Wtf are you doing, you gay disaster???

I got it under control. Don’t worry. PS. I’m not a disaster, I do everything with grace and fyi I'm bi. Poppy types out a response.

Yeah right. I’m more worried about Chloe, she might die from second hand embarrassment. Anyway, just go to her, you’re making it seem like you hate her with all your dodging.

NO! Can’t show my face yet. I’ve got a plan, just watch and learn.

She receives another text from Taylor, her lackey. It’s done, Poppy. Attached was Morgan’s photo, hugging the bear with a small smile in her face. She smiles softly, staring at the photo. She forwards the photo to their group chat after realizing that she was staring at it for an inordinate amount of time. She captioned: SUCCESS! She can’t wait to rub it in Veronica’s face later.

>She walks back to the Sorority House while typing up a new text to Morgan. Hey, We’re still on at 7, right? –P

How did you even get my number? You’re such a creep.

I have my ways. So? Is it a yes?

So, you just assumed I’ll go out with you? Why exactly are you doing this?

You’re pretty, I’m gorgeous. We’d look good together. What's there to think about?

If this is your demented way of flirting, think again. It’s a no for me.

No one says no to me, Morgan, you’ll realize that sooner or later.

Like I said; it’s creepy, Min-Sinclair. I’m not going.

“Where did I go wrong.” Poppy thumps her head on the table in confusion and irritation.

[liv-n]

playing the grim reaper- Kai Parker

Summary: You joke with Kai about him killing you, but you start to wonder if he'd actually kill you. he's just joking... right?

A/N: currently going through a Kai Parker phase, and there isnt much out there for him~~ (also im sorry for the inconsistent posts, i have like 20 drafts)

TW: angsty, mentions of death, SFW shower scene??, quick mention of killing people :)

masterlist

any mistakes you find! (please use this!!)

“Hey! I need to use the shower!” Kai said, in between knocks on the bathroom door.

“Too late,” the shower kicked in, as you started to get out of your clothes from the day, “I’m hopping in now, you can have it in like... 15 minutes."

“I thought you showered yesterday-“

“I did,” you step a foot into the shower.

“Then why do you need to clean off?” Kai asked from within the bathroom

“What the hell Kai-“ you responded as Kai poked his head behind the shower curtain, “to relax. thanks to you, i’ve had a very... eventful, day.”

“why can’t i relax too?” Kai stepped into the shower, as you turned to wash your face.

“because... you relaxing, un-relaxes me,” you turned to meet a smirking Kai, already in the shower. “I swear-“

“I swear what, sweetheart?” the condescension rich in every word.

You mocked him, “I’ll tear out your spleen, you can survive without a spleen.”

“Wow that was cold-“

“Not from over here.”

“Give me some of the hot water!” he whined, sounding like a child.

“Fine,” you shuffled to the cold corner of the shower, “i’ll stand here- alone... cold... sad...” you added puppy-dog eyes for extra effect.

but- you would be lying if you said Kai didn’t look extraordinarily hot, with the water running down his face. highlighting every curve and crevice... god he was hot, not that you'd let him know that.

“Here you go- And next time, keep it in your pants, i could see you drooling” he teased, ending it with a smirk.

"yeah uh huh, i'm MADLY in love with you." you said sarcastically, with just a little too much truth behind your words," if you ever drown me- it better not be in cold water because this sucks"

"top 3 ways to die, go!" kai challenged.

"Carbon Monoxide Poisoning, In my sleep, or death by bear."

"death by bear??"

"yep"

"okay i guess that's the way I'll kill you..."

"I'm surprised you haven't killed me yet, to be honest."

"me too." he earned a chuckle from you.

“But seriously, Kai. " you choked out between laughs, changing the tone with your next words, "Would you kill me?” he smirked, his smile dropping when he saw that you were serious.

“Cause of death- up to you... but, would you kill me?” you asked again, trying to lighten the thick tension.

After a few minutes of silence, Kai staring off in the distance, and quiet hair washing, you turned the water off abruptly. Kai seemed alarmed by the rapid change in temperature, but he adjusted quickly, still getting lost in his own thoughts.

“I can't say it's not disturbing how long it's taking you to answer. I know you know the answer, you just have to decide whether you’ll lie to me, or yourself.”

You grabbed the towel and stepped out, leaving Kai still in the cold remnants of a shower, thinking about your words.

you start to dry off, and Kai slowly stepped out of the shower. he stood, towering, in front of you, a finger holding up your chin, “do you like me?”

“do I like you?” you repeated.

“do you have romantic feelings, for me-“ he asked, his face plastered with seriousness.

“i did...” he smiled, “until you took ten minutes to answer.”

“do you still-” his finger no longer propping up your chin, but pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, "...like me?"

“you’ll have an answer after i have mine.” you pushed away from his hand, walking out of the bathroom, his question still lingering in the air, and the both of your minds.

2nd A/N: thank you so much for the support! it means the world. please comment if you want a part 2, i'll probably do one anyway. all the follows and notes mean a lot, thank you. also, do you guys (gals, and nonbinary pals) want a tag list??

[peeterparkr]

perfidy;tom holland|9

chapter 9: the polaroid

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: tim, tom and the broken ankle

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings:  swearing, alcohol mention, angst, smut (skip the * if you don’t want to read it), car sex, marriage mention 

word count: 7.7k

here’s a playlist

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) : tweets, Instagram and a text

previous chapter  next chapter series masterlist

wanna be tagged?

Hi, to make up for not posting yesterday, have a longer chapter.Tell me what you think. Stay safe. 

When seeing a story there’s always a before and after the story. If it doesn’t matter, then it shouldn’t be said. 

Problem is, it mattered to y/n, and Tom. Who were each dealing with a problem that technically shouldn’t matter to them but it did. It really did. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be talking about it. 

Tim had been kind enough to drive her to her building, but she had kept on talking, cueing Tim to follow after her, and when she hadn’t used the lift, Tim knew something was up. Because when y/n took the stairs, it meant she really didn’t want to go home yet. It’s something he had caught during their relationship. Sure, Tim may have not known her since children like the Hollands, but Tim had been the one to actually observe her. He had learned because he wanted to, not because he had lived with it. 

And he knew y/n didn’t do it on purpose, she probably didn’t even know she did it. But Tim followed after her knowing she probably really had to talk about it. 

Tim had regretted the breakup the moment it had happened because he had been the one to give up. But he thought he needed a breakup, because it was getting repetitive, not because he had stopped loving her. Especially not because of the reason for the breakup. They hadn’t really addressed it yet. Not again. He knew they had been on different stages of their relationship, but he never really thought how far off of each other they were. The worst part about their breakup was how aware he was that they still loved each other. 

He watched her as she was making her way up. 

“It’s wrong, right? This is wrong. You see it too, right?” She asked him. 

Timmy chuckled, “what is? The fact you’re not using the stairs?” 

“I… No, the fact that,” y/n stopped midway. “I… The fact that Harry and Emma are engaged.” 

“Why is it wrong?” Tim bit his lip. “They love each other.” 

“But… is it love really?” Y/N crossed her arms looking up. “No, no, I know it’s love it’s just…”

“What do you mean, y/n?” Tim dug his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the wall knowing y/n would probably sit any moment now.

“I don’t know … I know love and it,” she sighed as she finally slid her way down to sit on the stair. 

Tim smiled watching her but then sat beside her. “They do love each other.” 

“Well, yes they do,” she sighed, “I’m just…”

Tim watched her. 

“Harry asked me about it, and I told him not to do it and he did anyway?” She frowned. 

Tim chuckled softly, “you’re angry Harry didn’t listen to you for the first time.” 

Y/n shook her head. “Not really… but I am his best friend! And I’m sure Sam said no too, I talked about it with Sam, his twin brother and best friend told him to wait. And he didn’t.” 

“Why does he need to wait?”

“He’s young… he’s 22 and…wait at least until you turn 24, man, I dunno.” 

Timmy laughed. “But what does age have to do with that?”

“But think about it, Tim. It’s soon in their relationship.” 

“Maybe, but who’s to judge timing when it comes to love?” 

She sighed, “we wouldn’t know much about timing but…” 

Tim scrunched his nose. “You’re right I wouldn’t.” 

She closed her eyes. “Tim it’s .. not that.” 

He gave her a sad smile, “What is it really?”

She stayed quiet and leaned against the wall. Timmy watched her, and pushed a strand of her hair back. 

“I love Emma, alright? I seriously… she’s one of the best friends that could’ve come into my life,” y/n started. 

“But?” Timmy rested his head on his hand. 

She chuckled watching him. “But I know Harry.” 

“You know Harry,” Timothee agreed. 

“I’ve known him his whole life literally and—“

“So then you know he is in love with her,” Tim added.

Y/N bit her lip. “I know many things about Harry.”

Tim nodded. “Then?” 

“I think he’s not being fair,” she said. “He is… it’s just, they’re too young…”

“Too young?” Timothee watched her. “I think you’re just scared of marriage, y/n.” 

Y/N froze. “I’m not…”she suddenly turned colder. “but they’re not ready.” 

“How do you know that?” He asked.

She raised her hands. “It’s obvious!” 

“Well when I asked you, you said no because you weren’t ready and- if she said yes then it means she was ready.” 

“Tim.” 

“You said it, didn’t you? you said ‘I’m not ready and that’s why I’m saying no’.” 

“But I knew I wasn’t ready,” she gulped. 

Tim coughed. “And will you ever be?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Timmy.” 

“I, well, y/n, you know I’m willing to wait a lifetime for you, but…”

She stood up. “This wasn’t about us.” 

Timothee sighed. “Well, we hadn’t talked about it.” 

“I—-well…”

Timothee stood up. “I’m sorry y/n, but breaking up when knowing we both love each other isn’t easy, I mean we basically broke up because I loved you so much I proposed.” 

She glanced away. “That wasn’t the reason why we broke up.” 

“No, I know,” Tim dug his hands in his pockets. “it was leading towards it for a while, didn’t it?”

“No, I… Tim, I don’t want...look, I… I meant about Harry…” she sat back down. 

“I think you’re just scared that Harry shouldn’t have done it for the same reason as to why you said no,” Timmy pointed out. 

“It’s a completely different situation,” she frowned. 

“Is it really?” Tim day on a lower step. “Because I know you said no because you’re unsure about your feelings towards someone else.” 

She didn’t say anything for a bit. Maybe she didn’t want to admit it to herself. 

“No, Tim it wasn’t that.” 

“I’m…”he took a deep breath. “I’m okay with it, y/n, as okay as I can be.” 

“Tim.” 

“Look, I’ve seen the way you look at him,” he shrugged. 

She stood up and climbed upstairs nervously. “Tim, no, let’s not have his conversation, please I’m already struggling.” 

He closed his eyes. “I know, I see that,” he said as he rushed after her and stopped her. 

“See what?”

He scoffed. “The way you look at Tom? Maybe? God, y/n.”

“With pure hatred?” She defended herself as she let out a lsugh.  “Tim please I don’t really want to have this—“she kept going upstairs. 

“I think you should go for it,” he mentioned. 

She stopped and looked back at him. “What?” 

“Yes, go for it,” Tim insisted. “isn’t that kind of the reason we broke up?”

“No, Tim, let’s not go there,” she pushed.

“Y/N,” Timothee calmly followed after her. “we were friends before all of this and I know, I think… I think you should try something with him.”

She was confused, Tim tried to map out the emotions she was going through. She licked her lips as she only watched him. Tim only gave her a gentle reassuring smile. But of course she was perplexed, a man who claimed to love her telling her to go with someone else. 

“What?” She asked. 

“Give it a go.” 

“You’re insane.” 

He finally stepped on the same level as her. “Y/N, you loved him once, and I know there is still that feeling pounding your head.”

“And what would I even do?”

“Dunno, that I don’t want to know, but let yourself fall for him and then you’ll know it. Give it a go.” 

She bit her inner cheeks. “I would never give it a go again because he’s hurt me before, alright? My heart can’t bear that again, and I don’t feel anything—“

“There it is,” Tim chuckled. “So something has happened before.” 

She gulped and looked away. “Not really, no.”

“Are you sure?”

“I did have feelings for him,” she admitted. 

Tim laughed. “That’s brand new information!”

“Timmy.” 

“I am very aware y/n and he has feelings for you,” he pushed.

She rolled her eyes, and kept walking, Tim only followed after her. “That’s the part where I know you’re crazy.” 

He watched her with disbelief. “He looks at you the same way I look at you.” 

She laughed cynically. “No Tim, he doesn’t...maybe he looks with lust, I dunno he’s a devil.”

“Nono, I’m very observant, y/n,” he reminded her. “and I mean you do this with everyone,” he scoffed. “but you take his breath away.” 

“No.” 

“And lately he takes your breath away.” 

“No, Tim.” 

“I honestly,” Tim rubbed his face. “and I hate saying this,” he commented. “you don’t know how much I hate saying this y/n but I really think you should try something... get rid of that feeling you have because I know you, you probably have that little thought roaming in your head,” he pushed her hair back. “Go and try something with Tom, ask him out.” 

“Tim.” 

“You know you want another heartbreak from Tom,”he sentenced. “and if it takes another heartbreak for you to realize we’re meant to be then…” he shrugged, as his hands landed on her waist. 

“Timothee,” she said breathlessly.

“I’ll be here if you want to be in love, I’ll be here when he breaks your heart.” 

“Timmy.”

He stepped closer. “You know we’re perfect for each other.” 

She looked away. “Sometimes too perfect.” 

“But if you love Tom,” he let her go and stepped back. 

She frowned. “I don’t…”she confessed. “I should focus on my writing instead.” 

He followed once again after her, as she finally reached her apartment. 

“Ah yes, tell me what’s the story?”

She looked at the door, and laughed to herself. “I’m writing about falling in love.”

He chuckled. “Such an irony isn’t it.”

You wouldn’t believe it

He leaned against the door not letting her get in. “And how is that going?” 

“It’s… going, I am writing about someone falling in love with someone, the truth is I don’t know what makes people fall in love.” 

Tim smiled. “Hm, want me to tell you what made me fall in love with you?” He leaned close to her, making her blush. 

“Do tell.” She watched him, and she did exactly what he had expected her to do. She looked him in both eyes, her sight traveling from one eye to another..

“The way you look into both my eyes,” he grinned. 

She gloomed. “Hm?”

“You do this thing y/n,” but he couldn’t look away from seeing her. “when you look at both of them, your eyes travel, people usually only look at one eye but you always make sure to look at both, to make sure people know you really listen.”

She Cackled nervously. “And that’s what made you fall for me? That I probably can’t focus enough on one eye,” she appealed as she tried to search for her keys.

“Hey, I’m only starting okay? I love the way you’re so… you, you know? The way you don’t care about what everyone says, the way you—“he places his hand on her face. “The way you are brilliant, and so passionate and—ardent and—“

“Those are synonyms.” 

“And the way you don’t take bullshit from anyone,” he continued laughing as she finally opened the door, she didn’t walk in, she leaned against the door watching him.

“I give that vibe off yet—“she chuckled. “But you know? Does that make people fall in love?”

Tim only rested his arm right above her and watched her. “Dunno,” he gulped. “Maybe? Or maybe it’s the little details, the props, you know? Flower pots… it’s the moments y/n, a walk under the rain, losing breath after laughing,” he continued, as he could smell her perfume, and he heard her hands mingling with her keys. She was shaking, and Tim knew that her heartbeat was going fast, maybe not as fast as his. He knew she loved him. “Or a coffee in the morning, a kiss…” and he knew she wanted this too, so he didn’t hesitate on leaning over to give her a quick peck to taste the remaining cherry on her lips. He had seen her nibbling on cherries the whole day, supposedly they were for the drinks but Tim knew she loved the sweet taste of the sugary fruits.

She kissed him back, slowly and scared. But then she pushed him away. 

“No, Tim, please I can’t do this to you,” she confessed as he watched her. 

“Do what?” 

“No, no, I—“She looked down. “Tim I am really not—I don’t want to hurt you, alright? I need time… I…” 

He watched her. 

“This is too complicated,” she squeezed her eyes closed. 

Tim sighed as he walked back. “‘It’s alright,” he took a deep breath. “But just so you know, y/n, I am not giving up yet.” 

She sighed with a small smile. “Timmy.” 

“Tom will never be able to kiss you that way, I’m sure,” he pushed. “I’m sorry, I’ll… I’ll leave now. See you on set.” 

“Tim…” she looked up at him. “I’m sorry.” 

And he left, not knowing who had had their heart most broken. But he didn’t want to think about it. He used the elevator. 

Meanwhile, Tom was also freaking out over the sudden news of the engagement. 

“I don’t want to tell Harry he fucked up but he fucked up didn’t he? I love Emma and I know he loves her but this is wrong,” Tom said. 

“Yeah… I mean,” Haz didn’t really want to go over this with his best friend as he had already heard him talk and talk and talk about it on the ride.

“Getting married? That’s… crazy,” Tom continued.

“No, getting married is not crazy.” Haz rolled his eyes. 

“No I know but,” Tom opened his fridge to get a beer as he threw one at Haz.

“But what?” Haz asked as he opened it.

“The timing…” Tom took a long sip. 

“Doesn’t that just come in perfect time for you?” Haz pointed out. 

Tom frowned. “What do you mean?”

Harrison laughed. “Look, Tom, I didn’t ask much into it before but you are in love with y/n, and that is a big deal,” he commented. 

Tom coughed. “Not really...shit it’s weird you know.”

“I’d say I’m surprised,” Haz admitted. “but now that I’ve been thinking about it all day, you haven’t been subtle about it.”

Tom looked away. “What?” 

Haz chuckled and stared at him, incredulous. 

Tom waited for an explanation. 

“Come on,” Haz pushed. “The way you hate on Tim, they way that even if you claim to hate her—“

“I do hate her,” Tom interrupted.

“Even if you claim to hate her,” Haz emphasized. “You're always there.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. “Well but that’s because she’s important to my family.” 

“The way that you literally always find a way to be around her just to bother her, and the way you literally know everything about her… Like you literally know everything.”

“Everything she hates.” 

“Oh my god, why are you trying to deny this?”

“I’m not denying it… but that doesn’t have to do with anything.”

Harrison frowned. “Doesn’t it, though? You are in love with her, I know it, it’s okay to admit it.” 

“Well okay now that you put it that way,” Tom coughed. “Yes I am in love with her,” he continued. “But what do you want me to admit? That she takes my breath away every time I see her but I won’t... and yes she’s probably on my mind 24/7,” Tom sighed as he played with the beer cap. “and she’s literally driving me crazy and I want to kiss her all day long and fuck, she’s so pretty, and god, the way she speaks? And doesn’t care at all, and the way she turns everything pretty?” Tom smiled to himself. “God and she smells amazing doesn’t she? Like... I don’t know shit about flowers but I know she smells like them…” Tom bit his lip. “but ... that doesn’t matter because she won’t know this and if she knew this I’d blame you.” 

Harrison just blinked. “What the fuck?”

Tom frowned. “What?”

Haz laughed. “You are literally so in love with her.” 

“I’m not.” 

Harrison watched him with disbelief and not understanding one bit of Tom's head. 

“Okay yes I am, but it’s hard okay?” Tom gulped.”This is literally the first time I ever tell anybody. Dunno.” 

Harrison laughed. “Mate... but now it’s so clear,” Haz had to hold his head, “like... her last birthday?”

“What about it?”

“First, that’s why you were killing Timothee with your glance. “

“I hate Tim,” Tom barked. “He is annoying and boring. Because he’s so dreamy, and fuck, he gave her a ride didn’t he? He’s trying to take her back.” 

“And he will if you don’t do anything,” Haz pushed. 

Tom scoffed. “I can’t.”

“You need to pull another stunt as you did on her birthday?” 

“What stunt?” 

“Gosh, it makes so much sense now,” Haz asserted. “The gift you gave her?” 

Tom smirked, pleased of himself, he had known that he had been the one with the best gift. Not even Timothee with the new Polaroid. And the gift had had y/n texting him for a complete week believing there was something wrong with it, and that I’m any time it would turn out to be a prank. It wasn’t. 

“Please,” Tom scoffed arrogantly. “everyone knows she likes The Rolling Stones. She’s so typical.” 

“But giving her an original vinyl? Signed?” Haz pushed. 

Tom gulped. “I—well, what about it? I’m in love with her, now you know it.”

“Nothing, I’m just calling myself out for being so fucking blind—“Harrison dipped his drink. “How long has this been going on?”

Tom leaned against the counter. “I... well, since forever,” Tom smiled to himself. “Not that... Look, when I’ve dated other girls,” Tom coughed. “I’ve loved them and only them but somehow y/n always finds her way into my heart and that’s annoying like... god”

“I’m just surprised I didn’t notice,” Harrison said. 

“I’ve been pretty good at hiding it, even when we’ve kissed I’ve made everyone believe I didn’t like her,” he admitted.

“Even her huh?” Harrison questioned.

Tom sighed. “I couldn’t. Because Harry loved her and if she knew I liked her back when she liked me—Then I would’ve been an asshole to my brother because he’s been the one who was nice to her all this time. And he—He deserves someone like her, and she deserves someone like him.”

“But Harry is engaged now.” 

“That’s—I don’t know, I think he’s still in love with y/n,” Tom said. “And I feel like this is a perfect way for Harry  to escape rather than actually facing it.” 

Haz shook his head. “I think he really loves Emma.” 

“I do too, but marriage?” Tom frowned. “Dunno, maybe you’re right.”

Harrison nodded. “God, how was I so stupid? I can’t believe I never saw it.” 

“Well, stop it now, okay? I still dislike her and I will keep on disliking her, and I will act like I hate her.” 

Harrison frowned. “That’s very stupid.” 

“Is it? Look,” Tom took out his phone. “I’ll text her that I hate her and she’ll answer back just that she hates me too.” 

Haz frowned. “I don’t get it,” He frowned. “If you now know this, why don’t you just…?”

“It’s complicated.” 

Harrison frowned. “Dude she liked you too,” he reminded him. “Why would you do everything you’ve done if you—“

“I may have wanted her to know I liked her,” Tom admitted. “But then I remembered I shouldn’t and—I don’t think she’s ever believed I like her, even when... the fucking yellow flowers.” 

“I’ve never understood why it means so much between you both and why you always get tense when they mention it.” 

“It’s been a constant prop in our... relationship it’s... nothing,” Tom rubbed his face as his phone vibrated. “She just texted me back.” 

Haz watched him. “And?”

Tom coughed, blushing. “She just said… your place in 30?”

Harrison burst out laughing “She wants the d, great, but no, tell her not to come over.” 

Tom frowned. “Why not?” 

“A, I’m here.” 

“You can pretend you’re not.” 

Harrison frowned. “That’s gross, I… and okay, but a, I’m here and b) Tom, if you’re in love with her having this whole thing, will only make things worse. You should pursue a relationship instead.” 

“Who says I want a relationship? I’m alright like this.” 

Harrison rolled his eyes. “You’ll only end up hurting yourself.”

“I can’t want it,” Tom explained. “Besides, I think I’ve hurt her enough for her to not to want one.” 

“What do you know?” 

“I know her enough, alright? And she probably wants to go back to Timothee Chaglabob.”

“Chalamet-“

“I swear Harrison,” Tom rolled his eyes. “But—I mean if this whole benefits thing works out then I’m good, would I want a relationship where I can kiss her all day and be all adorable and take her everywhere and just make her laugh all day? No. I don’t want any of it, she’s annoying.”

Harrison only watched him, “are you fucking listening to yourself?” 

“Yes, I don’t—I am in love with her but I don’t like her.” 

Haz couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Tom was probably the most stupid man he’d ever met. 

“I genuinely can’t act nice around her,” Tom admitted. “I’m—I can’t.” 

“What if you try?” Haz frowned. “Take her somewhere nice, be romantic, see how she responds and then you’ll see how it goes.” 

“No.”

“You know what? I don’t even know why I’m arguing with you, you’re so stupid,” Haz said before heading to his bedroom. “Please don’t be too loud.” 

Tom only stared at his phone, and texted back: “come here now.”

And Tom knew it took her about 20 minutes to come, so he showered, and he got all dressed up, and then changed into something less nice, a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He even put on some lotion. He had combed his hair back then ruffled it a bit so it didn’t look bad. But he stared at the house? Did he have to light up some candles? Or was that too romantic and out of place for their new title. He lit some up anyway. Should he play music? He bit his lip but searched for some music. 

But this was stupid right? It didn’t have to be this way. It wasn’t romantic. This was not nice. 

But before he could even make a decision to turn everything off, y/n had knocked on the door. 

And he felt like this was wrong but he couldn’t act like it. And honestly, he’d be an idiot if he denied having any sex. 

But y/n was having her own thoughts. She felt guilty. But she technically had Tim’s approval. Didn’t she? But it was wrong and she didn’t know why. 

But she had to admit that Tom had left her hot and bothered after kissing her neck in the bathroom. Besides, she could try that thing with Tom. She had to change this whole sexual relationship into an actual relationship. Did she? Or maybe she could only have fun. 

Of course, that the moment she’d sent that text everything had probably gone to shit. When driving over to his place she realized how this sounded only like a random booty call when it actually wasn’t. Maybe it was. This was y/n wanting to talk with someone without being judged and someone who probably was on the same page as her. 

Because this had her on the edge and as she had typed in some words to her script she actually took into account that she didn’t want to do this. 

She needed to change the script. She could lie. She could write about it without living it. But she wrote about it: enemies with benefits. It had a ring to it, it sounded catchy. Hating each other in the day, but pretending to love at night. It wasn’t a sin. Because she technically didn’t have to try anything, maybe she could tell her boss that she really didn’t want to pull such a shitty thing. But writing about sleeping with the enemy… it was sexy. 

This was so selfish of her. But Tim had reason on what he’d say, maybe she did want to give one last chance to this. She wouldn’t compel, however.  How could she? 

She was scared but the moment Tim had told her to give it a go, a thought had swirled in her mind. Could she give it a go? 

But she hated him. There was some kind of awakening inside her. But she had to remember what he’d put her through. And how even with this he could turn around and run the other way, far from her. And she won’t be able to hide again.

But sleeping with him couldn’t hurt as long as she wasn’t the one to catch feelings.

When the door was opened she saw Tom, with his hair wet, and smelling so good, his lotion suffocating her and begging her lips to go straight to his neck. The drops on his forehead only there to fill her imagination. 

He gave her a grin, but then stared at her sweatpants. 

He gave her a second glance and chuckled. “So how is this—“

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to talk to and I really don’t want to tell Harry because well it involves him and I had to talk to someone but I don’t know why I thought of you.” 

Tom blinked. “You…what?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” 

Tom chuckled. “Why?”

“I dunno. You know what? Forget it, it’s silly… so,” she squeezed her eyes closed. “Pants off, Holland,” she ordered as she then pushed him against the wall, slamming the door closed and then smashed her lips against his, forcing Tom to close his eyes and place his hands on her waist, his fingers pressing down on her back. She could taste a fainted beer on his lips, and she could smell his shampoo, she could tell he had just showered. 

He laughed as he pulled away. “That’s—That’s?”

“I’m sorry I’ve never had a booty call before.” 

“I can tell.” 

She rolled her eyes and playfully nudged him, letting him go. 

“But you wanted to talk?” He chuckled mockingly. “I didn’t know kids these days were calling it that way.” 

“Forget it.” She looked around and chuckled to herself. “Candles? And music?” 

Tom chuckled. “I—well.” 

“You’re a hopeless romantic aren't you?” 

“Yeah I was about to turn them off, though,” he admitted. “I kind of forgot I was going to sleep with my worst enemy.” 

He blew out the candles and turned off the music. 

She chuckled. “This is stupid.” 

“Why? Want me to turn them back on?”

“I don’t know, it just—is,” she said. “Besides, I think this is the first time I haven’t had any alcohol on me before doing this.”

“Huh, we’ve been pretty drunk, right?” He bit his lip.“What did you want to talk about?” He wondered as he approached her.

“Nothing.” 

“What if we—talk about it while we go for some alcohol?” 

“You want to talk?”

“That can be another benefit.” He took her hand back. 

She frowned as she watched him, unsure as to why he was acting this particular way. He cupped her cheek, but then frowned.“Weren’t you with Tim?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I saw you leave with him,” he commented. 

“I… well, I was but…”

He smirked. “Hm, he can’t satisfy you—and that's why you come to me.” 

“What the fuck Tom?” She pinched him on his arm, earning a laugh from him. 

“Let’s go for a drive, we need alcohol,” he yelled as he took out his keys. 

“You know what? No, fuck off,” she stormed off to her car as Tom followed after her. 

“Y/N, no, come on, come on,” he stopped her, taking her from her waist, hugging her from behind placing kisses on her neck. Tom had learned quickly. A kiss on her neck would have her down on her knees. Of course, like everything Tom learned about her, he’d be using it as a weapon. 

“Why are you so obsessed with Tim?” She frowned, as he continued to pepper her neck with sloppy wet kisses, making her stomach fill up with butterflies. “Tom.” But he didn’t stop, his hands were now travelling down her stomach, as he sucked on slightly on her neck and then his lips delicately landed on her collarbone. “Thomas,” she closed her eyes. 

He snickered against her neck. “You sure you want to leave?” 

She closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath against that sweet spot on her neck. She nudged his ribs and then pushed him back.

“Y/N,” he smirked with lust as he pulled her back to him. “Hm, should we go back inside?” He asked as his lips landed on hers, biting on her bottom lip. 

She cupped his ass and then deepened the kiss, now he was the one to soothe into her touch, as she slid her tongue in.

She pulled away as he was left dumbfounded, earning a smirk from y/n. “No. Let’s go for that drive.” 

He blinked. “Y/N.” 

“Cmon let’s go” 

“Y/N.” 

“Haz is in there, isn’t he?” She questioned. 

“He’s asleep.” 

She looked away. 

“I have beer,” he explained. “We can chug down 8 of them at once and then you’ll forget it’s me who you’re screwing and pretend it’s someone else.” 

She scoffed. “Like who?” 

“I dunno, Chris Evans.” 

She laughed. “I’m not pretending I’m screwing someone else, I just have to… Get to the idea.” 

He placed his hands on her waist. “So?” 

“No, I’m angry at you,” she pushed him away and then headed to her car.

He let out a cackle, and followed after her, he pecked her cheek before pushing her slightly. “Isn’t that the point, though?” 

“No,” she got into her car. 

He laughed not letting her close the door. “I love your car is old, just adds in more to the aesthetic.” 

“Can you let me close the door?” She begged. 

“No,” he chuckled as he sat on her lap. 

“Thomas.” 

He chuckled. “Hm,” his cold lips landed on her chin. “Y/N.” 

*

She closed her eyes, and Tom slowly closed the door. Y/N opened her eyes with surprise as Tom was now letting his hands inside her t-shirt. 

He started to nibble on her ear as she closed her eyes back, her hands roaming through his hair, he licked near the earlobe. Y/n blushed as she then walked her fingers through his chest lining every muscle on his body. 

Her fingers shrivelled at the end of his t-shirt as she slowly pulled it off. He smirked as he finally kissed her lips, slowly and coordinated at first but the kiss getting sloppier as her fingers pressed against his bare skin. He tried shifting her as his hands cupped her breasts now, kneading them as he pleased. 

She let out a soft moan, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue now sliding in. Tom took her waist in his hands as he then tried to pick her up. 

“What are you doing?” She asked between kisses as he tried moving her. 

“Sh,” was the only response he gave her. But he reached for something under the seat desperately . He finally reached for something as he pushed the car seat back, giving them slightly more space to move. 

He kissed her again, smiling slightly against her lips. 

He managed to pull off her shirt, revealing the red lacy bra she had so kindly and carefully chosen. 

He took a second to stare at it, catching his breath as he stared at the red bow in the middle of her breasts. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, y/n,” he gasped as he looked at her face now, with her hair puffed up, and only her eyes covered with slight mascara and a faint pink from the makeup she’d worn at the party. A trace of red lipstick was seen there too. 

She grinned at him as she pulled him back down to meet her lips with him, she giggled against the kiss. 

“I hate you but I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he caressed her cheeks with his lips. He dug into his pocket and took out his wallet, searching for the condom.

She didn’t say anything as she slightly bucked her hips against his, her core pooled from every single kiss he had placed on her body, she grinned herself against him to get a sort of friction. Tom managed to move just slightly to path down his way to her chest, leaving a trail of his kisses as it shined with the streetlight. 

Her hands went down to his sweatpants that were hiding nothing as his hard length was begging to come out. Her slick hand found its way inside his sweatpants as she palmed above his boxers. He only curved up his hips as she started to graze the tip of his cockhead, as it twitched with the slightest touch. 

He curved again but now hitting the claxon, both of them scared by the loud noise, they laughed at each other. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath as she tried to hide her giggles. “We have to be careful.” 

“No shit,” he laughed as his hands migrated to her thighs, opening her as he managed to pull down her own sweats, revealing the red lacy panties matching with her bra. “All dolled up for me?” He asked cockily as his fingers brushed the little bow on the fabric. 

She bit her bottom lip as he found his way down to nuzzle her breasts. She was feeling just slightly guilty that Tim had kissed her just hours before. The little space they had could only give them such movements, but her hand didn’t leave his cock as she traced it up and down, his length swelling up . He  moaned just slightly and cursed under his breath as he pushed down his underwear, he couldn’t help it anymore. 

“I need you,” she whispered. “Tom, I need you,” she moaned. He wrapped the condom around him. 

He nodded fervently as he finally without any warning, pulled down her red panties and pushed into her. He had to take a deep breath as he felt her drenched pussy covering him up. She moaned, enjoying the full blister as he had filled her up. 

“So tight,” he moaned as he shifted above her, slowly bucking his hips up and down, her hands landed on his ass, as if trying to push her further into her. 

“Oh god,” she gasped, as she danced her own hips around him, with the reduced space they had to barely move but the friction against the seat. 

Tom was deep buried in and he slowly started to hip in and out quickly, finding a pace that had y/n moaning his name, but he covered her mouth, and she pushed him further in, trying to avoid another claxon accident as before. 

And the windows were fogging up from the heat created between them. Y/N needed to get her grip as Tom kept pushing into her, filling her up until he could feel himself in her stomach roughly. His lips trying to catch hers in between gasps and moans. 

 “Tom,” was all she could say as her fingers painted down in the blurred window. Her back now moving faster with the help of her sweat. 

She was rolling her eyes back with delight as Tom was hitting her right in the spot, she reached down to circle her clit but Tom replaced her hand with his, as he circled it slowly, teasing her at first. But then rubbed it fast enough for her to wash out her orgasm. 

But her own hands scratched his back as she was trying to catch her own breath,  as she tried to get a grip of the reality that was going in between. The smell of sweat combined with his lotion and her own perfume. The taste of beer combined with her own taste of cherries. 

She couldn’t hear anything, only his gasps and her name coming from under his breath. She moaned just slightly as he thrust in and out, a fast rhythm, that was getting sloppier with each thrust. 

He was shaking and he finally curved in, he groaned but then finally shivered as he came right into her, her clenching pussy just tightening it. 

He moaned her name, throwing his head back as he then plopped himself above her, catching her breath. He finally pulled out but remained kissing her neck.

*

He kissed her once again, as she caught her breath, little gasps as her fingers swirled around his hair. She stared into his caramel eyes and then cupped his face, pecking his lips just slightly, his hair now combined with droplets of his sweat and the water from his earlier shower. His cheeks red as he continued kissing her. 

“Shall we go for that ride now?” He asked, chuckling slightly. 

“I don’t know if I can drive,” she admitted as she moved her legs, panting softly. 

He smirked cockily. “Hm, I’ll be driving your car then.” 

She rolled her eyes as he tried to sit up, once against hitting the claxon letting out a loud noise.

 They laughed at each other. 

“Well if Haz wasn’t up, then he sure is by now,” he chuckled. 

He pulled up his underwear and sweatpants.

“Mmh, drive shirtless,” she pleaded. 

He smirked. “Alright.” 

The ride was quiet at the beginning. Y/n had put in Tom’s t-shirt. Tom’s hand would land on her thigh every now and then but y/n would flick it off. However, her own hand hadn’t left his leg. He would cough and slightly move trying to remain calm. Y/N only smirked. 

“You  hungry?” He asked, as his hand landed on Hers, squeezing it slightly. 

“Yeah, a bit.” 

“I’m craving breakfast,” he commented as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. 

“At 1am?” She laughed pulling her hand back. 

“Why not?” 

“Isn’t like a worldwide known rule not to have breakfast with your booty call?” She pointed out. 

He laughed. “I love how you keep calling me a booty call.” 

“Well aren’t you?” She giggled. 

He grinned. “Well, but it’s not the morning so it wouldn’t be cheating the rules, it’s against the rules to have breakfast the next morning.” 

“Huh.”

He chuckled. “And I know this place that’s open 24/7.” 

“But isn’t it against our other rules? We are enemies, Holland.” 

“I’ll make you choke on a waffle, don’t worry,” he pushed. “And besides we can get it to go and have it somewhere else, therefore… Not breaking any rules.” 

She sighed. “Fine. Let’s go have breakfast.” 

-

Y/N had to give him his shirt back as they went to the place. But as soon as they were back in the car, y/n was hesitating. She would be driving now.

“It’s late, Tom I should probably go back home,” she reminded him. “I’ll drive you home and—“

“Or we could go to the treehouse,” he commented. 

“The treehouse? At 3 in the morning?” She laughed. “I’m not sneaking into your parents’ house.” 

“Why not?” He laughed. “It’s not sneaking in, really, I’ve got the keys, and I’m allowed to go there.”

She chuckled. “You really want to take me to your parents’ house to have breakfast?” 

Tom scrunched his nose. “Well if you put it that way.” 

“That would get you in trouble wouldn’t it?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Let’s go then,” she smirked as she took a sip of her milkshake. 

And they were quiet for the ride, as Tom would only sing along to the songs playing on the radio. Y/n’s old car couldn’t play anything but cassettes, which at the moment Tom didn’t really want to listen to. He knew most cassettes had been a gift by Timmy. 

He had been honest, he loved her car. An old, silver vintage car.  It belonged to her grandparents and she had been keen on getting it back on.

Tom only watched her as she was licking the tip of her lips and focused on the road. Or so did Tom think. 

Because what he didn’t know was that y/n was debating with herself over the current events. The fact that Harry was engaged. The fact that Timmy had kissed her and the fact that she had ended up having car sex with Tom anyway. 

But she stayed quiet, and even quieter as they sneaked into the Holland’s household, y/n trying not to chuckle as they made their way to the garden. 

They managed to climb to the top, y/n being helped by Tom as they tried to get their breakfast intact as they pushed it up. 

Eventually, they were at their old treehouse, where there were too many memories for them to even remember. 

Their breakfast hadn’t really survived as the now soggy pancakes and waffles were crumbled up. They didn’t care anyway.

Tom had been brushing her hand for a while now as they peacefully and quietly ate. They were on the floor of the treehouse sitting right in front of each other. The food placed in front of them as they both ate from each other’s plate. 

“Are we gonna talk about it, though?” She asked as she pulled back her hand just as Tom had brushed it again. This was too nice for it to be real. She was only expecting Tom to pull any kind of stupid stunt he liked to pull.

Tom cleared his throat, glancing slightly at her. “What?”

“Your brother? going insane?” 

Tom laughed, “Ah you think it too?” 

“It is insane, he asked me about it like two weeks ago and—“

“You said no, right?” He frowned. 

“Yes I said no, I told him that he should wait—“

“Because he should!” Tom agreed. 

She looked down at the waffle with strawberries. “This is crazy.” 

Tom licked remaining syrup off his fingers. “Haz didn’t agree with me.”

“And Tim didn’t agree with me.” 

“Ugh,” Tom groaned.  “Timothee Chalkboard.” 

She only smiled, rolling her eyes. “Why do you hate him?”

“He’s dumb—“

“He’s not.”

“ and I can’t believe you are so smitten with him.”

“We’ve had this conversation before, Tom,” she rolled her eyes. 

He chuckled as he stared down at the food. “God but what do you see in him?” 

Y/n cleared her throat. “I am not dating him anymore, I’m not—”

He smirked. “Oh, so you are not into him.” 

“That’s not what I said,” she rolled her eyes. 

Tom scooted closer, as he poked her with a soggy bite of waffle. “Are you into someone else?” 

She groaned cleaning her cheek. “Hm no, not really,” she looked away. “But going back to your brother it’s crazy right?” 

“Super crazy like Harry you’re so-” 

“Young! Yes, and they’re not—”

“Ready!” Tom finished growling. “I mean they do love each other.” 

Y/n nodded. “But it feels off right?” 

Tom nodded in agreement as he smiled at her.  “Gosh, who are we? Agreeing on something?”

Y/n laughed. “Right?”

“We sleep together and we agree on things?” Tom squeezed his eyes. 

“Ha, maybe everyone was right,” she commented. 

“Huh, maybe they were,” Tom grinned. 

Because truly everyone was right. Even if they were stupid enough to admit it. 

“This place brings back so many memories,” Tom admitted as he looked around, it looked dusty and old and really forgotten. Some toys were there, boxes full of crayons. Stories waiting to be told. 

“Yeah, like the time you pushed me off and I broke my ankle,” y/n recalled. 

Tom laughed. “I’m sorry, I was an asshole.” 

“Was?” She questioned. “I’m probably being poisoned right now.” 

“Mmh,” he reached for her pancake. “I didn’t, see?” 

“You haven’t had any of my milkshake, could be here,” she pointed out as she took a sip. 

He grinned. “You figured my evil plan, killing you with milkshake.” 

She chuckled. “But so many memories, yes,” she looked around. “I think this is the place where we filmed amazing movies here, you remember?”

“I do,” he laughed. “But please we have more memories rather than only when children.” 

“I remember that one time when you were...17 I think and you got drunk and jumped off and landed on me,” she recalled again. 

“Shit, that was your... “ 

“Elbow, yep,” she laughed. “You really have a thing with breaking my bones, huh?” 

He smirked. “Yeah, almost broke your legs tonight.” 

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. 

“No, but… Really, I’m sorry I was a real asshole to you all these years,” he apologized. 

“Oh, so this is what I needed? We had to have sex for you to finally realize what big of an asshole you were?” 

He gulped. “No, I knew it.” 

“That makes it worse,” she groaned as she rolled her eyes. 

“I know.” 

“But,” she chuckled. “All good now, you bought me a pancake so I can’t be mad at you,” she grinned as she took a bite. “That is until you come up with another type of bullshit.” 

“So pancakes now, huh? Not yellow flowers got it,” he smiled sadly. 

“Yes, pancakes,” she cleared her throat, as she then reached for her backpack, pulling out a Polaroid camera. “Wait, smile.” 

Tom watched her but then smiled at her, posing as he took a bite. And y/n snpped the picutre, as Tom leaned over to see it, and then y/n waited for the picture to dry out, she could feel him breathing against her neck, he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder and she knew it when it finally revealed itself, so simple, a picutre of Tom biting on a waffle in the middle of the night. But she knew it, she’d give it a go.

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