#n it turns out i like. kept all the shitty ones it seems. idk maybe i should just finally upgrade to a brand that isnt for kindergarteners

[mortemcatabasis]

Woofy

[wasabidottie]

shitty movie | Jschlatt

a/n: okay okay so its literally been the longest time ever and ik nobody is dying to know why i havnt been posting so instead of a long-winded explanation here is a lil story about our favorite big man !! ive been liking the idea of like a new ish relationship where they dont really know where its going but they are both just happy to be there. idk. hope you guys enjoy :)

You didn’t intend to stay as long as you did. In fact, you’d been pretty adamant about not spending the night at Schlatt’s place. Not that you didn’t want to, but something about it felt too soon, too intimate. Even after the kiss and the banter, part of you wasn’t ready to cross that line just yet.

But then the beer flowed a little too easily, and Schlatt, despite his usual cocky persona, had suggested putting on a movie. “Something shitty,” he’d said with a sly grin, grabbing the remote and flipping through an endless list of B-movies until you settled on some absurd action flick from the 80s.

Now, the living room lights were dimmed, casting a soft glow over everything. Jambo had claimed the arm of the couch, curled up into a fluffball, while Soup lounged on the floor, too cool for company but not too far from you. Schlatt sat beside you, his arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, fingertips barely grazing your shoulder. The action movie blared in the background, all explosions and cheesy one-liners, but your attention kept drifting back to him—the way he’d glance at you every few minutes, the way his body seemed relaxed, like he’d finally let his guard down.

“Why do these guys always yell when they’re about to punch someone?” you asked, your voice laced with amusement as the hero on-screen let out an overly dramatic war cry.

Schlatt snorted, taking a swig of his beer. “Because they have to let you know how tough they are. It’s a requirement. Didn’t you know?”

You rolled your eyes. “Right, because real tough guys totally yell before every punch.”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he replied, grinning at you. “I bet if I yelled loud enough, I could scare off any fucker who tried to mess with you”

You shot him a look. “I think you already do that.”

He chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled from his chest. “Yeah, well, maybe I should tone it down. Don’t wanna scare you off.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noting the almost shy way he said it. For all his bluster, Schlatt had a soft spot underneath that tough exterior, and the more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much he tried to hide it.

“You’re not scaring me off,” you said softly, leaning into him just a little. “I think I’m stuck with you now, remember?”

He grinned, his usual bravado returning as he nudged your shoulder. “Damn right you are.”

As the movie continued, the room grew quieter, and the conversation lulled into comfortable silence. Schlatt stretched, his arm falling more naturally around your shoulders now, pulling you in a little closer. You didn’t resist—didn’t even think to. It felt right, the two of you just sitting there, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

And then, slowly but surely, the exhaustion from the long day began to catch up with you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started feeling heavy, the dialogue of the movie turning into background noise, fading into the distance.

You told yourself you’d just rest your eyes for a minute. Just a minute.

Schlatt noticed almost immediately when your head dipped against his shoulder, your body relaxing against his as your breathing evened out. He stiffened at first, unsure of what to do with the sudden proximity. You had said you weren’t staying the night, and he didn’t want to cross any boundaries, but now here you were, practically nestled into him, your face pressed into the crook of his neck.

He glanced down at you, a mixture of amusement and tenderness flickering across his face. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “Tough girl, my ass.”

Part of him wanted to wake you up, remind you that you had said you weren’t going to stay. But the other part— the bigger part—was secretly thrilled that you had fallen asleep like this, completely at ease with him.

With a quiet sigh, Schlatt shifted his position slightly, trying to make both of you more comfortable without waking you. He reached for the remote, turning down the volume of the movie, then grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch. Carefully, he tucked it around you, his movements awkward and hesitant, as though he wasn’t quite sure how to handle this kind of tenderness.

As he settled back against the couch, his eyes drifted over to the TV, but his mind was elsewhere. He stared at the screen, but all he could think about was you—how peaceful you looked when you weren’t trying to keep up with his banter, how natural it felt to have you this close.

And, as much as he hated to admit it, how good it felt.

For a guy like Schlatt, emotions were messy and complicated, things to be shoved aside in favor of practicalities. But with you, it was different. He’d never felt this way about anyone before—this strange combination of protectiveness, admiration, and, if he was being honest with himself, something dangerously close to affection.

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “I’m in deep, huh?”

Soup meowed from his spot on the floor, blinking lazily at Schlatt before stretching out his paws.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Schlatt muttered, glancing down at you again. “I’m fucked.”

You stirred slightly in your sleep, nuzzling closer to him, and Schlatt’s heart did a weird little flip in his chest. He wasn’t used to this—being soft, being vulnerable. But with you? Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Carefully, he rested his hand on your arm, his thumb brushing over your skin in a gentle, almost absent-minded gesture. He didn’t want to admit it, but he liked having you here. More than liked it. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant yet, but for now, he was content to just enjoy the moment.

Minutes passed, the movie still playing in the background, but Schlatt hardly paid attention. Instead, he found himself watching you—watching the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the way your lips parted slightly in sleep, the way your hair fell against his shoulder.

“Cute when you’re quiet, you know that?” he murmured, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to you or to himself at this point, but it didn’t matter. You were here, in his arms, and that was enough.

Eventually, his own eyes began to droop, the combination of warmth and exhaustion lulling him into a drowsy haze. He fought it for as long as he could, but eventually, sleep overtook him too.

The next morning, the sun peeked through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. You blinked awake, disoriented for a moment as you realized where you were—curled up on Schlatt’s couch, your head still resting on his shoulder.

And he? He was still asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful in a way you’d never seen before. His arm was still wrapped loosely around you, holding you close as if even in sleep, he didn’t want to let go.

You smiled to yourself, feeling a strange sense of warmth settle in your chest. This wasn’t what you’d planned, but as you watched him sleep, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

Not one bit.

[virescent-v]

Appetizer

Summary: This is a shitty combination of two prompts I've had sitting in my inbox for awhile now. "Take your top off and open another bottle of wine for mommy" from Paget during a Drunk History episode and one where Emily teases reader in public. A/N: Idk how I feel about this one besties. The idea took hold and then this happened. If it's bad, I blame it on the fact that I haven't written/posted anything in months...and also my adhd running rampant during this writing session. But it did feel good to get words on a doc and to send it out to the internet void. Enjoy!

Warnings: It's smut! (Surprise, surprise! lol). If there are any typos, don't tell me Word count: 2.3k

When Emily cornered you in your bedroom before leaving for the restaurant, pressing your back against your vanity, you thought she was just going to kiss you senseless, leave you breathless, a taste of what’s to come later when you got back home. 

What you didn’t expect was for her to be kissing up your neck, whispering all the things she wants to do to you, as her fingers found their way up under your tight, little, skirt. 

With your head tilted back, each choking breath stuttering from your mouth, you tried to speak, to tell Emily you were going to be late to your reservation, but it didn’t seem like she was bothered by that fact. 

“I want to try something tonight, love,” she whispered against the shell of your ear. You weren’t even sure you could speak with how much she had already gotten you worked up, so you simply, albeit shakily, nodded. 

Emily pulled back from you, a wicked smirk plastered on her face. She reached around you to an unremarkable box on your vanity that you had missed earlier. Slowly, she pulled the lid off, each second seemingly passing with each breath you took. 

When the lid finally popped off, Emily glanced up at you, now a little more cautious than she was a few moments ago. Peeking inside, you could see a dark purple bullet vibrator nestled inside a cocoon of velvet. 

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Emily hesitated, her eyes on the toy. Running her finger lightly over the smooth, silky-like silicon, she whispered, “I want you to wear this. To dinner. It comes with a remote for me to control. We’ve never talked about doing something like this, so you have every right to say no.” 

Her eyes met yours. In them, you could see her want for this, but more importantly, her want for you to feel comfortable with doing something like this. Emily usually took lead with things like this, but you were always the one actually in charge. 

Leaning in, you kissed her slowly, pouring every ounce of want and love into it. Leaning back, you took a deep breath. “I want to. I trust you, Em. I know you’ll stop if I need or want to and you’d never put me, or us, in any harmful situation.” 

Emily released the breath she seemed to be holding, a smile spreading across her mouth. “You’re right. Now, panties off, angel.” 

*** 

Maybe this had been a bad idea. 

You were barely able to string together sentences to answer the questions that the waiter kept asking you in regards to your food and order. You were pretty sure that your cheeks had been flushed since you entered the building. 

Emily was a master at playing with you -  with playing with the remote that was nestled in her pocket. She’d turn the settings to different vibrational patterns, watching as your breathing would match the pace that the toy set inside you. She paid close attention to the way the faster settings would have you gripping the edge of the table, the way the pulsating settings made you squirm in your seat. A combination of both would have you biting your lip in hopes of stifling the moans that wanted to escape. 

You didn’t know what was hotter; the way you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each quiver of the toy inside you, or the way Emily leaned back in her seat, enjoying the view of you trying to hold yourself together. 

Being so skilled at reading your body language, Emily knew exactly when you were reaching the precipice, ready to topple over the edge right there at the table. 

The problem, however, is that she wouldn’t let you. 

Worse, you couldn't even ask for her to let you cum. Every time you tried, your voice got strangled in your throat, caught between a moan and a curse that you had to swallow so as to not make your situation…obvious to the other patrons at the restaurant. 

Thankfully, when your food finally arrived, Emily took pity on you and turned the vibrator completely off. 

“How are you doing, pretty girl?” 

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. Almost. “You know exactly how I’m doing, Em.” 

Emily chuckled. “I sure do, but I enjoy hearing you say it anyways.” 

You were starting to feel a little…bratty… from the fact that you hadn’t been able to cum yet and the fact that you weren’t even sure when you would be allowed to. 

But two could play this game. 

With an almost bored, casual tone, you picked at your nails as you said, “I’m so wet, I’m not entirely sure it hasn’t gone through my dress yet. I love the feel of the toy inside me, but I wish it was your fingers or your strap instead.” 

You watched as Emily blinked a few times, her mouth agape, not anticipating you responding like that. You knew how much she loved it when you talked dirty, but she didn’t expect you to say it like that, nor in such a public place. 

She cleared her throat as you took slight pleasure in the fact that you had her flustered for once this evening. “Mind your words, princess. I can edge you even after we get home,” she said, her eyebrow raised. 

Part of you wanted to push back, lean into the bratty headspace you could feel yourself drifting into. But you knew Emily and that tone of voice. She wasn’t kidding. One time, she edged you for hours and still didn’t let you cum. Then proceeded to not let you cum for days. You didn’t want a repeat of that experience. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you mock saluted. 

Emily just smiled, amused at your antics, and continued to eat. 

You weren’t sure what to make of it; you expected her to fire back with some other quick-witted, snarky, sexy response. It kind of tilted you off axis, not sure of what happened. 

You decided to ignore it, picking up your fork to continue eating. However, once the food was on your fork and halfway to your mouth, Emily turned the vibrator on to its highest setting. The surprise vibrations sent your fork clunking back onto the table, drawing the gaze of a few other patrons. 

“Emily,” you hissed under your breath, your jaw clenched, as you tried to gesture an apology to the people sitting near you. 

Another smirk graced her pretty face. “Hurry up and finish eating, love. I want to enjoy dessert at home,” she said with a wink. 

*** 

You weren’t sure you were walking straight. Every few steps Emily would change the vibration pattern and it would cause your knees to buckle. If you stopped to regain your balance, or to breathe through the pleasure, Emily would turn the vibrator off completely. Even though they were absolutely ruined, you were thankful for your lace panties. Otherwise, you’re not sure the toy would even still be inside you with how wet you were. 

Reaching the door, you fumbled with your keys, struggling to find the right one, and struggling further to get it in the slot to turn the lock. 

You heard Emily chuckling lowly behind you. 

Finally getting the door open, you rushed inside, throwing your stuff on the small table by the door and kicking your shoes off. 

Turning around as Emily shut the door behind her, you went to pull her towards you, but she put her hand up. 

“I meant it when I said I wanted dessert at home, love,” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the kitchen. 

You wanted to whine. You wanted to scream. You were so pent up you didn’t think you were going to be able to last another minute, let alone however long it took for Emily to eat whatever dessert she had in mind. 

You kept your mouth shut, figuring it was better to play along with her plan than to cause more issues for yourself later. 

Walking to the fridge, Emily pulled out a small cheesecake that you hadn’t known about. She grabbed plates and cutlery, serving you both small slices. Before you could start on yours, Emily’s hand went up again stopping you. “Uh uh, wait a second. Do me a favor and take your shirt off and open up a bottle of wine for mommy,” she smirked, licking her fork of the smooth dessert. 

You gulped, walking over to the wine fridge and pulling out a wine you knew went well with desserts. You pulled the glasses down, pouring a healthy amount into each. Before turning around, you slowly unbuttoned your blouse before sliding it off of your shoulders. You unhooked your bra and let that fall to the floor as well. Grabbing the wine glasses, you turned around, watching as Emily looked you up and down. 

You sauntered up to her, placing the glasses on the table. You waited until she looked up at you from her chair before you slowly unzipped your skirt, letting gravity take it to the ground. You watched as Emily’s hands flexed as if she wanted to reach out to you, but she managed to refrain. She licked her lips before looking back up at you. 

Pushing her legs together, you straddled her lap. As you sat down fully, you sharply inhaled as your laced covered cunt made contact with Emily’s dress pants. The urge to grind down, to feel the friction where you needed it most, overtook you. 

You got a few good rolls of your hips in before Emily’s hands shot out to your body, grabbing harshly at your waist. Even the bruising pressure of her fingers on your skin was turning you on further, a desperate mewl escaping your lips. 

“Such a desperate whore for me, hm? Couldn’t even wait until I finished my cheesecake.” 

You pulled your lip between your teeth, struggling in Emily’s grasp to move your hips. You were tired of playing her game, not even bothering to disagree with her. “I need to cum, please, Em,” you begged, your beautiful eyes trying their hardest to convince her. 

“Fine, if you want to be so needy, you can cum. But I’m not going to touch you.” 

Your eyes blew wide, watching as Emily pulled the remote back out of her pocket immediately pressing buttons to turn on one of the fastest, pulsating modes. 

Your hands shot out to her shoulders, your head falling back as a nearly obscene moan tumbled from your mouth. “Fuck.” Your hips started to move once more, the friction of the lace against your swollen clit hitting just right. 

“Go ahead, baby. Get yourself off on my lap.” Ignoring what she said moments earlier, unable to resist how tantalizing you looked, Emily’s hands started moving around your body, her fingers trailing over your sweat-slicked skin. They grabbed at your hips, forcing you down, making you grind faster before gripping your ass. She trailed them up, caressing the soft skin of your belly, trailing up to your heaving breasts, fondling your stiff peaks. Her hands never stayed in one spot long, as if she couldn’t decide where she wanted to touch you, as if she wished she had more than two hands. 

“Fuck, look at you. Riding me so well.” Emily brought her lips to your neck. “You look so pretty like this, flushed and needy and mine.” 

You couldn’t stop the moans from escaping. Each grind down - and back and forth - of your hips had your pussy clenching harder around the toy. With each movement of your body, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, if it was even possible. You could smell your arousal, so strong from hours of Emily teasing you.

The toy felt so good inside of you, each buzz and pulse sent tingles through your body and down your spine, each vibration igniting a fire deep within your belly. 

You could quickly feel yourself getting close, the constant edging doing most of the work for you. It likely wouldn’t be your best orgasm - you meant it when you said you’d rather have her fingers or her cock - but something, at this point, was better than nothing. 

“Come on, baby. Come all over my lap so I can take you upstairs and clean you up with my mouth.” 

The vision of Emily between your legs, thighs wrapped around her face, with her tongue licking at your drenched cunt was enough to send you over the edge, Emily’s name repetitively falling from your lips like a broken prayer. 

As you came down, Emily stroked your hair away from your face, peppering small kisses over any part of you that she could reach. She kept whispering affirmations, things you’d heard a thousand times, but would hear a million more. 

You don’t know what you did to deserve a love as grand as Emily Prentiss, but you weren’t going to question it. 

Pulling back from you, Emily looked at you with all the love in the world. “How does a bath sound?” 

You tilted your head a bit, raising your eyebrow at her. “What happened to you cleaning me up with your tongue?” 

Tapping your hip lightly, signaling for you to get up off of her lap, Emily snickered lightly. “You have until I get upstairs to be naked and on your hands and knees, pretty girl.” 

You kissed her lightly on the cheek, a mischievous grin on your face, before racing up the stairs. 

“Oh! And leave the toy in!” She called after you. 

She heard a faint moan - or was it a groan? - echo down the stairs, an almost evil smirk breaking out across her face. 

Looks like that orgasm was just the appetizer of the evening. 

[ruggiethethuggie]

SEBEK X GN!READER

WC: 701 tags: one shot, idk comfort ????, sebek zigvolt, gn!reader, mild cussing, teasing (i mean this in a SFW way !!!!!!!!!), they make fun of sebek for being loud >:?, not proofread go figure

a/n: to be honest, i said i was done writing and was going through my docs and found this... i wrote this out of anger (which is kinda funny) because i kept seeing people be mean about sebek awhile ago, and yes, if i was a violent person i would like to hit all of you who say things like this about that tall, mint green haired, greenish yellow eyed, pretentious ding dong of a man, how dare you- he is baby.

All eyes were on you as you stood there clenching your fist, gritting your teeth, and glaring at the other first years in front of you. You had had enough of it. All the times they made jokes about “oh, I wish I had duct tape” or “oh god, here comes loud mouth” every time Sebek would go to give his input on something, Sebek acted as if it didn’t bother him, but you? It bothered you more than you thought it would. “One more word, and I swear by all things vested in me, I will hit you so hard, you’re going to be begging Sam for a magic potion to heal your wounds- external and internal.” Your voice was stern and slightly aggressive so they took you seriously.

“We were just joking,” Deuce said quietly. He could tell by the look on your face that you meant business, you didn’t find their little jokes funny at all. “Sorry, Sebek,” Jack apologized. Jack never partook in the endless jokes and teasing Sebek endured from the other first years, but he was never the person to ask them to stop either. You gave each of the first years a look that you hoped would be engraved into their souls before turning around and going back to your desk. You angrily opened your notebook and started writing, not really sure what you were even trying to write down, but trying to find something to do to occupy your heated mind.

After a few minutes, you could hear the boys go back to having their frivolous conversation, but you looked up as you saw someone standing beside you from the corner of your eye. Your gaze met that of the tall, green-haired Diasomnia student’s. Your eyes wandered the room confused as you sat up at your desk, looking past Sebek to see if the first years put him up to some stupid prank, but none of them were paying either of you any attention anymore. “Yes, Sebek?” you said as you put your pencil down. “I just wanted to tell you thank you,” he responded. “Hmph, you shouldn’t let them be shitty to you all the time,” you scoffed as you went back to writing. Sebek chuckled and took the seat beside you. “Maybe not, but I appreciate you saying something nonetheless. But why’d you feel the need to stand up for me?”

The look in his eyes was genuine, he truly didn’t understand why you felt so offended by their words and actions when they never directly affected you. “Well.. because it’s rude for one. And I don’t care what you say, I know it bothers you.” The look you gave him told him you could see right through his lies he always tried to deny. He smiled softly as he looked down for a second. “You got me, let’s say it does bother me. It’s not that big of a deal to make you say something though.” You narrowed your eyes at him, not that big of a deal? “If it’s even slightly hurtful, then it’s a big deal. You can’t just ignore it. They’ll just keep doing it over and over again. They make me so mad sometimes.” Your gaze changed from Sebek to the other first years across the room, laughing and enjoying each other’s company it seemed.

“I just hate how they treat you, makes me feel all defensive. Like someone is attacking me at the same time.” Sebek shook his head at your words. “The words aren’t directed at you though,” he chuckled again. “You’re a bundle of heated anger right now, aren’t you? Why don’t we go somewhere after class. We can go walk through the botanical gardens? How does that sound?” You rolled your eyes at his words, but going to the garden might make you feel better, or at least you hoped it would. “Fine, Sebek. We can go after class.” You looked over at him, seeing him smiling back at you, and you playfully stuck your tongue out at him. “Stop staring at me, weirdo.” He laughed at your words and pulled out his own notebook to finish writing notes of his own. 

© Green Border | please do not copy and or repost my work as your own, my brain is massive and these are my thoughts.

[storiesforallfandoms]

attraction ~ barry berkman;barry

word count: 2767

request?: yes!

“If requests are open, can you do a Barry Berkman x demisexual!reader? Idk you can choose how they meet but I don't really want her to be affiliated with the acting class or as a hitwoman and that. But all I know is I want Barry fluff and some representation”

description: when his friends try to make fun of his “sexless relationship”, he stands up for his girlfriend

pairing: barry berkman x female!reader

warnings: swearing, barry’s “friends” are disrespectful towards the reader’s sexuality before barry puts them in their place

masterlist (one, two, three)

The last place he expected to meet someone was at the flower shop while looking for a bouquet for Sally.

Both Barry and Sally knew that their relationship was coming to an end. That original spark had died out long ago, and Sally seemed more focused on her career than on trying to make it work. But she refused to end the relationship just yet. She claimed that it looked good for her image if she was in a long running and stable relationship, so they continued the ruse, much to Barry’s chagrin.

Sally had asked him to bring her flowers yet again to the set of Joplin. It pissed him off when she asked because the flowers always ended up in the garbage, which meant Barry was spending all that money for nothing. He wished he could buy her some cheap, shitty flowers just to spite her, but he also knew she’d fly off the handle if he did.

So there he was, starring at the various bouquet of flowers, trying to figure out which ones would be Sally approved while also not going to cost him a fortune, when someone asked, “Do you need help with anything?”

Barry turned to see a beautiful woman smiling up at him. He felt at a loss for words, but he couldn’t understand why at first. It wasn’t until he was driving to the set that he realized it was the same way he had felt about Sally when they first met.

When he realized that she had asked him a question and he was just starring at her like an idiot, he quickly snapped out of his trance and said, “Uh, yeah. I-I’m looking for some flowers.”

She giggled. “I can see that. Anything sort of occasion you’re looking for? For anyone special?”

“Yeah. For my, uh, for my girlfriend.”

He could’ve swore he saw something in the woman’s eyes when he said that, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

“But something...not expensive,” he added. “Maybe that makes me a cheap asshole, but she doesn’t even keep the flowers most of the time so I don’t want to waste my money.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “She doesn’t keep the flowers, but you keep buying them? Sorry if I’m stepping out of line by saying this, but that sounds really shitty and like she doesn’t appreciate your kind gestures.”

Barry was stunned into silence again. That’s exactly what Sally was doing. Actually, it wasn’t even that she wasn’t appreciating his kind gestures; she wasn’t appreciating the kind gestures that she was insisting he do.

“I guess not,” he responded. “But, uh, I’m just trying to make her happy, and she keeps asking for flowers to make her happy.”

The woman looked skeptical, but she kept any comments to herself. “Well, in that case, let me help you get something pretty but won’t break the bank.”

She took him around the flower shop, picking out pieces from different bouquets to make one small but beautiful bouquet of flowers. When she rang him in, it barely even came to $20.

“Did you want a special card with it or anything?” she asked as she rang him in.

“Uh...no, that’s okay. I’ll be giving these to her in person,” he responded. “Thanks for your help...”

“(Y/N),” she finished for him. “I hope she appreciates these the way they deserve to be appreciated.”

On his way to set, Barry kept glancing at the flowers and thinking of what (Y/N) had said. He knew long ago that Sally no longer appreciated his gestures, whether they were his own or the ones she insisted on. In fact, she didn’t appreciate him period. Like everything else in her life, he was just a pawn to make her look better in her career. She very rarely ever gave him the time of day unless it was in front of other people and he was more than over being treated that way.

When he arrived on set, he brought Sally her flowers. She feigned excitement to see him and surprise at the flowers. She kissed his cheek, gushed to her co-stars, and then turned back to him to ask, “Will you be coming to dinner with us tonight?”

The usual answer was, “No, I’m a bit busy tonight” because Sally never wanted Barry at her work dinners. She said that he would ruin her image if he was there because of the endless list of faults she always seemed to find with him.

But this time after she asked, he responded with, “Actually, I’m breaking up with you Sally.”

He shouldn’t have felt joy after seeing the shocked look on her face, but he couldn’t help it. It felt like a weight was finally being lifted from his shoulders after carrying this loveless relationship way beyond its expiry date. He was finally free.

The next day, he went back to the flower shop and found (Y/N) at the counter again. When she saw him, she smiled. “Hey! How did the flowers go over?”

“A lot better than the break up did,” Barry responded.

The look on her face was almost better than the look on Sally’s face. “What? You gave them to her, then you broke up with her?”

“In front of her co-workers, too.”

(Y/N) started laughing in shock. “Holy shit! That’s incredible. Well, good for you. You deserve so much better.”

“Thank you,” he said. He suddenly felt himself becoming nervous as he added, “Actually...that’s part of why I’m here. I was wondering...would you want to go out for drinks sometime?”

All the possibilities ran through his head of how the question could’ve been taken, but when she smiled in response Barry felt his heart lift in happiness. “I’d love to. Here, let me give you my number.”

And that’s how he found himself in the early stages of a relationship with the beautiful flower shop worker. They had gone on a handful of dates. For the fourth one (Y/N) had invited Barry to her place so she could cook for him and they could have a relaxing night in. There was just one thing she needed him to know first.

“Don’t get any ideas regarding sex,” she had told him. “I...I should’ve said this sooner, I guess, but it hasn’t been taken well before. I, um...I’m demisexual.”

Barry looked at her in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It basically means that I don’t have meaningless sex. I prefer to form a connection with someone before we sleep together for the first time. I understand if that’s a dealbreaker to you, and I understand if you feel like I’ve wasted your time by not telling you this before, but things have been going so well between us and I was afraid that I would scare you off once you found out. I probably should’ve made that clear before we went on the first date so you could get out while you could - ”

Barry had cut her off by taking her face in his hands and kissing her. It was far from being their first kiss, but the feeling it gave Barry when he kissed her reminded him of that first time over and over again.

When he pulled away, he assured her, “I don’t mind waiting until you feel that connection. And if you never feel it, then that’s okay, too. We can decide where to go from there if we ever get there.”

The look of happiness on (Y/N)’s face made the entire world feel a little bit brighter for Barry.

Some weeks later, Barry was dragged out to a “guys night” with some of his acting class buddies. In truth, he didn’t want to go at all. He could barely stand these people anymore. They had always been more of Sally’s friends than his own, but since breaking up with Sally, Barry hadn’t exactly had anyone to socialize with besides (Y/N). As much as he didn’t want to be there, he figured it would be good for him to try and regain some friendships of his own.

If only he could get past how incredibly annoying these people were.

“Man, I cannot believe you did that to Sally,” Jermaine was saying after Barry told them about their breakup. “That’s actually hilarious. She deserves that embarrassment after the way she treated you.”

“As much as I loved Sally, she became so full of herself after that on stage change up she did of her play,” Nick added. “She acts like she’s all high and mighty and her show hasn’t even aired yet. She might crash and burn after episode one for all she knows.”

“Listen, I don’t want to dwell on that,” Barry said. “It was weeks ago and I’ve already moved on.”

The guys looked at him with shock and curiosity.

“Well,” Nick said, “don’t just leave it there. Spill! Who is this new girl? Or new guy?”

Barry chuckled and shook his head. “Very much a new girl. Her name is (Y/N). I met her at the flower store buying flowers for Sally, actually.”

He relayed the story of meeting (Y/N) and how she helped him realize his worth in a relationship. He told them all about their first date and how well things had been going since that first day. Talking about her brought up his mood so much that, suddenly, hanging out with these people didn’t seem like such a dreadful chore to him. He had so much happiness bubbling inside of him, all because of this one woman.

“Man, look at you!” Eric said. “You’re basically glowing just talking about her. She must be good, dude.”

“She is,” Barry said, still smiling. “She’s really good.”

“I hope she’s as good in bed, then,” Jermaine said. He laughed and did that stupid “bro high five” with Eric and Antonia, but Nick gave him a disgusted look when Jermaine tried to high five him.

The sour feeling of having to spend time with the guys returned as Barry glared at Jermaine. “What are you, a teenager? It’s not all about sex.”

Jermaine gave him a look. “So you guys haven’t fucked? Why not? You’ve been together like a month now?”

“Oh my God, Jermaine, you’re disgusting,” Nick said. “Sex is not the only thing in a relationship. If they’re not ready to have sex yet, then they’re not ready. You’re acting like he just said she eats puppies or something.”

“And you’re acting like they’re two high schoolers that haven’t lost their virginities yet,” Antonio argued. “At this age, sex is not that big of a deal. Just fuck and get it over with, man.”

“She doesn’t want to!” Barry snapped, finally having enough of the disrespect towards (Y/N).

Eric furrowed his brows together. “Why not?”

Barry took a deep breath to calm himself down. “She’s demisexual. That means she would prefer there to be an emotional connection between us before we have sex. I am respecting her boundaries and, whenever she feels that connection is strong enough, then we’ll do whatever she feels comfortable with.”

The three other straight men of the table shared a look while Nick, who Barry was slowly starting to like more than the rest, gave him respecting look.

“So, you’re just in a sexless relationship?” Antonio asked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“And y’all have been together nearly a month and she doesn’t feel a connection? Just sounds like she’s not interested in the dick, man. Maybe you should just move on,” Jermaine added.

This was the end for Barry. He had reached the limit on his patience and he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You know what, Jermaine? Maybe you should go choke on a fucking dick.”

The outburst took all of them back. Barry grabbed his things, threw down a $20 bill to pay for his drinks, and started to leave. Before getting too far, he turned back to them, deciding he wasn’t finished telling them his feelings.

“You’re all a bunch of fucking assholes,” he said. “No wonder you’re all single. You only see women are your property; as sex dolls that are of no used to you if they don’t take their clothes off the minute they meet you. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe the women you date have feelings? That they want to have conversations and build connections, and not just let every single guy that thinks they’re attractive have sex with them then leave the next day? No wonder the only friends you guys have are one another, because you’re all despicable and, frankly, fucking annoying.” He took a breath before adding, “Not you, Nick. If you wanna keep hanging out, let me know.”

Nick winked at him before Barry turned on his heel and stormed out. All eyes were on him, but he ignored all of them and went to his car. He started the engine and started to drive, but it took him some time to realize he wasn’t driving home; he had been driving to (Y/N)’s place.

He wanted to see her after the events of the night, but he knew he couldn’t just show up unannounced. He decided to call her first to make sure she was okay with him coming over.

“Hey honey!” she said when she answered the phone. The sound of her voice was enough to cause any of the anger left in his body to happily melt away. “How’s your guys night?”

“Over,” he responded. “I realized I started instinctively driving towards your place. Is it okay if I come over?”

“Yeah, of course! I’ll leave the door unlocked, you can let yourself in.”

When he got there, (Y/N) was on her couch watching one of her favorite shows on TV. She was wearing one of Barry’s shirts that he had left there and a pair of PJ shorts underneath, with a blanket pulled over her legs and a glass of wine on the table next to her. Barry practically fell onto the couch next to her, taking her in his arms and burying his face in her neck. She giggled and pat him on the back.

“What’s this about?” she asked. “Did the guys say something horrible?”

“Many horrible things,” he said, his voice semi-muffled. He lifted his head to look at her. “They were saying shit about you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “They don’t even know me.”

“I know. I was telling them about you, and they were all on board until they started talking about sex and started saying shit because I said we hadn’t had sex yet.” He shook his head, feeling his anger coming back. “I fucking swear, guys like them only care about one fucking thing.”

“Most guys do, honey,” she said. “I’m not surprised anymore. I’ve had a number of relationships end before they even began once I told them my sexuality. Most guys don’t want a sexless relationship.”

“Don’t say that. That’s what one of those fuckers said. That’s just a normal relationship. A relationship can survive without sex.”

“Not to a lot of people,” (Y/N) said. “Most people expect their partners to want to have sex with them. That’s why a lot of people cheat if there’s no sex happening, or why relationships end sometimes.”

Barry sighed and leaned into (Y/N) again. “I hate people.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”

She ran her fingers through his hair as they both laid there in silence. She kissed the top of his head and broke the silence to say, “I’m really happy you’re not one of those people, though.”

He looked up at her. “I could never let lack of sex be the reason I lose someone as amazing as you. I’d kick myself every day if we broke up over something so stupid.”

(Y/N) smiled. “You inflate my ego too much. You should be careful with that, or else one day I might become a cocky bitch.”

“I’ll tell you every single day how amazing you are, regardless of the consequences it has.”

Barry leaned up to kiss her gently. She pulled away and they shifted there position so that she was laying on his chest, both of them facing the TV so they could watch the show together.

How could I need anything else when I have this beautiful woman in my arms, and the ability to call her mine? Barry thought to himself

[simpliao]

hola mi amigo, you wanna ask, I'll give you a lovey dovey ask, what happens when reader, later on in their marriage, found out she expecting and jschlatt and her try telling her in-laws, and they manage to, but at the expense of her getting hassled with snide comments. Maybe it can be an angst to fluff, idk, I like that drama

😩💅🍺

no one else matters ; (irl) schlatt x reader

– part one , – part two , – part three , – part four , – part five , – part six

summary : y/n is eating for two ! although she’s early on, schlatt is excited to tell his family of their to-be newest member… but they just can’t seem to bite their tongues.

info : rude family members, body shaming, heavy swearing, angst to fluff, cute nicknames, pregnant afab she/her reader.

a/n : i hope to god no one goes through my search history because someone is going to think i'm pregnant, it took so much research and ahhhh... hope you enjoy anon !

"They'll be over the moon about it so don't worry, but if anything happens come find me, alright? Stress can hurt the baby, but more importantly it can hurt you."

It was what her husband had been reiterating over and over since they had first agreed to come by for Christmas holidays, hosted of course by his family. By time the time to travel had arrived, she was just past her first trimester and visibly pregnant. Knowing his family and with the handful of times they had interacted, it wasn't always pretty, but knowing of how pushy they were about pregnancy beforehand she only wished for a civil two weeks.

The flight over had gone without a hitch, minus the glares Schlatt wouldn't be afraid to give anyone that he found mildly sketchy or got too close to them in general. Since having found out about the third member that would be forming their family, to say he's become overprotective would be a bit of an understatement. He attended every appointment with her doctor, and executed every order with conviction. You needed prenatal vitamins? He would stop streaming, or whatever he was doing, just to make sure you took them every day, no exceptions. There was a worry about not getting enough fruit or vegetables in your diet? He would sit there and (jokingly) make plane noises to try and feed you, which depending on the day can either make you bawl or laugh hysterically (no in-between).

Many late nights he was awoken to her soft whimpering, and a plea for whatever weird craving that seemed to have disrupted your sleep. He didn't mind getting it, no matter the hour, so long as she didn't try and get things on her own. No leaving the house alone, he know he wouldn't be able to live with himself should he lose both his beloved and his child. It was kept under drapes that she was pregnant for a handful of reasons, if in the situation that she falls victim to a miscarriage, having to explain that to other people would only dishearten the both of them. He was especially adamant about not telling anyone for the fact that if it got out, he didn't want his audience in particular to make their shitty comments and stress her out. Especially when she was more emotionally fragile, and that stress could lead to losing the baby.

But now, standing outside of his old family home, he gave her a reassuring smile and a gentle reminder. "We got this, you got this. I'm sure they'll be happy and all over you, so if you get overwhelmed you always have me." And with the ringing of the doorbell a scurry of different things could be heard from behind, until the door opened to reveal his parents. Smiles were exchanged, it was a bit of a blur to the smaller woman who kind of followed her husband around like a baby duck, the excess in hormones in her body did make her mind slightly fuzzier so it was hard to keep up with multiple different stimuli. And under a heavy winter coat no one even noticed the bulge of her stomach... Except they did.

"Y/n!" Her name was called, turning around she was met with a group of her female in-laws; and with sheepish smile she waved them hello. Before she could even utter out a greeting they had already spoken, "did you gain weight?" The impulsive question making heat rush to her cheeks, again, she opened her mouth to say something. "Ah, no, well actually I'm–..." "You know keeping in shape is an important duty of a wife, if you get too ugly it won't surprise me if you guys get divorced." They held the brightest smiles as if they were giving the most wholesome of advice, but a feeling of dread washed over her as she fought back the urge to cry.

She internally cursed knowing she was way more sensitive than she should be, and quickly looked behind her for reassurance. But Schlatt wasn't there, and with the crowd of relatives that she couldn't exactly recognize it only served to overwhelm her. Their words pierced her heart despite knowing how poorly his family was at wording what they meant; too ugly? So she was already uglier then they knew her to be, what if her pregnant body wasn't as attractive as Schlatt claimed it to be? What if he really hated how she looked? Was she really that unattractive? "You think so..?" She uttered out, "I mean I... He still thinks that I'm pretty even if–" "men lie all the time sweetheart, if you really want to keep him you should consider losing a few. Bloated doesn't look good on you." She sucked in her lower lip and suppressed her urge to bawl, they were probably right, and quietly nodded her head. She knew she'd been eating a lot, he must have thought of her as such a pig.

Yet across the room her husband was completely gushing about his gorgeous, pregnant wife; having already told his mother while his dad had taken their heavy bags to set aside. He was ready to show everyone the ultrasound picture of to-be newest member of the Schlatt family, it was evident from the smile and shine in his eyes that he thought nothing less of the woman he married. He was completely absorbed into conversation that he hadn't noticed the lack of her at his side, and when he leaned into ask for the photograph of their little bundle of joy; he was surprised to not find her where he was sure she stood.

Excusing himself, and being taller than majority of people it wasn't hard to spot her towards the entrance speaking with a group of his female relatives; he approached will a smile and expected her to have already told them. Out of everyone they should have been the happiest, he remembered damn correctly that they were the ones that were pressuring her into having a child just a handful of years back.

"...if you really want to keep him you should consider losing a few. Bloated doesn't look good on you." What? He had heard one of them, just a short distance away his wife turned away from him held her arms and was dreadfully silent. "What the fuck did you just say?" His voice practically boomed above the ambient jumbled up sound of other conversations being held; the group themselves turning to him as well as a few close bystanders. His pretty girl looked at him with surprise and the most crestfallen look, she was on the verge of spilling into a puddle of tears, and he rushed to her side to make sure she wouldn't fall if that was the case.

"Oh! Yeah, just woman talk, you know? She got pudgy and we figured that we'd give our advice and–" "She doesn't need your advice. You've fucked with her head once, I'm not letting you do it again." "Oh, come on Jay, you're really telling me you want a fat, ugly wife?" His focus was upon his almost bawling wife until those last three words left the brunettes mouth; the group glowing with confidence until he turned his head to look at them. They all shrunk under his furious glare, arms wrapped around his smaller lover protectively, words spat with venom and repugnance. "Shut your fucking mouth bitch. Y/n will always be more of a beautiful woman than any of you will ever be. You were the fuckers that wanted her to have a child so bad, and the minute she's pregnant you say shit like that? Do you want us to lose the baby that bad?" Realization flashes their faces at the word pregnant, other members of the family had all taken to notice and begun to stare; their eyes feeling like harsh burns to the smaller woman even if she was shielded by most.

Schlatt had learned to feel her anxiety over time, and his face visibly softened when he felt her arms grip tighter onto his knitted sweater. He let out a soft huff, "we're leaving. You can tell Mom exactly what happened, I can't have Y/n stress out anymore." The room fell silent after everyone had watched the exchange, abashed and shameful looks upon those women's faces as he escorted his lover out. He quickly grabbed his coat and opened the door for his wife, slamming it behind him as the moment the pair were outside a breath of relief escaped him; the atmosphere in there he knew to be suffocating

"Sweetheart..." He began softly, he looked before him where his lover stood with her hands attempting to rub away tears. They had barely been in there for fifteen minutes. "Do you think I'm..." A soft hiccup briefly interrupted her, "...pretty?" A frown fell upon his features, as he rushed in to gently hold her, he didn't want to ask everything that they said as to not have her revisit it; but he knew it couldn't have been any good. He hushed her tears endearingly, letting her begin to cry into the corduroy of his jacket. "Y/n... Do you remember my wedding vows?" He could feel her shake her head no into the material of his jacket. "...I will forever love your smile, your laugh, your body, and you, no matter how imperfect you believe you are. Those were my exact words, I remember them because I mean them. You'll always be so enchanting in my eyes, because you're not just a beautiful face. You're my wonderful wife, you're a damn funny woman, you care about me more than anyone else on this shitty planet, and you'll make for an incredible mother to our child."

He held her close to protect her from the cold, he could feel her gentle smile against his chest, a gentle snow beginning to fall around them. "We don't have to be here, we still have some of our stuff in the car. I'll get us a nice hotel for the night and we can order in whatever you're feeling. How does that sound?" She pulled her head away and seeing that redness around her eyes strained at his heart, he never liked to see his darling cry. "But... But what about your–..." "They can shove their feelings or remarks right back up their ass. No one else matters but my wife and our child, and seeing you so distraught isn't good for all three of us. As much as I know my cousins mean well what they said was fucked, if I see the, again tonight I'm going to end up in a fight. I'm sure their husbands won't be happy with their wives loosing a couple teeth, huh toots?" She let out an almost inaudible chuckle, despite it all and despite how her emotions have been in full swing, nothing made her more centred or relaxed than her husband. He had her glued to his side as they made it to the car, opening the passenger side of the rented out Tesla and kissing her forehead before letting her inside.

He did live up to his promise by finding a luxury hotel closer to the city that offered twenty-four hour room service, and he made sure to share a piece of cake with his lover. Assuring her to eat what she wanted, and that he'd love her no matter what.

[nofoundboy]

I DO NOT KNOW WHY I HAVE A PENNYWISE OBSESSION BUT I DO AT THE MOMENT!

pennywise x male reader- reader just finishes a big life time project of theirs but it breaks just as when they’re showing it off (if its like an art project maybe it broke in the museum or sum in front of people) and they’re feeling fucking the worst bc of that like man ion wanna do anything man like all lazy around n shit like what is the purpose and pennywise is like being shitty bc idk i think thats how they are like why u sad all of a sudden weirdo? So kinda like angst to fluff in a way bc penny decides ‘hmm imma hear reader out and like yk be a better s/o and comfort them’ yk 

hahah I like it, I hope I get it right and I'm excited for this, I really love Pennywise

The dark circles under your eyes were unmistakable proof of how hard you had worked for it. How many nights of sleep you had sacrificed in order to achieve that work of art, that intricate and significant piece that now stood before your eyes and before the eyes of several other people admiring it in that art gallery.

The move had not been easy, but it was finally there, and you intended to enjoy the attention given to it, to boast about what you had worked so hard to achieve.

Until, before your horrified eyes and those of all those people, it had begun to fall, shattered by some effect of the material that no one had foreseen.

Maybe it had been the sun, maybe the transfer had really affected it... you had no way of knowing, no matter how many calculations and tests you had done previously, you simply could not understand why it had acted in this way, just at this moment.

The face of surprise of those present quickly changed to one of mockery, of indignation towards you and your lack of preparation, of pity and even indifference.

You felt your insides boil at their ill-considered reactions. And just as their empathy had abandoned their expressions at the first failure, so did your desire to continue in that place, because you knew perfectly well that apologizing and smiling in shame before those bitter critics would consume your will to live until you were nothing more than a shell.

So you simply grabbed your jacket, your keys and ran home, the only place you could get shelter from your humiliating failure.

When you arrived, Pennywise was already there, hunched over, staring at your window.

You didn't even feel like saying hello, so you just turned off your cell phone and collapsed on the couch.

You felt the presence of the clown next to you, who was watching you curiously and somehow knew perfectly well what had happened to you.

"I...I'm not in the mood for anything" you said in a sigh before sticking your face to the couch until you could see nothing else. He seemed to mumble something, touching your head and legs briefly, as if he wanted to make you react.

The above was repeated for a few weeks. You just went on autopilot, not wanting to do anything and not having the energy to care. And you kept asking yourself, did it really make any sense? The last thing you had done had turned out to be a disaster, a waste of time, resources, effort, and even health.

It didn't help that Pennywise was walking around your house trying to force reactions out of you, scare you or make you laugh with no success, only provoking your annoyance against him.

He would make constant jokes about the fact that you didn't sleep, he would put your plate of food everywhere. Although at first, that seemed like a considerate gesture on his part, it ended up being obnoxious, as he never stopped.

"Shit shit shit...do something!" he would suddenly shout. You didn't know where he learned that word from, as it wasn't a curse word you used.

You simply avoided him or shouted so loudly that he was the one who ended up getting fed up, although he never left for long.

"That's enough! If you want to stay here you have to shut the fuck up and leave me alone!" you exploded once he wouldn't stop following you around, looking for you to stop being 'so bored' as he said.

"You, you're acting weird you stop it!" he shouted in turn, pointing his long fingers at you and straightening to his full height to demonstrate his physical superiority.

"Shit" you whispered before fading to the ground, exhausted and thanks to your terrible eating schedules.

-

You didn't know how long you had slept, the only thing you noticed was the warmth of a large body beneath you, soft breathing in the crook of your neck, and impossibly long arms wrapped around your body.

"Are you all right now? Your body went 'plop' on the floor" he whispered when he realized you were already conscious.

Feeling his warmth beneath you, his presence, as reassuring to you as it was terrifying to others, and his total attention to your well-being made you smile softly, gratefully.

You knew how desperate he could be, especially if he didn't understand something, but now he showed you nothing but gentleness because he understood that you were unwell, regardless of your refusal to go on with your normal life. It only mattered that something like the previous episode would never happen.

"I'm not well at all. Just...what I do never seems to matter" you began to run your fingers through his hands, so large in comparison to yours and probably anyone else's.

"Did you care?" his peculiar voice crept into your ears, making you think for a moment.

"Yes...I still care, it's my life" you felt his nose touch that spot on your neck that made you burst into laughter and you let yourself be carried away by the pleasant sensation of being pampered by your peculiar partner.

"So...live, yes? Bitter ones don't taste good" was his way of consoling you and although very unorthodox, it had worked.

"So I'll just be your next dinner?" you turned until you felt your chest press against his and saw his face in front of you.

"No, you stink" and with his big claw, he touched the tip of your nose, laughing at your grimace of indignation.

You needed a bath, but before that, you decided to stay curled up on him for a while longer, not without giving him a soft kiss on the lips that made him laugh.

"Finally! World's most horrible boyfriend!" he gave you a light smack on the forehead that caused you to grimace.

"I am?" you were glad to be going back to those warm moments you enjoyed so much.

"Yes, but only when you're sad...would eating a child help?"

"Eww, no. I'm going to go take a shower, you idiot" you exclaimed before being interrupted by his lips, greedily seeking yours. You let yourself go until you were out of breath. That never happened to him. His taste was weird but somehow, intoxicating. You loved it.

"Thank you" you whispered, before rushing to the shower.

[uglypastels]

Plan, Interrupted // t.h.

(a/n) there's nothing like coming up with 50 different fic ideas while trying to write one for months, haha, but after getting the prompt from the amazing @worldoftom I could not not write this!! Thank you so much, B, for thinking of me and helping me brainstorm :') and thanks to @duskholland and @lilbeatlebear for the constant support (gods know, I needed it haha) and an apology beforehand for any kind of questionable choices in the writing. idk what i was thinking, but i do think it turned out pretty well.

word count: 22.5k

warning: (enemies>lovers... if you squint... maybe) shitty family drama, rich people behaviour, chaotic driving, alcohol consumption, swearing, public nudity, smut > 18+, minors please DNI (intoxicated, semi-public making out, oral (m), d/s dynamics but also switch, riding, and idk how to do this.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.

“What do you guys think? Does this one make me look fat?” Your sister asked as she spun around for what felt like the millionth time. You let your head fall back as you tried to reach for the last drops of champagne that had stayed behind in your tall glass.

“y/n!” You almost knocked your own teeth out as your mother nudged you in the arm.

“What?” you hissed back at her, putting the glass down on the little table. Its relatively modest surface was occupied mainly by your plate, which used to hold several small (too small, in your opinion) pieces of wedding cake testers. Honestly, you did not understand why you had to be there anyway. No one listened to your opinion. Obviously, the red velvet with cream cheese filling and blueberry jam was the best. Who, in the actual fuck, would want to eat carrot cake at their wedding?

Well, your sister. That’s who.

“So, what do you think?” your sister just kept on twirling, whipping her veil over her head dramatically.

“It’s ugly,” you said, not even looking at the dress. For the first six dresses, you tried to look for the differences, but at some point, it all just started to blur into one big ball of organza, glitter and lace. And it was all just so white.

“y/n!” your mother gasped once again. It seemed to be the only word leaving her mouth lately.

“I’m sorry, it is.” You shrugged, “I liked the first one better.”

“Oh, let her be, momma,” your sister waved your mother off, interrupting her before she could snap your neck off, “she’s just sour because she doesn’t have a wedding to plan… or even a boyfriend for that matter.” She started twirling in Ugly Dress No. 35 in the shade Eggwhite Puke before she saw the glare you gave her.

That was the reason you were there. Not for moral support, not for your opinions or ideas, but to make sure that everyone around you knew that your sister was the pretty successful and happily engaged one; meanwhile, you were alone, bitter and getting drunk on cheap champagne in the middle of the day.

You were going to say something, even had a thought of throwing some bits of frosting at her, but at that exact moment, you got a text message from your friend, asking if you wanted to go out for drinks. How could you possibly say no to that?

“I gotta go, see ya later,” you said while responding to your friend you would meet her at your regular meeting spot. Then, without even looking up at the rest of the bridal party or waiting for their response, you made sure to leave quickly.

New York had been getting warmer and warmer, and the streets of the Upper East Side were bustling with people trying to get from one destination to the other. For once, you were glad to get sucked into the stream of commuters, actually feeling free compared to what you had to endure in the bridal shop with those familial piranhas.

Your phone started vibrating in your pocket as you crossed the street, avoiding a cab that didn’t know what a red light was. You picked up the phone, and it was your friend, the same one who had just texted you a minute ago. You were still flipping the cab driver off when your friend asked where you were.

“Oh my god, Rebecca, I’m literally two minutes away. Calm down.” You said as you walked at a faster pace, keeping up with everyone around you. Though, apparently, you had been still walking a bit too slow for some, as a man caught up to you, bumping into your shoulder.

“Look out, asshole,” you mumbled, but the man apparently heard you because the next second, he turned around. For a second, you were scared he was going to kill you (this was New York, after all). Then you were surprised by his perfect jawline, which was a bizarre observation to make about a stranger who could still kill you.

You remembered that you were still in a phone call with your friend, and you made sure that the man could see if you had a witness to whatever might happen. But, unfortunately, he stood still in front of you.

“What did you just call me?” Oh, he had an accent. So he wasn’t American, good. And it also explained why he stood in the middle of the road. Anyone else, who was from here, would have just kept on walking…. Or would have pushed you even harder.

“I called you an asshole,” you smiled sweetly, feeling a surge of confidence come out of nowhere. “Now excuse me, I got places to be.” The confidence clearly worked because you passed by him and left the man standing, most likely making him unsure of what had just taken place. You made your way through the rest of the street wearing that Bad Bitch attitude, feeling like no one could come even close to you.

"Ok, what the hell was that?” Shit, you still had Rebecca on the phone.

“Sorry, some fucker bumped into me. He actually stopped and called me out. Can you believe that? Ugh, men.”

“I know what you mean, honey. But… was he hot?” Of course, that was the only thing Rebecca could think about. But, unfortunately…

“Not only that, Beck, he had an accent.” you were exactly the same. That’s why your friendship worked so well. Rebecca gasped at the news.

“Can you go back? Get his number oh my god, y/n-”

“I am not doing that. Did I not just tell you that he was an asshole? Besides,” you looked behind you to see if he was anywhere in sight, “he’s probably far away now. And I’m almost there. No point in going back.”

“So what if he’s an asshole? We both know that it’s the problematic ones that are the best in bed,” she said, almost matter-of-factly, to which you could only roll your eyes. Half because her words were absolutely ridiculous, and a half because, though absurd, still very accurate.

You were nearing the restaurant now and could already see Becky sitting at your usual spot, at the high bar bench that faced the window. It was the best spot to look at the people on the street and judge them with great velocity.

She waved at you as you walked inside. Then, before you could say anything or even give her a hug, she sat up straight with a solemn expression laid across her face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked exactly what you had been planning on asking her.

“Nothing?” you asked yourself, more like, “why would anything be wrong?”

“Because I could practically hear your eye-roll back there, and the only reason when you’re so against hooking up with hot foreign guys is when you’re angry… and the fact that I snatched you away from your sister’s wedding dress shopping gave me a few ideas on how you might be feeling. So, I already ordered for you.” It was then that you noticed the large cup of coffee on the table next to you. With a relieved sigh, you sat down and took a large sip of the hot drink, which most definitely burned your tongue, but you didn’t care at that particular moment. The extra hint of... spice didn't go unnoticed by you either.

“So, what happened?” Rebecca watched you drink, most likely concerned for your tastebuds and mental wellbeing.

“We had to look at a hundred ugly dresses. She had decided to go for this Princess Diana on crack look; it’s actually ridiculous. I drank as much champagne as possible, and my family did not miss a single opportunity to tell me that I’m the lesser child.”

“You’re not, though,” she reminded you, though you didn’t need it. Maybe it was a delusion, but you never saw anything in your sister that made her so much better than you… except for the fact that now, she will be Mr and Mrs Stone Cold Bitch. You drank your coffee, with the interludes of pouring your frustrations out on poor Rebecca.

“I just… I wish something would happen that would take them all down a notch. I- I want to fuck up the wedding.”

Rebecca thought about your words for a moment. “I’m invited to this wedding, right?”

“I think so?”

“Then yes, you should definitely do it.” This was followed by a gasp, “you should totally sleep with her fiancé!” The exclamation made a few people around you look up from their own conversations.

“No. Ew,” you had met your sister’s husband-to-be, Derek, and you had never been particularly impressed, “besides, I don’t want to ruin their marriage, she’s still my sister, and I still love her, but-” you halted.

“But what?” Rebecca blinked; her cup of coffee was only an inch from her mouth as she awaited the rest of your sentence.

“I also want her to be miserable for a bit, my whole family for that matter. I want something to happen that will make everyone talk about it. Something that people who weren’t even invited will talk about-”

“You should get a streaker!” she almost shouted, once again a bit too enthusiastically considering you were in a restaurant for a late brunch. There were more conspicuous glares thrown your way.

“A what?”

“A streaker, you know, a naked guy with a trenchcoat.” Rebecca saw your apprehensive face, “Imagine, beautiful reception, and suddenly this naked guy comes running in! It’s gonna be hilarious and most important… no one will be able to forget it.” Her words stuck well in your mind. You could already imagine it: your entire family freaking out as some stranger runs in, ruining everything. It wouldn’t be surprising if someone fainted out of pure shock. Drinks would be spilt, food would be dropped… pure chaos.

It could be perfect.

“That is actually a great idea,” you grinned at your best friend. “But how will I get someone to do it?”

“Please, this is New York; you could throw a rock and hit five perverts walking down the street who’d be willing to do it.”

“But that’s the thing, I don’t want some pervert that will go and harass my cousin or some shit, just a quick run through the ballroom and leave,” you explained, leaving the both of you to think about options for a moment.

“Hire an actor.” Rebecca said, finally, “take out an ad in the paper or something; I’m sure someone would be interested and hey, if they act, chances are they might be slightly good looking too.” She nudged you in the side suggestively, but you ignored that last bit. Her suggestion, however, just like all the previous ideas, had been pretty good. You could write up a little ad, maybe even search through craigslist (although that still leaves a high pervert probability).

Eventually, together with the help of Rebecca, you wrote up a quick ad. Not too long, since news ads were expensive. You also thought it would be wise to get a prepaid phone to set up as a contact, so no weirdos had a way to contact you directly.

“Ooh, I feel like we’re in a spy movie,” Rebecca squealed as you left the store with the new phone.

“Calm down, Becks, this isn’t Ocean’s 8… more like… Wedding Crashers.”

“Still cool,” she shrugged.

Later that day, you found yourself behind your computer, trying to find out how in the hell does one put an ad in a newspaper or any kind of shared media that people might be reading. You had to make sure it wasn’t something widely known, so none of your family might accidentally stumble upon it, but read widely enough for someone to read it and catch interest. You had sat down at your desk, a large glass of red wine at hand. It had been a while since your champagne binge at the wedding parlour, and you could feel your mind unfogging throughout the day, which was highly unnerving. To go through with this plan, you could not be thinking clearly. It was an insane idea, and you could not start thinking over the consequences now.

After going through the ideas you and Rebecca had come up with and a few drafts, you managed to format a simple, hopefully compelling, message:

Be Naked At My Sister’s Wedding

My sister is having an outdoor wedding in New Canaan, CT, in July. I want someone to be naked in the woods and run through the wedding in order to ruin it. I will protect you from my family.

If interested, for further information, please contact:

Followed by the number of your freshly bought burner-cell phone. The glamour of taking out an advertisement in the press was that, as long as you paid enough money, you could get anything printed, and no one would even be questioning it. Another great point- it was anonymous!

You looked at the message, and maybe the alcohol had not hit yet, but the longer you looked at it, the worse you felt. It all just felt a little bit off. You couldn't do this to your sister. As much as she pissed you off, this wedding was an important day for your family, and you couldn’t be the person to ruin it for all of them. This was insane.

You had your finger on the button to send the ad off to the printers, then stopped. But you couldn't delete it just yet either. Not sure what to do, you saved the file with the ad draft and turned your computer off.

⤐

Although you had felt confident about pursuing the plan at first when talking about it with Rebecca, the following days only made you more uncertain. You had hoped to take a few days before doing anything. It was better; you had learned through experience that it was never good to act on initial emotions. In the restaurant, when the plan came to be, you had still been angry and upset at your family. You wanted to see them rot in the pits of hell.

Now, that need was not as high. You were feeling better, so you decided to put the plan away for now. But it didn’t mean, however, that you didn’t stop thinking about it.

That weekend, you had a few errands to go through in the Theatre District, so you had decided to go search for a little kiosk that might be selling the kind of reading material that you were searching for. Something local to the area that was sold and read thoroughly by its targeted audience. Clumsy you had never saved the original page that you wanted to send the ad to so you were in need of a new backup.

This way, if the plan was set in motion, you had a place to send your advert in. just as a precaution. The wedding was less than a month away, and you were intending on having it all very well planned out if the opportunity just so happened to take place.

You had found a little kiosk at the corner of the sidewalk. An old man smoking a cigarette was looking through a Vogue magazine that must have been at least a few years old. The sight of the outdated article made you a bit apprehensive, so you decided to keep walking in search of another vendor.

This one, you found only a few blocks later. It was a woman selling magazines, and she was eating a candy bar. Her bright red hair was in stark contrast to the dark inside of the vendor’s booth.

“How can I help ya?” she said, smacking her chocolate-covered lips.

“What would you say is the best-selling magazine here? That is like… local to the neighbourhood?” You asked, already looking at the extensive showcase.

“Hmm,” the girl stuck her head out from over the counter to look as well. “I’d probably say that one,” she pointed at a magazine right at your eye level. It was independent publishing, from the looks of it. On the cover was a large mask, which looked very intriguing. Interested in it yourself now, you decided to buy a copy and being led by the growling noises of your stomach, you decided to buy one of the candy bars that the girl had been eating.

“Make that two,” you added to your purchase quickly. The girl gave you your total, which you promptly paid for and then stashed your newly bought items in your bag. Then, with a quick smile, you said goodbye to the redhead and made your way to get the rest of your business done.

Once you had everything else taken care of, with a few shopping bags occupying your arms and not really feeling like walking all the way back to your apartment, you stood at the side of the street, trying to catch a taxi. The cars passed by you without a second of hesitation. It felt like you had never seen so many occupied taxis next to each other at the same time. After what must have been an eternity, one cab finally stopped at your feet. You got inside and told the man your destination.

The man, thankfully, didn’t make any attempts at conversation, even when you got stuck in the usual traffic jams. Feeling a bit bored, you decided to look at some of the articles in the publication you had bought. The pieces that the issue covered were spread over several topics, making it hard for you to determine the purpose or target audience. It wasn’t really something you would have ever picked up under any other circumstance. But, you had to admit, they were all very well written.

It also made one thing clear- none of your family had ever heard of it. Perfect.

You couldn’t be bothered to read the articles at that point, merely flipping through them. The advertisements were on the last few pages, and you realised that many more people had ideas like you, all with the same kind of audience in mind. For example, people were looking for actors to play roles in their college films; a woman was looking for a date for a wedding; another ad sounded very much like the writer was looking for a hired gun, but you decided to ignore that one.

But the longer you looked at all these other advertisements, the more you started to doubt this plan you had concocted. You had too much to drink that day, that was for sure, and you hadn’t been thinking clearly, which was sort of the point. When you looked at these cries of attention on the glossy pages, it got you to believe that maybe this was a bit desperate. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea. Now, you still had time to stop it. You had not sent anything in yet, and maybe that had been for the better.

You kept that idea in your mind, started reading a review about the off-off-Broadway production of Bob Ross - the Musical and were debating whether or not you should buy tickets for it next week when the driver pulled up to the curb of your destination. You paid him, feeling generous on the “No talking”- tip and got out. Your apartment was half a block away, which felt doable to do with your nose in the pages of the magazine. Was it a magazine? The format didn’t precisely expose that, but it didn’t feel like a journal or a newspaper either. Anyway, you made your way down the street reading and almost bumped your forehead against the door of your building once you had arrived.

“Oh, miss y/n!” Charlie, the security man of your building, quickly got up from his seat as you walked through the main hallway. You glanced up from another article (Pizza Rat- Myth, Legend, or Nuisance?) at the sound of your name.

“What is it, Charlie?”

“Your sister is here to see you. She, uh, came in just a few minutes ago. I thought you’d ought to know.”

Shit. “Thank you, Charlie,” you smiled appreciatively. Charlie nodded and sat back down as you made your way to the elevator. What, in the actual fuck, was your sister doing here? Hadn’t you made it perfectly clear that your apartment was yours and not a hospitable resort for your family? You did not want them there. If they wanted to meet up, they could reserve a table at Le Bernardin. But that was, supposedly, a disadvantage of living off of your parents and getting an apartment with their money. It was never an exclusively-you situation. They, and for some reason also your sister, felt entitled to unpredicted visits.

Not feeling ready to be stuck in a room with your sister, you remembered the candy bars you had bought at the kiosk and quickly unwrapped one of them. You were mid your first bite when the elevator doors opened. Once you stepped out, you were greeted with the image of your sister lounging on the large white sofa, a glass in her hand, flipping through magazines. She hadn’t looked up at the sound of the elevator ding, so you quickly stashed your newly purchased piece of reading into your bag while holding onto the candy bar like it was life support.

Right as you closed the zipper of your bag, did she look in your direction.

“Ah! There you are!”

“Yup, here I am. Here you are, too, I see.” You smiled with gritted teeth.

“Yes, sorry if this isn’t the best timing-”

“It actually really isn’t-” you tried to say, but she didn't listen and just kept on yapping.

“I just had to come and see you. After the dress shopping- well, I wanted to know if you were doing OK. Make sure we’re still good.” She put her glass down on the table, only an inch away from a coaster, and it was then that you noticed a white and blue cardboard box on your coffee table. Your sister saw the look you gave the strange new object and reached out for it in glee.

“Oh yea, I almost forgot. I popped by Lady M and got us a few goodies- although now I’m thinking, you must be good.” You noticed the glare she had shot you as you were taking another bite of the candy bar when saying that, and it made your blood boil. It was as if the opportunities to ridicule you were actually coming at her. As if she was a beacon, or a giant magnet, for bitchy comments.

As your sister started to munch away on a bonbon, you sat down in one of your chairs, as far away from her as possible. You stared, probably a bit too obviously, as she sat there. Was it too much of an expectation to think she had something to say to you?

“So why are you here exactly?” you said, trying not to look at all the candy in the take-out box and just focus on the one you were eating.

“Mm, I told you already,” your sister wiped the corner of her mouth, “I wanted to see how you are. You seemed really upset yesterday.”

“Well, I was; one can only take up so much in a day. Was kind of tired of how everyone was belittling me, you know?” As you said that, you felt your shoulders slack, and your back hit the rest of the chair. Your sister moved over on the couch and leaned up to you. Her face showed a small smile, but it was a kind one. One filled with compassion- a sure rarity in your family.

"Oh, honey, please don’t think that.” She patted her hand on your leg, and for a brief moment, a surge of guilt flew over you, feeling horrible that you had been this close to ruining her big day… but just for a moment.

“You know how mom is; she isn’t as… understanding when it comes to certain things. But you know I completely support you.” She gave you a sweet smile, which was confusing since you had the feeling as if she had just insulted you. You didn’t know where the insult was hiding, but you could sense it nearby. Your sister picked up another piece of fancy candy that most likely cost more than the number of calories it had in it, which to you, never felt like a good diet.

“What do you mean?” you eventually dared to ask.

“Oh, you know, not many girls would be so comfortable being single, especially when there’s so little else wrong with you.” You could feel a muscle in your face twitch at each word that came from your sister’s mouth, and it only got worse the longer she went. The guilt now trickling out of you at a steady pace. “So it’s really quite commendable how you parade your bachelorette life like that. God knows I would never be able to do it. I mean… I’d probably not even dare to leave the house knowing that nobody wanted me… So it is, truly, very… empowering, in fact, mhm.” she looked up at you from her fourth bonbon.

You wanted to scream in her face but instead opted for a polite, very much forced, smile while your fingers were wringing themselves around the corner of a throw pillow. A pillow, which also gave you a great urge to smother her with it. To think that there was a second in which you had thought that maybe this could be a normal conversation. That your sister actually was concerned about you.

No, that would have been absolutely ludicrous. And now you were stuck listening to her stating these backhanded comments at you. The longer it went on, the more you had to hold yourself together not to say anything back. You had to keep it together, but that band that held it all in one place was without a doubt getting tighter and tighter until- you finally snapped.

"Can you shut up for like one fucking second,” you sneered, making your sister look perplexed. The bonbons in the box were almost all gone.

“Excuse me?” She blinked in bewilderment.

“Just shut up. I’m so tired of hearing you talk, the whole family actually. Why can’t any of you accept that I’m happy with what I’m doing? Why, whenever someone has something to say about me, it has to be these unbelievably pretentious comments that actually make me want to-”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” your sister waved you off. She wasn’t even listening to you. You could tell.

“I’m serious.”

“You know what,” your sister scoffed, “maybe mom was right.”

“About what?” Oh, yet another conversation about you that had been held behind your back. You were absolutely ecstatic to hear what the topic of this one was. Would it have been your presumed alcoholism? Perhaps another entirely different fictitious addiction? Or maybe your mother finally managed to convince your entire family that you had joined a convent, which seemed to be the only acceptable reason for you not to be in a relationship.

“Mom had suggested that maybe it would be better if you, uhm, didn’t come to the wedding.”

“Excuse me?” Now it was your turn to blink at her in disbelief.

“Of course I was against it, how could you not come to the wedding? You’re my sister! But momma believes that your energy might be slightly… off-putting.” And apparently, this was the moment she decided it was time to go (perhaps because she ate the last bonbon) and got up to grab her jacket. You followed her like a disgruntled chihuahua.

“How can you uninvite me from your wedding?”

“Just the ceremony, you still get to come to the reception, of course. And you can still sit at the main table during the party, c’mon, y/n.” She put on her jacket.

“You’re actually doing this?” This hurt. Sure, you hated your family sometimes, certainly at this moment, but that’s what families did! But what made you a family was that you could put this hatred aside. So, for example, at the wedding of your back-stabbing bitch of a sister and her good for nothing husband… you wanted to be there and support her in any way you could.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, y/n. We both know you can be a bit… testy, sometimes. I mean, look at you now. Mom said that's precisely how you would be. Of course, I was trying to prove her wrong, but…

“Oh, so all that I care for you bullshit was just that? Bullshit?” you asked, confused. But, of course, it made perfect sense. Your sister and mother had put on a bet to see if she could crack you and make up a reason not to invite you to the wedding. Fucking parasites, each and every one of them.

“No, not at all. I did want to see if you were ok. But you have to admit, y/n, that you haven’t been in the greatest state lately. I mean, just look at yourself now. But I would still love it if you came to the party. After all, we are sisters.” She then proceeded to extend her arms in the form of an embrace. When you didn’t move, she, somewhat aggressively, pulled you into the hug. Once she pulled away, she gave you another one of those psychopathically sweet smiles and finally went off to the elevator. As she walked away, her “Toodeloooo” echoed through the corridor.

Once you heard the doors of the elevator close, you fell face-first onto the sofa and screamed as long as you could until your lungs started to burn.

That night, after your sister had left and a few glasses of wine later, you found the website of the writing you had purchased. It had taken you a while, but you found the section in which you could send in an advertisement. Maybe another "You" would have given up after hearing the news you got degraded to a second-class family friend, but after everything that had happened with your sister, you were adamant about ruining everything. Perhaps a mental professional would call it a concerning obsession, but that is precisely why you didn’t do therapy.

⤐

The wedding would be taking place on July 30th. You had sent out the first ad somewhere at the end of June. The first one, because clearly one did not suffice. You had not received any results from that. The longer it went on, without any results, the more you started to doubt your plan. It was very much possible that this was a sign not to go through with it.

A sign you decided not to listen to. In fact, as the days went by, you felt more and more in need of ruining the damn wedding.

While waiting for a phone call from the ad, all you were getting were messages from your family. It was possible that you, in a slightly drunken state, had sent a not so nice message into the family group chat. After this fiasco, your family felt obligated to get the situation cleaned up.

Not for you, though. No, god no, that would have been ridiculous. Your mother could simply not have her excellent reputation smudged, especially not by her own daughter. So, by making your sister and father spam you with repetitive messages and trying to call you, she really thought she was doing something. If only any of these messages actually included an apology, not just attempts at getting you to be quiet.

y/n don’t be so dramatic and just come to lunch with us.

It is really not a big deal; I mean, cousin Fred isn’t coming to the ceremony either.

Oh, for god’s sake, y/n, get over yourself!

You were particularly fond of that last message, even thinking about putting it as your new alarm sound. You could not put it together that your family was putting you on the same level as crazy cousin Fred, who you had not seen in probably ten years, and the last you heard about him was that he had been stuck in some sanatorium after being rescued from a ferret-worshipping cult in Iowa. But now that you thought about it… the cult didn’t sound like a bad idea.

But the days passed, one after the other, and you had received no responses from your ad. Finally, one night, after a long phone call with Rebecca and about half a bottle of Chardonnay, you started to question everything.

“Maybe I deserve it,” you had also just ordered yourself some food and were stuffing fries into your mouth as you talked, “Am I that intolerable, Beck?”

“I wouldn't say intolerable, no. But listen,” you had the feeling she sat up straight, so you did the same, “Maybe you deserved to get kicked out of the ceremony, I mean you have been acting a bit like a bitch but!” she interrupted herself exactly where you were planning on stopping her. Somehow, her words just didn’t feel very supportive at the moment.

“But,” she continued, “there is no excuse for them to treat you like complete shit, which is clearly the reason that you have been so upset, and, I’m sorry, but your entire family are morons if they don’t see that.”

“Thank you,” you sniffed, “I needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome.” What followed was a minute of silence as both of you ate until Rebecca asked her next question, “So have you heard from anyone yet?”

“No,” you sighed heavily, “Absolutely nothing.”

“I’m sure someone will contact you.”

“I highly doubt it; it’s been four weeks. The wedding is in three days. If someone calls me now, it would be a-”, and at that exact moment, almost as if it was some cosmic joke, you could hear the burner cell phone ring on your kitchen counter. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you mumbled as you got up to check it.

“What? What just happened?”

“I think someone’s calling.” You said, feeling very detached from everything that was happening.

“Oh my god, oh my god, keep me up, put me on speaker!! Did you answer yet?” Rebecca kept on rambling, making you even more nervous.

“No- wait.” Before the person had a chance to hang up, you rushed to answer them; as you said, “Hello?” you put your regular phone down and put your call with Rebecca on speaker so she could hear what you were doing.

“Hey, is this the person that put in the ad about the uhm wedding performer?”

You couldn’t help but smile at their choice of words. It was smart, in case he had called the wrong number.

“Yes, this is them.”

“Ok, great, I was wondering if the job is still up for grabs?” Now that you had a little bit of time to process what was happening, you couldn’t help but think that the voice, the accent, sounded really familiar, but you couldn’t seem to place it.

“YES, I mean yes, yes it is. Would you be available in… three days, so next Saturday, that is.” You had prepared for this moment, imagined being cool and collected, making sure that the person who you were hiring to do this was not some kind of creep, but yet, here you were, basically begging the guy. He sounded a bit shocked at the sound of the date.

“Oh, that’s quick, but yeah, I should be, yeah.”

“Great, but uhm, would you be available to meet tomorrow maybe? I kind of have a plan of how I need all this to go, so if we could just go through everything, make sure you know-”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine, darling. Just send me a time and address, and I’ll be there.” He didn’t seem too bothered about it. You, however, needed a second to comprehend that little nickname.

“Ok, cool, I’ll send you the address later and well, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you then,” and with him having said that, you hung up and immediately went on to text him when Rebecca erupted from the speaker of your regular phone.

“Honey, what happened to the third degree you wanted to do to him? Calm and collected, remember?”

“I know,” you send the text with your address as you spoke to your friend, “but at this point, I’m desperate. This guy might be the only chance I have, so I need to take it but don't worry, I got a plan.”

“Just make sure to follow this one through.” After this, the two of you talked for a little bit more until you could feel your eyelids get heavy and you fell asleep on your couch.

⤐

Unfortunately, the morning came sooner rather than later, and the pain that throbbed through your head was more than a little indicator of how badly you slept. Not to mention you had forgotten to take off your bra before sleep, so everything hurt.

Groggy, in pain, and still tired, you sat up on the couch, trying to find something around you that you could drink but only found an empty wine bottle. Then you saw the clock and the panic set in. it was almost 2 pm! And you had agreed to meet your… What were you even supposed to call the guy? Employee? Hired staff? You decided to just refer to him as “man” before you found out his name. That was something you had planned on doing in your original plan, but it was too late for that.

To set plan B in motion, you got up and ran to the landline, which you only really used to call one number.

“Lobby, how can I help you miss y/n?” Charlie sounded ready to do whatever you’d throw at him.

“Charlie, hi. In a bit, around 2.30, a man will be coming in. I need you to get as much information about him as you can, but like… subtly, you know?” In moments like these, you were glad the phone wasn’t stationary, as you could take this time to run around your apartment, cleaning up all the mess you had made the night before. Even for strangers, it was important to make good first impressions. There was still so much to be done, though. You most definitely needed a shower, find something nice to wear, prepare all the things you needed to talk about- god, why was revenge so difficult?

“Uhhh…” Charlie mumbled. “Miss? Is everything alright?” He must have heard you stumbling around the place, bumping into things as you tried to find the blueprint of the hotel and venue. It was genuinely ridiculous how easily you could obtain this kind of information on the internet.

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine. Can you just get him to answer some kind of contact sheet? Make it look like it’s for security, I don't know. Just name, address… that kind of stuff. Nothing too weird, oh, and if you could stall him a bit too, that would be amazing.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. But how will I know it’s the right person, miss?”

“Well, he’ll be here to see me but… oh, he has a British accent!”

“Ah, right, got it.” You could hear him scribbling down the things you had just said. Charlie was a great guy, but not always the brightest. You hung up the phone, and with less than thirty minutes until the man would arrive, you rushed into the bathroom. It must have been a new speed record of washing up once you got back into your bedroom to look for a decent outfit. It had to be something decent, but not too professional since this wasn’t exactly Wall Street business that you were up to.

You had just finished drying your hair, buttoning your shirt and putting glasses of water on the dining table (somehow, all these things were done simultaneously) when you got a call from the reception.

“Miss, there is a Mr Holland here to see you.” Mr Holland. You liked the sound of that.

“Thank you, Charlie, you may send him upstairs.” Usually, you would hang up now and wait for your guest to arrive with the elevator, but instead, you stayed on the line a little bit longer: “Did he fill out the questions?”

“Yes, but I will admit it was very strange, and I think he saw through that.”

“Doesn’t matter, just bring it over once he leaves, ok? And thank you.”

“Anyday, miss.” And with that, you hung up. It may have taken another minute for the elevator to reach your floor. The doors opened with a ding, and for a second, you didn’t know what to do. The man that walked into your apartment was the last type of guy who you would have imagined to go up for a job like you had described in the ad. He was firmly built, not too tall, but his height suited him just right. His hair was styled in soft dark brown curls, slightly gelled back though, and he wore plaid trousers, a green shirt with a denim jacket on top. He had his hands in his pockets as he walked up to you, but you could see the edge of a watch peeking out.

“Hi. Mr Holland, I presume,” you extended your hand for him to shake, which he did, firmly and with a kind smile. You noticed his eyes taking in the room, looking from one side to the other, most likely feeling a bit overwhelmed by the Upper East Side-ness of it all.

“Just call me Tom.” Tom Holland. A nice, sensible, sounding name.

“y/n.” you pulled your hand back and led him to the table, where you had everything laid out in preparation. The sight of this most certainly surprised him. You looked at him, trying to figure out if you had ever met because you could swear you had seen this man somewhere before. You just couldn’t point out where exactly.

“Before I begin explaining the plan,” you sat down as he did opposite of you. “I must ask you why you wanted to do this.”

“This must be the most formal prank I have ever encountered,” he said with a breezy chuckle, but then he saw the stern expression across your face, telling him you were taking this all very seriously. “Well, I’m behind on my rent and haven't had a proper job in a while, so basically, I need the cash. And, sorry if this offends you, but my friends dared me.”

“So, not a pervert?” You imagined yourself taking notes as if you were performing an actual job interview, but unfortunately, you had neither pen nor plain paper on hand. Tom smiled.

“I don’t think anything I can reply to that will actually convince you that I’m not, but no, I am not.”

“I suppose you’re right, but I’ll take your word for now.” you took a second, trying to figure out what to begin with, telling him. “Well, might as well start then. Like I said, the wedding is on Saturday, with the reception starting at 4-”

“Why are you doing this?” He interrupted you, clearly not having listened to a word you had just said.

“Pardon?”

“You know my reasoning, but I’d like to know yours. Call me old fashioned, but I would like to know why I will be running through a wedding without any pants on. Is this a hate crime? Cause I’m not interested in any of that-”

“Believe me, no hate crime involved.” You tapped your nails on the glass of the table.

“Well then, someone must have royally pissed you off, haven’t they? If you are willing to ruin the most important day of their life?”

“My sister, yes, and she’s a grade-A asshole, so-’ and then it clicked. You knew exactly where you had seen Tom before. And from the look on his face, he must have recognised you at the sound of the vulgarity that escaped your mouth. It was as if you were both transported to the busy street all those weeks ago. You could basically feel him bumping into you.

“It’s you," you whispered, more to yourself.

“Well, shit.” He leaned back in his chair. You both mirrored each other’s expressions, which could only be explained as disbelief. What were the chances that the man who was supposed to help you ruin your sister’s wedding was the pompous dick that dared to push you aside on the street?

“You know what,” he took a sip from the glass of water you had so politely set up on the table, “Somehow, I’m not at all surprised that it’s you.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you glared at him.

“I could tell back then, just by the way you looked at me, that you were just another spoiled rich girl that must have watched a few too many reruns of Gossip Girl. So let me guess, your sister got the nicer Porsche for her birthday?” Oh, so that’s how you were gonna play it? Really? Suddenly, you didn’t think you needed Tom that much, after all. You were sure that someone else would call in a second… or maybe a bit later… Oh, who were you kidding? He was your only hope.

But fuck, from the way you were looking at each other, clearly there was no joy in this brand new collaboration. Most definitely not for you, but he was here already so you might as well take advantage of the opportunity. This was, however, a tricky situation and you could not have him fuck it up, so you needed him on your good side.

“I’m sorry, ok, I was having a bad day and took it out on you. If you want to leave, go ahead.” you pointed him the way to the exit, where he had just walked through a minute ago. You saw Tom’s mouth twitch. His gaze flickered between you and the elevator. You could tell he was outweighing the scenarios. He didn’t like you, which was fine, but he needed the money. He had made that very clear. His eyes locked with yours again, and he spoke up. Or maybe he was considering the reaction of his friend when they'd hear that he walked out? Surely, that would be very humiliating.

“You’re lucky I need a good laugh, myself, love.”

“There really is no need for nicknames, Tom.” You ignored the heat rushing through your face at the sound of it and made yourself look as unbothered as you possibly could. You didn’t need him to know he was getting to you, and you didn’t need your own mind to know it.

Detach, Denial and… what could you add to that?

Tom put his hands up in defence, and you noticed that wristwatch of his again.

“If you’re struggling so much, how come you got a Rolex?”

“Gift from my parents when I moved here, not that it’s any of your business.” He smiled, slightly condescending, which was fair. You looked at the silver band as he turned it around his wrist a bit.

“Well, ok then, as you’ve noticed, I got some stuff here,” you quickly changed the subject to divert the tension. Which seemed to work as both of you looked around at the various notes and papers that you had spread around the table earlier. Tom picked up a piece of paper that lay near his hand and started reading through it.

"I will say, this must be the most elaborate prank I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling pretty proud of yourself, even though you, personally, would not have called it a "prank".

“Wasn’t a compliment,” he put the piece of paper down, looking unimpressed, “pranks shouldn’t be 12-step programmes. They should be easy. I run in, run out, done. Don’t see what’s there more to it.”

“Maybe that’s all you need to do, but I need to ensure that, one, you don’t get killed by my family and, two, that they don’t kill me. For that, I need to make sure that this shit goes well and that you don’t fuck anything up.” Formalities, you had decided, were gone since the moment he called you a spoiled rich girl. He had no right to say something so true.

“What makes you think I’m the one who’s gonna screw up?” He challenged you by leaning forward, his brow raised. You had no response to this, so you decided to simply ignore it.

“So, like I’ve said, the reception will be at 4.”

“When’s the ceremony?” He asked.

“Why does that matter?”

“So I know how long I will have to wait before it’s time to show up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drive us both to the reception,” you said. “And I’ll make sure you have a room in the hotel for the night… or a way of transport back to the city in the evening. Whatever you prefer. It might be for the better actually if you can leave quickly. Safer, even.”

“Are you telling me you’re not invited to your own sister’s wedding?”

“No, I don’t think I said any of that.” You were attempting to sound aloof as if you had no idea what he was talking about. But of course, he was the struggling actor here, so he saw right through you.

“Fuck, that’s harsh… sorry.” That almost sounded compassionate; his features seemed to soften, and you tried to match that energy. There was no need to stay cold toward each other.

“Thanks, not that it’s any of your business,” you jumped on the opportunity to throw his own line back at him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the look of the slight smirk he gave you. It was not your intention or in any part of the plan to tell the guy what your reasoning was for this whole endeavour, but it might have been wise. This way, you didn’t look like the complete bad guy for wanting to ruin your sister’s special day, and you even might have gotten someone on your side for a change. Not that it was much better. You still didn’t like him.

“Not to jump to any conclusion,” he said, preparing to jump to conclusions, you thought, “but why hire me to do this? I mean, this feels like a joke very much below your level. Why not hire someone to be your fake boyfriend and out show everyone? It's not that uncommon. Plenty of ladies looking for a good looking fella to prance around with for the day. My mate Harrison is basically making a business out of it.”

“Because I'm not interested in lowrate escorts, but I'm also not that great of an actress, so I don’t think it would have fooled anyone, and besides, I don’t have anything to prove to my family. Showing up with a date would just be conforming to their bullshit. I’d much rather make them miserable this way.” You didn’t care to mention to Tom that the idea of a fake boyfriend had simply never crossed your mind.

"You’re mental, aren’t you?” He looked at you with fascination as you drank some of your water.

“You can still walk out if you want to.”

⤐

Somehow, Tom wasn't too scared off by your manic side and stayed for the remainder of the afternoon.

Saturday came about much sooner than you wished for. Before you knew it, you were waiting in your car for Tom to get in. It turned out that it was actually for the better that you weren’t welcome at the ceremony, as it was supposed to start in half an hour, and it was still an hour drive when you started the engine.

Tom lived in what you could only assume was a small apartment above a Chinese restaurant. Thankfully, there had been no need to drive into any small side streets to get to his apartment. Instead, you waited in a designated parking spot, right at an intersection. Waiting, the time went by even slower than slow, it felt like, and you were about to text Tom to hurry up when you heard a knock on the window.

With a shriek, you jumped up, your hand immediately bolting to the automatic door lock. But when you managed to take a breath, you noticed it was Tom that had scared the living shit out of you. It was a sunny day, and though his eyes were covered with a pair of sunglasses, you could tell he was smiling brightly at you with his whole face. He tapped on the window again, and you quickly unlocked it. However, he didn’t step in but opened the backdoor to throw the overnight bag on the seat, it falling right next to yours. Only then he finally got in.

“Sorry, my friend was late, and I needed to wait for him because I can’t leave Tessa alone.”

“Who’s Tessa,” you asked, looking in your back view mirror for any oncoming traffic, but the view was blocked by a couple of guys carrying an old couch, making you go look over your shoulder as you tried to get your car back onto the road.

“My dog.” Tom said, grabbing his phone, “here’s a picture.”

“She’s cute.” you glanced for as long as you dared to look while waiting for a green light. Tom showed you his lock screen, a picture of a very adorable grey dog, the breed not entirely known to you.

“Yeah, she’s the best,” Tom finally took his glasses off and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket. “You don’t have any pets, do you?”

“Nope,” god, driving in New York was always so fucking stressful. People, bikers and cars coming at you from every possible angle, even the ones it shouldn’t be possible to appear from. It was as if you lacked about a hundred pairs of eyes each time you hit the road. “Sorry, I’m just- fuck,” you pushed your hand into the claxon as some asshole in a BMW cut you off.

“Maybe I should have driven?” Tom chuckled.

“What? So you can steer us onto the wrong side of the road? No, thank you.”

“That is actually really rude of you,” he retorted but had not seemed very hurt by your comment. You drove on for a few blocks until a roadblock surfaced, showcasing roadwork ahead. Two lanes had to merge together, assuring you would be arriving late. The cars moved at a snail’s speed.

"Would you want any pets? Doesn’t it ever get lonely up in your white marble post-modernistic castle?”

“I don’t know,” you could do nothing but indulge Tom in the conversation as you waited for progress in the traffic, “My mom is allergic to anything cute, so I grew up without any pets, and I guess I’ve never missed what I didn’t have.” That was a lie. You always wanted a pet. Didn’t really matter what, but your parents were very strictly against it, even now. Even though you were an adult who lived on their own, they would not have it and since they paid your rent…

“Well, if you want, I can let you walk Tess one day,” he suggested. “As a favour in return?”

“How about the favour will be that I pay you 400 bucks like we agreed, huh? I’m not gonna babysit your dog too.” Finally, the cars upfront started to move, and you had maybe moved five inches before another fucking BMW got in your way. Your blood might have actually reached the boiling point, and you began to lose feeling in your hands at the tightness of your fingers around your gear shift- but then, suddenly, you felt a soothing touch over your knuckles. Glancing down, you saw Tom’s hand over yours. His thumb moved in slow motions over your skin. When you looked up at him, he was sitting casually in his seat, eyes on the road, most likely not even aware of what he was doing. You also got to notice, and even appreciate, his outfit. It consisted of a very sharp, dark grey suit. Under the jacket, he had a white button-up, no tie.

“It’s going.”

“Huh?” you blinked.

“The traffic, the cars are moving.”

“Oh shit," you quickly moved the gear, getting the car back into motion before another damn BMW could sneak in. Perhaps it was your harsh movement, but Tom pulled his hand away, putting it on his thigh, and you couldn’t help but steal swift glances at it every now and then (when it was safe to do so, obviously).

After what was supposed to be 20 minutes but turned out to be 45, you finally drove out of the city onto the interstate. It would be another 40 minutes or so before you arrived in New Canaan, so you tried to get comfortable behind the wheel. It wasn’t easy, and Tom must have noticed.

“If you need a break, we can stop somewhere, and I can drive- I promise I know which side of the road is the right one.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine.” Immediately, you felt much better. Or, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“So, wanna tell me what’s up with your family?” He quipped.

“Alright,” right then, you noticed a sign mentioning a gas station, “actually, you can drive for a bit.” You were ready to take the exit.

“Ok, I get it. No family talk.” he tapped his leg for a few seconds, enough for you to start thinking that he had dropped the topic. “Wanna know something? It might make you feel better.”

“Sure…” you were just doing your best to focus on the road, which wasn’t as challenging considering that you had about half an hour of driving straight forward.

“I stole this watch.” He confessed, referencing the Rolex that he showed from underneath his sleeve.

“Oh, great, so I’m stuck in a car with a criminal.” Your heart was beating a bit faster, without a doubt. Has that been his plan all along? Make you drive out to the wedding, where he could rob each and every one of your family members? Was that what his bag was for? Or was it maybe filled with unregistered weapons? So he could rob and kill you. Oh god…

“You’re too dramatic, love. I stole it from my dad before I moved here.”

“Still sounds like a criminal offence, especially if you fled the country.” Suddenly you realised you had to change lanes unless you wanted to take the exit back to New York, which didn’t feel like a lousy idea…

“I didn’t flee… my parents weren’t exactly too happy when they found out I wanted to go to New York and become an actor. We didn’t end things on great terms, and the last thing I had done before leaving was to go into their bedroom and steal my dad’s watch. I don’t even know why.”

“It’s a nice watch,” you commented, making Tom laugh. But suddenly, you had a feeling about where his story was going. "Are your parents… ok?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re great. Dad found out about the watch and wasn't too happy, but what can he do about it when I’m 3000 miles away.” He smirked and let the chair fall back a bit, getting himself even more comfortable. You slapped him across the sternum.

“Aw, what’s that for?” He grabbed your hand to stop you from hitting him.

"You dick, you made it sound like they had died or something.”

“No, I didn’t. Blame your interpretation for that.”

You managed to slap him lightly once more before bringing your hand back to the steering wheel. There you were, thinking he was trying to lecture you on the importance of family and love or some other kind of bullshit. Actually, it was for the better he didn't. You might have had to push him out of the car for being a total dweeb.

The short silence was getting to you, “Ok, so, what is the plan once we’re there?” You had gone over the plan in vigorous detail during that first meeting at your place, making sure Tom knew exactly what he had to do. Like you had told him then, you had three goals.

Make your family miserable.

While not getting caught,

And preferably not getting Tom into too much trouble (pain).

But you wouldn’t exactly have sleepless nights if you didn’t manage to fulfil the third goal.

“Ok,” Tom thought for a second, “when we get there, you get a key to your room and I'll meet you there a bit later. Then, I drop my stuff off and wait for the best man’s speech.” You had heard from your sister that Lorenzo, the best man, had planned a speech of about 15 minutes, so if Tom made his way downstairs at the beginning of that, he would be just in time to make his big entrance at a good moment in the party.

“Once downstairs, I need to take the path up to the woods and do my thing. Wait a few more minutes and- showtime!”

“Showtime,” you smiled back at him. “Then what?”

“Uhh, I get the fuck out of there. Into the broom closet.”

“Where I will stash you a spare change of clothes, which I assume you have with you?

“In the bag,” he pointed to the bag on the backseat. “I change as fast as I can and sneak out, then go back to the room.”

“Perfect.”

“You know, we can still go for plan B,” plan B is what Tom liked to call his whole “fake dating” idea, which still sounded as ridiculous to you as the first time he suggested it to you. There would be no way that anyone in your family believed you were together. Absolutely absurd.

“In your dreams.”

⤐

You kept on driving in silence for the next ten minutes before you finally arrived at the venue. It was a beautiful building, surrounded by ideally kept flora. Trees and bushes trimmed with impeccable precision, and what you heard in the background must have been a peacock. So yeah, it was that kind of joint.

It was a little past four when you stepped out of the car, and you could see the wedding party making their way from the ceremony to the reception. Your sister was nowhere to be seen, but you knew she must be in her room, changing into her second dress for the party.

Tom quickly got out, making his way into the reception, which was thankfully on the other side of the building, where none of your family was supposed to be at the moment (except for maybe a rogue nephew, but what would a 7-year old know?). It was his goal to stay as inconspicuous as possible. If anyone asked, he was a third cousin twice removed from the opposite side of the wedding. No one would be any wiser.

You got out of the car, seeing more of your, basically forgotten, family members who had just arrived for the booze and dance. You said your polite hellos and went off to the lobby. Tom was sitting in a lounge chair, somehow having gotten a hold of a cup of tea in the few minutes that you had been separated. You shot him a confused look but tried to ignore him, not wanting to seem as if you knew him. The woman at the helpdesk was nice; she most definitely felt overwhelmed at the rush that the wedding brought with it. (Apparently, some woman, you assumed your mom, had not been too happy with the linens that had been provided in her room and demanded them to get new ones… as in, from the store.)

You got your key, then as the actress that you were, made a bit of a show of dropping your key right in front of Tom as you said a polite hello to the “mysterious, handsome stranger”. Being the “gentleman” that he is, he then caught up to you quickly, handing you the keycard while keeping the spare one for himself. And just like that, you were in.

You got into the elevator, alone, your hand clutching to your luggage for dear life. It was only two floors, but your bag was heavy, and you had made the mistake of putting on your heels for the drive… Who even does that? So your feet were killing you before you had reached your room. And the journey to your room became even longer, when the elevator doors opened on the floor below, to reveal the wrinkly face of-

“Auntie Tua!?” you said in a panicked voice that might very easily be disguised as excitement. Aunt Perpetua was an ageless woman, but in the same way that fossils are. She always wore the most hideous dresses, of which the pattern hurt your eyes while your mouth struggled to keep your meal in at the smell of her bag. For some reason, it always smelled like sour cabbage combined with salmon. As it was the wedding, she had chosen to wear, in combination with her fishkraut purse, a bright purple dress with more ruffles than she had hair and a hat to match. Well, it was more of a fascinator with various plumage poking out at all angles.

“Ah, sweetheart!” she stepped into the elevator, the smell of salmon becoming more and more pungent. You smiled, trying to hide the tears that were already forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Not at the wedding, auntie Tua?” you asked, getting as far away as you could from the woman.

“Oh, I was, but it was terribly boring, so I left.” If you had a drink, you would be sure to spit it out. She left the wedding ceremony?

“Did anyone notice?”

“Yes, yes, your mother was not very pleased, but well, I’m not going to let anyone tell me what to do, especially a woman dressed in chartreuse.” your great aunt scoffed as if what she was wearing wasn’t a crime against society. You listened to her rant, not believing how an elevator could possibly be going any slower when the door opened again, and you slipped out, making sure to quickly press the “close doors” button again as you stepped through them to ensure dear aunt Perpetua was leaving.

You found your room quite quickly. Inside, you were, once again nearly scared to death, by the sight of Tom lying on the bed. Ah, there was only one bed, but that was fine because Tom was not meant to stay any longer than he needed to get changed in the closet.

“We got to stop meeting like this, love,” he smiled, sitting up. You didn’t trust your mouth to come up with any snarky comment in return, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you glanced over at him. He had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a set of very toned arms. Seeing the veins as he moved made you clench your jaw, but just for a moment.

You put your luggage next to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Maybe you could just stay here for the rest of the evening, not even bother with the party. The duvet was so soft, so inviting to get underneath it and curl up and sleep. As a child, you had always wondered if you could hibernate, what would be a better time than this?

“You ok?” Tom asked, scooting over closer to you.

“Yup,” you nodded, “just tired.” What you wanted to do was to fall backwards onto the soft mattress, but what you had not considered was that Tom had moved relatively much closer to you, causing your bodies to collide. As soon as your shoulder touched him, you jumped back, excusing yourself with a soft apology.

“It’s alright, but you know, I’m still not opposed to my idea-”

“If you’re scared of running around naked in front of my family, you can just say so,” you said, “but then, I hope you understand that I won’t be able to pay you.”

“I’m not sure if this is extortion or prostitution… and, in all honesty, I don’t know if I’d be opposed to either in this circumstance.”

“Now, that made zero sense; you are just plainly idiotic,” you rolled your eyes, then proceeded to sigh, “but I guess I have to go; I don’t want to miss the show. I’ll see you there… or not.” So you said as you grabbed your shoes and made your way to the door. You had not even had five minutes to rest after your drive. But you couldn’t dare to be much later, for the reception must have been well on its way.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Tom caught up to you, standing closely, maybe a bit closer for what you were supposed to enjoy, but all that the proximity affected was the shortness of your breath. It surprised you to see him get so close up to you, and for a brief instance, you were confused as to what he was planning to do, but then, almost out of nowhere, he gave you a set of clothes.

Oh, right.

“I saw a great little storage room a corridor away from the help desk.” He winked and reached his arm out. His hand brushed over your side as he got the door handle and opened the door for you.

“Right, thanks.” That was all that you managed to mutter out before quickly trotting off downstairs to the party. You decided to go down the stairs this time, remembering that the staircase was closer to the storage room that Tom spoke of… or, that’s what you concluded after a first glance of the building.

It was one thing to plan out an elaborate plan of taking some sweet revenge on your family, but it was an entirely different thing to actually go through with it. That was certain. You only had a little purse with you. So you had to carry Tom’s clothes under your arm, only hoping you would not bump into anyone. But in fear of this happening, as you walked down the stairs, you tried to think of an excuse why you were carrying a pile of man’s wear on you. Nothing compelling could come to mind.

It was, thankfully, unnecessary, for you managed to get to the room that said “storage” and quickly slipped in. it was dark, but you just put the clothes behind a pile of towels and just as quickly left. Flawless. This was a foolproof plan, after all, and you were no fool.

Tom, on the other hand...

To your own astonishment and confusion, you had the feeling that you might be growing kind of fond of him, but at the same time, you didn’t quite know what to think of the man. While your first encounter could be called unfortunate by some, and both of you had your strong opinion on the other, you still couldn't pinpoint anything on him with certainty. He was, without a doubt, very charming, very good looking, amusing, and though his words did not always make sense, his actions had the right intentions… most of the time… hopefully, but…

There needed to be a but. There always was one. You had not met a man who didn’t have some baggage on him. Maybe his was that he was willing to get paid for ruining a stranger’s wedding by running naked across the dancefloor? It could be worse. God knows you’ve dealt with worse.

But, oh, what would you know of it? You had only met him, officially, three days ago. And though you did spend a reasonable amount of time with him in those three days, you could not set on any definitive judgments about him. It was simply impractical, and frankly, prejudicial.

That was the conclusion you had come to once you arrived at the large doors of the wedding party. They were clear, so you had an easy view of everything that was going on. But, to your surprise, you could not see your sister anywhere, meaning that she must have still been preparing for her big entrance and that the party had not yet begun.

Before anyone noticed, you slipped through the door and got another look at everything. It was a lovely looking celebration. With chiffon panels hanging from the high ceilings, and fairy lights twinkling in their midst, everything had a very soft look to it, but in that polished way, your family was known for. The room itself consisted of three parts. The biggest of it was the dining area, where about… too many round tables were positioned. Each filled with plates, glasses, cutlery, a floral centrepiece and more wedding junk. Then there was the dancefloor, a parquet area, with a bit of podium at the side where the band set up their instruments.

That would have been it, but your parents had paid for the extra mile, which included the window wall to be opened up, revealing the beautiful garden, which held space for the many more wedding party activities that were unknown to you.

One final thing about the room was that it had a sky-view ceiling, perfect for a summer evening and night. The view itself was uninterrupted, and if one were to look up, one would only see the clear blue sky of the day, but if someone, for example, Tom, would look out the window, one could easily see what was taking place downstairs. Something you had really been counting on when making your plan.

It was during these moments that you thought of taking a step back and reviewing everything. Was there a possibility for you to have taken it all a bit too far? Most definitely, but you did not really give a fuck. It was honestly a rather lovely philosophy to live by.

You quickly spotted Rebecca, almost having forgotten that she had, in fact, been invited to the party. It wasn’t even that she and your sister were close, but more the fact that your sister did not care about who was at her wedding, as long as it was big, flamboyant and preposterously narcissistic.

Rebecca was sitting at one of the furthest tables, having a lesser connection to the married couple, but she did not seem troubled by that. On the contrary, she appeared to be happily settled next to someone you thought might have either been your sister’s gay dog-walker or one of her work friends. Just as you walked past her, you could hear her laugh at one of his unfunny jokes.

“Oh my god, Steve, that is hilarious!” it was then that she noticed you walk by, “y/n! There you are!

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” you didn’t want to ruin her chances, however small they may be, of getting lucky later that evening.

“No problem, Steve here was just telling me about… sorry, what did you call it, again?” Oh, this conversation was going splendidly. But, before poor Steve had the chance to correct himself, you apologised once again and excused yourself to find your own seat. Apparently, your family had not completely disowned you (yet) as you found your place at the largest table with the little card sticking out of the floral arrangement saying “1”. You would be sitting surrounded by your closest family. Hooray…

What made it slightly more bearable to you was that when you looked up through the glass ceiling, you could see the hotel and there, behind one of the windows, was Tom. he was leaning against the window and must have had found the minibar, as when your eyes met, you saw him toast to you with a glass of champagne. You were about to raise your empty glass, a bit defeated, back at him when the band started playing behind you and the large doors opened, revealing the happy couple and your parents. So that was why you were the only one at the table?

The newlyweds twirled their way to the table, with their entourage behind them, as the rest of the party clapped and cheered. You got up and clapped along, but probably a bit off-beat.

“y/n! So glad you could make it!” said the groom’s mother as she sat down next to you, followed by her husband, the maid of honour, the best man, your parents and then finally the happy couple. It was a cosy little table. You were sitting right between the two mothers, also known as menopausal hell.

“We missed you at the ceremony, sweetie,” your mother brushed something off your shoulder.

“Then why did you uninvite me?” you said through gritted teeth. To this, your mother had no response. You decided to go for another home run. “I bumped into Auntie Tua in the elevator.”

“Oh, god, do not speak to me about that woman.” Your mother scoffed, glaring over to where your great aunt was sitting, right next to cousin Fred, who looked more weasely than ever. Your mother then extended her hand over you and started clicking her fingers frantically at a waiter walking by, showing him her empty glass. The man walked up and poured her the wine which he was carrying. You took the opportunity and handed him your glass as well.

“y/n, are you allowed to drink in the monastery?” If you had taken a sip, you were sure you would have spat it out. Instead, you did your best at controlling your breathing and put the glass down slowly before smiling as nicely as you could to the groom’s mother.

“I’m sorry, Mary, what was that? I might have misheard you, I think.”

“I was asking if you are allowed to drink alcohol? Since you’ve joined the monastery, I mean.” What in the actual fuck-

“I think there has been some kind of mistake, Mary, I didn’t-”

“She didn't join yet. We thought it would be better for her to do it after the wedding. Don’t want our girl to miss out on all the fun.” Your mother butted in, almost pushing you off the chair to speak to Mary. They were actually insane. Each and every one of them. You glanced up again, but Tom was gone.

“Ah yes, that makes perfect sense,” Bert, the groom’s father, chuckled loudly and… either had a spasm or winked at you. Either way, a horrific sight. You started looking around for another table you could join instead, but each seat was apparently already occupied. You considered excusing yourself to the toilet, anything to leave this torture, and you were already getting off your seat.

“You want to say something, y/n?” your sister looked up at you expectantly; suddenly, all eyes were on you, people thinking you had a speech prepared.

“Oh, no, I was just-” you pointed to the exit, “uhm, never mind.”

“Well, sit down, then,” your mother pulled you down to your seat harshly. You were still rubbing the spot on your wrist that she had grabbed when the best man got up, clinking his knife to his glass. All attention was on him now as he started his speech, talking on and on about how the love shared between your sister and her husband was to envy and how he wished them many good things. How love was all about having and sharing and giving and receiving.

You felt like could be said in one breath, but that’s probably exactly why he got to speak, and you weren’t even invited to the ceremony. Many people made crying noises and started sniffing, but you could not see a single tear in the room when you looked around.

⤐

The speech went on forever, but for once, you weren’t mad about that. Everybody was listening to the guy spilling his fake tears about two people, while you could only think about Tom. You hoped he had noticed the speech had begun and that he was making his way outside. Though you had not had a good look at what the garden looked like, the woods were beginning very near it all, giving Tom an excellent spot to hide while also being close enough to the party. There was a path leading up to the tall trees, and if he took that, he could make a beeline for the dancefloor and parkour his way through the tables.

Oh fuck, there were so many tables. What if he got stuck between them or fell and couldn’t make his escape?

And if he got caught… a thought that had not yet dawned upon you suddenly hit. He could get arrested for so many things. And once that happened, it would only be a matter of how invested the police were in the reason behind his streaking that would attach you to the crime. Because you could give Tom as much credit as you wanted, but there was no way he would lie to the police… or would he? No… he probably wouldn’t.

“y/n.” your mother hissed, slapping your arm a bit too harshly. You must have zoned out because when you looked around, people were clapping again. The speech was over. You joined in for the last few seconds while leaning into your mother’s side.

“You know, this is basically abuse, mother.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, clapping even louder, with a proud smile directed to the best man. More proud than she had ever looked at you, that’s for sure (and a bit exaggerated for dramatic purposes).

Next up was the maid of honour, a woman you had never seen before in your life, so you really questioned how much honour there really was. What honour did they even speak about, and why did the maid have it?

The speech, thankfully, was not that long. It included all the go-to points that should be included in a wedding speech, a cheer for the couple, and another wave of polite clapping, and finally, the wedding could begin as the meal was brought out. Knowing your sister, all the dishes were miniature and unpronounceable. So, while it might have consisted of four courses, it only took half an hour before people started to dance. Now you actually hoped that Tom got there a bit later cause you did not want him to spend so much time there. It could not be good for anyone.

As you thought that, you looked over to the garden and actually caught a glimpse of Tom, who was making his way to the woods. You then immediately looked at the room, trying to figure out if someone had noticed your accomplice, but no one had made any weird looks or nudged their neighbour, so you assumed the coast was clear.

⤐

Your stomach was beginning to flip as your anticipation built up in you. It could happen any minute, and you kind of wanted to be out of the room when it did. Well, sort of. You hadn’t figured it out yet. But, no, that was silly. Of course, you wanted to stay and see the horror on your family’s face.

People were dancing to a generic love song. It was a slow one. Couples holding each other close, moving to the rhythm of the music. Maybe it was a more suitable reaction for you to be jealous for not having anyone to dance like this with, but all that was on your mind was the thought that if it was any moment, this one would be perfect for Tom to show up.

Having had enough of your family and feeling pretty proud of yourself for withstanding them for so long, you got up and made your way over to Rebecca’s table. It had several advantages. First of all, it was far, far away from your family, and at the same time, much closer to the exit if you needed it in case of an emergency escape. There was also that from her seat, Rebecca had the perfect view to the dancefloor and the gardens, so you had a perfect-adjacent view when you sat down next to her. The table was also closer to the kitchens, meaning that whenever a waiter walked out, holding a new bottle of champagne, or wine, or whatever, you were often one of the first to get a refill.

“So, how’s the… thing going?” Rebecca asked.

“I hope well. But I have no idea. He could show up any minute.” Everyone from Rebecca’s table had decided to go to the dancefloor, leaving the two of you free to talk about whatever out in the open without the fear of anyone listening in- and that would be an advantage… #5? Not significant enough to keep track.

“Is there anything you need me to do? God, this is all so exciting.” Rebecca squealed before downing her drink. You were going to tell her to calm down, that, again, this was no Ocean’s Eight, but then you thought of something.

“Actually, yes. Tom will probably leave some clothes behind back there, so could you maybe take them and bring them to my room? So no one else finds it?”

Rebecca glanced in the way of the woods, where Tom was most presumably staying low.

“Sure thing.”

Not even before you managed to finish your drink did you suddenly hear gasps and the sound of someone running. The band singer stopped, almost dropping his microphone, but it took a moment for the rest of the band to catch on with what was happening. Rebecca grabbed your hand, and both of you extended your necks to look over the crowd. But it quickly dispersed, with more gasps following.

“Whoooo!” you heard the familiar voice shout out before almost jumping over the crowd and the tables in his way. There was Tom, very enthusiastic and very much naked, running through the room. He passed by your table, and you tried to look as scared as possible, but it was challenging when you saw him wink your way. Then, as quickly as he had appeared, so soon he was gone through the corridor.

“Did you know he was so-” Rebecca commented, turning around, hoping to catch a final glimpse of him, but Tom had already disappeared. You drank your drink quickly, feeling your throat drying up. When it was finished, you put your glass on the table and just shook your head “no”. You had no idea. The quick images that your mind managed to capture of his body flashed before you.

Tom had left the dancing guests in only what could be described as pure shock. You could see your mother looking sickly, holding on to your father’s arm, trying to remain stable. Your sister started sobbing and was already surrounded by her bridesmaids, who were trying to fix her make-up as she was still crying.

Then the fury hit, and a group of “brave” men started to barge their way through the room, ready to apprehend the naked criminal. It was only to your, and most likely Rebecca’s, amusement to see the entire group walk in the opposite direction than you saw Tom run to. The shock must have blurred their memory. Or their fragile masculinity prevented them from having a good look at where he had gone. Both worked in your favour.

“I think I might go to the ladies room,” you stated, a bit too loud, but that was kind of the point. At the same time, Rebecca said she was just going to hop outside for a cigarette. You had to give it to her, that was very smart because you had noticed a little smoking corner in the garden very early on.

And so, you made your way to the storage closet. Making sure no one was around to see, you knocked three times, slowly, in a way that Tom would know it was you. Finally, he opened the door just far enough for you to slip in.

“Oh my god, that was ama- Oh my god!” Oh, he was still naked. “Why aren’t you dressed yet!?” you couldn’t be too loud, in fear of being heard and getting caught, but your hissing conducted enough anger, in your opinion.

“Because I can’t find my clothes,” he hissed back. He had managed to wrap a towel around his middle- no, not even that, he was just holding it in front of himself. His chest was moving up and down with each deep breath he took. Now that he didn’t have layers of clothing on him, you could see the perfectly toned muscles that he had been hiding. They weren’t bulging, not even that refined, but you had to hold yourself back to not go up and touch him. It was that same kind of feeling a kid has in a toy store when the display has a “do not touch” sign on it. Simply ludicrous to expect a person to listen to it.

“Right, uhm”, but he needed the clothing to not get his head chopped off by your family, so you quickly started looking through the shelves. You hadn’t even realised how many towels there were when you had gone in the first time, for a brief moment even getting scared that you had left them in the wrong closet or that someone had taken them away.

But eventually, you managed to find the spare outfit. Tom took them from you, dropping them to the ground and quickly put on his underwear.

You didn’t really know what to do, so you started counting towels. Yes, it would have been best to leave the storage closet, but each time you tried, you could hear voices outside. People from the wedding talking about a "hooligan”.

“Oh, you’re a scoundrel, too, apparently,” you reported back to Tom about the things you heard outside. He laughed as he put his belt on. Why did guys always hop around when doing so?

He had just grabbed his shirt and was in the middle of putting it on when you heard the cold voice of your mother.

“I do not care if we have to tear this whole place down; you better find him!”

“Shit, my mom,” as if your mother would smell you through the door, you backed off, “what if she walks in here?” You both froze, looked at each other then stared at the door. Before you could think of a plan, Tom started unbuttoning his shirt again.

“What the hell are you doing? You know they are looking for someone naked, right? So undressing is the last thing you should be doing.” You wanted to throw his jacket at him, maybe even find a bucket to put over his head, but he kept his shirt open, and your mind went blank, just for a little bit.

Footsteps and your mother’s voice were getting louder, as well as your own heartbeat. And you might have seriously needed a cardiologist when Tom pulled you close. Basically, face to face.

“Do you trust me?”

“No?” you questioned yourself, feeling dumb at the response.

“I just ran naked in front of your whole family for you, and you still don’t- never mind, can you, for one minute? Trust me for the next minute?” He was looking into your eyes, his hand on your hip, and you could feel as he was pulling your skirt up. His eyes were nothing but sincere, so surely you could trust him… right?

“You can slap me as much as you want later, ok? Just- kiss me.”

“What?!” Fuck, that was definitely too loud. Too scared in the moment to think it through, you leaned in and kissed Tom as hard as you could. It was very messy and could not have possibly been comfortable for him, but you grabbed him by the collar and just went for it. He somehow had found the zipper on the side of your dress and had unzipped it halfway. You let go of the instinct that said to kick him in the nuts, trusting him for that one promised minute.

And there it was. The door opened, revealing you to your mother.

“y/n!” she shouted, making you pull away. You looked at yourself and Tom and realised that what he had created was just a scene of two people getting caught making out. Your mother stared at you, then gasped. “Have some respect for yourself.” Before walking away, leaving the door wide open for everyone to see. Obviously, her intention was to shoot some shame into you, but you were glowing. It worked. She had looked Tom right in the face and didn’t say anything. She had no idea who he was.

Tom passed you and closed the door of the storage room. When he turned around to face you, his cheek was greeted by a harsh slap from your hand.

“Oh fuck.” He rubbed the spot you had just hit. The smirk pulling at his lips did not go unnoticed.

“Sorry, but you offered, and I just couldn’t resist.” You got back to your zipper and tried to pull it up, but it must have got stuck on the fabric, as it would not budge.

“Here, let me help,” Tom stepped up, and you were ready to slap him again, but you knew that would make very little sense. So you put your arm up and let Tom handle the messed up zipper. He barely touched you, making you think that whatever he was doing would go nowhere since you needed to put some pressure on the fabric, but no, the next second, you could hear the sound of the zip go all the way up.

“Thanks,” you said, brushing some of your hair behind your ear.

“No problem,” he went on to button up his shirt, “and I’m really sorry for this. I just thought… since PDA often makes people nervous or something- but I'm really sorry if I crossed a line there or made you uncomfortable in any way.”

“It’s fine. Was a bit weird, but… I didn’t really mind.” You were becoming more and more aware of how close you still were to Tom. He must have noticed as well when both of you quickly stepped aside.

“We should probably… go.” He pointed back at the door, to which you nodded in agreement. Though scared of what hysteria might be awaiting you outside, you decided to rip the bandaid off and open the door. When you looked outside, no one was in the corridor, fortunately. You flattened out your skirt, making sure to look presentable, and must have taken, maybe, ten steps and had just turned the corner when you bumped into your sister.

“y/n!” she shrieked. The bridesmaids had done their best, but you could still see the streaks of foundation that had been washed down through her crying, as well as the layer of mascara and eyeliner around her eyes.

“Uh, hey, I was just going back to the-”

“Don’t bother,” she sniffed, “it’s over. Everyone is looking for-” she suddenly froze up, her eyes wide before narrowing them down. “Is that him?”

In a panic, you turned around to see Tom, who had just walked out. He was cuffing the sleeves of his shirt but looked up at the sound of your sister’s exclamation.

“Is he who?” you asked, your eyes switching between her and Tom as if it was a fast-paced Tennis match.

“Momma said you were canoodling in the closet; of course, I didn’t believe her but, hi.” She loosened up, flattening her hair and fluttering her eyelashes as Tom made his way over to you. He gave her a smile filled with charm as he extended his hand.

“Hi, I’m Tom. Congratulations on the wedding.”

Your sister shook his hand, her smile now a bit faded. Perhaps it was that Tom had reminded her that she was now, in fact, married and thus not allowed to flirt with him, or he had reminded her of the disaster that had just occurred. But she pulled herself together quickly, turning her attention to you.

“Are you guys here… together?”

“Yes,” Tom pulled you close to him before you had a chance to say anything, “yes, we are. Sorry, I’m late. Work, you know how it is.”

“No, I don’t.” your sister, who had never worked a day in her life, responded with a bit of a blank expression.

“Well, I hope I didn’t miss anything.” In the context given, Tom’s genuinity was actually hilarious to experience, especially in addition to the horrified expression on your sister’s face. You took his words and decided to play a bit off that. You looked up at your sister and tried to play off your notice of her ruined make-up.

“Wait, what happened?”

“You guys missed it?” Her lip quivered, ready to break out into tears again. She really had no idea where you had been for most of the wedding.

“I mean, I left the party like… when did you arrive, honey?” You looked up at Tom, who didn’t miss a beat in responding. He looked at his watch.

“Probably like half an hour ago, babe.” AKA ten minutes before the incident.

“Yeah, and then… well, we got a bit occupied,” you said bashfully. Your sister was ready to scream, from what it looked like. She looked at you, then at Tom, then back at you. Opened her mouth, prepared to say something. Then decided against it. She made another attempt before a bridesmaid showed up, hauling her off to the party… or, the remnants of it, at least. You were now standing alone in the corridor with Tom. Still side by side, his arm around you.

You stepped in front of him, looking happier than you had felt in weeks.

“God, I could kiss you right now!” You had done it. Like, actually done it. You had managed to fool not only your mother but the Bridezilla herself.

“Go right ahead,” Tom smirked. You blinked.

“Huh?”

“You said I could kiss you- well if you want to…”

“Oh, uhm, no, I didn’t mean it like- I mean… uhm- I mean-” you had no idea what you meant, and words were only getting harder and harder to form, but then Tom started laughing.

“It’s alright; I was just joking.” Was he, though? Or had you just made things really awkward? You didn’t know what to do anymore, so you decided to nod and smile awkwardly, and then proceed to make your way back to the party.

“y/n, wait.” Tom spurted out, making you turn around. He had his arm up behind his head, scratching his neck.

“Hmm?” You made your way back to him, even though that had been only a few steps. Tom looked at you but waited for a moment before he spoke.

“I uhh, wanted to apologise about the stuff I had said when we met. You know, about you being spoiled and whatnot.”

“You weren’t wrong,” you laughed it off, being very aware of your privilege and fortune in life.

“Maybe, but it wasn’t my place to say it. Besides, when I was upstairs, I could see you sitting at the table with your family and… again, not really my place to say anything, but I get it now; why you would want to do something like this. If my family was like that, I’d ruin my brother’s wedding too.”

“You have a brother?” Was that really the takeaway from his little speech? That was your response to all that he had said? You regretted it the second the words left your mouth- but Tom didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah, 3 actually.” From his expression, you couldn’t tell if he saw it as a blessing or a curse. Well, knowing how siblings can be, you assumed a bit of both. Tom continued: “But anyway, I just wanted to say sorry.”

“You really don’t have to be, but… thanks,” and you kissed him on the cheek. He seemed a bit startled. Your lipstick was supposed to be long-lasting and not smudge, but a hint of the pigment stayed behind on his skin, merely looking like one of his cheeks was a bit more flustered than the other. So, not wanting him to walk around with that, you reached out to wipe the lipstick off. And you were in the middle of doing so when he reached up to put his hand over yours.

Surely, the lipstick would have been gone by now, but you were focused on his eyes, just like he was on yours. Neither of you noticed how you were moving closer to one another until your lips met in a soft kiss.

You could not explain your reasoning behind wanting to kiss him. In the last few days, there had been absolutely not one reason that would have made you eager to kiss him. Not one.... nope. There was nothing about him that drove you crazy and hot and bothered just looking at him. Not at all.

You could feel him flex his muscles at your touch, and the quick sensation brought back the images of Tom running through the dancefloor. It felt like a personal attack that you were able to have only seen him like that for such a small amount of time.

Tom squeezed your hip, and he was leading your bodies up to the wall, and you were prepared and more than eager to continue wherever this was going, but you had to remind yourself that this was the ground floor and people could walk in on you any second.

"Fuck," you gasped when your lips parted from his. "I'm sorry."

"That's not usually something one wants to hear after a kiss like that," Tom brushed his hair out of his face, "but indulge me, love, why are you sorry?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you without asking."

"Don't worry, I can take care of myself," he leaned in and softly kissed your jaw, "I'm not really the one to do something I don't want to do- and I don't think you are either. So just sat the word, and I'll stop." He kept peppering your skin with these kisses, leaving you in a frenzy. You could barely keep your eyes open, your vision getting slightly blurry as you couldn't bring yourself to focus on anything but his touch.

"We should... we should pro-" you tried to mutter out words, but it was getting harder and harder to do with Tom's hands and lips all over you.

"We should what, darling?" He paused his kisses to speak, and that one brief instant felt like an eternity.

"We should probably head upstairs." You really should have. After all, people could just walk by any moment. Neither of you was trying to hide anything, and it was just pure chance and luck that nobody, either guest or staff, had decided to walk through that corridor. And as much as you wanted to try and test that luck, the odds were most likely not in your favour, and you had already bumped into too many relatives in one day.

"Mhm, we probably should go,” he said and kissed you one last time. Only then did he take your hand and led you to the elevator. The fire in you started burning, and you didn't want to waste a second by just standing there. You tried to brush your fingers through his soft hair, but when you leaned in, he took a step back- out of the elevator.

"What the-" you sputtered out, confused and a bit annoyed. Tom just smirked.

"See you in the room," he checked his watch again, "in 5 minutes." And like that, the doors closed. Of course, you could have just opened them with a click of a button, but Tom clearly had something up his sleeve and you were intrigued, so you just clicked on the button for your floor and leaned against the wall with a sigh.

With no interruption from any salmon smelling aunties, the elevator ride went by much quicker this time, and you got out on your floor and made your way to your room. That is where you encountered Rebecca, knocking on the door. A pile of clothes under her arm.

"Ah, there you are. I think I got them all, so here- have you been making out?" She must have noticed something you didn't, or maybe she could smell it on you with her strange sixth sense because you had checked yourself out in the mirrored walls of the elevator and nothing seemed to be hinting at the fact you had just finished a pretty heavy make-out session with Tom. Rebecca smiled and pushed you playfully, knowing you too well and understanding when you didn't answer her question. Then she started looking around.

"Where is he?"

"He's actually coming up in a few minutes."

"Oh! Ok, ok, wait!" She pushed Tom's clothes into your arms and started to rummage through her bag. It took a bit, but eventually, she pulled out a handful of condoms. You gladly grabbed those from her, too, while managing to get your key out of your own purse without dropping anything and entered the room. Once inside, you dropped everything in your arms onto the empty chair in the corner.

⤐

Tom had given himself a window of five minutes, but having experienced men plenty of times in your life, you knew that would be more like ten to fifteen minutes before you heard the door opening. So, in that time, you tried to make yourself more comfortable around the room. Trying out different poses, figuring out which would be the most enticing for Tom to walk in on- which did feel a bit silly to do, but what else were you to do?

You had finally decided to simply, very casually, sit on the mattress when you heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” you said, though your original thought had been to shout “fuck off”.

“Room service,” the deep voice from the other side of the door said. You got up, ready to tell them that you had not ordered any room service and that they must have gotten the wrong room. But once you opened it, you were greeted with the handsome and sly smirk of Tom. He had his jacket hanging off his finger, over his shoulder, and in his hand a bottle of champagne.

“Sorry it took so long, I was trying to find where they were keeping the good stuff.” He walked in, unwrapping the gold foil on the cap. You looked with concern as he tried to pop it open, scared that he would shatter the window or possibly break your nose, but Tom was more skilled than you had expected, opening it with only a slight bang and barely anything spilling out. The cork fell right into his hand. He handed you the bottle, which you gladly accepted and took the first swing. Of course, you were already quite tipsy, and you knew Tom had drunk from the minibar before coming downstairs, so he wasn’t at his most sober either.

“What’s the occasion, actually?” You asked while handing him back the bottle.

“How about being a great team?” He drank. “The Bonnie and Clyde of weddings and revenge!”

“That might just be the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.” He didn’t deserve the champagne after that, so you quickly took it from him. After that sip, you put the bottle down and sat on the bed. Tom followed you, making you move back into the middle of the mattress as he pinned you in. His hands at your sides. He kept leaning in, and you leaned back until your head hit the duvet, and there was nowhere more for you to go but up for your lips to come up to his.

While you had been waiting for him, there had been a moment in which worries started to settle. You had been concerned about what it would be like once you were alone in a room with him. There was the obvious possibility of things being extremely awkward between the two of you. A little time had passed since the kiss in the hallway and either of your minds could have changed during. But it couldn't be further from the truth.

The kisses were haste and messy, and you were ready to tear off Tom’s shirt off his body when he pulled away from you.

“Mm,” he wiped his mouth, “I should probably tell you that the following services might cost you a bit extra.”

“Fuck off,” you smiled, kissing his neck.

“Mmm, as delightful a that sounds, I’d much rather,” Tom grabbed you by the leg, hiking your skirt back up like in that broom closet, “fuck you.”

Simply said, you had no comeback to that. There was nothing in you that wanted to stop that from happening. From your racing heartbeat to the heat that you could feel taking over you, it was becoming more and more of a necessity that needed to be taken care of. And Tom hadn't missed it. He was smiling as he kissed you; you could tell that he found your need for him entertaining. Especially when his hand had found its way under your skirt. The touch of his fingers against your panties made you buck your hips up at him.

"You're so wet for me, already," his words were slightly mumbled as he spoke against your lips, but you could hear him clearly. "What exactly has got you so hot and bothered, hmm?"

"I don't know what you mean," you tried to play coy, not give in to what he wanted, and it seemed to work.

"That's not the answer I was looking for, baby," Tom put his mouth up to your neck, and with each word passing his lips, and with each small puff of air, you felt the shivers go down your spine. And he just kept on going:

"Cause see," he stayed still, his mouth at your side and keeping the distance that he knew would get you riled up, "I saw the way you looked at me earlier. Or rather... where you looked. I bet you haven’t stopped thinking about me fucking you since, have you?"

He was unapologetically confident, which wasn't a bad look on him. He knew he looked good, and he wasn't afraid to flaunt it. That was probably why he had no problem stripping and running across a room filled with strangers. He had nothing to be self-conscious about.

At his words, you did think back to the party, seeing him, his body, running up to you. You couldn't deny that your eyes had wandered off a bit south, and yes, he was most definitely right that that image, and the idea of what was about to happen between you two, stayed to linger in your mind.

"So what if I did look at your cock, hmm?" you tried to sound as aloof as possible while Tom had occupied himself by kissing your neck and giving the most attention to your sensitive spot. It was getting harder and harder to do as his fingers were rubbing circles against your clit. Your disinterest was beginning to be even harder to prove when you dug your nails into his shoulder, biting down a moan.

"I mean," you wrangled out, "don't pretend like you haven't been staring at my tits the whole day."

"What can I say? This dress looks amazing on you." Tom leaned down and kissed your cleavage, right above the hem of the dress. "And I bet it will look even better on the floor."

"Ouch, nope. That was actually sad, try again." men and their dumb pick-up lines, way to ruin the mood. Unbelievable. And your reaction must have thrown Tom off a bit from his plan, as his arms tensed over you, but he quickly came back.

"You know what, sweetheart,” his hand moved up and down your thigh, “the more you talk, the more I want to take back what I said earlier. You're so fucking spoiled I just want to rip this pretty number off you, and teach you a lesson. Completely ruin you while you beg for me. How does that sound?"

Every instinct that went through your head felt like the wrong thing to say. You didn't want to give in with what he was suggesting, not wanting to give him that satisfaction, but at the same time, if you would play the brat, wouldn't that be precisely what he'd like? And wouldn't it be more fun anyway? While thinking through the possibilities, the imaginary timer must have gone off, and you had been taking a bit too long to answer for Tom's liking as he spread your legs and slapped your thigh. It wasn't hard enough to leave any mark of feeling behind, but the sensation was there, and it was enough to get you to respond.

"It doesn't sound... Too bad." You looked up at him with innocent eyes. Or, in a way that you, at least, hoped to resemble innocence. But the look that had been so successful over the years, with getting you exactly what you wanted, had barely any effect on Tom. He, instead, smiled sweetly at you, almost making you think you had him under your spell, but then he cupped your face in his large hand, squeezing your cheeks in a way that almost felt humiliating. Almost.

"You can play your little games when you're with some fuckwit you pick up at a bar, y/n, but I'm not here for that. So you better be a good girl and listen to me, understood?" He looked deep into your eyes, and with his hand holding on to you, you couldn't help but nod along. Who would have thought that he had a side like that to him? It was exhilarating, to say the least, and it made you eager to test his limits.

Your response wasn't good enough, however. His fingers squeezed the tiniest bit harder into your cheeks.

When he released, you mumbled out a weak "yes". To this, Tom raised his eyebrow. Maybe he wasn't sure if you were willing to continue or how far you wanted it to go, but that was all he did. Then his smile came back, and he let his thumb move over your lips. You tried not to move, not wanting to look too eager- you still didn’t want to give him that kind of satisfaction just yet, but you had also not really been used to wanting to please a guy so much. You were usually the type to find a guy in a bar to hook up with and, hopefully, get a climax out of it. But Tom- he felt different. When he touched you, you could tell that as much pleasure as it was giving him, he actually wanted you to feel that too. Still, you were never one to give up your place easily.

For a second, nothing happened, and that second was enough for you to comb your fingers through his curls, pull him down and kiss him.

What you also tried to do was wrap your legs around him and change positions, so you were on top, but that didn't seem to pan out. Tom stayed settled on his spot, one of his knees planted sturdily between your legs.

"That was pretty cute, I have to admit," he teased, making you want to push him off the bed, but then he started to hike your dress up further and further. Past your hips. He wanted it off you, just like you did yourself. Tom must have forgotten about the zipper that was on the side because when the dress began to get stuck over your chest, you had to help him awkwardly pull it down again, and he unzipped it. With the material now loose around you, you got up a little and let him take it off you completely.

Once you were only in your underwear, he finally took care of his shirt, pulling it off his back and disregarding it onto the chair where you had put down his old clothes. That reminded you-

"Ooh, wait." you tapped his shoulder and Tom, without question, immediately got off you. He lay down on his side and watched you get up. Then, before he could ask what was wrong, you made your way to the chair and pulled one condom off its long chain.

“Someone’s eager,” he laughed to himself, clearly amused at the long chain of condoms that you had prepared there. You didn’t care to explain. At the end of the day, you were both just happy that they were there. Walking back to bed, you were making sure to remember to thank Rebecca later.

Tom took your hand and pulled you on top of him, smiling. You had never been the one to fall for these kinds of little things, never even being the one to fall for someone in the first place, but every time he smiled, you couldn't help but feel a little flutter inside.

"You're really pretty, you know that?" You said, meaning it playfully but not hiding an ounce of truth behind the statement. Tom's eyes locked with yours. Then, for a second, they filled up with a glimmer of- something. You couldn't quite tell. He brushed some hair out of your face, and by the light smirk hooking at the corner of his mouth, you were prepared to hear some snarky comment in return.

"You're really pretty, too."

The moods between the two of you kept switching, to the point that your head felt like it was spinning... or maybe that was just the result of Tom helping you sit up on his lap, his hands over your hips, while you had leaned forward to kiss him again. The taste of the champagne lingered in both of you. As the kiss went on, you let your hips roll over his. To this, Tom responded with a quick but deep groan. One of his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing it gently. He was holding himself in for you; that much was clear. Which was sweet, but you missed that part of him that made you want to get down on your knees for him- again, a very new and strange feeling, but it was not unwelcome.

So, when he squeezed again, you made sure to let him know you enjoyed it. You then bucked your hips and moaned his name softly but audibly.

"Oh, fuck," he seemed to have enjoyed that. And if you had not gotten that, there was the fact that his trousers began to get tighter and tighter around his dick. You could feel him get harder with each move you made.

The trousers were really becoming a problem, both of you realised that, so in an unspoken agreement, you got off and Tom hopped off the bed. However, it was clear that the constant switching of positions was becoming a nuisance to both of you, and before Tom took off his clothing, he grabbed the bottle of champagne, taking a generous chug from it, and handed it to you.

You sipped slowly from it, not taking your eyes off of Tom. He had already lost his shirt earlier, and the sigh of his body was, simply put, fantastic. When he had run through the wedding party, everything happened so fast, and by the end of it, you were a bit sad that you didn't have more time. Was that objectifying Tom in a sense? Fuck, maybe?

When he took his last items of clothing and looked up at you, you were unapologetically looking him over, up and down, with a smile.

"Enjoying the view?" He said, not even trying to be shy about it.

"It's not bad."

"Do I really need to fuck that attitude out of you?" He raised a challenging brow, to which you only shrugged. Without saying another word, you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. Tom's eyes were basically glued to your chest. You let it hang in your hand for a moment before throwing it aside. It was like a race flag going up, as the moment the bra hit the floor, Tom jumped back into bed, and you sat up. You met halfway, both on your knees in front of each other. Both naked, ready to take the next step... you just didn't know how.

"So..." you muttered out, regretting it immediately. Nothing made a situation more awkward than acknowledging the awkwardness- which was what you had essentially just done with that one word.

Or maybe that was all in your head, because Tom grabbed you by the hip and pulled you close to him, chest to chest.

"Not doing anything we don't want to do, right?" He asked, his voice now much more gentle and caring but never losing an ounce of desire through it. You looked at him and nodded, to which he kissed the corner of your mouth.

He kept peppering your skin with light kisses until he spoke again, in a tone sweeter than honey. "Gonna be my good girl?"

You were melting into his words and his touch. You could barely comprehend when his fingers found their way back between your legs. Your hips bucked up against him as he moved slowly, sensually, agonizingly and teasingly against you. A soft moan, or maybe more of a frustrated whine, passed your lips in need of friction.

"Answer me, love, and I'll give you what you want." He was smirking, loving the effect he had on you, and you couldn't even be mad about it yourself.

"Yes," you gasped out, and Tom didn't waste a second to press his fingers against your clit, rubbing circles, finding your most sensitive pressure points to bring you to that tip of ecstasy. He kept up with the motions, moving faster, slipping through your folds and going deeper with each thrust.

However, as good as it felt, the position the two of you were in felt a bit uncomfortable. You didn't really know what to do with yourself while your body was begging for some action.

"Mmm, Tom," you mumbled against his lips. They were bright pink and slightly swollen, but you thought he looked terrific. Not to mention his hair, which was now losing its styled shape, his curls coming up from all different directions as you grabbed them. And his eyes, once golden brown, now turning darker with need.

He didn't stop his movements but hummed, letting you know he was listening.

"Could I maybe-" an unknown shyness was taking over you, and suddenly, you had lost the ability to speak. And it didn't help that when your voice shut down, Tom looked at you with those eyes of his, pushed that rogue strand of hair out of your face and asked:

"What is it, darling?" So innocently, as if his fingers were not deep inside you and soaked in your juices.

You still didn't know how to say it, so instead, you let your hand wander down his body. Over his abs, to his hip and then finally over his cock. Tom hissed in a breath at the touch but got back into his mindset reasonably quickly.

"Wanna suck my cock, love?" His hand, in return, went up to your ass and squeezed it.

"You'd probably like that, wouldn't you?" The confidence was, thankfully, coming back into you. As much as you seemed to be enjoying letting Tom take control, that feeling of submission was still foreign to you. Not unwelcome, but strange. You were simply testing out the waters- both for yourself and for Tom. Who knows, maybe he would want to switch it up a little, too?

"I can give you a good time," You kissed his neck, just below the ear, "just tell me what to do." And you could practically feel the shivers that ran over his skin at your words. You were currently in a kind of mid-space. Taking control by letting him tell you what to do. It made sense for a tiny bit, but by the tension that had arisen between you and the heat in the room, it seemed to be working.

"How about you get down on the ground and let me fuck your pretty little mouth, then?" He kissed you once more to seal the deal, and once you pushed away, you made your way off the bed to sit in front of it, with enough space for Tom to stand up.

"You know," you got yourself a bit more comfortable while beginning to slowly stroke his length. "I don't usually do this." And you blinked slowly, letting your eyelashes flutter for Tom. You could tell what he was thinking. He was ready to see your makeup start running down your face as he made you his and that thought only made you more eager to get a move on.

"And what would this be?" He patted your head, moving his head softly over your hair.

"Letting a guy toss me around." You kissed his tip, still not breaking the eye contact that you had set up between you.

"Oh, if you think this is tossing around," he chuckled. His grip on your hair got tighter, "You've seen nothing yet."

You knew that, but fuck, you couldn't wait to see how far he was willing to go. Maybe not this time, things between you were still relatively fresh, and it was never good to go all-in for the first time. But... perhaps another time. If it would ever happen. What were you even thinking? Next time? You would probably never see Tom again. This was just what happened when two people got drunk at weddings.

Did you want more to happen, though? That thought hadn't crossed your mind before. And it still didn't feel right. But, no, it wasn't the time to think about these things.

You quickly let your head clear up from all the confusing thoughts and focused on what was happening at the moment. Tom was standing in front of you, hard and already leaking precum.

You gave his tip another kiss. You wanted to take your time. Well, not really. But you did want to tease the living fuck out of Tom, and sometimes that called for a bit of sacrifice on your part. Slowly, you took him into your mouth. Pulling out and each time you leaned in, attempted to go a bit further until he reached the back of your throat.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" He groaned, grabbing your hair and letting his hips move back and forth. You let your jaw slack, trying to relax as much as possible while you focused on your breathing while Tom sped up in his movements. The longer he went on, the more difficult it became to stay somewhat composed. Of course, it wasn't really necessary in a situation like that, but a girl could try.

Your knees started to burn as they dug into the small carpet you were sitting on. As Tom kept on going, he went deeper, making you gag slightly- but that only seemed to spur him on. And just like he wanted, the mascara was running down your cheeks. You needed to release the tension between your legs, so while still looking up at Tom, you started to play with yourself.

This kept going for a bit longer, and when Tom started to slow down, you were getting ready for a release, preferably your own, but then he pulled away. You gasped for air and clenched your thighs together, not wanting to think about the disappointment that no one had probably even come close to finishing.

Tom took your hand and helped you get up, and once you were up on your feet, he kissed you deeply.

"You look so fucking gorgeous." He looked over every inch of your face taking in the mess he had caused. And to make things worse, or maybe better, he took his thumb and wiped around the last remaining staining of your lipstick. The pigment must have wiped off for the most parts since the last time you had reapplied it, but Tom was making his own little masterpiece on your face. And he sealed it off with one more kiss.

You wanted to enjoy this moment, but all you could think about was the feeling of him against you. He was still hard, and you were gnawing for a release at this point, feeling like your body was on fire.

"Get the condom, please," you would never call yourself a beggar, but you had come close at that moment. Tom chuckled at your slight desperation and turned around, grabbed the silver packet, ripped it open with his teeth, and put on the condom a bit hastily.

The tension was growing, as well as the anticipation for that one moment of contact. But, of course, Tom stopped.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his hand on your side.

"A bit more since the last time you asked," you couldn't help but smile, and he joined in.

"Good to know, but please, be honest. Do you?" You looked into each other's eyes. In the time that you spend together, at your house, in the car, at the reception, here, Tom had done nothing to offend your trust. On the contrary, he had helped you bring your plan to fruition; he treated you well and made you feel amazing.

"Yes, Tom, I trust you." You said.

"Ok, jump." And so, like he asked, you did. You jumped up a little, and he caught your legs with ease. While he held you, you couldn't stop looking at the way his muscles flexed as he carried you over to the window. Oh, so that's what he had in mind, then.

He pressed you against the window, and you gasped as your back hit the glass.

"Oh shit, that's cold," you said. Tom quickly pulled you away. Then, thinking fast while still being wrapped around Tom, you reached out for the large curtain and pulled it across to you, so you could lean against that instead of the glass. Half of the room was now set in darkness, but plenty of light still came from the other half of the window.

Tom pressed you against the curtain, this now feeling soft and warmer against your bare skin, and a bit awkwardly, he pushed into you. Your giggles that had filled the room while Tom had tried to position himself exchanged for a loud moan. If there was anyone in the room next door, there was no doubt that they could hear you.

"You're so tight, fuck," Tom groaned as he stretched out your walls. You held on to him tightly as he fucked you harder. With each of his thrusts, you were hitting the window, so you were glad that the soft curtain stayed between you, but the rings at which it was hanging kept rattling a bit dangerously.

"I- I think," you moaned instead of finishing your sentence, "I think we should move back to the bed before the curtains rip off-f-fuck!"

"Good idea, baby," Tom agreed, probably noticing the noise as well. "How about you ride my cock for a bit, hmm?"

Though the window idea was short-lived, it had been enjoyable, and it brought you to this moment. Tom sat down on the bed, his back against the headboard, and you quickly got on top, not wanting to waste another second. Things were messy between you two, far from perfect, but in a way, that's what made it so good. It was authentic and pure desire.

The new position hit in a new way, and it might have been even better. You had to try around for a bit before finding the right rhythm, but once you got there, each movement hit you with another wave of pleasure.

Tom had one of his hands on your hip, but he had made sure he was sitting up when you got on his lap, so he could give your breast all the attention they deserved. While he played with one in his palm, he had his mouth around the other. When he let his teeth graze over your nipple, both of you were surprised by the sound you made. It was a high pitched sort of moan caused by a sensation unknown to you until then. Tom got the hint and did it again, on the other.

"Fuck, Tommy," you grabbed for his hair and tried to change up the way you moved to get some more friction. Tom helped out a bit by meeting your hips with his thrusts, and each time you moved at the right moment, you felt him hit the perfect spot within you. You were getting close. But you didn't say anything, just kept on grinding. By the way that most of the evening had gone by, you had the idea that if you had announced your climax to Tom, he'd tell you to wait. Do not do anything until he gives you permission.

So, with another powerful thrust, you let your release flood over you. Then, with a high pitched moan and stars in front of your eyes, you rode your high on him. Your legs, as well as your arms, were shaking. Although you had planned on going on for a bit longer to help Tom get there as well, you simply couldn't. All you managed to do was fall over to the front against Tom's chest, your head on his shoulder. He held you close, still in you, caressing your hair.

"I'd have expected you to carry on for a bit longer, love," he smiled and kissed your temple. To this, you just swatted at his arm and laughed.

"Just give me a moment, unless you'd rather finish yourself off in the bathroom?" You smiled sheepishly.

That put the fear in him, and Tom shut up. But he kept on kissing any possible spot of your skin that he could reach from the position you were in. And, since he was still inside you, the tiniest movements from either of you caused a shockwave of stimulation.

⤐

"Did I actually ever apologize?" you whispered, not sure if Tom had fallen asleep.

"What are you talking about?" He mumbled, clearly confused.

"About calling you an asshole. Did I apologize?"

"Which time?" He snickered. "You tend to call me that a lot, I've noticed."

"I meant the first time. On the street."

"Hmm," he thought for a second, "I can't remember, honestly. But apology accepted." He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled in closer to you.

Maybe your first climax had come a bit early, but it sure as hell wasn't the last. It turned out to be a long and unforgettable night.

As the night had gone on, the bottle of champagne had finished and was now lying under the chair, haphazardly discarded. The curtain was still half-closed, and the floor was covered in thrown pieces of clothing.

Even though not all things had gone as planned, in the end, you couldn't wish for it to go any differently. Somehow, for once, things seemed to be working out in your favour.

Hell, while your entire family was still running around the hotel in panic and confusion, trying to find the man that had seemingly ruined everything, you were wrapped in his arms, falling asleep, not even realizing that both of you had found... something in each other. You still hadn't quite figured out what that something was, but it didn’t matter. It felt good, nice, and no matter how long it would last, you didn't want to let go of it just yet.

The End

> thank you so much for reading!! It would mean the world to me if you reblogged and please let me know what you thought through a comment or ask (or even DM <3)

> both links to masterlist and taglist are in bio + in pinned navigation post

taglist: coming in reblog

[pwarkluv]

❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words 

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes. 

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. 

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went. 

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside. 

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least. 

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit. 

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life. 

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways. 

he just wanted to be loved. 

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood. 

jisung wanted that, craved that. 

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt. 

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs. 

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

-

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home. 

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in. 

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind. 

-

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself. 

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option. 

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty. 

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard. 

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do. 

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him. 

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

-

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there.  what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up. 

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on. 

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind. 

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing. 

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window. 

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room. 

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention. 

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along. 

[geminil0vr]

food for thought | draco malfoy

summary; after spending the night of the yule ball with renowned slytherin, draco malfoy, you catch his eye at breakfast. the boy seems to be hell-bent on seeing into your thoughts, and so you let him — but now you think he might've seen too much.

tagged; @partr1dge <3

word count; 1k give or take a few words maybe like exactly 23 idk i don't have specifics

content; use of legilimency and occlumency, sexual themes, choking if you use a magnifying glass, i really came for draco's childhood trauma + mental issues... my apologies, mentions of love (gross but also will they, won't they?).

a/n; this is a rewrite of "last night", something shitty i made ages ago !! anyway absolutely brilliant title god my mind is so powerful ugh </3 food ??? breakfast. for ??? thought??? occlumency, legilimency !!! i'm so sorry, i rewrote pretty much every word (including this authors note, is it that obvious?) at 5:30 am, it's not amazing, but i'm sleep deprived and on my period so safe to say i did tear up for absolutely no reason.

you and draco both said that you'd never speak of what ensued in his dormitory the night of the yule ball. and you obliged. and you both swore it would never happen again. and you nodded your head. it was a mutual, meaningful agreement, and post-orgasm, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. no consequences, no ties between you two, being from different houses.

but it was extremely difficult to stick to your word when your legs still ached from the night before.

and his breathy groans, hot air fanning over your ear as he railed into you senselessly, wouldn’t push out of your mind.

and the bruises trailing down from your neck to your waistline were constant reminders of his tongue tracing over them, blowing on them, teasing you to all hell.

every time you blinked, the images flashed beneath your eyelids.

every time you inhaled, you missed his hand squeezing over your throat, restricting air.

and merlin, any slight brush against your own skin made you jump, thinking of his body on yours, skin on skin, sweat, clammy hands, your arched back, the veins in his hands, his jaw, his collarbones.

in the great hall, you made your way to your table for breakfast alone, and gnawed at your bottom lip while playing around with the food on your plate, famished, yet still so full of racing thoughts and fresh memories. his hands on your thighs, the way he sighed your name, your nails digging into his back, leaving little crescent moons over it, and his shoulders, and his hips, too. again and again and again.

looking up from your plate to scan the empty room, your eyes met draco’s ones, his irises a stormy grey, pupils dilated, and you inhaled sharply, looking away. you'd gotten up early, as if it would stop suspicion rising if you seemed like you hadn't had a long night. it seemed as if he'd done that too, sat alone just the same.

merlin, you could feel the burn of his gaze, it made your body freeze and your cheeks heat up. he was looking right at you, right into you. you could feel it, the thumping at your temple that wouldn't cease, the throbbing behind your eyelids. he was attempting to penetrate into your thoughts.

as if he hadn't penetrated enough of you within the twenty-four hours, for fucks sake.

in need of a distraction, you turned your attention to the fork still lazily dancing across your plate, the cold handle twirling beneath your fingertips. it didn't feel fair, what he'd done to you. turning you into a mess, mind hazy. giving you a taste, then taking it away immediately, albeit that being exactly what you'd agreed on. and although he really had given you absolutely everything the night before (or rather, this morning), it still felt like a neverending tease, with all that need careening through your veins.

swallowing harshly, you straightened up in your seat, pulling at the hem of your skirt, playing with a loose, dark thread. christ, he was still trying. the headache never seemed to stop, so persistent, so demanding, a feeling you knew well through conversations with dumbledore. but this headache clouded your mind, unforgiving, begging to be let through. it wasn't asking for permission.

looking up once again, keeping your body still and your breath steady, you stared right back. taught ruthlessly by your grandmother, you'd always kept your mind shut from peering intruders. yet he was so fearlessly determined that you could feel it through his magic, snaking its way right through you, searching for any slight weaknesses in your armour. a strand of white hair fell over his forehead as he tilted his head slightly, jaw clenching. he wasn't giving up.

draco malfoy always had something to prove. he was always so sure of his own success, so much to the point of insecurity, of doubt. it was a troubling mix of brashness, arrogance, and cowardice sprouting from the child rooted deep inside him, desperate for assurance and acceptance.

but it wasn't your pity that led you to allow him to break through.

it was your need for him to know something you weren't so sure you could admit verbally. you were thinking of him. that was all.

so, you stared straight into the silver of his eyes and let him right in.

his hands digging into your hips. the sheen of sweat over his entire body, glistening. the faint bruises he left on your wrists. you begging him to go harder.

him obliging.

his eyes were clouded over, as if in a trance, flitting through your memories.

but using legilimency was as much a curse as it was a blessing. because he could feel everything you felt too. the lust, the want, the pain filtering through the pleasure. and he could feel every little thing you'd noticed about him; the mole above his left knee, and the other on his waist, and the few freckles beneath his eyes, and the scar he had just above his eyebrow that you'd never really noticed until you'd tipsily placed wet kisses over his hairline.

for what felt like hours, you let him in, until he decided he'd had enough.

he was blinking quickly, brows furrowed, pale cheeks now flushed pink. he clumsily stood up from the slytherin table, pushing aside his plate of food, and stormed, flustered, out of the room, much like the boy who'd kissed you the night before. all tongue and teeth, all desperation, all emotion. but it was just for the one night. that was all.

and you felt foolish.

because you realised, he'd felt everything.

that in those moments, you thought you might've even loved him.

the boy, all tongue, and teeth, and hands, all pale skin, all desperation. it was certainly something entirely worthy of love.

[teddy06writes]

A Night In Las Vegas

requested by this anon: “I had the BEST idea: CC!Quackity came up with the idea of his Las Nevadas character arc after going to Las Vegas and meeting Reader there. Maybe one night the reader decides to go and twitch and finds quackity doing a lore stream and the reader is like: no way, it’s the guy I met in Vegas.”

{I love this concept, sorry it took so long for me to get out}

Quackity x reader

trigger warnings: some swears

premise: after getting ditched by your friends on the last night of your long weekend in vegas you run into a very interesting guy who doesn’t hesitate to befriend you. But what happens months later when he still seems to be running circles in your mind?

{covid don’t exist here, no sir}

{for the sake of the story, readers favorite color is blue, if its not, either pretend it is, or get over it}

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

10:34pm

“You can’t just- you can’t kick me out!” You yelled. 

Your bestfriend laughed, “Just find somewhere to go for a few hours! Me and Hunter want alone time!” 

“A few fucking hours!?! Seriously?!” But your duffle bag had already been thrown at your feet, and the hotel door room was swinging closed, muffled giggles coming from inside.

Groaning, you picked up your bag, where were you supposed to go now? 

“Not that I was like- listening in or anything- but damn that sucks.” 

You jumped turning to see a man with black hair sticking out of his beanie standing in front of the door diagonal from yours. 

“Uh- yeah. Last night in Vegas and I get ditched for a random hook up,” You scoffed, “I should’ve known it would happen.” 

“That’s not cool, uh- I’m Alex.” He stepped forward, offering his hand. 

Somewhat reluctantly, you shook his hand, “(y/n).” 

He nodded, “I was going to head out for a late night wander, find something to do-, preferably away from all the hookups that seem to be happing around us right now. If you want to come.” 

You glanced around, “Seriously?” 

“Oh- god that did sound kinda creepy didn’t it,” Alex scrubbed a hand over his face, “Sorry- I- you can just forget about this then-” 

“No! I mean- You don’t seem like a rapist or anything. I’ll come with.” 

He grinned, “Poggers, you can, leave that, in my room, if you want. Just seems like a pain to lug around everywhere.” 

You bit your lip, “Leaving my belongings in a strangers room while I go with said stranger to find something interesting to do, sure- why not?”

~~

10:57pm

Somehow, you found yourself wandering out of the hotel lobby, and onto the crowded streets along side Alex. 

“So.... whats your favorite color?” He asked as you walked.

You laughed, “What?” 

“We’re like, total strangers- it was a question, to get to know you.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. 

“Oh, well-” before you could finish your sentence, there was a large amount of gasps and yells from the crowd in front of you.

“What’s going on?” Alex asked quietly. 

You craned your neck to look over the crowd, gasping, “The water show! With the fountains outside of Caesar’s Palace!” You grabbed his hand, tugging him with you to push through the crowd, “This was the whole reason I agreed to this trip- but we never got to it!” 

You shoved your way through the crowd until you got to the front, pressing against the barrier to watch the fountain display. 

“Holy shit.” You heard him mutter from beside you. 

You grinned, “It’s impressive right?” 

“Imagine the coding it would take to get those things to stay on time.” 

~~

11:27pm 

After the show had ended, you had kept wandering for a while, up the strip, asking various questions back and forth. 

You had found out that he was a Minecraft youtuber and a law student, though you’d had to admit, you weren’t too knowledgeable on either that subject. 

Now you were both staring up at the Dave and Busters sign, “This is a good idea right?” 

He nodded, “Definitely. Come on, I’d bet I could beat you at skee ball!” 

Laughing, you followed him into the building, and up the stairs toward the arcade entrance, “Your on!” 

After buying the credit cards for access to the games, you grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the skee ball lanes. 

“Lets go!” He shouted, a few minutes later, upon realizing your score was a total of 10 points behind his, “I’m popping off!”

You laughed, “Okay, what game’s next?” 

Nearly an hour later, you had both run out of credits, and laughing, made you way up to the prize area. 

“Do you think its possible to compile our tickets?” He asked. 

“Why?” 

You followed his pointing finger to the large stuffed dragons sitting on one shelf. 

“We need him.” You said immediately.

After picking out a bright red dragon, you began to argue over the name as you made your way to the counter. 

“What about Carl?” You suggested. 

He shook his head, “I have a friend named Karl.” 

“How ‘bout........ Phil?” 

“I also know a Phil.” 

“Hmmmm, what about Sebastian?” 

“He doesn’t look like a Sebastian!” 

You frowned, “Well do you have any ideas then?” 

Alex thought for a moment, “Albert.” 

You looked down at the dragon, “Albert it is.” 

At the counter Alex convinced the reluctant worker to allow you to use both the cards credit totals, and then you went happily on your way out of the building, stopping to take a picture of Albert in front of the sign, which Alex posted to twitter with the comment of, “Look at our son!” 

You’d staid mostly out of frame, but he managed to get about half of your side, since you were the one holding Albert. 

“Do you think any pf the buffets are still open?” Alex asked. 

“I hope so, I’m starving.” You giggled. 

~~ 12:06am

The buffet was somewhat deserted, and you and Alex had grabbed seats in one of the corners after getting plates full of food.

Albert sat on the table between you as you talked. 

“So it’s roleplay- but in Minecraft?” You asked, barley holding back a laugh.

He nodded, chuckling, “It sounds stupid, I know, but it’s like- huge. Especially since technically I’m getting back into the main lore now, with the whole project: vegas thing.” 

“Project Vegas?” You asked. 

He nodded again, “My character, he’s been through almost everything that's happened, and everything always ends to blow up in his face, literally sometimes. He’s built contries from the ground up- as stupid as that sounds- but they always fail, but this one won’t fail.

“I’m partnering with another guy on the server to set up a whole economy, he’s making a bank, and I’m making- well I’m making my own Vegas.” 

You took a sip of your drink, “What’s it going to be called?” 

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” He admitted, “I wanted to just call it Las Vegas but the names already taken.”

With a chuckle you shifted in your seat, “What about....- what about Las Nevada's?” 

He laughed, “I like that.” 

“Tell me more about this server then, I still don’t understand the story.” 

With another chuckle he launched into the story, “Well, it all started when this guy called Wilbur Soot decided he wanted to start a nation....”

~~ 3:18am

“Blue.” 

You were back at the hotel now, still with Quackity, sitting out on the balcony of his room. Some how, you had ended up having some slightly deep talk about life and death and a million other things before lapsing into silence, simply watching the blinking lights of the city. 

“What?” He asked softly. 

“You asked me my favorite color, ten minutes after we met. It’s blue- that's my favorite color.” You shivered against a cold breeze. 

Alex shifted minutely closer, “Why?” 

You shrugged, “It can be so many things. Deep and dark and mysterious but also light like the summer sky and filled with hope. There’s a million shades from happiness to anger, and to everyone it could mean something else.” 

“I like that.” He said quietly. 

~~

7:04am

You yawned, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as the car drew closer to the airport.

Alex tapped on the steering wheel in time with the music, quietly humming along. 

“Oh, I see my friend, they actually waited for me.” You said as the car pulled up to the curb. 

“How considerate.” He chuckled, climbing out of the car. 

You followed suit, retrieving your duffle bag from the back seat. 

“Well, it was cool knowing you Alex.” You said. 

“Likewise.” 

Before you started to walk away you remembered, and quickly turned back to where he was standing, pulling Albert out of your bag, “Here, he’s yours. You spent more tickets on him than I did.” 

He shook his head, “Keep him. I give you full custody of our son.” 

“Oh- okay... bye then.” 

You barley made it a few steps before he was quickly catching up to you, grabbing your arm and spinning you to press his lips on yours. 

“Good luck with your shitty friends.” He breathed, before hurrying back to his car, leaving you flustered and running to catch up to your friend. 

~~

One and A Half Months later

It had been over a month since the Vegas trip, but you still hadn’t gotten Alex out of your head. 

You had clicked, on some level, and the late night conversation you had shared seemed to keep you thinking about him.

Now, you scrolled aimlessly through twitter, checking the trending tags until you came across one called “LAS NEVADAS” 

Now that piqued your interest, and clicking on it, you found posts of people live tweeting an event- no a live stream. And not just any live stream- a Minecraft stream.

Quickly you opened a new tab, pulling up twitch as fast as you could. 

What was the name of his channel? Oh god why did you forget?

Returning to twitter you searched until you found a link, following it to a new twitch tab. 

And there he was. 

The boy who had been doing laps around your mind was actually there, talking to another character. 

“Look Sam, you and me, we could control everything. I need the bank to help fund Las Nevada’s, we can be partners.” 

You sat, watching the stream, enthralled. 

Once it had ended, you still could hardly believe you found him, quickly following another link back to his twitter and opening a direct message. 

Y/n: Um, this is awkward, idk if you remeber this, but we met in vegas, about a month ago, and I had no idea how to find you until the stream today

quackityHQ: uh, hi? 

qusckityHQ: proof?

Quickly you sent him the picture you had taken of him with Albert, 

y/n: uhhh, bam, proof? 

y/n: our son is sitting on my head board right now

quackityHQ: holy shit

[im-in-vin-ci-ble]

Heyy could I possibly request f!OC x Mark, in which the OC is Red Rush’s daughter who also inherited his powers. Set before the events of episode one maybe at a Guardian’s work party or smth. Mark and OC are hitting it off in a ‘Idk what’s going on my dad just works here’ solidarity during the party; while her doting and protective father Josef is keeping an eye on them, unsure about how he feels about his favorite sidekick growing up on him. Maybe Olga and Debbie try to be matchmakers too lol

A/N: okay well this is CUTE AF, I love this sm thank u for requesting <3 also josef and olga are married here, no one dies (yet) and everyone is happy!!!

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!OC

Rating: T

Warnings: mild swearing

The annual Guardians of the Globe Founder's Day party was never really Zasha's scene. It mainly consisted of the Guardians and the Global Defense Agency's families, and more often than not, she was the only one in her age group. Her true purpose there was to really just pay her respects to the people — including her father, who people knew as Red Rush — who protected the planet.

This year's Founder's Day event was different, however, as Omni-Man finally accepted the party invitations he'd been ignoring for years. Although there were jokes that he had accidentally RSVP'd to the party, or that his wife had accepted the invite behind his back, everyone seemed happy, and still pleasantly surprised, when he and his family walked in.

Sitting down with a non-alcoholic beverage in her hand, she watched as everyone shook hands with the powerful Nolan Grayson and his loving family. Zasha's mom, Olga, walked over to say hello and immediately dragged the three to where Zasha and Josef were. The two male superheroes first exchanged pleasantries, followed by Olga forcing her daughter to get up so she can properly be introduced to the teenage boy standing across from her.

"Zasha, hi," Debbie said with a wide smile as she gave you a warm hug. "This is my son, Mark. I don't think you two have properly met yet."

He extended his arm, "Oh, hi, uh, I'm Mark," he replied with a sheepish smile.

"Hi, I'm Z," she said as Olga gave her a soft push to move her forward. The young girl's eyes threw daggers at her mom before politely shaking his hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Are you all hungry? They've got a lot of food," Olga told the Graysons, leading them and Josef, who squinted his eyes at Zasha and Mark, over to the buffet table.

Zasha and Mark looked at each other awkwardly and exchanged nervous smiles. He began to rock back and forth on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as he attempted to think of what to say.

"So uh, how's... superhero training?" he asked.

"Uh, good," Zasha answered, nodding her head. "We managed to take down Titan yesterday so that was pretty cool."

"Oh yeah? That's great," Mark exclaimed. "How about, um..." he scratched the back of his head, "Is the, i-is the drink... good?"

She looked down at her cup and clicked her tongue, "You know for a party that's sponsored by the government, you'd think they'd have better catering."

He chuckled, "If I knew this was going to be a boring party with adults and toddlers and no good food, I would have at least brought a snack and some comic books."

Zasha sat back down and looked up at him with a smile, "Well you better take a seat, buddy, because the next few hours are going to make you wish you were being hurled at buildings instead."

She gently patted the seat next to her and Mark accepted the offer. "Do you go to these things a lot?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Zasha replied. "You are so damn lucky your dad never wants to come to a Guardians event."

Mark laughed, "You know what, I used to be really jealous of all the families who got together during these events but right now, I'd do anything to just go home." He looked around and sighed, "I don't even know most of these people."

"Me too, and I've seen their faces at least thrice a year ever since I could remember," she agreed. "Actually, I think this is the first solid conversation I've had with someone at these things."

"Really?" he asked in shock.

"Really," she answered, taking a sip of the bland orange juice that now mostly tastes like water. "Most of the guys who are my age that have attended aren't really cute, nor are they interesting, so meh."

Mark's head snapped up at that remark and he felt the warmth rush up to his cheeks. "The other guys aren’t... cute and not... interesting?"

"Hell no," Zasha laughed. "Have you ever tried connecting with a person who has no special abilities but know you're a superhero? It feels like talking to a wall."

He crossed his brows, "What do you mean?"

She sighed and leaned forward, "They usually ask me what being a superhero is like, but when I tell them that I managed to take down a man with rock for skin, it's like I'm a freak."

"You're not a freak, Zasha," he replied. "And any guy who feels that way about a girl who's trying to save others sounds like a shitty person."

"And they're not even cute!" she added.

"And they're not even cute," he repeated after her with a laugh.

Zasha sighed again and sat back up. She looked over at him and briefly examined his face, "Well it's a good thing you are."

Josef turned around and watched as the 17-year-old boy chatted up his daughter, as well as literally take his seat at the table.

He held on to Olga's arm and leaned in, "I don't like what I'm seeing over there."

Olga turned to look then laughed at her overbearing husband. "They're just talking, Josef," she said. "It's not Zasha's fault she can enjoy a pleasant conversation and you can't."

"Mm..." Josef groaned, "I don't like it."

"Don't like what?" Debbie asked from behind.

Olga walked over to her and excitingly yet subtly pointed at Zasha and Mark, who were now facing each other now laughing. "Josef's worried that Zasha won't have time to be his daughter anymore if she ever started dating boys," she explained to Debbie. "You know he scares off every single boy Zasha introduces to us? I'm worried she'll never have a boyfriend!"

"She doesn't need a boyfriend, Olga," Josef chimed in grumpily, crossing his arms as he watched the two like a hawk. "No one will be good enough for Zasha anyway. She can literally outrun all the boys she dates."

"So are you saying that my Mark isn't good enough for Zasha?" Debbie asked with half a smile, momentarily shutting Josef up before he nervously tried to form a sentence. "I'm just teasing, Josef," she followed, winking at him and almost warning him not to underestimate her son.

Olga chuckled, "It's good for them to bond. They're both teenagers and superheroes, if they ever date at least they won't have to worry about keeping secrets."

"Whoa, wait," Josef exclaimed. "They just met, who said anything about dating?"

His wife rolled her eyes at his remark. "We should, what's the term... hook them up," Olga said. "Debbie, ask Mark what's going on and I'll ask Zasha."

Debbie agreed to the plan and walked over to Mark and Zasha while Josef huffed in annoyance but stayed in his position; there was no way in hell he was going to keep his eyes off of them.

Debbie offered Mark some food from her plate but he kindly declined. "Good choice," she said. "For a party paid for by the government, you'd think they'd have better food."

Mark laughed and nodded in agreement, "That's what Z said!"

"Oh really?" Debbie replied with a playful smirk.

Mark and Zasha looked at each other as if they were sharing an inside joke before Olga called her daughter over.

"Sorry, mama is calling me," she told the Graysons as she excused herself.

"So..." Debbie trailed off, raising her eyebrow at her son whose cheeks were rosy red.

"Mom, please don't make it weird," Mark begged.

"You and Zasha seem to be hitting it off."

"I begged you not to make it weird," he groaned, covering his face.

"I was just asking!" Debbie said with a giggle. "Why are you being so offensive?"

"I'm not, mom, I'm just... ugh," he groaned again. "Please don't say anything to Josef and Olga. Don't make it weird."

"I won't, I won't," Debbie reassured him. "Are you gonna ask her out though?"

"Mom!"

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving," she said with a hearty laugh, nodding at Zasha who was walking back to her seat.

"Sorry about that, my mom was being strange," Zasha said. "Everything okay?" she asked Mark, who now looked like he'd been slapped over and over again.

"Yeah, yeah! Great! Everything's great!"

She smiled at him but Mark leaned over and kept his head down. Another moment of awkward silence fell upon the two; Zasha looked around while tapping her toes and Mark's sight was glued to the floor. From the corner of his eye, he could see his mom and Olga delicately signalling at him to make his move. He covered the sides of his face and continuously mouthed "No," but the two were unrelenting. He took a deep breath and finally sat back up, and looked over at Zasha who was still pretending to casually look around.

"Hey, uh, Z?"

She quickly looked over at him with wide eyes, "Yes?"

Mark looked behind her head and watched as Olga and Debbie were giggling and whispering to each other, like a bunch of high school girls who just saw their best friend talking to their crush.

"Uh, I'm hungry."

The smile on Zasha's face was quickly replaced with a look of confusion. "Okay... and?"

"Oh! Um," he cleared his throat, "do you... like burgers?"

Zasha giggled and nodded, "I do like burgers."

Controlling his urge to fist pump, Mark cheekily bit his lower lip and moved a little closer, "You wanna head out and grab a bite?"

"Uh..." she turned around and watched as Olga and Debbie quickly nodded their heads, her mom giving her a sign of approval to leave the party. "Sure, I'm starving."

Josef looked on as the two of them stood up and began to make their way to the exit. Sighing in defeat and sadness, he called them over to the place where he's been stationed at since the Graysons arrived.

"Papa, we're just gonna get something to eat," she informed him nervously, knowing his scare tactics when it came to the guys she introduced him to.

Josef's eyes softened as the sight of his little girl, who he knew and finally accepted was growing up. She was making her way into the world and as much as he wanted to always protect her, he knew that she was just as smart and as capable to start doing it herself.

He took his daughter's hand and held it tight, "Okay, call me if you need a ride home."

"I will," Zasha said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Love you, papa."

"I love you too," he replied with a smile that was immediately erased when he focused his attention to Mark. "Bring her home by 11:30, and no sneaking into her room by the window," he ordered the teenage boy sternly.

Caught by surprise by the sudden formality, Mark straightened his back and nodded. "Uh yes, y-yes sir, Red Rush, sir."

"Papa!" she exclaimed. "No more scare tactics."

"I'm sorry," he chuckled, "that was the last one, I promise."

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to another member being in love with their s/o (re-uploaded)

❦ Genre: Fluff & Kinda Angst (Idk)

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 3k5.

HONGJOONG (& San)

The leader was curious and suspicious. His member San was a little bit too much affective with you. All the other members were treating you as a friend or even as an older sister, nothing too much alarming. While with San it was the opposite. Hongjoong isn’t the jealous type, even not at all but the behavior of his closest friend sent him over his limits. San was inviting you at least 2 times per week, just to “see someone else than the group member”. Hongjoong believed this excuse at first until San became more and more clingy with you. Every time he could, he would rest his head on your laps and wait for you to run your fingers in his blond hair. Even if it was bothering you, a bit, you never told him or your boyfriend neither. In any case you want to create a conflict or a discomfort.

Tonight, when the leader found you washing San’s hair in the bathroom sink, he decided to stop this little game. Without saying a word, he gripped your hand, still full of shampoo, and wrapped it in a towel. The other boy cracked an eye when he didn’t feel your soft digits anymore. “Oh! You are back!” You smiled at your boyfriend, ignoring that he was boiling inside. “What are you doing?” He asked, grabbing your hand tighter. “She’s helping me to wash my hair since my shoulder is still sensible.” Replied San happily. “Is it normal for you?” Asked Hongjoong, straight looking at your eyes without paying attention to San. At this moment, you knew that Hongjoong realized that San had a crush on you. “Seems like you knew huh?” He raised a brow. “I was just being nice.” “Okay.” He started. “Be nice but don’t be stupid.” San lifted his head, water dripping from his ears to the floor. “Hyung, don’t talk to her like this.” “I’m not mean to her. In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m trying to help her.” “Help her? What are you talking about?” “She’s too nice to say ‘no’ to you. She can’t refuse you anything, because it’s her nature.” He started, trying to calm down. “Hongjoong…” you tried to stop him before he says something he regrets. “Stop loving her San.” He said abruptly. “She’s my girlfriend and won’t be yours. Never.” You noticed how pissed he was, so you kept it quiet. Before the leader exit the bathroom, he stared at San who was still speechless and obviously sad about the whole situation. “Wooyoung can you help San?” He yelled in the dorm. “If you pay me!” He yelled back from his bedroom.

SEONGHWA (& Wooyoung)

Seonghwa ignored once again and finally sat down in his bed. It was 3AM and he still couldn’t fall asleep. Even though he tried his best to, his brain was non-stop waking him up. Your voice was resonating in his head. Today, you refused to go at the dorm to spend a game night as every week. Of course, when their schedule could allow it. When your boyfriend asked you why, you couldn’t help but to be sad. “I think Wooyoung hates me or something.” You sighed. “Why would he hate you? This is stupid.” Replied Seonghwa, not caring about his rude words. “If I knew I would tell you idiot.” You rolled your eyes. “Throw away this idea and come tomorrow, we will ask him.” “I really don’t want to come this week. I’ll calmly have a good time by myself at home.” Seonghwa accepted even though he was disappointed. But no matter what, he would respect your choice. At the game night, he was secretly staring at Wooyoung. He was so happy and enthusiastic, as every other day. Even when you were here.

Out of nowhere Seonghwa asked, “Wooyoung, do you hate Y/N?” Yeosang next to him, puffed at this word. “Hate? Hate! This is the complete opposite! He loves Y/N!” Wooyoung blushed hardly and hid himself behind his monopoly cash. “You love Y/N?” Repeated Seonghwa, not believing this at all. “Well, the night is over… let’s go to sleep.” Said Jongho, trying to escape this awkward atmosphere. All the other boys threw their cards on the coffee table and left one by one. Leaving Seonghwa and Wooyoung alone. Not wanting to piss his Hyung, the youngest boy started. “Listen, I crushed on Y/N well before you both start to date. I was just too much focused on the group. But finally, one day I couldn’t handle being far away from her, so I went to see her and-” “You saw us kissing. It was you right? I knew I saw a shadow behind her.” Wooyoung nodded. “Wooyoung… I’m really sorry. I would never-” “It’s okay, it was very hard at first but I’m starting to erase or suppress my feelings for her.” Seonghwa smiled lightly. “You are trying so hard that she thinks you hate her.” “Huh?!” He stood up, making the chair behind him fall. The eldest member was surprised. This big reaction coming from Wooyoung made both realize that there’s a long way before he forgets you. He bites his lips and picked the chair back. “I’m really trying Hyung. Just be patient with me because… it’s hard.” He sighed. “I won’t lie to you.” “Take your time. I’m really happy that you are trying at least.” Smiled Seonghwa sadly.

YUNHO (& Hongjoong)

“Are you sure it won’t bother Hongjoong if I come to the studio with you?” Yunho shook his head. “Don’t worry, he really doesn’t care at least that I do what he asks me to do.” “Well okay.” You replied, not really convinced. You ignored why but going to Hongjoong’s studio was really stressing for you. He seemed so focused and serious there. “Relax Y/N.” Stated your BF. “Why are you so tense?” He held your hand. “The atmosphere is tense.” You growled. “How can you work like this?” “It’s like my… 4th home. It doesn’t feel like a stressful place.” “4th home? What’s the others one?” You curiously asked. “Hum… the 1st one is the dorm, the 2nd one my parents one and the 3rd… your apartment.” “Oh really?” Yunho winked. “That’s probably my favorite place between these four.” “Because you can get all the food you want to?” You pinched his forearm. “If by mean ‘food’ you mean yourself than yeah.” He kissed your palm. “Ahem…” coughed the leader behind both of you. “I didn’t know you were this kinky Jeong Yunho.” “That was supposed to be a secret.” He replied embarrassed. Not saying anything, you stayed next to your boyfriend. Hongjoong bowed a bit to greet you. “It’s been a while Y/N.” “Yes.” You smiled shyly. “Well, I forgot my laptop in Eden sunbaenim’s studio so wait for me in mine.” The leader handed his key to Yunho and let both of you there.

When you entered, you were amazed by how clean this was. Not like their dorm. “His studio is always so clean.” You stated. “The trash is a little bit too full though.” Replied Yunho, picking unconsciously a sheet of paper on the floor. “Still better than your own room.” You giggled, anticipating his reaction. You waited for 10 longs seconds and still nothing from him. “Babe.” You stood up, realizing his eyes were glued on his paper. “What’s going on?” “Hongjoong wrote few lyrics.” “Yes, and? He does this aaaall the time. He’s a whole producer.” You raised a brow. At this moment, the leader entered the studio. He immediately saw the pinkish sheet of paper. As fast as possible, he ripped the paper out of Yunho’s hand. “What is this Hyung?” “Nothing, just a shitty work.” Yunho blocked the way to his leader before he could escape from this situation. “I wrote it a long time ago.” “That’s not what the date at the top said.” He cut him straight. “Do you have feelings for Y/N?” “Yunho!” You tried to stop your boyfriend, embarrassed. “This is stupid.” “I had a feeling for her. But I’m over it now.” You were speechless. All this time, you hung out with them, you never realized that Hongjoong had feelings for you. “Can you promise me that all your feelings for my girlfriend is vanished?” He asked seriously. The leader stayed quiet, even though he wanted to prove the opposite. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “Yunho.” You tried to get his attention back. “Y/N can you go back home? I think I need to talk with Hongjoong Hyung.”

YEOSANG (& Mingi)

“Yeosang.” You shook your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Y/N, it’s still dark outside… it means you should go back to sleep.” You rolled your eyes. “We need to talk.” Yeosang immediately cracked an eye. “What do you want to talk about?” “Mingi is weird with me.” You sighed, sitting against the headboard. “What do you mean by that?” He glared at the clock in his phone before putting it back under his pillow. “It might be strange but… I feel like he’s having a crush on me.” You facepalmed. As expected, your boyfriend puffed and immediately turned back to sleep. “Just sleep and stop thinking that.” “I’m serious. He asks me to hang out with him at least 3 times a week.” “Y/N.” He called you, quietly telling you to be quiet and sleep. Annoyed, you laid down in the bed and stared at the ceiling. For sure, you wouldn’t sleep tonight or maybe 30 minutes.

As expected, the next morning, you woke up hardly. You could imagine these dark circles under your eyes. When you sleepily got up, you noticed that Yeosang was already awake, probably eating in the kitchen. Lazily, you removed your pajama shrort and threw it on the chair next to you. “Good morning Y/N!” Yelled Mingi without knocking to let you know his presence. “MINGI!” You hid yourself behind the hoodie you were holding. “What the fuck are you doing?!” “I’m sorry!” He turned back to face the wall. “I wanted to wake you up!” “Get out!” “What is going on here?” Rushed Yeosang when he heard both of you. “This is not what you think it is!” Stopped Mingi, still facing the wall, not daring to look any of you. “Mingi you better give me a good reason to be in here in front of my ‘almost’ naked girlfriend.” “I wanted to ask her to hang out with me!” “Again? You went to the theater yesterday.” He stated. Just after asking this, he realized the little conversation you had this night. “By any chance… Do you… have a crush on Y/N?” Mingi blushed immediately, not daring to answer. You couldn’t see his face but for sure he was flustered. “Song Mingi?” “Okay! I do have a crush on her!” “And what do you want? To be nice with her so you could have a chance?” “No. I’m not a monster.” “Then what?” “I’m just having fun with her because it’s the only one who makes me feel good right now.” He explained. “I’m sorry for having a crush on you Y/N. But I can’t control my feelings.” Yeosang sighed, annoyed and at the same time sad for his friend. “For the sake of the group and our friendship, you need to control it Mingi. And now because of that I can’t let you hang out with her anymore.” He said before leaving the room, bumping into the tallest boy. For sure, nothing would the same.

SAN (& Jongho)

“Oh, did you sleep on the couch?” Asked Jongho, kneeling on the floor in front of you. You smiled shyly and obviously a bit sadly at him. “Yeah. It’s comfy though. Don’t worry.” Jongho hesitated a second but finally started to say. “I heard you and San… arguing yesterday.” “Sorry we might have wake you up.” You apologized. “It’s okay, I know that it was unexpected anyway.” He tried to reassure you. “This was stupid argument anyway...” you sighed, burying your head under the blanket. “Like me.” “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You should be glad to still argue with San. Even if what he said yesterday was rude.” You tossed the blanket away and sat down on the couch, arms crossed on your chest.

“I told him he was mean, but he replied that I am too childish.” “I would never say that to you if I was your boyfriend.” He whispered but enough louder for you to hear it. “You wouldn’t survive with a girlfriend like me.” You giggled. “Well, I’m ready to give it a try.” He replied straight away. Before you could tell him that it was inappropriate, San entered the living-room. “So, you want to date my girlfriend?” He raised a brow. “Hyung.” “I always knew you were not ‘only nice’ with her.” He stepped in front of the maknae. “San it’s okay. Don’t be an ass.” You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, it’s bothering me that my friend who I consider aq my brother, is in love with you.” He stated. “I can’t control it.” “I will need you to control it Jongho.” Said San sadly. “I know it’s going to be hard for you, but we can’t stay this way. It’s bad for you and for us.” Jongho smiled. Out of context, that would be scary. “Why are you smiling like this?” “Do you really think I can forget and erase my feelings for Y/N so easily?” “Jongho...” you called him sadly. “I’m sorry to put both of you, especially Y/N, in this uncomfortable situation. But it’s unfair to ask me to erase my feelings when probably none of you could ever do that as well.” Claimed the maknae. You stared at your boyfriend who was confused, as you. “Well, if you are done Hyung, I would like to go in my room.” San stepped on the side, making the maknae understand that he could leave as he wants to. You plopped down on the couch, “this is crazy...” “Why do you have to be so incredible?” Asked San.

MINGI (& Seonghwa)

As always, you went to the boys’ practice to cheer them up. You hoped that this comeback will help to reduce the tension between all the members. You ignored why but Mingi and Seonghwa were suddenly cold with each other. Seemed like everyone knows why except you. And of course, you hated that.

Well before knocking you heard a loud screams and yells. Scared that one of them argued again, you opened the door. It was worse than expected. Hongjoong and San were holding Seonghwa while Yunho and Jongho were holding your boyfriend. “W-What the hell is going on?!” You yelled, dropping your bag. “I was beating his ass because he’s a betrayer!” Replied Mingi, trying to remove his friends’ grip off him. You noticed that the eldest member’s mouth was bleeding a bit. “Which betrayal?” You asked, completely worried because of this situation. “He said that he betrayed him because I have feelings for you.” Exposed Seonghwa. “This is a betrayal!” “Wh-wait Hwa... it’s a big deal.” “Yes, and this bastard desperately wants you.” Grunted Mingi. “Mingi shut up!” You yelled. “This is not the correct way to solve this.” “Y/N is right.” Sighed Hongjoong. You made a sign at the 2 boys who were holding Seonghwa to let him go. “Come with me.” You grabbed his arm softly but still strong enough to pull him out of the room. For at least 20 minutes, you talked with Seonghwa about this issue. He completely explained when he started to like you more than he should have. Especially the day he was really down, and you helped him to go through this harsh period. He tried so hard to see you as a friend only, but it was too late. His brain was only thinking about you. Without trying to hurt him more than he probably was, you explained that nothing could happen between you and him. Sadly, he accepted that. Even though he was disappointed, he felt like this heavy burden on his shoulders left. “Should we go back inside? Without you trying to fight Mingi?” He smirked. “Can’t promise, but okay let’s go.” You knew it will be hard for Seonghwa to move on but for sure soon he would find the perfect person for him. Like you and Mingi.

WOOYOUNG (& Yunho)

You were the only one awake so early. It was your little time to think and relax calmly without anyone interrupting you. Until: “Hello Y/N.” Greeted San probably more tired than you. “Good morning Sanie.” You replied before sipping your hot chocolate. You noticed the big dark circles, under his eyes. “The party was interesting huh?” You giggled. “That was terrible.” He sighed. “Probably one of the worst parties this year.” “Oh really? I thought it was the best one of this year.” “It was good before your boyfriend and Yunho start to ruin it.” He rolled his eyes.

“Wooyoung?” You asked. “Who? I mean- what they did?” San sighed before resting his forehead right in the table. “It’s better if you don’t know.” “Come on. You can’t drop this bomb and act like nothing happened.” You put down your cup of chocolate, too anxious to drink anyway. “Better ask Wooyoung then. I don’t want problem with any of them.” “Choi San.” The young boy gulped. A bit startled by the tone of your voice. “It’s just that Wooyoung learned that Yunho had a crush on you. So he confronted him-” “Excuse me what?” You asked dumbly. “What?” “Yunho has a crush on me?” “Don’t tell me you never knew about it. It was so obvious please.” “You can’t keep your mouth shut idiot.” Said Wooyoung, flickering San’s upper lip. “She really wanted to know.” Defended San. “Wooyoung you fought Yunho?” You asked worried. “A fight?” Laughed San. “These 2 idiots were too drunk to even carry their glasses. You rolled your eyes at the thought of your boyfriend being drunk. “Anyway...” grunted Wooyoung. “We are supposed to talk about this issue today.” “You seem pretty confident in front of the biggest conflict you might go in.” Added San. “We are adults. We are going to have a mature conversation without using our hands.” He replied calmly. “It’s because you know you are going to lose against Yunho.” You stated. “She’s right.” Smirked San. “Both of you are such a loser.” He grunted. “Join the team when Yunho is going to beat your little cute butt.” “I hate both of you.” “But Yunho loves us.” Teased San. “Choi San!”

JONGHO (& Yeosang)

Jongho was staring at you and Yeosang wrapped in the blanket in front of your favorite K-Dramas.

It’s been 2 days in row that you were glued in front of this TV shows. The most annoying part was that Yeosang was taking all of your attention. He was using this show as an excuse to spend some time with you and to leave you sitting here for few hours. Madly, Jongho sat on the couch just between you and his members.

“How many episodes left?” He asked normally not wanting you to make assumptions. “3. Right Sang?” “2.” He replied a bit coldly. “Oh only 2?” Repeated Jongho smirking slightly. “Too bad, this drama was really good.” You pouted. “If you want, I know another one which is good too.” Offered Yeosang. “Oh really?” You said a bit too enthusiastically for Jongho’s liking. “What about you to stop your k-dramas marathon and go to the restaurant with me?” Suggested the maknae. “Well... that’s a good program too.” You rested your head on his shoulder. Jongho smiled victoriously. No way he could let Yeosang spend more time with you. “After your restaurant maybe, we could check the horror movie you wanted to watch.” Interrupted the other member. “Alive? Oh yeah totally!” You almost yelled. “I want to watch it too.” Both of you stared at Jongho. “You are scared- no wait. TERRIFIED of horror movies.” Smirked Yeosang. “I saw the trailer, this is not that bad.” He lied. “Then maybe we should order a pizza and watch it right now.” He smiled arrogantly. Seonghwa who was looking at the whole scene from the kitchen, finally interposed. “Yeosang, Jongho. Can you help me with something in the kitchen?” “You should call Mingi or Yunho for the utensils you can’t grab.” Sighed Jongho. “He’s right.” Added Yeosang. Seonghwa’s face darkened so fast that both of them rushed in the kitchen. The eldest member closed the door carefully and turned around. “Are you both crazy?!” “Huh?” Yeosang raised a brow. “Both of you are hitting on the same girl!” “I always said that I had a crush on her. It’s Yeosang Hyung who’s being an ass.” The eldest member hit the maknae’s head, “Language.” “You are not even dating.” “Almost! Should I remember you she kissed me?” “She was drunk.” Replied Yeosang. “Even if a kiss happened, Yeosang you should consider that Jongho I in love with her, since a long time ago now and this is not nice to flirt with her too.” Yeosang sighed and rolled his eyes, pissed. “Fine. You are never on my side anyway.” He growled before leaving the room. “Ouch. Maybe I should talk to him.” Sighed Jongho. “Yes, you should. And fix this situation before someone else think there’s favoritism when I hate all of y’all equally.” “Double ouch Hyung.”

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

Please Don't Say Goodbye | Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Warnings: light swearing, crying, implied panic attacks, arguments, yelling, ummm lemme know if I missed anything

Word Count: 2181

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble- okay, in my defence, I've had such writers block and apparently the feels were necessary soooo. This is 1 of 2 fic ideas that were sent to me by @satan-ruler-of-hells for a prompt thing I did (idk if I can find the thing) and the next one is Tendou. So, maybe get ready for more feels of my almost 5 am angst. I also did not proof-read this, sooooo

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How had things ended up like this?

Every little thing was like the calm before the storm - the most tense calm that had ever existed; you were walking on eggshells, and maybe so was he, but you couldn’t help it. At least, you thought you couldn’t. Each attempt to try and fix the mess around you only ended up in more heartbreak.

The storm that always seemed to be headed in your direction had tore apart the home you’d meticulously built together. Plates and picture frames shattered to the ground; glass leaving you walking on bleeding feet. The flowers of your love torn apart somewhere in the distance now. Breath stolen from your lungs, but not from those kisses he’d give you back in high school, not from the way he’d dance with you around his bedroom (only to shove you onto the bed when his brother barged in), not from your outrageous laughter at something stupid that had happened. This was a breath stolen from countless nights arguing, screaming, trying to gain the upper hand in a situation where you were both at a standstill. A breath stolen from your heaving words as you scrunch your hands into your roots, pull your legs close to your chest and shove yourself into a corner while he slammed the door and left to God knows where. Breath stolen from the realization that maybe things just weren’t working like they used to, and that it was okay to love him, but to not be in love with him.

Tonight was just another picture perfect example of why you weren’t meant to be together. You’d come home late from work (because of some stupid assignment that you just wanted to finish today). He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. Honestly, you just wanted to eat something, so you didn’t bother greeting him, but the moment he noticed your presence in the house, he was hot on your tail.

“Where were you?” His voice sharp as daggers, digging under your skin and tearing you apart piece by piece. His arms are crossed over his chest, eyes so judgmental you feel like you’re in court. Nothing you say is the right answer, so you choose to not say anything. Apparently, that wasn’t the right answer either - this you find out when his iron grip settles on your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Hey-” you winced, trying to pry his fingers off.

“Where were you?” He repeated, basically growling at you through his gritted teeth.

“I was at work.” You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back towards the fridge, trying to ease the beating of your heart. In, hold, out. You repeat to yourself, barely remembering what all those instagram therapists had told you.

He scoffed, finally releasing his grip in favor of slamming the fridge door shut, “really? Because the last time I checked, your work ended two hours ago. What could you possibly have been doing for two whole hours?” He was in your face now, making you know how pissed he was.

But you already knew. You’d always known. Why did he need to try and make it so blindingly obvious to you?

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kei, I was working. What part of that is so hard to understand?” You snapped back, moving away from him with a heavy sigh. At this point, you didn’t bother holding back the venom in your words. You knew he had issues (and you knew why) but did that mean he should take it out on you? No. Fuck.

“Two hours! Y/N, I was waiting two hours. I was going to take us to dinner, we were going to have a nice time.” He followed after you, closing every cupboard door you opened, trying to get your attention. “But you didn’t even send me a text. Were you too busy fuck-”

“Oh my God!” You yelled over him, spinning around to face him with your pure unfiltered aggression.

Back and forth you went for what felt like hours. Tears were acid down your cheeks, your spit a very special concoction of venom just for him. And yet, even as you were dry heaving in the kitchen sink, yelling more obscenities at him, you could never seem to stop. Neither could he.

Tsukishima Kei was known for a lot of things, being an asshole was one of them. That you knew too well.

For a while, though, things were good. He loved you. You loved him.

As he sits there, accusing you over and over of cheating on him, even though you hadn’t and you wouldn’t. God.

When had he become so anxious and persistent that things were going wrong? Yes, they were going wrong, but not for the reasons he keeps saying. It’s driving you insane, to the point where you can’t even remember those stupid breathing techniques, or grounding techniques, or anything.

This argument had lost the plot at some point around when he started yelling at you for doing the dishes wrong (you still insisted there wasn’t a wrong way to do them). So you bit back that his clothes were stupid, or that dinosaurs were stupid, something. Something was stupid.

“If you have so many problems with the way I choose to live my life, then get the fuck out.” You screamed, slamming your fists down onto the table and pointing to the door. His expression was scrunched up into something completely unrecognizable - a fine mixture of hatred and anguish. His chest rising and falling so rapidly you’re amazing he’s still standing. His hair is a complete and utter mess, so many times he’d ran his hand through it to try and make sense of the nonsense you were both spouting.

“Fine, I will!” He yelled back, voice hoarse from the past two hours.

You watched him head towards the door without a second thought, grabbing his coat, shoving his shoes on. You didn’t have the energy to call out after him, no matter how much your heart begged you to.

And your heart did beg you to; but it had already accepted that the end had been coming for too long.

You lean back against one of the cupboards, looking up at that one crack in the ceiling that he’d insisted he’d get around to fixing but something had always come up.

If you had to say what was wrong in your relationship, it would just be something. Something was wrong, and neither of you knew what it was, but something would be your downfall. Something filled the air with poison and made you destined to hate each other; something danced around in your words and twisted the meaning; something caressed your cheek as tears fell.

Something was your downfall and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

So, maybe you’d call in sick the next day, and your boss would believe you because your voice sounded like hell; and maybe you’d spend the entire day lying in bed despite the fact your stomach was beginning for some nutrients; and maybe it would feel good to not have that nagging voice that you shouldn’t sleep in all day.

But today would have felt nicer with him by your side.

If there was one thing Tsukishima Kei was good at (after a lot of practice), it was making you feel just a little bit better with his empty promises and sweet nothings.

So, maybe you’d dressed yourself in his shirt and breath in him; and maybe you’d grab that dinosaur plushie you’d bought him for his birthday so many years ago and pull it to your chest; maybe you’d sleep on his side of the bed even though his pillow wasn’t as fluffy as yours; and maybe, just maybe, you watched his favourite movie on repeat, hoping it would bring him back to you.

Those were all maybe’s. But maybe they did happen, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and tease him for his glasses that he insisted were cool. Or to have him laugh at you for the fact you majored in literature, despite the fact you weren’t good with words.

When your phone rang, you didn’t hesitate in picking it up, almost too excited for his voice, “Kei-”

“Y/N…” Yamaguchi’s voice was soft, understanding. It killed your fire of excitement in an instant.

You listened to him talk, something about how Tsukishima had decided you needed a break and would be staying at his place for a little while. Something about how he still loved you, but he didn’t want to keep hurting you like this.

It wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t manage to keep it together and broke out crying all over again, basically screaming and begging for things to be okay. There was no doubt in your mind, if Tsukishima was in the room with Yamaguchi, then he’d heard your cries.

“I’ll be better…” you whimpered, after far too long, “I’ll be nice. A-and… I won’t make fun of his glasses. Or dinosaurs. Please… please, Yamaguchi, please tell him to come home!” You cried out, unsure if you even managed to breathe.

He was silent on the line. You couldn’t take it. The silence, you wanted the noise. You’d prefer the arguing over this.

“I’m sorry…” Yamaguchi said weakly, and you knew how much it was hurting him to say this.

He hung up the phone and you were left as a shell of yourself.

And yet, your life must go on. So, for two months, you pushed your problems to the side and kept dredging forward in the hope that the answer to your problems was in one of these articles. Hoping that your co-worker would tell you some shitty anecdote that would distract you for just a little while.

Yo couldn’t look at your apartment anymore, not as little pieces of him were still littered everywhere.

Only, one day, you came home and he wasn’t anywhere. You didn’t notice it, not at first, but then you saw his mug from your museum visit in his third year of high school wasn’t next to your matching one. And then neither were his books on the shelf in your living room, or under the coffee table. His clothes gone from the closet. Every inch. Every detail. Every bit of him you had left had disappeared in the span of one work day.

And you were left with nothing.

With as much energy as you could muster, you turned and ran in the general direction of Yamaguchi’s house (which was hopeless, considering you had the directional capability of a broken compass and the stamina of a dead horse). You really were hopeless as you dialed his number, ignoring the way the moon taunted you in the sky.

He answered, for whatever reason, and you let out a breath. “What is it?” His tone was even, but something told you he was barely holding it together.

“Is this it?” Was all you could say. Head dizzy as you looked for Yamaguchi’s house - which you just knew was somewhere around here.

“It’s been it for a long time.” He really sounded robotic, like he was reading from a script.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Your voice broke as you ran, ignoring the splintering pain in the balls of your feet, “you thought making Yamaguchi say you needed a break, and then disappearing for two months, and then only reappearing to take your things back was the answer?” You cried out.

“You know-” his voice cracked and he stopped speaking. God, it hurt you so much.

“I never wanted this.” Tears were pouring down your cheeks.

“You think I did?”

“No-”

“I tried, Y/N, I tried so hard. But you would never listen to me!”

“I tried too, Kei!” You tried not to yell, and you hoped that it worked.

Some miracle brought you to Yamaguchi’s door, the one you only recognized because of the little frog statue on the windowsill. You pressed the doorbell, hoping for the best.

“I tried because I loved you. And I waited for you, I waited and hoped you’d come back. I-” you ran your hands through your hair once again. “I know we aren’t the best, that something is always wrong, but we can work on this. We can… fuck, I don’t know. You were the smart one…” he let out a low chuckle laced with pain. “But we can work something out, can’t we?”

There was a pause, and Yamaguchi opened the door, shocked to see you. Your breath hitched but neither of you spoke.

“I… I can’t do this anymore…” he admitted, and you felt your heart shatter. “Y/N, this is it…”

You could see Tsukishima pacing in the living room just down the hall, and you know Yamaguchi knows you’ve seen him. His phone pulled away from his face, finger shaking over that familiar red button.

“Please don’t say goodbye…” you called out.

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[sammysmaddy]

Goodbyes (Samifer x Reader)*

Summary: Sam's said yes to Lucifer and when Lucifer finds all of his dirty thoughts trapped inside his head, he gives Sam a front seat show to his sister.

Pairing: Lucifer!Sam x Winchester!Reader

Warnings: incest, sister!cest, noncon on two accounts, choking, p in v, angst, crying, biting, blood mentioned, Sammy having dirty thoughts about his little sister ;)

W/C: 4,000+

A/N: Idk where this idea popped out of but I love it 😏😳 :) Also I know that twistedly isn't a word, okay? Edited to the best of my ability because I’m too scared to load smut into grammarly 😂

Masterlist

•••

"Sammy? What are you doing here?" She asked, her eyes full and wide as they stared up at him.

"I just wanted to see you," He replied, looking down at her as she sat up against the headboard. He could tell she was still half asleep, a little startled by his presence, and he could practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

"You didn't?" She trailed on, furrowing her eyebrows and looking super concerned. Sam gave her a soft smile, shaking his head 'no'. As she scooted over towards the middle of the bed, Sam sat next to her, and placed his hand on her thigh in a sense to reassure her. "You okay, Sam? What happened?" She asked, worry lacing her voice in response to his body language. She could tell he was upset, but unfortunately she couldn't read his mind.

"I couldn't do it, Y/N," He admitted, looking down at his hand over the simple white sheet. She was warm and even through the fabric he could tell how soft her skin was, invoking a feeling deep within Sam that he'd never allowed himself to feel. "I couldn't leave you."

"Where's Dean?" She asked, yawning and craning her head back against the headboard. Sam got the opportunity to admire her for that split second, looking down her simple tank top, and even noticing how her throat was pretty. Then, Sam started to think about what she had said. Dean. Why was she always so worried about Dean? It was clear to everyone who met the Winchesters that Dean was her favorite big brother and here Sam was, telling her that he came back for her, and she was asking about Dean. Even though he should be used to it by now, it still makes his blood boil.

"He's pretty pissed with me so I'm sure he's off at some bar," He explained, looking down to admire his hand on her again but then she shifted. When Sam looked back up to gauge her reaction, she looked down, and Sam's heart began to race. Fuck, maybe she had found him out.

"Why is, uh, why is Dean pissed?" She stuttered getting out, swallowing hard. Sam's eyes follow hers but every time he's about to catch them they stray away. She's nervous, her leg is no longer under his hand, and her entire body is tense. Sam needed to think of something and something quick.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Sam said, looking back down, fighting back the smile on his lips as he saw her body relax. Nobody knew Sam better than she did and Sam figured if he continued to act closed off- she wouldn't pry or ask any questions, he was right. When he looked back up, she gave him a sad smile and reached up to swipe a stray hair out of his face. Sam leaned into the touch, his hand coming up to hold her wrist there, and relished the way her soft skin felt on his face.

"Sam, really, are you okay? I figured Lucifer would at least send some demons after you. You know with the whole Detroit thing." Y/N pried and Sam loved that her only question was to ask if he was okay, that he could pull off.

"I'm okay. I just couldn't leave you," Sam gave her a soft smile. When her hand dropped down, Sam held it in his own and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"You're so sappy," She teased, laughing lightly, and Sam shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. "But we talked about this. Dean and I will be fine, you don't have to worry about us. I just- I don't know what to say." She frowned, looking down, and then looking back up to Sam. "You get that this isn't about us, right? We have had some really shitty plans on how to deal with Lucifer but this is the best bad idea we have so far. And I don't want to say that I'm upset that you didn't say yes but we need to think of something, and we need to think of something quick." She gave Sam a sad look.

"Yeah, I get it," Sam sighed aloud and felt her grip onto his hand. "I needed to say goodbye first."

"We said our goodbyes, Sammy. Hell, I was with you when you drank all of that demon blood," She laughed quietly and Sam gave her a small smile. He took a leap of faith and leaned over, kissing her hard until her head hit the headboard lightly. His lips moved around her still ones, his hands moved up to cup her face, and she didn't move for a few seconds. Once she began to tense up, Sam held her face from straying towards the side, and kissed her more hungrily. Her hands moved up and grabbed his wrists softly, pushing them off of her, and she pulled her head back away from him. "What was that for?" She asked softly, wide eyes staring back into Sam's lustful ones.

"Part of my goodbye," Sam told her, diving back into her lips. She was more prepared this time, struggling as Sam held her wrists in place on the bed, and she tried to turn her head away from him. Sam kept her held there, kissing every bit of her face that he could reach, enjoying the small whimpers that fled as she fought against him.

"Sam, we can't. I don't want to," She pleaded when she turned her head to the side. Sam didn't listen as he used this opportunity to kiss down her neck, nipping at the soft skin, and leaving marks that would form over the next twenty-four hours. "Sammy, this isn't right. You have to stop." She tried pulling her wrists away from his grip, but he wouldn't give. Her knee came up, pushing against Sam's ribcage, and she got a good jab in that made him pull back.

"You don't love me?" Sam asked in a pout and she looked at him with eyes wide and filled with fear.

"I do, but I don't love you in that way. You're my brother," She frowned, tears welling at the brim of her eyes. Sam looked down, sadly, as he was beginning to realize that he was going to have to force her. "I'm not mad, Sammy, I swear." She said softly, using her fingers to push the hair out of his face.

"Please, Y/N," Sam begged, looking up as she gulped nervously. Sam noticed how even though she seemed so scared, she was still gentle and caring about how Sam was feeling, it only made him want her more.

"No, Sam. I'm sorry," She told him. He watched as her lip trembled and fresh tears fell down her face and frowned to himself. He took a deep breath, swiftly collecting her wrists again, and climbed over her small body. She fought much more this time and Sam could taste her salty tears on her lips, drinking them in like water. Sam sat on her thighs to keep her legs down and her fingernails began to dig into his forearm as he continued to attack her mouth with his.

"Stop struggling," He told her firmly, almost in a growl, and she whimpered in return. When he reached down to kiss her again her teeth dug into his bottom lip, drawing blood and making him pull back. "Bitch," Sam muttered, using his fingers to wipe the blood off of his lips. She made use of her free hand to push against Sam, but he wouldn't budge. She was crying a river and when Sam's hand reached up and wrapped around her throat, she stopped moving altogether.

"You're not Sam," She said, her voice shaking, as she looked back up into his eyes. Sam grinned at her cockily and her eyes squeezed shut as he applied more pressure on her neck.

"What gave me away?" Lucifer asked in Sam's voice, whispering against her ear, and feeling the chills that ran down her body.

"Sammy would never hurt me," She choked out, crossing her arms over her chest for protection. She didn't bother pushing against him, it would be no use, and Sam was internally screaming at Lucifer to stop.

"You sure about that?" He checked, chuckling deeply. He placed a wet kiss along her jaw line and she choked out a sob, trying to curl her knees up to her chest, but he was too heavy for her to do so.

"Please, don't do this," She said in a small voice, grabbing onto his wrist and trying to loosen his grip. He let go of her neck altogether and she gasped out for air, then his fingers danced against her collarbones. He admired how pretty she looked in her tank top, how plump her lips got from the way that he sucked on them, and he couldn't wait to see the faces she made when he fucked into her. Sam knew what was coming next and as much as he hated to admit it, it felt good to finally let go.

•••

"I'm inside your grapefruit, Sam. You can't lie to me. I see it all- how odd you always felt, how... out of place in that... family of yours," Lucifer smirks in Sam's body in the mirror. Sam's biting back, trying to block him from seeing everything, trying to claw his way out. "That's not how you're supposed to look at your sister, Sammy." Lucifer chuckled lightly, shaking his head from side to side.

"Don't talk about her. Don't even think about her. I'm going to rip you from the inside out, do you understand me?" Sam threatened through gritted teeth.

"Sam, I've had some messed up thoughts about my family too. I mean, seriously, I'm using your meatsuit to try and kill my brother. But this? This isn't even something the Devil himself wouldn't think about." Lucifer joked and Sam's fists were growing white from holding all of his anger inside. "Baby sister, Y/N. Who would have thought she's what turned your gears at night?"

"No, that's not true," Sam said in a desperate attempt to flip the script, but he couldn't hide anything. He couldn't hide any of his dirty thoughts about, Y/N, or about the fact he had dreamt about being inside her. He couldn't hide that he wondered about whether or not she'd be quiet when he fucked her or what she tasted like. He couldn't hide that he imagined her face as she came undone around him and he couldn't hide how he'd never wanted anything more than he wanted her. But Sam had never advanced on her, ranking it down to a dirty fantasy, and she'd never shown any interest.

"It is. And here I thought having all of Azazel's gang to kill would help you blow off steam," Lucifer scoffed, turning his body so Sam could see all of the people throughout his life that terrorized him. He recognized every one of them, from teachers to his prom date, but he was more angry about the fact that his cover was blown about Y/N. "Or maybe you'd prefer something else I can offer." He chuckled deeply, turning back to Sam. Sam swallowed hard, increasingly worrying about Y/N since he wasn't in control of his body anymore.

"I don't want anything from you," Sam spit out, his face white-hot with anger. The look in his own eyes as he stared into the mirror was something that Sam had never seen before. They were his eyes, yes, but Lucifer had installed a different kind of lust that Sam didn't recognize.

"Oh, come on, Sam. This is your one opportunity, using me as an excuse to fuck your little sister. She'd never blame you. I just want you to be happy and these pawns just aren't going to do it for you, are they?" Lucifer tsked and Sam tried harder to claw his way out, but Lucifer was too strong. "I can put a good show on for you, show you what you've been dying to see for all these years." He offered, but Sam didn't let the thought become a possibility in his head. He wasn't going to do it like this. "Remember when she grew breasts? Like overnight? That's when you started to look at her differently. You stopped thinking about her as a little sister, just a hot fuck, and you felt so sick." He said, bringing back Sam's old memories. Sam was too angry to reply, he stared into the mirror with angry silence and furrowed brows. "But then you didn't feel sick anymore, isn't that right? You even accepted the fact that you wanted to fuck her. You've been dreaming about it ever since. Even when you were with Jess. Used her and pretended she was your baby sister, how naughty."

"Stop talking," Sam shook his head angrily, he couldn't hear the truth anymore. He didn't want to be the person that Y/N thought of when she thought about how fucked up her life was, he didn't want to hurt her more than she was already hurting.

"Denial isn't going to get you anywhere, Sammy," Lucifer had let out a low chuckle, deviously smiling at Sam through the mirror. "Bet she's so tight. Bet she plays with herself every night, maybe even in the same bed as you. Bet her scream is so pretty." He taunted and Sam tried his hardest to not think about what he was saying. But Sam had often thought about these things. He knew that she probably was tight, knowing that she hadn't gotten much action since being on the road with her brothers, and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. "Big day is tomorrow. I say we make a pit stop at the motel, maybe she'll be all nice and ready for you, Sam."

•••

He drank up every bit of her. Both Sam and Y/N's clothes were on the floor, hers shredded and long forgotten, as she cried underneath him. It was more of a silent cry now, small whimpers, as Sam's painfully hard cock dragged in and out of her. Her body was so tense it made her cunt tighter than Sam could have imagined, and he hated himself for enjoying it so damn much. She was almost lifeless, laying there and letting him take what he wanted. Small whimpers, Sam wouldn't dare call them moans, fled her lips and Sam desperately chased his high- more so for her than for him, despite how insanely aroused he was. Her fingernails were digging into his forearms and she had her head turned to the side, too ashamed to look at Sam as he assaulted her.

Sam hadn't realized that he was crying until he saw his own tears on her naked chest. He couldn't bare to look at her face, realize how much he was hurting her. He couldn't think about the fact that, if he made it out of this alive, this would be the first thing she thought of. She would never look at him the same, if ever again. She wouldn't ever trust him, she wouldn't be happy to see him, and she would never love him again. It was killing Sam and he, too, had stopped his internal fight with Lucifer. He stopped clawing inside his own head, knowing that Lucifer was too strong, and began to let himself feel whatever Lucifer wanted him to feel.

"Sammy, it's okay. It's okay, I'm okay," She sobbed and Sam finally looked up to see her face. She brought her hands up to cup his face, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. Lucifer took his opportunity, knowing Sam could see everything, as he thrusted into her harder than ever before. She cried out, biting her lip, and closed her eyes shut as much as she could.

"I'm sorry," Sam croaked out, feeling the way his body was moving involuntarily and betraying him. She couldn't hear him, he knew that, but he needed to say it. He needed to know that he wasn't actually enjoying this, he needed to know that it wasn't his fault. She was hurting and Sam couldn't fathom that it was his fault. His body fell down and pressed against her, burying his face into her neck as he wrapped his arms under her head. Sam wouldn't dare call it a moan, but with the new angle she had let out a noise.

"It's not you, Sam. I know that. I love you," She whispered in his ear, wrapping her arms around his back. She held onto him tightly, pressing him against her body more than he already was, and began to whimper uncontrollably. Sam almost felt safe in her arms, like it was a hug, and tried his best to focus on the way she held onto him. His hips were rutting into her at an unforgiving pace, with no sign in the future that he was going to come undone, and he continued to tell himself that it wasn't his fault. He'd never to that to her. He'd never hurt her. This wasn't him. He would never make her do something that she didn't want to and he appreciated that she was still so caring, even though it was his body that was attacking her.

Sam groaned loudly when she wrapped her legs around his waist, the heels of her feet pushing him deeper inside of her. She had let a string of fucks come out of her mouth and she was holding onto him as tight as she could, Sam could feel her walls clenching around him more sporadically too. Sam hated that he felt pride, knowing she was close, knowing that she was about to cum on his cock, but something about her being satisfied made him happy. The thought made something in his core rumble and each thrust was feeling better and better- he was close too.

"Fuck, Sammy," She let out in a breathy voice and Sam couldn't help but groan at her words. When her legs began to shake and her teeth sunk into his shoulder, masking all of her moans of pleasure and hints of disgust, Sam began to fuck into her harder. It felt so twistedly good to feel her clenching so hard around him, that his cock was the thing she was cumming on, Sam was even starting to enjoy it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Y/N whined, trying to catch her breath. She was letting out guttural moans from her throat, squirming underneath him, and Sam was loving every second of it. He was so close to coming undone as her legs fell to the bed and Sam began to miss the way she was pushing him into her, but she still held onto him with her arms.

"Come on, Sammy. Cum for me," She encouraged in a whisper, making Sam's eyebrows furrow in pleasure. He knew that she was only saying these things so that it would stop, but Sam used it as a push to his release. Or tried to, just as the guilt began to push its way in his mind. He couldn't help but let his thoughts trail off. She'd never forgive him for this and Sam could never forgive himself either.

Y/N had sensed that Sam was tensing above her, rejecting what his body wanted so desperately to do. When she had came, Sam's body began to tremble and she knew he was close. Now, he was tense and his thrusts were harder, surely bruising her core, and almost threatening to bring her to the edge agin.

"I'm sorry," Was the first thing that she had heard from the actual Sam all night and it was so quiet she wasn't even sure she was meant to hear it. She knew that he still had to be in there and as much as she was hating what was happening, hating that her body had betrayed her, she knew it wasn't Sam's fault. He was merely a pawn for Lucifer and as to why he had chosen to do this to her, she had no idea- but she knew there was only one way out of this.

"Want you to cum for me," She told him, beginning to emphasize the small whimpers and moans that were already leaving her mouth. Y/N wasn't sure if that would make things worse or better- hearing his baby sister say those things to him- but Sam had let out a deep moan and she knew he was beginning to relax. "Cum inside me, Sammy. I want it." She lied, feeling disgusted with her own words, and Sam began to moan louder.

His thrusts began to get sloppier and harder as he began to feel his cock twitch inside her. She was still pulsing around him, her cunt trying to milk him for all his worth, and soon enough his hips stilled. Y/N felt immediately relieved and somewhat nauseous, knowing that her big brother had just cum inside of her- but it wasn't really him. Sam would never do this to her- he'd never want to do this to her. He gasped out for air, a long groan following, as he came inside of her- pushing his hips up inside of her as much as he could. "You did so good, Sam." She praised in a quiet voice, her fingernails rubbing up and down his back. He panted into the crook of her neck, holding onto her, and smelling her hair. But the moment didn't last long and he felt his body sit up.

His fingertips reached out and touched her forehead, and Sam watched as she fell asleep. He climbed out of bed, pulling the covers over her naked body, and began to walk to the other side where his clothes were at. He quickly pulled on his underwear and his pants, looping his belt through the holes and securing it. Sam grabbed his flannel off of the floor, heading for the bathroom where Lucifer could talk to him.

"How's that for a goodbye?" Lucifer chuckled cockily and all of Sam's anger fled back into his body. It was a mixture of guilt and sadness, hating the way that her words were the ones to push them over the edge- that he had wanted to hear that kind of praise from Y/N for so long.

"I'm going to kill you," Sam muttered seriously, looking into the mirror at himself. His chest was glistening with sweat and he could see Y/N lying in the bed behind him. He was the most angry he had ever been in his entire life but seeing Y/N peaceful and asleep brought some sort of serenity to him, at least he didn't have to kill her.

"Relax, kid. She won't even remember it," He smirked at Sam. "But you will." He smiled and Sam grunted, annoyed with all of the stupid comments, but most of all relieved. If what Lucifer said was true, she wouldn't remember it. She wouldn't resent or hate him for what he had done to her, she would still love him.

He began to feel sick with what he had just done, but he tried to remember what she told him. It's okay, I'm okay. It's not you. I love you.

"You know, I didn't even move for the last minute or so. That was all you, Sammy,"

[generallybarzy]

i loved you first.

an: I wrote this mostly a couple nights ago when I was listening to my "ouch" playlist and sobbing so hard I got a 48-hour migraine over the fact that I'll never see my crush again and I can't do anything about it because a) I'm moving in less than a month and leaving everything I know behind and b) he has a girlfriend. But that emotion eventually evolved into "i'm never gonna see some of my best friends again after we move away from each other next month" and that just turned me into this big pit of anxiety where I felt like time was just moving too fast but not at all and I'll miss everything if I don't go do something. So. I was fucking sad and this was the result. completely unedited angst. probably sucks ass, but that's how I'm feeling right now. Anyway, I don't know if you've noticed, but I haven't really been around for a few days. I deleted all my asks so if you had something sent, its gone, and i'm just popping in to post this. idk when I'll be back this time, but i'm trying to take care of my irl relationships and moving and college and all that and it hurts a lot more than i can explain and everythings putting my anxiety through the roof lately. anyway........

song inspo: i loved you first- joan

word count: 2.3k

"You keep running away when I need you most

Running away when I get too close

My heart is full but yours is running out

I think I'm afraid of what comes next

Yeah, I'm afraid you've lost your head

Baby, you know that I loved you first

But now, you're in love with somebody else."

Mat was losing you.

You were his best friend. You'd grown together, laughed together, made stupid decisions together in the wake of your last breakup, he always came to to with his troubles, and, as much as he hated hearing the way your ex treated you, he kept his mouth shut and kept being the shoulder you needed to cry on again and again.

And Mat had been in love with you for as long as he could remember.

Ever since the night of your breakup, he'd been waiting for the right moment to tell you how he felt. You were fresh out of a breakup, and he knew that was the worst time to say anything, so he kept quiet. He helped you get yourself out there and smile once again. He brought that beautiful, gleaming smile back to your face. And it warmed his heart to know he had helped bring some of the sunshine back to your life. He waited and waited, comforting you after all your bad first dates and keeping his cool when you came over for movie night. He tried to ignore the way his heart pounded when you circled your arms around his waist and mumbled "At least I'll always have you, Maty." He tried his hardest to calm his heart and keep his eyes on the movie while you cuddled up with him, wearing his clothes, but the light of his TV betrayed him and lit up the way you were smiling against his chest, deep in sleep, safe and comfortable in his hoodie. He didn't tell you how he felt, all those years. He couldn't lose what he had of you in trying to get more. He would be happy with just this for now.

You rested against his chest, unaware of the way Mat was staring at you as if you'd put the stars in the sky all for him. He was so ready to give you his all, to tell you everything he wanted to say, to finally get to call you his, and hear you call him yours. He leaned down to ghost his lips across your cheek, letting the words fall before he even realized his mouth was moving.

"I love you so much, more than you'll ever know."

Maybe he said the words then because he knew you wouldn't hear, maybe he was afraid of actually telling you, afraid of the chance that he would scare you away with how full his heart was. But he didn't mind. He said it, and as long as he knew he loved you, he'd be content with staying like this for a while while you picked yourself back up and regained your confidence. Once you weren't still reeling from your breakup, he'd let it out. He'd tell you for real.

But then, one of your first dates went well.

He'd gotten his usual post-date text from you, the one he always made you promise to send just so he knew you were safe. He expected another letdown, a list of all the things wrong with your date, or ways they were just like your ex. Instead, you were gushing. Mat couldn't stand the hope in your messages, the way you were so excited, rambling on and on about this guy. He wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to be glad you were finding someone you liked, but he couldn't help feeling the pain from the sting that someone was actually taking you away from him again.

Soon, your movie nights together as friends were overtaken by date nights, and Mat was left alone in his apartment, sitting on the couch you used to cuddle him on, wearing the hoodie you loved to steal, and watching the TV show you introduced him to, half heartedly checking your snap story to see you in the middle of a date with him. He tried to hide his jealousy whenever you spoke of your boyfriend, he tried to appear proud and excited for you, but the hard truth he didn't want to face was that he was losing you. He was losing his best friend, the person he loved the most.

He didn't know when this started. He didn't know how to stop it, but you were pulling away from him. And that scared him. Mat couldn’t stand watching you fall more and more in love with this guy, not when he was right there, willing to give you all the love he had in his heart.

You were the one Mat went to on his worst days. The days when he felt like a waste of space, like he'd never amount to anything more than he was. The days it seemed like the weight of everyone's expectations was about to make him crumble to his knees. The days he needed you most. It only took a quick 'you free tonight? I need you.' text, and you knew exactly the state he was in. 'Of course Mat, I'm always free for you.' But ever since you started dating this guy, his texts went unanswered, unseen, and he was left alone on his hardest nights, with harsh reminders that the girl he loved was falling in love with somebody else right in front of his eyes, while he could do nothing but watch.

This guy had no right to come between you two. After all, Mat had loved you first.

He had comforted you for years over your shitty boyfriends, and this newest guy was no exception. Mat would still find himself, on rare nights, holding you in his arms while you sobbed about how your boyfriend made you cry again, whispering to Mat that 'at least I know you would never do this to me'. But the next day you were gone, running away from him as if you'd never snuggled up in his arms for comfort, as if the late-night conversations meant nothing to you.

'You're right, I would never do this to you." He thought to himself, watching you toy with the sleeve of his sweater and snuggle into his chest to dry your eyes with your best friend's warmth. "So why do you keep going back to the man who hurt you, when I'm right here?'

Mat had so much he wanted to say, and though he didn't want you to run away again, he could only hold his tongue for so long.

"I'm so glad you invited me out for lunch, Mat. He's been such an ass lately, so I'm glad to get away. It's been a while since we talked, yeah?"

Mat couldn't bring himself to answer. God, his heart was throbbing in his chest. He loved you so much, but you were falling in love with an asshole who didn't treat you right. You looked so beautiful sitting across the table from him. The sun was gleaming off your hair, but the beauty was made sour by the necklace that sat around your neck, the necklace your boyfriend had given you on your 3 month anniversary. Mat swallowed back his nerves. "(Y/N), I need to be honest with you."

Any trace of happiness on your face was gone, replaced with dread. Part of Mat felt like shit for making you feel like that, but another, more sinister part, felt a little glimmer of revenge. You'd been running away from him for months, abandoning your best friend for some shitty boyfriend who you still cried over to him, and maybe now you were feeling a slimmer of what dread he had felt when he thought of your crumbling friendship, and the love he had for you that he couldn't do anything with. "What's wrong, Mat? It seems really serious."

"It is." Mat took a deep breath. He couldn't meet your eyes. He didn't know when he started to feel uncomfortable around you. You had always been the person he could admit anything to. Now, you were pulling away from him. "We've been friends for so long, but recently, I feel like I'm… losing you."

"Mat, you're not losing me."

"Yeah, I am. I'm losing you to your new boyfriend.”

Finally, Mat met your eyes, and was astonished by the fear there. How could you spend the last few months drawing further and further away, and then be shocked when he confronted you? Hadn't you realized how little time you spent together? Hadn't you noticed how the only time you spent with him was when he was comforting you from something your boyfriend did to upset you? Hadn't your words- 'at least I know you'd never do this to me'- meant nothing?

"Look, I know you're happy with him, and I'm happy for you… no matter how much you complain about how he's an ass... but… we- you don't come over anymore.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, Mat, I’m more busy than I was when I was single-”

“No, it's not just that. You stopped answering my texts. You know… the ones… when I'm vulnerable. When I need you. I get that you’re gonna be busy, but I opened up to you about shit I would never tell to another person, and I can’t even get a response. You're running away when I need you most…"

He let the silence fall between you again. After a few moments, you spoke up, "Mat…" but your voice fell flat when you couldn't think of the right words to fill the air.

"You still come over, but only when you need someone to dry your tears when your boyfriend did something stupid. You come to me. You only come to me when you need my comfort, but you can’t give me the comfort when I need it, and I’m fucking tired of it.” His words weren’t bitter towards you at all. That’s not what he felt. He wasn’t angry at you, he was angry that either of you had let your boyfriend come between you, he was angry at himself for letting you go, for being too fucking insecure to tell you anything. “You- you keep telling me you wish you could find someone like me. But can't you tell how perfect I am for you?"

"Mat, stop." You were picking with your fingers, a habit he knew all too well.

“I know you remember that night.”

“Mat…”

“It was when you were still trying to date, and always came over after your bad first dates. We cuddled, we…. We got way closer than friends should. I thought- I guess I just thought there was something there. I thought we’d end up as more…”

“I-” Your throat was tight. You hadn’t even realized how much Mat’s words were affecting you. “You can't just… drop all this on me right now, it's not fair."

"What do you really see in him?"

"What?"

"What do you see in him? Does he really love you like you know I do?" You sat quietly, your mouth agape, eyes dropping to the table. Mat’s voice dropped quieter. “You know I love you. I know you know. Friends don’t just cuddle and… and fucking open up about every single little insecurity and promise each other they’ll never leave, and say ‘at least I know you’d never do this to me. I loved you. So fucking much. And it’s so hard to watch you fall in love with someone else, when my heart is so fucking full of love for you.” Mat scoffed in spite of himself. He knew he was fucking it all up, your friendship, any chance of a relationship with you, and it was making his words taste even more bitter. "You know what's not fair? How I have to sit here, watching you fall in love with someone who doesn't love you nearly as much as I do."

“Please stop, Mat.” You quieted him, your hands shaking, in fear of what would come of your surely-shattered friendship. “I- I didn’t know. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Bullshit.” Mat was well aware of the tears beading in his eyes, but he tried his hardest to ignore the burn of them rolling thickly down his cheeks. “I- I was always there to hold you… to comfort you when your dates didn’t go well or when your boyfriend fucked up. Can’t you see?”

The silence that fell between the two of you was deafening. Neither of you could make eye contact, and instead focused on staring at the table, not caring about the people inevitably walking around you and wondering what was happening.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Mat.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't… I’m with my boyfriend. I can’t just…” You shook your head. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Nothing.” Mat sat back in his chair. He’d said what he invited you here to say, and that was all he had planned. He didn’t think of anything else past this point. “I just… I had to tell you. I’m not gonna tell you what to do, I’m not gonna say you have to choose me or him, and I’m sure this fucked up our friendship like crazy. I just- I can’t keep watching this, okay? That’s all I had to say. I know you love him, and I… fuck, I still love you. I just hope you don’t forget about me, alright?”

“Mat, you’re my best friend.”

Mat stood up, sliding down some money for the drink he had bought earlier. God, he felt like shit, watching the girl he loved move on, knowing there was no way they could keep going on like this, no way she would want to keep seeing him knowing how he felt. But he couldn’t hide it any longer, and now, it was ruined.

“I gotta go.”