#but since november ive been able to let go of so much

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Eight: [Oh, Honeybee]

Summary: Jake can’t accept why you’d keep such a life-threatening situation a secret and you can’t accept why he suddenly seems to care.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Word Count: 4K

Author Note: Smaller chapter, but still the same level of pain. Let me know what y’all think about the confrontation of it all.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“The fuck?” Bradley Bradshaw hated the festive season. He wasn't a Christmas guy. He didn't have an awful lot of family to celebrate with over the consumerist holiday that was shoved down your throat before mid November. He just wasn't the kinda guy who wanted to get involved in the festivities. 

“Who's calling you at ten at night?” Natasha Trace would probably end up regretting her decision to sleep with her co-worker and friend, but the drunken antics she and Rooster had gotten up to earlier in the afternoon ended up with a trip back to his house. 

“Its Hangman–” Bradley answered the naked woman beside him as he sat up in the bed he truly never should have brought her back to. He knew Phoenix would end up regretting her decision to sleep with him. A pity fuck they’d both end up calling it. “Hello?” 

“Are you busy?” Jake asked as he continued to watch you sleep. It had been a few hours since he got to the hospital and about two since he told your mother to go home for some much deserved rest. 

Bradley looked over his shoulder to see Phoenix rolling over, her chest laid flat against the mattress that smelled so much of Bradley. He sighed, peeled the covers up from over his legs and swung them over the side. 

“Nah, what’s up? Everything good?” The pair hadn’t always been on good terms, but ever since Jake had ultimately risked his own life to save Roosters, the two had been able to put their differences aside and let bygones be bygones. 

“I don’t think I’m coming back after Christmas.” Jake started as he let his head lean against the far too uncomfortable hospital chair he’d been sitting in for the better half of four hours. “Somethings’ happened and I dunno what I’m gonna do man.” It was the tone Jake was using that made Bradley frown as he slipped into his sweats. 

“Something happen to one of the kids, man?” Rooster has never heard Jake sound so defeated before. But as he padded down the hall Rooster had to stop in his tracks as Jake explained your current situation. He read the notes right from your chart, from the type of cancer to the stroke you had, how he tried to tuck your hair behind your ear and it fell from your scalp. How he’d tried to win you back, how you’d slept together, how you told him you still loved him yet thought divorce was the best way to go about things. Jake emptied his heart on Bradley sleeve and Bradley didn’t know how to process the pain and anguish Jake was obviously feeling. 

“Are you at the hospital right now? With Y/n?” 

“Yeah—yeah I just sent Maz, Y/n’s mum home to rest and shit.” Jake ran his hand across his face as he watched the IV bag containing your sedative get smaller and smaller. He wasn’t sure how you were going to react when you woke up and saw he was here. “I’ll probably go between here and her house, the kids are at mum's place and I can’t imagine what they’re thinking knowing that we’re both not there.” 

“I could uh—“ Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t a Christmas guy, but he was a family first person. “I could fly out? Maybe get the kids from your mum's house and get them back to Rhode Island? I’m not doing anything this Christmas so I’ve got time.” 

“Bradshaw,” Jake nearly sobbed. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“It’s nothing, really, you’re one guy man, stay with your wife, or ex wife? I don’t really wanna get into your business but just text me the details when you can and I’ll organise your kids.” 

“I’ll text you my sister's number.” Jake replied. “She’ll help you out.” There was no real reason to argue, Jake knew that once Rooster had his mind set on something he was gonna do it. 

“No worries, I’m uh—I don’t even know what to say man, I’m so sorry, no one deserves to go through this.” It hit Rooster too close to home, his mother died when he was seventeen from Breast Cancer very similar to yours. It took her quicker than doctors had ever anticipated. 

He just hopes you wouldn’t meet the same untimely fate. 

“Anything man, anything you need, I'm there.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Time seemed more like an artificial construct as Jake watched Lydia disconnect the line that had been slowly feeding your body with a moderate range sedative. The young nurse looked guilty as she tried to avoid eye contact with the man she had accidentally told private patient information to. 

“She’ll slowly start to wake up over the next hour now that she isn’t slowly taking on the sedative.” Lydia explained. “She might be quite irritable and loopy but I’ll have her surgeon come by for assessment once she’s up.”

“When I was about your age I accidentally hit one of my commanding officers' car while pulling out of the car park at the Naval Base I was stationed at.” Jake mentioned as he let himself curl up in the world's most uncomfortable chair. “Point is we all

make mistakes, don’t beat yourself up about it, but I’d definitely be a little more cautious when reading patients emergency contacts.” 

“You’re wife’s a pretty strong woman Mr. Seresin.” Lydia smiled. “I hope that despite whatever reason she was keeping all this from you, that she’s happy you’re by her side when she wakes up.” Jake chuckled as he slightly readjusted himself and pulled his hood over his head. There were a plethora of ways you could react to his presence running through his mind, he hoped though, that the young nurse who’d accidentally filled him in on your current fight was right. 

“I hope so too kid, I hope so too.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The slow steady rhythm of the many monitors currently tracking your vitals were the first sounds you heard as you slowly but surely woke from what you could only describe as one of the deepest states of complete and utter rest you’d ever experienced. 

Next it was the multi coloured Christmas lights that were hanging around your room. The reds, greens, yellows and blues that reminded you of nineties joy were the first things you noticed in the dimly lit hospital room you knew you were in. 

The third thing you noticed wasn’t a sound or an object, but it was the all too familiar sleeping man curled up in the most awkward position imaginable next to your bedside. Jake, your Jake. Sleeping with his mouth open wide and his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Woah—“ You groggily cooed as you felt the presence of another man checking your vitals beside you. “Whatever the hell kinda drugs you’ve got me on right now Doc has me seeing my ex husband.” You smiled ear to ear as you kept looking at Jake, sleeping, a little bit of drool even tainted his chin as his arms remained crossed and his hood covered his head. “This shits strong as.”

Doctor Ignatii continued reading and recording your vitals the more you came to, he knew, judging by the time you’d finished your dose of intravenous sedative and how cognitive you were, you’d come to realise in about two, maybe three minutes indefinitely that it wasn’t the drugs making you see the mirage of a man at your bedside, but in fact the real deal. 

“Mrs Seresin, can you follow the light for me?” Doctor Ignatii asked with a smile as he clicked on the small but effective flashlight at the end of his pen. He was gentle with the way he handled your head ever so cautiously, holding your eyelids open one by one as you followed the light accordingly. “Can you count to five?” 

“One, two, three, four, five—“ You mumbled out. Jake heard your voice as he stirred next to you and shot up with a gasp that startled you. He looked like a deer caught in headlights as he sat upright and wiped the dry drool from his chin. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living Mr Seresin, I've seen a lot of ways people have tried to sleep in those horrid chairs but I’ve never seen that particular position before.” Doctor Ignatii chuckled to himself as he clicked his pen light off and placed it back in his top pocket. “Alright Y/n, wiggle your toes and touch your nose for me.” All you did was stare at your husband. Why was he here? Who told him? “Mrs Seresin, wiggle your toes for me please.” Doctor Ignatii was a little firmer in his request, he wasn't sure if you were just distracted or if you simply couldn't comply with his request because you couldn't feel your toes.  

But when you finally did wiggle your toes, when you finally brought your index finger up to your nose and when you finally spoke, Doctor Ignatii knew that in the next hour or so when he got you up and walking, that you were going to be just fine.  

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was rather horse from the sedative but you were able to ask Jake that all too powerful question that sliced his skin clean open like one of the sharpest knives never could. Doctor Ignatii knew that he had to give you some space when he was finished assessing your ability to wiggle your toes he cleared his throat. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I'll give you two a moment alone, but Lydia will be in shortly.” He explained before making his way out of your hospital room. The silence was deafening as Jake cleared his throat and looked anywhere but in your eyes to begin with. 

“Jake–” You immediately asked again as you tried to sit up a little straighter. “What are you doing here?” Jake ignored your initial question and instead pressed his tongue into the middle of his cheek. His blood was boiling, he was so full of rage that you hadn’t told him you were sick that he couldn't think straight now that he knew you were awake and talking. You were supposed to be the mother of his children if at the very least. He felt like you had an obligation to disclose medical diagnoses that could alter the course of your children's lives. Right? 

“You have cancer and you didn't tell me?” Jake frowned as he spoke through a tired growl. “You have cancer and you didn’t think to mention it at all, not even a downplayed version of the truth? You just–” Jakes reaction wasn't something that surprised you, but his anger did. That anger was something you hadn’t seen in a long time, anger born from love and compassion. An anger so pure it rivalled empathy itself just in a different font. “You just negated the entire thing? Jesus Christ Y/n! You have–” 

“Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma.” You interrupted Jake as tears welled in your eyes. “I know, I found out back in November, I hadn’t been feeling all that well since around March.” You kicked yourself everyday for not getting yourself to a doctor sooner, but with your separation, work, the kids, you just decided to self diagnose yourself as an overworked mum who had little to no time for herself. Finding the time to see a doctor was nearly impossible, it was only when you found that lump in the shower you panicked. “Jake I–” 

“You–” Jake clenched his jaw as tight as he could, you swore he could have chipped his bottom teeth he was clenching that hard trying to control his frustration. “You don’t get to fucking do this to me do you understand?” 

“Excuse me?” You questioned as Jake stood up from the chair he’d been cramped in for the better half of the last twelve hours. “I didn’t choose to do this willingly Jake are you fucking kidding me?” It may have come out more aggressive than Jake had intended it to, but his heart hurt so much he swore he was having a heart attack the more he looked at you in the hospital bed connected to machines and wires that told him what your heart was doing and what your blood pressure was. “I didn't choose to get fucking cancer!” 

“No, no you didn’t Y/n but you chose not to tell me about it.” Jake sighed. “Am I really that bad of a person that you can't tell the father of your fuckings kids that you might be dying? Stage three!? I'd understand if you had a scare and didn’t mention it or a bad rash but stage three?” Jake spat as he walked around your hospital room like he was looking for a way out of this whole mess. “That’s closer to a death sentence than it is to a malignant mass!” 

All you could do was listen, you couldn't run this time. You had to face the man who broke your heart more ways than one as he raised his voice and walked around your hospital room with his hands on his hips. 

“You, you had a stroke too.” Jake's voice softened as did his eyes, the realisation had hit as the immediate love filled anger that clouded his judgement faded. The misguided anger that he might truly be losing the love of his life had begun to wash away as the sadness crept in. 

“Yeah–” You didn't hold it against Jake, you'd had more time to process this than he did. “Apparently the chemotherapy was just causing havoc to my nervous system and caused a clot that travelled from my leg to my brain.” You said it with a shrug, like it was no big deal. Jake's eyes widened at the idea of something that was meant to help you had done so much damage. “I was given a pamphlet, strokes were a side effect, but I just didn’t think it would happen to me you know.” 

“Honeybee–” Jake cooed as he came back over to your bedside. “I–” There was a distinct tentative pause in the way his hand automatically went to slip into yous, but even though Jake second guessed his own judgement there for a split second, he still placed his hand in yours and reveled in the way you squeezed him back. “I can't understand why you wouldn't tell me about this.” Jake had tried to understand, truly he did. He thought about it alot on the plane–all the ways in which he’d ever let you down. He understood he was a shitty husband, or had been, but this was life or death. 

Jake almost wished he never asked why and had instead just silently accepted the fact you decided not to loop him in on what was probably your biggest health complication since Samuel was born. He almost wished he hadn’t asked because the way you looked right into his eyes as your bottom lip quivered and your eyes watered with such a heartbreaking cry of anguish that ripped through your chest, Jake wished he hadnt fucking asked. 

“I didn't tell you because I just didn't think you’d care.” You cried violently as Jake helped you sit up. “I didnt–I just didnt think youd, you'd care about me.” Your cries were muffled into Jake's shoulder as he held you, he wanted to climb right into the hospital bed with you, but he couldn't. So Jake compromised and leaned over just enough to wrap you in his arms and rub small circles into your back as you buried your face in his chest and shoulder. “I didn't think you’d fucking care–because you haven’t cared about me in years!”

“I have never stopped caring about you.” Jake cried too, he couldn't hold it in any longer. “I have never and I will never stop caring about you Honey.” It was a hard statement to believe especially with what the past four years had been. “I promised you in sickness and in health, I'm here, I've got you.” Jake cooed as he tried to soothe you, your cries of pure anguish for your own situation made him want to die. What more could he possibly do to ease this burden from you, what could he possibly do to take the pain away. “I'm here, I'm right here.” 

“You don’t have to pretend.” You tried to calm yourself down as much as you could. “Please Jake you don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore, I’m not yours.” 

“No you’re not—“ Jake nodded in agreement as he pulled away to wipe your tears, you looked like hell but he wasn’t about to tell you that. To Jake you were still the most beautiful woman in the entire world, the only woman he ever needed, wanted. “But I’m still yours alright, you have me and I’m not pretending.” Jake wiped the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks, he tried not to tug at the oxygen tube feeding into your nose. “I’ve got you yeah? You don’t have to do this alone.” 

“I never wanted to do any of it alone.” You sobbed again, it was all too much. Jake knew what you meant by all, you never expected your marriage to fall apart. Neither did he. “I can’t do any of this, I’m so fucking scared.” If someone had asked Jake three years ago if his marriage would fall apart around him, he would have stood up and punched whoever had said such blasphemy in the mouth. But here he was. 

“You’re okay.” Jake tried his best to console you, he did know what else he could do in the moment beside to hold you. The kiss he left atop your forehead was so pure and full of love you swore it sent an electric shock through your body, the same kind of electricity you felt when you slept with Jake the night before you said goodbye to your kids. “I'm not leaving your side alright, “I’m here, I've got you, I can't lose you this way– I wont.” 

Jake knew this love was a burden that you both shared. The both of you were just two sinners who can't atone from a lone prayer. Two souls tied, intertwined by pride and guilt. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Jake was true to his word, he didn't leave your side for the rest of the day. He stayed right by your side hand in hand, just sitting there, talking, not talking, sleeping. All that mattered was that he was there. 

“What do you mean Bradley Bradshaw offered to get the kids from your mum's house?” You thought for a split second that perhaps you hadnt woken up. Or maybe you'd actually woken up in some parallel universe where your husband never forgot how to love you and he didn't have a disdain for the man who gave him his Call Sign out of rage. “Bradley Bradshaw? As in Rooster?” 

Jake couldn't help but to smile, there was so much he had to fill you in on, the two of you hadnt really sat down and spoken uninterrupted without the kids since January. Sure there were family functions and times where you and Jake had to coexist and coparents. But he never really saw a reason to tell you all about his time in North Island. You were with him when he was called to Togun the first time, there wasn't any need to really rub your nose in the fact he was called back again. After all, a part of the reason you left was because Jake prioritised his work life over his home life, more specifically, you. 

“Would you believe me if I told you I saved his life?” Jake couldn't erase the grin that grew ear to ear from his face as he watched your eyes light up with shock and excitement. He missed this, the gentle moments. 

“You did not–” In all the time you had known Jake while he was a loyalist to the United States Navy, he had never once put a toe out of line. Never pushed back, never rocked the boat. He had a goal and that goal was to reach the top. You couldn't do that while drawing unwanted attention to yourself. 

“I did,” He chuckled through that very grin that you swore was permanently pinned to his cheeks. “Even went against orders to do it.” The look of pure shock on your face told Jake all he needed to know, you didn't believe what he was telling you. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Jake Seresin?” You chuckled softly as Jake ran his thumb across your hand. “You? Going against the brace? Unheard of.” A lot of what made Jake, well, Jake–was that he loved his job. 

“Trust me Honey I never thought I'd see the damn day either.” Jake sighed, he still couldn't believe how much his time in North Island had changed him. How it broadened his perspective on all the things that made him simply him. “But he was stuck in a pretty tight spot, so was Mav, our Captain.” 

“Well–” You smiled as you readjusted yourself in your bed. Unbeknownst to both you and Jake, Lydia was watching just out of frame from her spot at the nurses station. She couldn't help but to notice the loving, all encompassing look the two of you shared. Perhaps her small mistake that usually would have been a carrier ending HIPAA violation wasn't so bad after all. “Look at The Hangman go huh, who says he's always leaving people out to dry.” 

“Oh I could still name a few–” It was organic the way you and Jake fell into a rhythm with one another when the pair of you allowed each other to do so. “But yeah, he's gonna fly in, get the kids for us because I really don't want them there for too long without at least one of us there and bring them back to your mums for us.” 

“Is she alright with that?” As always Jake knew you would think about everyone but yourself when the only person you should have been thinking about right now was you. “What if she–” Jake cut you off with a simple shake of his head.  

“I already organised it.” Jake explained softly, his thumb never stopped stroking your hand as he held it. “Your mums gonna take the kids while we figure all this out, I don't want them with mine.” It wasn't that Jake didn't love his Ma, he did. But the idea of her having the kids for an extended amount of time gave him stomach issues he couldn't handle. “I saved his life, I trust him to escort our three terrors back here.” 

“Have you met our kids? You asked with an all knowing look that Jake caught right away. Maybe Rooster wasn't the best person to call on, he had zero experience with kids, let alone Jake's twins and two year old. 

Jake knew that you knew there was a darkness in the distance, but in the moment while everything felt normal, you both laughed together knowing exactly how the flight with your kids would go for Bradley Bradshaw. 

“You’re totally right–” Jake cooed. “He might need to bring his flight helmet as a safety precaution.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #jake hangman imagine #hangman top gun

[the-light-finds-its-way]

Mom got out of ICU today, and put into a normal hospital room. My family went to go see her, and as for myself and my siblings, it was basically the first time in 3 weeks that we'd seen her.

She was covered in giant tender bruises from head to toe. Thankfully, only 2 IVs were in versus the original 7, and she was down to one pole that held the bags, while the rest were hooked to the bed. The blood clot in her leg has grown, and is breaking up at last, or so we assume. But mom can't walk because it hurts so bad. She has mesh in her lungs now to prevent the clots from reaching them again, which will kill her if they do. Additionally, she's on oxygen for the time being. And, there's a chance when she comes home, that she'll have to remain on oxygen tanks, and if that's the case then nobody is sure how long. But I've got this awful gut feeling telling me mom will be on the tanks for the rest of her life... I don't know, and have no way of knowing, but that's just what my stupid gut is saying to me. It'll be minimally 3-5 more days before she's released to go home. It could be more, and something inside also tells me it's going to be longer. But mom says she's doing the best she has been since the first surgery 3 weeks ago. Her nurses are really nice, super sweet, and they playfully poked (hehe) at my needle weenie self who had to turn away when they drew blood from her.

My anxiety didn't help when a $86 bill went through on my bank account that's already overdrawn by Gods only know how much... I'll be damned lucky if I make $150 for this paycheck. And an artist I commissioned back in March last year for a November finishing time on a piece, was late and is now almost finished in January. I'll have to pay him the other $175 soon, and I don't know when, and if I'll even have a single dollar to spare by then... There's another draft I have coming, on the 16th, for the retirement fund my father forces me to pay into unless I want to give him $100 for literally no reason, minimally once a month but possibly more, instead of the $75 for the fund once a month. So I go for the fund. And then, I have to somehow pay for my therapy appointment in another 10 days as well. I'm really not sure if I can do all this. I ditched college to work more, and as soon as I did, they cut me down to one day a week for the next 4 weeks, and there are no people I can cover because everyone is scrambling with trying to get more than 25 hours per week. Fuckers. Try living off 8 a week, when you just told the boss you're free all day every day at any time, and they won't even schedule you for 1/3 of what everyone else is working part time, let alone full time.

I'm so scared, so lost... I was hoping to get a ticket to go see Blind Guardian in May, but they're selling fast and I'm not sure when I'll ever have the money, if I will have the money, to get one in time... Not like I've waited 9 years to go see them live for the first time ever... I somehow have to save $32 for a train ticket as well by mid February, to go to the city for something I'd planned 7 months ago. And then, I planned a trip with friends which I may not be able to do if this keeps going downhill with my money... I already have to pay for a con we are going to as well in September. And I'm just... Fucking distraught. I planned my entire year around the fact that I'd be working full time and get more money. And work kicked my ass with a giant fuck you immediately upon me making those plans.

Fuck my life. Give me my healthy mom back, and $1000. Please... I'm fucking desperate and broken...

#mun is a titan #not destiny

[tmmyrp]

hi everyone, tommy here! not tmmyrp, but tommy aka bell from metfell's system. I run tmmyrp and have for a year now! that's pretty fucking crazy like holy shit. i didn't expect this silly roleplay blog to turn into one of my favorite projects ive ever worked on, and i've been able to do it with some of my best friends!!

ive been having creative burnout with tmmyrp for a bit. now- now before you get all fuckin concerned n shit i'm not stopping the blog!! i just thought id let you all know. me n fern- our cranboo- are a bit more active on latenightmining right now, since this blog's plot has pretty much been resolved in a way im happy with. i'm still gonna be roleplaying on here, but i'm moving away from any huge serious conversations. there will be a few more, there's still some stuff id like to resolve with songbird, and of course october and november 16th are coming up. but overall i want tmmyrp to finally have some peace. he's okay now, he's happy. so send asks prompting him to go hang out with tubbo or techno or wilbur or quackity or even phil- hell even ranboo we can figure that out!! ask him about his knitting and sewing projects, his favorite things he's made and favorite places to go. ask him about his favorite time of day or weather or give him an idea for something to do! he's here to have fun :)

we've had so much fucking fun and so many memories. there was the start of finding gertrude, carving pumpkins with songbird, ranboo dying and dream escaping, the gala, getting tulip, ranboos SECOND death leading to the creation of petalsbrough with tubbolul, the shapeshifting or stress shitting lol, the reconciliation with technoblade, getting to interact with casinoroyale and then bring charlie back home to him, live roleplaying while the queen died, exile 2 and the scary shit with bestnightmares, when bestnightmares got fuckin terminated mid thread and it was so goddamn funny everyone lost their minds, tommy locking beeduo in a room to sort their problems out, tommy embracing puffy making him the server therapist and trying to therapize people but needing it more than anyone, the way everything changed november 28th and bedrockverse branched out to be its own little thing.

i love everything ive written with everyone, and its kind of crazy that this is my first experience roleplaying ever. there's nearly 1000 of you now, and i don't know what i have planned for the anniversary! im writing this a couple days early because i got so emotional. you've all seen me grow and get better at writing and now i feel so satisfied with the product ive made here with everyone else. it's a group effort, we all worked so hard trying to make something memorable, something that represents how much we love these characters from this silly minecraft roleplay server.

you all mean the fucking world to me <3 sorry i'll be a bit less fuckin sappy and emotional n shit uh. women primes fuck you get bitches die. or something.

#bedrockverse

[catb-fics]

Hi gorgeous!! I'm planning to go on a trip to England on november 😝 I was hoping you could recommend me some rural places bc Ive seen a lot of villages that are soooo pretty 🥹🥹 x thank u

Hiya my lovely!

Is there a particular area you’re visiting? And are you coming from somewhere hot as prepare for it to be pretty cold in November if you are! 🥶

There’s so much gorgeous countryside around, I particularly like the South coast, reminds me of my childhood family hols and some of it is so pretty. Cornwall, Devon and Dorset I’ve probably visited mostly, some of the coastline is stunning but it might be a bit cold for the beach. If you’re going up North I love Yorkshire and the Lake District is really picturesque, like everywhere you look is like a postcard. I’ve heard Wales is pretty too but not been since I was tiny so can’t really remember much about it. Also Scotland but I’ve only visited Edinburgh myself. The Cotswolds is nice and if you’re visiting cities some of the old university cities have loads of history and are great to look around.

If there’s a particular area you’re staying let me know and I might be able to recommend some places if I’m familiar with it.

My other UK mutuals might want to chip in with their recommendations too… Hope you have a fantastic time ❤️ xx

#uk places to visit

[kiwichaeng]

hello!! i hope you’re doing okay, and i hope your busyness isn’t too bad. as always, no pressure to answer this ask, but i am here as the hs tarlos fairy (i think i gave that a catchier name before) about to sprinkle a load of rambling into your inbox.

firstly, we have a single line from november which ive started editing. i’m finding it difficult to get lines that aren’t too spoilery but i mean..

In his defense, he really needed to spend an hour or so, longer, cuddling his boyfriend.

look, tk always needs to cuddle carlos. that’s a fact.

beyond november, i’m about to start writing february and have i raved about it yet because i’m super excited for it!? not to be annoying with these teases, but it’s a big month for parallels (so in term, sappiness). also, i should be posting the next chapter with carlos’ birthday tomorrow, and im excited for you to read that!!

one last thing: i said this before but ive been thinking again about their long-term future and i have a vague idea for the first 6ish months post-high school and UGH i could tell you everything 😭 (/pos). i love acting like these fictional boys exist it’s great.

wow this is super long. thank you for your time, sending you lots of love and positive vibes!! 💫

The notification for this was the first thing I saw when I woke up today and it was a really nice way to wake up! I read over this in the car but now I can actually like answer it lmao. I love the hs tarlos fairy title, it's very fitting 🩷

TK is soo correct! The cuddles are not a want but a NEED! Let this boy cuddle his boyfriend! They both deserve all the cuddles ever 🥺😭! I love them so much???? It's actually crazy how invested I am in this. All the cuddles for those two!!

OH MY GOD PARALLELS??? Listen I am feral for stuff like this! I am absolutely gonna go CRAZY when I read the parallels! (Although if I'm counting correctly then Feb will fall right in the middle of my finals 😞). I love love love stuff like this!!! Maybe I just love connecting random dots and crying over them. Delighted to hear you're thinking about their future! They deserve all the goodness and oh my god they're spending the rest of their life together dhjfhdjdhksjfhf 😭😭. Also gonna be honest I too think about them as real and existing sometimes to get through a day 😔

Since you sent this while I was asleep, I'm guessing the chapter comes out tonight for me which is AMAZING! Cannot wait! Hopefully, I'll be able to finish with everything by midnight so I can settle in and read 🩷. Thank you for this, I loved everything 🩷🩷

#asks #millie! ✨

[cambion-companion]

I posted 1,891 times in 2022

That's 1,765 more posts than 2021!

739 posts created (39%)

1,152 posts reblogged (61%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@adderess

@aemonds-war-crime

@echte-liebe-bitches

@theladyalicent

@aemondtargaryensrider

I tagged 1,590 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#aemond targaryen - 934 posts

#house of the dragon - 474 posts

#answered ask - 437 posts

#aemond stannies - 360 posts

#aemond one eye - 354 posts

#aemond fanfic - 283 posts

#aemond x reader - 258 posts

#aemond imagine - 246 posts

#hotd - 215 posts

#pro aemond targaryen - 203 posts

Longest Tag: 95 characters

#honestly this is my favorite picture of aemond to date and i will never get tired of posting it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hi!! could we maybe pretty please get a drabble of aemond and female!reader taking a bath together and her taking care of his beautiful hair? just aemond being so in love and letting himself be vulnerable around his lover 🥹 (ive just envisioned him letting out his iconic 'mhm' as he's having his scalp massaged and squealed out loud he's too much for meee) thank you have a nice day!!!

See the full post

2,146 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

#4

Comedy of Errors Pt. 1

Based off this post, I had to write a short drabble haha it's been eating at my brain ALL DAY.

Part 2 here

Aemond x drunk!reader | hilarity ensues

You were very drunk.

It wasn't often you indulged, but tonight Aegon had successfully persuaded you to down goblet after goblet of wine until the hour grew late and your vision swam before your bleary eyes.

Your husband, throwing a last exasperated look to his elder brother, helped you rise from the table. "Y/N, put your arm around my shoulders. No, my shoulders, Y/N."

With a long-suffering sigh, Aemond grabbed your limp wrist, pulling your arm over his shoulders himself. You giggled madly, egged on by Aegon's tipsy cackles. It was just the three of you remaining in the dining hall, Helaena had long since made her escape back to her chambers.

It was with difficulty Aemond maneuvered you both around the oaken table and to the door. "Good night you two!" Aegon called after your retreating forms, raising another full cup to toast a farewell, sitting now alone inside the firelit hall.

Aemond had indulged in one glass of wine, switching to water for the rest of the evening. He had watched with increasing alarm at how quickly you'd inhaled each refill of your own drink, casting warning glares to his brother whenever Aegon refilled your cup enthusiastically.

You were having a tough time walking, much less being able to see the details of where you were being led. Your voice slurred as you tried to speak to the man helping you to your rooms. "I can quite manage on my own, thank you oh generous lord...lady...whoever you are." You ran a hand along Aemond's chest letting out a giggle. "Lord it is. You're a man."

"Last time I checked." Aemond said dryly, hoisting you back upright as your knees buckled slightly, opening the door to your shared bedroom and guiding you through before relinquishing his hold on you. "I am also your husband."

You collapsed onto the couch. "My husband." You smiled dreamily; eyes taken in by the dancing flames of the fireplace. "My husband is a dragon, you know."

"Is he indeed." Aemond crouched before you to unlace your shoes, smiling slightly as you continued.

"Oh yes." You lifted a heavy foot to aid in the removal of your shoes, your feet aching. "He's tall, like this tall." You raised a limp hand into the air above your head. "His hair is gorgeous. It's ridiculous really, he refuses to tell me the secret."

"Mhm. Go on."

"Yeah...so silky and long...it's not fair. He's smart, like book smart you know?" You tapped your temple with a finger.

"I do." Aemond was making a valiant effort to keep a straight face as he looked up at you from the rug, kneading small circles into the arch of your foot.

"He's brave, he rides Vhagar." You lowered your voice to a whisper at the dragon's name. "The biggest lizard in all the world."

Aemond laughed loudly at that, his voice filling the room. "Does he now? Sounds like quite a man."

"Oh he is." You laid back against the cushions, sighing dreamily, a little trickle of drool running down the corner of your mouth. "He is absolute magic in bed." You sat up again suddenly, swaying as your vision spun. "His cock is about the size of a Pentosi-"

"I think," Aemond interrupted, wiping your mouth with his thumb. "It is quite time for bed, don't you?"

"Mmm, bed." You agreed, trying to stand only to fall back against the sofa, laughing helplessly.

"Here, my love." Aemond, ever patient with you, sat you upright, reaching around your waist to pull at the laces of your dress.

You slapped his hands away, a frown upon your flushed features. "No, no, no, for my husband only."

"Y/N I-"

"No, his hands only touch." You gestured to yourself before raising your arms like a marionette doll. "Help me to bed, Clive."

"I'm having words with Aegon tomorrow." Aemond murmured, knowing that arguing would be useless as he helped you stand and make your stumbling way to the bed.

He tried once more to assist you out of your heavy gown, but you hit at his chest weakly with loose fists. "I'll tell my husband of this behavior; he'll have something to say to you when he finds out."

"Of that, I have no doubt." Aemond sighed, relenting as you shook a stern finger at the bedpost.

See the full post

2,236 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

#3

I am mind blown at how good your writing is! Absolutely mind blown! Your portrayal of Aemond in every single piece is just 👌🥹

I do have a teency little request if you’re still taking them and that’s Aemond all frustrated with you, seeing as you’ve been teasing him constantly throughout a feast, which is when he demands/drags you away into a dark corner which he then proceeds to absolutely annihilate you from behind, I’m talking slapping your ass, literally pounding you that hard you’ll have fingerprint bruises all over your hips and thighs, wrapping his hands around your neck and making sure you realise that you BELONG to him. No one else… Please excuse me as I go and fan myself 🥵🔥

Hi!

I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Pure filth

I held off tagging anyone because I won't do that for nsfw fics

Word count: 1233

Aemond x f!reader | smut | lots of smut | possessive Aemond

You were dreadfully bored.

The dinner was dragging on longer than you had the patience for. Hours seemed to have passed since you’d finished eating. The droning conversation around the long table sounding much like the buzzing of lazy bees.

You glanced at your husband out of the corner of your eye, mischief twisting in your pleasantly full stomach.  He certainly looked polished, poised, and ever so handsome.  His long silver hair falling over his shoulders, glimmering in the candlelight.  His violet eye, surveying the chattering crowd with mild disinterest; the other side of his face covered by a leather eyepatch, giving him a roguish appearance.  You wished to run your fingers along his sharp jawline, gripping his strong chin with your fingers and…ah he’d caught you staring.

Aemond’s eye had alighted upon your face, seeming to sense the intensity of your gaze.  His curved lips quirked slightly in a debonair smirk.

He could see right through you.

By the dilation of his pupil, he was feeling much the same upon surveying your own alluring features.

Under the pretense of raising your goblet of wine to your mouth, you reached with your free hand under the table, caressing Aemond’s knee.  He shot you a warning glance, but did not move away, enabling you to continue tracing a wandering path higher up his leg.

You felt his long fingers grip your playful hand as you reached toward the inside of his upper thigh, stilling your progress.  You pouted at him over the rim of your glass.

His eye smoldered violet fire, grip tightening.

You moved your foot then, gently rubbing it up and down his calf. Aemond looked briefly up to the ceiling, as if searching for strength amongst the vaulted beams there, before moving just out of reach of your exploratory foot, his hand still restraining your own.

Servants approached, bringing with them desserts which they placed on the table before you.  You returned your hands to where decorum dictated, helping yourself to a portion of chocolate pudding.

You caught Aemond’s gaze as you raised a spoonful to your lips, making sure not to break eye contact as you slowly sucked the delectable mousse into your mouth.

His lips parted, the prince was barely able to conceal the desire and aggravation warring across his face.  His hands, resting now beside his plate, clenched into fists.

Abruptly, he stood.

You glanced down but his tunic was long enough to conceal any evidence of your hard work from prying eyes.

Aemond extended a hand to you. “May I have a word, dear wife?”

“Of course, loving husband.”  You took his proffered hand, his fingers instantly vicelike upon yours.

With barely restrained haste, Aemond practically dragged you from your seat and out the door into the cooler air of the empty corridor.  

It was a large, long hallway, framed on either side by stone columns, behind one of which your husband pulled you.  The breath left your lungs in a rush as he pushed you roughly back against the cool surface, his lips hot upon your own.  His tongue forced its way into your mouth, tasting the dessert you had sampled.

You returned his embrace with fervor, tangling your fingers into his long hair, pulling him harder against you.  

Aemond broke away to look at your face, his hands gripping your waist. “You think you can torment me, and suffer no consequences?”

“I was actually hoping there’d be some repercussions.”  You breathed out, gasping as Aemond spun you around, your hands rising to support your weight upon the red stone pillar.

See the full post

2,425 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

#2

"Can I sit here?" "Y/N, that's my lap."

Yep! Inspired by this post haha I couldn't RESIST

Aemond x reader | drunk tipsy reader

“May I sit here?”  

“Y/N…that’s my lap.”

You pouted at Aemond, your lower lip jutting out. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy.”  You corrected, raising a finger in delicate objection, swaying on the spot. “In fact, I feel quite unbalanced…oh no…”  With a sigh of false distress, you sank to sit upon Aemond’s thigh, grinning as his hands came up instinctively to support your waist.

“You’re insufferable.”  The prince fought down the smile tugging at his lips.  Your faces were very close as you leaned against his chest, gliding your fingers through his long silver hair.

“You love me anyway.”  You skimmed your lips along his forehead, before planting a sloppy kiss to the side of his face.

Aemond took hold of your face, gripping your chin between two long fingers. “Indeed.  For some odd reason, I do.”  He pulled you in for a kiss, teasing your lower lip with light nibbles.

You scooted to a more secure position in your lover’s lap, wrapping your arms tighter about his shoulders.  Aemond’s head tilted back as you deepened the kiss, sweeping your eager tongue against his.

“You taste of several different ales.���  Aemond observed, pulling away enough to measure your expressions with his keen violet eye.

“Tipsy.”  You repeated, feeling it necessary to defend your current blurry state of mind. “And horny.” You giggled.

Aemond sucked in a sharp breath, pressing his finger to your lips to shush you.  You took it upon yourself to take that digit into your mouth, laving it with your tongue in the way you wished to suck on a different member of his.

“Y/N, by the hells.”  Aemond tried to be cross with you, but his eye crinkled as he looked up at you. “You are in a state.”

“You could help me…out of a state.”  You wiggled suggestively where you perched upon his legs.

“Not while you’re inebriated.”  Aemond shook his head, his mouth thinning into a line. “That’s out of the question.  Go drink some water, then come back and woo me.”

“Woo you?”  You laughed raucously, throwing your head back. “I never dreamt I’d hear you say the word ‘woo’. Woo!”  Your laughter caught in your throat as Aemond raked his teeth across your exposed neck, nipping at your delicate flesh.  You looked back down at him, the pout back on your face. “That’s not playing fair, Aemond.”

“Hmm.  Rich coming from you, my lady.”  

You scooped your hair to one side, arching your neck for him. “Do that again.”

“No.”  Aemond practically growled, gripping your waist tighter, making to move you off his lap.

You clung tighter to him, refusing to be removed.  Aemond only struggled momentarily before falling back against his seat, a bemused expression upon his face. “I’ll make a deal with you, though I don’t usually bargain with drunkards.”

“Tipsy.”

“Go drink some water, enough to sober up and I will take you back to our chambers where we may resume…whatever this is.”  Aemond gestured with his free hand to your entwined bodies. “If you still wish to.”

His words almost sobered you on their own, you tilted your head looking at him, a warm emotion spreading through your chest. Carefully, you rose back to your feet, placing a delicate kiss to the palm of Aemond’s hand. “Alright.”  

The prince seemed genuinely surprised at your sudden shift in demeanor.  He closed his fingers around where you’d kissed, rubbing the skin there lightly.  You wanted to kiss him everywhere your lips could reach, but first you’d need to find where they had put all the water.

3,668 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hear me out, mild but super passionate after sex where aemond lets reader braid his hair 😩 while keeping her on his lap (her straddling him), caressing her body, holding her for dear life and softly kissing every inch of skin he can reach… just please I could die for thisss (specially if you make him use valyrian here and there), he deserves the purest, most desperate love

GOD I had to address this one real quick good lord over here fanning myself! This is a shorter drabble, but I plan on revisiting very often in future fics.

Aemond x female!reader | Smut leading to fluff...leading back to smut I got carried away | post-coital bliss | Breeding kink?

"Aemond!" His name spilled from your lips, as it had many times during the course of that warm night. You came undone around him as he thrusted erratically up into your heated core, spilling his warm seed deep inside you. Your hands pressed against his chest, Aemond gripping your hips so tight you expected marks would show the next day. You straddled him, milking his cock as you rode out the last of your orgasm.

"Y/N." Aemond breathed your name like a prayer, staring up at you, his silver hair splayed on the pillow. It was one of those rare, vulnerable moments he allowed you to be on top. With a shift, and his arms coming to hold you against him, Aemond sat up, so your chests brushed, his member still deep within you. He pressed a searing kiss to your lips. "Issa jorrāelagon, you were wonderful."

You took a lock of his hair in your fingers, pulling it over his shoulder as you began to braid. "I'm a natural at dragon riding."

Aemond snorted, not seeming to mind your attention to his hair as he littered kisses along your neck and shoulder. His arms were tight around you, holding you against him as though he wished to mold your bodies together. You chuckled wickedly as you felt him growing hard inside you once more, his cock twitching as you moved your hips teasingly. Aemond groaned, sucking the skin at your throat, his teeth and tongue working to mark you as his.

You continued weaving small braids into his long hair. "You have the loveliest hair, Aemond. It's quite unfair."

"Hmm." Was your only reply, he was busy kissing each freckle you had within reach of his lips. You let out a breathy gasp of pleasure as he began rutting gently into you. With firm hands at your back, Aemond guided you backwards to lay beneath him as he continued moving againt you with languid strokes.

He grabbed your legs, encouraging you to hook them around his torso, opening you further to his administrations. Aemond placed sloppy kisses to your breasts, his pace quickening, angled just right to hit the most sensitive part of you. Already you felt your core tightening with anticipation, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open, uttering a blissful sound halfway between his name and a moan.

"Aemond, I don't think I can." The sensation was so overwhelming, you could hardly think much less breathe, your vision going blurry as he drove himself deeper into you.

"You can, again. As many times as I will have you." Aemond's hand encircled your throat gently, his violet eye hooded as he looked down at your enraptured face. His pace was punishing now, the sound of your heavy breathing accompanied by the lewd wetness of your cunt already full from his last climax. "Take me, Y/N. I want you to bear me a child." Aemond was close, you could tell by the way his words slurred as he spoke. Your walls tightened around him, the feeling of overstimulation giving way to blinding ecstasy as you reached your limit. "I want to see your belly swell with my seed."

Those low, rasped words sent you over the edge. You cried out his name, falling apart once again, taking Aemond with you as he pumped more of his cum deep inside your aching core. His movements stilled, hand moving to cup the swell of your breast, kneading your plump flesh. After savoring the feel of your heat around him several more moments, Aemond reluctantly pulled out, leaving you feeling oddly empty.

"My, we've made quite a mess." Aemond got off the bed, walking to the water basin, grabbing a washcloth and soap as well.

You smiled with ardent affection for the man, watching him clean your body with tender care. He finished, frowning at the bedspread. "Yes, these sheets are quite ruined." Setting the bowl of soapy water aside, Aemond joined you on the mattress once more. "Does my little dragon rider desire a bath?" He placed a warm hand upon your stomach, ghosting his lips against your ear.

You reached up to comb your fingers through his hair, undoing the loosened braids you had made there. "I would love to bathe, but only if my dragon joins me."

"Hmm, you are in luck then, my love." Aemond chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to place soft kisses against your wrist. "Now you've claimed me, I will never leave your side."

4,302 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x you

[serahlink]

❗Help a Homeless Person's Family ❗*proof below*

Making a donation posts since Ive been having trouble getting commissions. Hi, my name is Link, I've been homeless since November 2021 when my father fell into a self induced diabetic coma while me and my sibling (who is also homeless and living with us) were on the road with him (he used to haul freight to and from different states in the US) and lost his job since he was in the hospital for a couple weeks. We had to leave the place we were staying at after he recovered and we've had to motel hop since then.

None of us can work actual jobs since we don't have IDS, a car or the documents to get them, therefore we can't get food stamps. We also don't have family or friend support so this is the best shot we have.

Right now, we haven't been able to eat since yesterday and it's been getting harder and harder to pay daily rent, let alone get food. Please, if there is anyone out there who can help me and my family, it'd mean so much to have somewhere to sleep and food to eat without having to worry for at least one day. Sharing would also be greatly appreciated, I understand not everyone has the financial means to help.

All payments will go through my father since he's the one with a banking account. We have cashapp and PayPal, I'll list them below.

Cashapp - $ZeroFoxDesigns

PayPal - [email protected]

Thank you in advance 💚

#mutual aid #financial aid #emergency #homeless #financial fragility #emergency aid #signal b00st #b00st #d0nations #donation post #donation pool #donations #please donate

[samsspambox]

howdy! i did a thing!

tw: medical procedures

i think i've mentioned this before on here but i've been having stomach issues for years (i legit dry heave after every meal. and when i get nervous/any strong emotion. it's so annoying) and i finally got my doctor to refer me over to a gastroenterologist. so! after a 15 minute visit in november, i was scheduled for a Upper Endoscopy, which happened earlier today at a hospital!

now, i've been lucky enough to never be admitted to the hospital before, so this was a first for me. i was scared shitless. that and it was cold, so i couldn't stop trembling LMAO

anyway! i had to go under for a few hours and it was the weirdest experience of my life. and also had some funny bits lol.

when they first hooked me up to a heart monitor, my heart rate Would Not Go Down. it wouldn't fall under 120. the nurse was like 'deep breaths' and i wanted to laugh bc i am an Anxious Person. 120 was as low as it was gonna get LOL. it'd always spike when someone new entered the room too, which was the funniest thing. the person who came to help with my IV was like 'are you okay'? yeah, i was okay. just nervous and scared lol. the IV guy was so nice and even tho he had trouble finding my vein, he only stabbed me once. thank you IV guy.

when the anesthesiologist came in, it was so funny too.

anesthesiologist: do you have any anxiety or depression

me: yes

anesthesiologist: ...one or the other?

me: oh! whoops, both. sorry about that.

and then came the time that they actually put me under. it was so weird. the doctor hadn't even finished saying 'you might feel a little burning' when i just clonked out. the whole world started bubbling and i went 'oh this is weird' and bam, i was asleep. granted i think only having 3 hours of sleep on me helped LMAO

i ended up coming to in recovery! and fairly quickly too, i think they were just finished moving the bed to the spot when i started talking even if my throat was sore. which was also another funny interaction in my opinion LMAO

me, still mildly out of it: is it over?

nurse: it is. you just rest up and then we'll move you to another room.

me: my mom is in the waiting room, can she come in?

nurse: i'm afraid not, sweetie.

me: okay. thank you for taking care of me

nurse: you're welcome. would you like a blanket?

me: yes please, thank you.

let it be known that i am a polite camper!! look at me, using my manners LMAOO

idk how long i actually spent in recovery since i was still mildly out of it and i didn't have my watch or phone on me. they wheeled me out into another recovery room with a heated chair and plopped me down and then got me apple juice, which i was hella stoked about. they then called my mom and she walked into the room, but at this point i was much more lucid and happily eating a graham cracker.

me, looking at my mom who's looking for the room i'm in: oh! ma! hello!!

mom, hearing me and walking over: ay mija! what did they do to you? you're all pale!

me: really? i feel fine though

mom: yes really, you're pale!

me: hey at least i'm awake and conscious enough to tell you how to get out the parking lot

mom: you're right

and then i got discharged, but had to wait a little bit bc my mom got lost inside the hospital and had just made it to the car when they sat me on the wheelchair (a wheelchair!! pushed by a nurse!!! idk i was just very surprised bc i felt like i would walk it on my own and i know it was policy but huh!!) and then we went home at around 9. for context i was at the hospital since 6am, and the last time i was able to check time was at 7:20-ish, so i was out a solid hour and a half.

and then when we got home i crashed and then ate some soup.

this experience was weird. going under was an interesting experience. i hope i never have to do that ever again LMAO.

#sam rambles #sam's adventures #they actually ended up doing a biopsy as well #so i'm in mild discomfort but since i ate i drank some pain meds #recovery time was really quick! and that means i get to help my mom out tomorrow #which is what we were worried about #cuz then she'd have to prep christmas dinner all alone

[ddeonuswhre]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThere's a 𝓹𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Jongseong x M!reader.

Author's Note: After a few days (WEEKS) of thinking—procrastinating (I couldn't figure out how to start the narrative), I came up with the idea of doing a vampire Jay story with the reader. I sincerely took great care in this, please give him all the love you can!

+ All history is written from the third person.

Summary: Your boyfriend was badly hurt (bitten) by a vampire, yet you never found out. Simply, the month he disappeared, his mother came to your apartment to tell you coldly that he had "died," but that he would always be "taking care" of you from somewhere else. You didn't know what she meant by that... until...

Gender: drama, fluff, love. — C/W: Arguments, blood, very explicit situations/events, etc.

Appearances: Jake, Heeseung n Sunoo (Enhypen) / Karina, Giselle (Aespa) / Wonyoung (IVE), etc.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸻

Just four months had passed since the unfortunate car accident that claimed the life of Jay, his romantic partner. The young man was evidently devastated. How was he supposed to carry on without his other half? He After the months he should have been mourning, he couldn't turn the page. "This is stupid. Why can't I let you go? Why are you doing this to me?" He would say those words to his phone, which was in his boyfriend's open chat.

The boy quickly turned off his phone and with a clatter placed it on the nightstand. A small shiver ran through his body at the thought that someone had his lover's phone. After almost five months, did the millions of messages begin to arrive? He would undoubtedly look for the answers, of course, completely alone, since his boyfriend's family never said a word to him again.

The question is: How would he start looking for answers? There is nothing after his death, there were no more traces of him, there was nothing of him, it is as if he had never existed, as if he had never had anything of him physically. His head began to be tormented again with negative thoughts, which made him frown and try to fall asleep once and for all.

But it being already 4 a.m. and realizing that he hasn't slept for the next 3 hours, he decided that it was a good idea to form a cave made of his sheet, his pillow and... him. He made himself as comfortable as he could and gently took his phone to enter his gallery—again—hoping that he would get some sleep if he saw a few photos/videos of his boyfriend with him.

Thus, around 20 minutes had passed since he was watching several images, mostly funny, where he let out a melancholic laugh when he saw that they were moving images, so he could know what happened seconds before.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸻

→ January 2024, 4:25 pm :

(J) "Baby? We should go-... shit you look so good"

"Do you think? I dressed like this to go out with you"

(J) "I can tell, you usually dress like a bum. A sexy bum."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸻

Suddenly, he swiped his finger to play one last video and try to fall asleep again. However, as soon as the video began to play almost automatically, the young man quickly sat up in his bed, leaving his improvised sheet-cave, placing his pillow on his bent legs and leaning his back against the wall. What was special about that 2-minute video? It was one that Jay had sent him when he had gone on a trip—for studies—and in it he told him how much he missed him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸻

→ November 2023, 11:47 pm :

Hello, my love, I wanted to tell you that I am so sorry for not being able to talk to you so much today. I miss you like nothing in the world. I wish I could have you here with me so you could enjoy the beautiful views that the hotel offers me. Ah... it's hard not to cry doing this. I wish I could kiss you one last time, but you know-

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸻

He couldn't finish watching the video; Tears flowed quickly from his eyes and fell like a waterfall. He threw his phone somewhere on the bed after letting out all that crying he held in after his death.

Eventually, his eyes began to feel very heavy, almost as if they were burning. Likewise, he strangely felt like someone—or something—was gently laying him on the bed. That little trance didn't last long, because he felt a cold gust of wind come through the window. What a fool, he didn't close it—that's what he thought.

However, he hesitated to dry the pair of semi-dry tears that still rested on his cheekbones colored by that beautiful crimson. It was a product of the heat that ran through his body as he tried to contain the screams of pain. He couldn't afford to be so selfish and wake up his neighbors just because he felt completely alone, right?

Cautiously, he stood up, leaning on his limbs to approach what was now simply an open window. The beautiful view, the wind on his face, and most of all, the moonlight on him, gave him a sense of peace. He smiled shyly at the moon as he murmured some disjointed words, as if he were conversing with his late love. The only way to feel it close was like this, speaking to a star 384,400 kilometers from Earth.

⸻Sweetheart, my dear prince, you don't know how much I miss you. You were the only cure for my sleepless nights... This is costing me a lot. Every day without you is like I'm always without energy. I just want to lie down and dream of you, dream of the life I could have with you...⸻ Once again, the young man expressed his anguish towards the moon, while his tears flowed uncontrollably. It was an unfair situation, since he was going through this grief in complete solitude.

In order to avoid the obstruction of his nasal passages by phlegm and other elements, he proceeded to close the window immediately, finally seeking peace of mind by lying down and closing his eyes. After all, a part of his worries would have dissipated in the wind, would have remained on the bright moon.

After checking his last message, he decided to put his phone aside before slowly getting out of his bed to choose a rather loose outfit, similar to pajamas. After all, there aren't usually that many people at this time in the park near your house. It is the only benefit of living in a place with very little traffic, if anything ladies usually pass by doing their daily walk.

As he prepared to leave his room, he noticed in his dresser mirror a couple of small marks on his neck and cheek. "How did I do this to myself?" he wondered as he ran his fingertips over the wounds. He frowned in confusion, trying to remember what had happened yesterday, or rather, what he had done yesterday, but none of his last memories included getting hurt or hurt by his nails.

Without giving it much importance, since that would mean making his best friend wait longer. After all, this would also be a form of help, a fresh new breath of energy... more or less. He shrugged and then finally left his room, grabbed his keys and left his apartment.

⸻¡M/nnie!

As he descended the stairs of the building, the only thing he heard was a noise. Seconds later, he felt arms holding him tightly, almost breaking his ribs. It was Jake, who had apparently gone ahead.

He couldn't help but smile slightly as he laughed and raised his eyebrows at that emotion. He gently squeezed his friend's waist to let him know that he could let go and the stranger would respond to the "command" after feeling his pet's leash stretch a little.

"Why are you so happy?.. Why did you hug me like that? Is there something I should know?" The boy raised his voice in the last questions without even erasing his smile and his brown eyes. Although they were best friends since second year of high school, he had never seen him so affectionate, at least not with him. "I'm just-I'm happy to see you, I-I missed being able to go for a walk with you…and with Layla!"

They both laughed until Jake's hand landed on the blonde's neck, causing him to move away from him a little with a rather serious look.

—What happened? Did someone do this to you?— Jake exclaimed in a worried tone as he approached his wounds, searching and waiting for an answer.

"I think it was me, possibly while I was sleeping, I'm not sure." M/N let out a deep sigh as he gently removed the brunette's hand from his anatomy. After what happened years ago, he wanted to avoid that kind of... approach. They both seemed somewhat uncomfortable for the moment until Layla started barking in the direction of the park and made them turn around.

A slight feeling of unease came over the shorter individual as he turned in the direction where the barking was coming from. He watched two people get up quickly. He couldn't believe that one of them resembled, no, rather, was identical to his fiancé.

Without further delay, ge rushed towards those people without realizing that he was about to be hit by a car. Curiously, his feet magically got tangled and that caused him to fall before the car could hit him; Both the metal and the tires of the vehicle brushed against his face.

Fear took over his body as he smelled the smell of tires that touched his nose. He lay still on the ground, still processing what had happened and the possible consequences if his feet hadn't gotten tangled.

"Shit! Are you okay, M/N? Does anything hurt?" His colleague quickly went to where the young man's body was already located to help him get up. Meanwhile, the long-haired youth turned his gaze towards the people dressed in black. He especially focused on one who even turned to see him fall. It was then that he managed to see part of his jaw.

Again he felt his heart shrink and his eyes water. He was so close to that tall man, so close to knowing if he was just hallucinating his boyfriend or if it was him and he had just faked everything. What was he thinking? The deceased don't come back to life... or do they?

"He...he was Jay...I'm not crazy."

Poor guy, he's experiencing such a significant loss that he's starting to see things, almost like it's appearing to him in moments where he's about to be worth shit, surely his friend should do something about it.

A/N: Did you like it? I hope so, because this is just the beginning of my descent into madness.

Tags : @me.

#kpop x male reader #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #male reader #kpop scenarios #enhypen x male reader #kpop fanfic #enhypen jay #park jongseong #jay x reader #x male y/n #jay x male reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #gayshit #enha x reader #x reader #x male reader #x sub male reader #helpmejesus

[godsrejectedmartyr]

when i first started highschool i was failing all of my classes and had no assignments turned in throughout my whole freshman year. the school talked to my mom about it and since she can’t speak very good english someone else came in to help translate and communicate with her. that person suggested her to this old man who helps children of immigrants in the school. that’s his specialty, is to help the children of immigrants who are failing in the school.

through his help i was able to get back into highschool and in my junior year start taking college courses for med school. my junior year i decided it was time to kms, however because of my boyfriend that ended up not happening. but the thoughts, urges, addictions, and feelings didnt go away that easily. i still didnt attend school for months on end. it was hard to get out of bed or even leave my room. i was supposed to get held back but this old man came into the picture again.

since then i guess he decided i was his project.

he helped me go from flunking and getting held back to certified pharmacy technician at 17 and graduating a year early. right now he’s trying to help me get into a university a whole semester early despite the university usually not taking new freshman students in the summer.

often my craving for suicide is still on my mind. time keeps passing and things keep happening. i hate to be a selfish person. i somehow keep waiting for things to feel better to me. yet the idea of life scares me, and it never seems like the right time to die. i would hate to hurt the old man. give up on him when he’s done so much for me, after he pulled so many strings to set me up for success. even then, i feel like somewhere down the road i’ll fail no matter what. i always did. even when i tried my hardest to keep going and do better.

the only thing that is truly keeping me from not dying right now is because of my cousins wedding. she’s been waiting for that day for so long. i wouldn’t want to be the one who messes it up for her. i want her to be allowed to be happy before she has to grieve. i want to see her at her happiest too before i go. i would’ve liked to wait for my boyfriend too, but for the past year ive felt like ive always been waiting for him with no sign of him ever coming. if it continues to feel that way, then after april ill let it happen. if things look up with him, then i’ll wait longer. but i think the deadline this time will truly be on november fifth. i can’t age another year.

[zeawesomebirdie]

In 2021 I am letting go of my insecurities

Aka im writing super gay fanfiction to share with my Nana because she wanted to read my writing

#also im forgiving myself #and letting go of the people who hurt me #and apologizing to the people i hurt #i dont want to be annoying about this #but #nearly dying back in november really did bring out the best in me #because that happened ive grown up #ive essentially become a real adult #i dont know how ive managed to survive this long being hateful and suicidal #but since november ive been able to let go of so much #since november ive been able to really grow up #i dont even need anyone to acknowledge this #just #ive gotten better #my family doesnt recognize it but thats okay #because i know #y'know #also my nana is looking forward to seeing my fics #she prints out my fanfics #im going to get a copy of light again printed for her #personal

[starsstruck]

shampoo bottles

a friends with benefits gone wrong. harry can’t bring himself to get rid of everything you’ve left at his place after things fall apart. beat up red cars, crumpled sweatshirts and of course, shampoo bottles.

based off the song “shampoo bottles” by peach pit.

pairing: harry x reader words: 6.9k rating: M

a/n: this is just a little something i had inspiration for ! like i said its based off the song “shampoo bottles” by peach pit (great song great band). its an OU but im not regarding tour dates or quarantine or wtv, i just have dates so its easier to follow since i go back and forth a lot ! its a bit of a different writing style than ive done before so hopefully everyone likes it ! would love to hear what you think, and enjoy !

                                                            ***

November 20th

The shampoo bottles taunted him.

The worst part was Harry wished they weren’t empty. He wished that there was still even a drop left in them so that he could rub it through his own hair. Although having milked them of their last contents weeks ago, they still sat in the corner of his shower.

The smell lingered on them. The sweet smell of some flower, maybe some orange blossom, he didn’t ever really know. All he knew is that he was addicted to the smell, and seeing the bottles sit in the corner as he showered made him feel like he could smell them, like he could smell you.

He remembered the day you brought the bottles over, claiming to be annoyed with the way his shampoo just wasn’t the same. The idea of you smelling like him brought a heat to his stomach, he liked the smell of your shampoo even better. And now the bottles sat there. Taunting him.

October 15th

“What’s with the bag?” Laughing as he pointed at the bag in your hand, he wondered what you could possibly be bringing with you to the washroom.

“Brought my own shampoo,” you pulled a bottle out of the canvas tote bag around you were holding, smile wide on your lips. “And some other things. Hope you don’t mind.”

He jutted his lips out in a mock pout. “What’s wrong with my things?”

“Don’t like your shampoo.” You hummed, disappearing behind the still open door frame that led to the washroom. “Don’t worry! I still like your nice moisturizer, does wonders for my skin.”

He scrambled up in his sheets at the sound of the shower turning on. Standing in the door frame of the washroom, he watched as you pulled off your underwear and dropped them aside. He knew that you could feel him watching you, and that you were pretending not to notice or care.

Stepping into the shower, shutting the glass door behind you as you let the water hit your back. He stayed where he was for a minute, until steam was beginning to fog the glass door that separated you two and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Let me do that,” humming as he stepped into the shower next to you, just as you were reaching for the shampoo bottle that you brought.

“Awfully nice of you,” moving aside slightly, you passed him the shampoo bottle. Moving around so that he stood directly in front of, you letting you stand under the stream of water. Squeezing some shampoo out onto his hand, he put the bottle down and rubbed his hand through your hair.

“Feels nice,” you shut your eyes, Harry watched water droplets fall down your forehead that end up getting caught in your eyelashes. He brough both hands to your head, massaging the shampoo in. Taking extra time to rub his fingertips into your scalp, enjoying the content smile on your lips as you leaned into his touch.

He knew you, he knew you well. In this moment he knew that you were doing it on purpose: the small moans in the back of your throat as he rubbed his hands against your head, the way you arched your back slightly, and the way you titled your head back in the same way you did when his head was between your thighs.

Tilting your head in his hands so that the stream of water hit your scalp, rinsing out the suds. The smell around him was only of the sweet orange blossom mixed with something else, he could never put his finger on it.

“All done,” he grinned, tapping your eyelid gently. He watched as you rubbed the water from your eyes, blinking them open to gaze into his.

He kept his hands around you, dropping to your shoulder as he pulled himself closer to you. Semi hard length pressing into your thigh, your eyes dropped down and were soon followed by your hands. Jolt sent through his abdomen as your warm hands wrapped around him, lightly tugging and pulling.

“’s nice,” he mumbled, feeling the blood leave his brain and relocate between his legs. Your grip tightened around him, thumb rubbing over his tip in a way that made his hips buck into your hand. His grip around you tightened when your eyes met his again, tongue darting out to lick water from your lips.

His legs nearly buckled when you dropped down to your knees, remaining under the shower stream. He didn’t mind being in the colder side of the shower, especially if you were going to be on your knees in front of him.

“Want to get me in your mouth?” His voice nearly surprised him at its hoarseness. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had you like this before, it was just that every time you had your hands on him it drove him completely crazy.

Watching your slow nod, Harry wrapped a hand over your head, tugging on the recently washed strands as he encouraged you. Not able to take his eyes off of you as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, slowly easing him into your mouth until your lips met where your hand was still wrapped around him.

“Look so good like this.”

November 20th

His hand didn’t do you justice, but it was all he had. It was like the smell of your shampoo filled his senses every time he stepped foot in his shower, no every time he stepped foot in his washroom. Every time he saw those goddamn shampoo bottles sitting. Untouched.

He just couldn’t bring himself to throw them out.

Nothing could clear his mind. It had been weeks, and nothing he did could get his mind off of you. Maybe that was his own fault. He knew it was his own fault. His place was littered with traces of you.

Part of him probably got something out of his pain, but he didn’t care.

Not when he couldn’t bring himself to clean out his bathroom, because of the way your toothbrush sat so nicely next to his. Or the way you had brought him some organic soaps, claiming they smelt really good and were made out of all kind of nice essential oils.

He couldn’t even bring himself to use that bar of soap, knowing the more he used it the smaller it would get, and soon it’d be gone.

But his wallowing really hit an all time high when he found your sweatshirt.

He really thought you had taken all your clothes with you. You didn’t leave a lot of them at his place to begin with. Clothes being the one thing you claimed you didn’t need as you helped yourself freely to his closet.

But when he was going through said closet, he found a bunched up blue sweatshirt he had forgotten he kept.

September 2nd

It was an odd rainy night, and Harry didn’t feel like going out. He was no stranger to poor weather, but the rain seemed to be the last thing he needed to decided that he would rather stay in. Relieved when you had shared his opinion, agreeing to come over with a bottle of margarita mix. It was just the two of you, Harry just wanted a calm night in with his friend and maybe a couple drinks, ones they could make themselves.

Soon you were seated on his couch, leaning against the armrest with your feet pointed towards him. Cozy in your sweatshirt, gripping your drink tight between your fingers.  

“Would you let me draw one for you?”

You spluttered out a laugh at his request. “God no!” Your laugh deepened when you glanced up at him. “Nothing against you, Harry. Just want a professional to do it.”

The movie put in was long forgotten, now facing each other and talking about where you should get your first tattoo. You had told him what you wanted to get, you just had no idea where it should go.

“Fine,” he huffed, playfully of course. His head felt hazy, couple of drinks have come and gone and he was still nursing another strong cocktail in his hands. “So, where are you gonna get it?”

“That’s the problem,” you muttered, taking a big sip of your drink. “I don’t think I want it really visible, like not on my arms or anything.”

Harry nodded, knowing that you were nervous about regretting a tattoo. “You thinking maybe around your ribs?”

He watched as you lifted your sweatshirt a bit, finger tips brushing over your ribcage. “I don’t know – heard it hurts really bad there.”

“Not too much,” Harry thought over his own experience, although knowing you were a bit more uneasy with needles.

“I was thinking like,” you patted the spot where you hipbone was. “My hip. Kind of cute, no?”

He bit back a smile. “Very cute.” The alcohol spoke before he could. He thought it was much more than cute, he thought that a tattoo on your hip was the best idea you’d had in years.

“Plus it’s kind of,” you paused, licking your lips. “Intimate.”

He sucked in a breath. He didn’t like the idea of someone else finding your tattoo. A tattoo that he was helping you figure out. He didn’t like the idea of someone kissing it, of someone peeling off your pants and being delighted to see a little tattoo there, just for them.

It was selfish of him, and he knew it wasn’t right. The two of you had both been single for a while and he had gotten so used to having you around, he was getting jealous at the thought of someone taking you away from him.

“You’re out of it,” you giggled, after a moment too long in silence.

Harry broke himself out of his daze. “’m not drunk,” he muttered into his glass, although he was. And the alcohol was clouding his mind, and he didn’t know what to do about it. “Hip is a really good idea.”

Mentally wincing at how eager he sounded, he watched as you nodded, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Think it’ll hurt a lot?”

He chuckled to himself. “It’s a tattoo darling, course it’ll hurt a bit. I can come wit’ you if you want, hold your hand and all.”

Smile broke out on your face, teeth no longer gnawing on your lip. “That’d be nice,” humming as you placed your drink on the table in front of you. “Did yours hurt a lot?”

“Couple of them were a bit more painful, yeah.” He nodded, honestly not really remembering. “Get used to it after a while. One’s on my chest were probably the worst.”

“I like your butterfly,” you moved a foot out, nudging his thigh with it. “I would be too scared to get something that big though.”

“You’ll see,” he laughed. “Once you get one you won’t be able to stop.” He mindlessly trailed his hand over his shirt, where his tattoo rested.

“Don’t know about that. I don’t know if I would want a too many,” you hummed into your cup. “I do like all of yours though.”

“Yeah?” He sat up straighter. “Which ones your favourite?”

You sit up straighter as well, shuffling towards him a bit on the couch. “Can’t choose just one.” He tried not to jolt when your fingertips met his forearm, gently trailing up and following the lines of his tattoos. “What about you?”

He was silent for another moment too long, watching your fingers move up his arm. Finally glancing up at you, meeting your eyes with a lazy smile. “Don’t know either.”

“You’re completely pissed,” you laughed at his slow response, his hand moved without thinking, and pinched your cheek.

“Maybe,” his mouth and hands were working without his mind. “Skin is burning hot darling.” Hand smoothing around your face, he moved away for a second to place his drink next to yours on the table before tapping your forehead with a cool fingertip.

“’s cold,” you laughed, eyes shutting in a slow blink. “I heard,” you paused for another moment, as Harry brought his hand away from your face. “Heard tattoos feel like a bunch of little scratches.”

“Something like that,” he hummed, not being able to recall any tattoos he’s ever gotten in this moment.

“It’s like,” he moved his hand to your waist, lightly pushing under your sweatshirt. If he weren’t so close to you, he would’ve missed the little gasp that left your lips. “Like this.”

His nails weren’t nearly long enough to properly scratch at your skin, but he slowly dragged them along your ribs. “But faster, and it’s a needle.”

“Doesn’t really sound like the same thing,” your laugh sounded nervous, nearly breathless.

“Not really no,” he laughed lightly. Shuffling even closer to you, leg pressing against your knee. The smell of your shampoo overwhelmed him, he had always loved it and in his intoxication, it was the most potent smell ever.

“What are you doing,” your voice dropped down to a whisper. Where his hand had earlier been on your cheek, he pressed a little kiss.

“I’m just,” Harry didn’t know what he was doing. He just wanted to feel your skin under his lips, he just wanted to be close to you. “Helping ya’ out with tattoo ideas.”

He pressed another series of kisses to your cheek, eliciting a sigh from your lips. You didn’t push him away, and his hand that had been scratching at your waist gripped onto your skin.

“’s just me,” he babbled. “Skin’s so warm, can’t help –” he breathed in deeply, hand on your waist moving to your knee. He gently pushed your leg aside as he settled himself in closer to you. His lips were by your jaw, and he wanted so badly to feel your own mouth under his. “– can’t help m’self.”

You didn’t move under him, except for a single hand coming up to grip the neckline of his shirt. “Le’ me,” he pleaded, voice low. “Please, let me.”

You tilted your head up a bit towards him, lips ever so lightly parted. “Go ahead.”

He took that as all the invitation he needed, mouth sliding from your chin to cover yours. He sighed into your mouth, knee coming up to the couch as he repositioned himself.

He kissed you deep, tasting you for the first time and not able to get enough of it. Your hand on his shirt slid around his neck, gripping tightly onto his skin as you pulled him closer. His hand gripped your leg, thumb rubbing small circles through the loose materials of your sweats.

“’s good, you’re so –” Harry couldn’t form one coherent sentence. He wanted to feel you everywhere, he wanted to cross this uncharted territory and feel your skin on his. A part of him, a tiny part of him in the back of his head was telling him this wasn’t right but he was pissed and he wanted you. Badly.

“Harry,” your voice was a dream. He had moved his mouth down your jaw again, this time biting and licking as he moved down your neck.

“Jus’ wanna kiss – want a taste.”

He lifted himself from you for a moment, helping you reposition yourself so that you could lay on your back, Harry hovering nearly awkwardly over you but he didn’t care. It was a flurry of lips on skin and quick moving hands. He pushed a hand under your sweatshirt, delighted in finding you not wearing a bra, while you shared lime flavoured kisses.

You were pushing your hips against his, rubbing against him in a way that made his breath catch in the back of his throat. He was hard and heavy in his sweatpants, drunk enough that he if he kept grinding against your hip in the way he was now, he wouldn’t last very long.

“Fuck,” you whimpered from under him, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipple under your sweatshirt while his mouth met yours again.

He snaked his hand down your tummy, only hesitating when he met the band of your sweatpants. “Want to,” he panted, “wanna feel you.”

“Yes.” The single word was a moan from your lips, as his hand pushed past your pants. Fingers snaking under your underwear, he nearly choked when he pushed through your folds.

“Fuck me,” he never wanted to leave you. “You always get this wet?”

You only whimpered from under him again, head pushing into the cushion of the couch as he circled your clit. He focused on the way you whined and pleaded under him; the way you jolted when he pushed a finger inside of you, and then two.

You were warm, he couldn’t get over how hot your skin was all over and how much it made him melt. His lips were gliding all over your skin, sucking sweetly on your neck and moving roughly over your mouth. Catching your moans into his open mouth as if he could keep them forever.

“I – Harry please don’t stop,” you were squirming underneath of him. Arching yourself off the couch, pushing yourself against him.

Rush through his body at how desperate you sounded, at the way his name was moaned from your lips. “Cum fo’ me darling,” he curled his fingers inside of you, pushing every spot that made you gasp.

He worked you over the edge, eyes narrowing on every move you made. And when you clenched around his fingers, thighs clamping together and back rising from the bed, he wished he could stay in this moment forever.

After a moment you peaked your eyes open, lazy smile on your lips as he pulled you in for a deep kiss. Wet fingers slipping out from under your sweats, gripping your skin.

“So gorgeous, you – fuck –” he bucked into your hand as he felt you palm over his bulge. Your lips pressed into this straining neck, your turn to lick and bite at his skin while you grabbed at his cock over his pants.

“That’s it,” he praises, hips bucking against your hand. Your fingers trickled under the band of his sweatpants, gripping him blindly. Your other hand was patting his shoulder, nudging him with a muffled voice. “Harry, move up a bit.”

He scrambled up to his knees, pulling you up with him until he sat with his back against the couch with you on his lap. You were pushing up his shirt, kissing at his neck while your hand gently jerked him off.

“Jesus you’re –” he fell into your touch, leaning against you. The whine that left his throat as your hand left his cock came from deep in his chest. Watching closely as you spat into your hand before shifting over him again.

He couldn’t help the way he gripped your thighs as you worked your hand over him, until he was bucking his hips into your hand. A whining mess, begging you over and over again to keep going, to not stop and to never leave him.

“You are – fuck,” he held you tight as he dropped is head in the crook of your neck, breathing uneven as he came on your hand. After a moment he pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, helping you off the couch with wobbly legs to get the both of you cleaned up.

November 20th

He remembers that day like it was yesterday. The way you whined and whimpered under him for the first time, the way he found himself intoxicated (and not just by the alcohol).

Shy smiles were shared as he offered you stay the night, too late and both still too intoxicated to drive. You had decided you were too hot in your sweatshirt and grabbed one of his shirts instead. He pulled you in close under his sheets, kissing over your exposed skin and wanting to melt in the warmth coming off your body.

And apparently, you had completely forgotten about your sweatshirt.

The next morning neither of you said anything. Nothing of the sorts was even brought up again until a week later when you guys were out for a drink and he suddenly ached to have you under him. He had kissed you outside the bar, pulling you home with him until you were sat on his thigh grinding and moaning against him.

It had continued that way for a couple more weeks, neither of you really making any mention of it except for slipping hands under clothing and stealing kisses after a couple drinks.

That was, until you had sex for the first time. He was barely drunk, only needing one drink as an excuse to call you. Bugging you nonstop from outside the bar, wanting you to be there with him. He had managed to get you to drive over and pick him up, in your sweats and his shirt because you had been just about to go to bed.

You had walked him into his place, making sure he drank two glasses of water before he pulled you into bed with him, saying that since you were already ready for bed you may as well just stay the night there with him.

Cuddling into you, he couldn’t help kissing his way down until soon he had you on your back with his head between your thighs. Telling you over and over again that it was a ‘thank you’ for coming to pick him up.

But it wasn’t enough for him to grind against the mattress, while he pulled an orgasm out of you. He was greedy, he wanted another one, he wanted to feel you everywhere.

He eased you up to your knees, bending you over on the mattress with your ass in the air while he fumbled with the condom. It was everything he could’ve dreamt of and more, so much more. He couldn’t get enough, and didn’t think he ever would.  Holding your close against him, chest pressed to your back as he praised you endlessly. You were just as warm around him as you were his fingers, and he had to grip you so tight to make sure it was real.

Both ending the night passed out side by side, he knew the next morning he needed to say something.

September 19th

“Bit sore,” you laughed, following him around the corner from the washroom. He was getting some breakfast ready, and the sight of you standing in his shirt and nothing else made him want to take you over the counter again.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, mind worrying over what to say next. “I – last night was fun, yeah?”

Leaning against the counter next to him, grabbing a handful of grapes from the bowl in front of you. “It was,” you voice was quiet, nearly timid.

“I –,” he paused again, unable to form the sentences he wanted to. ‘I like fooling around with you’ or ‘I like fucking you’ didn’t sound nice rolling off the tongue. “I like doing… what we’re doing. And I want to keep doing what we’re doing. If you do too.” He bit his lips together, mentally cringing at how awkward he sounded.

“I do too,” you said, averting your eyes from his as you nodded. “Both single, and it’s been a while, and…” Harry was relieved to see you also didn’t seem to know how to voice your feelings. “We’re friends.”

He nodded slowly, watching your every move. “Then, we’re doing this? Don’t need to wait for an excuse to have you come over anymore?”

Laughing lightly, you finally met his eyes. “Yeah,” you voice was airy. “But if either of us meet someone or need to end it, we do. Right?”

“Right,” he nodded, almost too eagerly and the new agreement. “What do you want for breakfast?”

November 23rd

Apparently, he couldn’t escape you outside of his house either. Deciding that wallowing by himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he thought that maybe a run would help clear his mind. It worked, for a good ten minutes before he stopped dead in his tracks.

Blocks away from his place he saw a red car parked. The same make and model of your red car.

Was it you? Could it be you? What are you doing so close to his house? He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, not since the fight that made you leave in such a rush that you left your shampoo bottles in his shower.

Tentatively walking towards the parked car, not seeing the pendant that you kept hanging off the review mirror. He decided it was too risky, that if it was your car, he wasn’t ready to see you, especially if he was snooping around your car.

But the car was still there the next day. Deciding fuck it, and walked towards it, hoping he didn’t look suspicious for whatever reason. As he got closer, he saw for a fact that there was no pendant hanging from the review mirror, and that those dents by the door were not there.

It wasn’t you.

He didn’t know if he was upset or relieved. He almost missed those dents on the door, always telling you to get it fixed. Stubborn as always, constantly telling him that “I don’t need to get it fixed if it doesn’t affect how it drives.”

That car was the last thing he saw before you left his house the last time he saw you.  

November 5th

“What are you feeling for dinner?”

You hummed, opening up his fridge to stare at the contents. “We can make…” you were mumbling to yourself, examining the contents. “Do you have rice? We can make a stir fry,” you squinted in the fridge.

“Sounds good,” reaching through his cupboards for a pan, as you grabbed a cutting board and a knife, always preferring to chop the vegetables. “How’s your week?”

“Fine,” mumbling from where you stood across from him in the kitchen. “Work was the same, not to stressful right now which is nice. I, uh –”

He looked up at the hesitation in your voice. “I had a date.”

He nearly let go of the pot in his hand. He felt his stomach dropping, happy to be occupied with turning on the stove as he didn’t have to face you. “Yeah?” trying to keep his face calm before turning around to you again. “With who?”

“A guy from work,” you were averting your eyes, twisting the ring around your middle finger. You were nervous, he realized.

“How’d it go?”

“Okay,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands as they worked chopping the onion on the board in front of you. “We um –”

Finally you looked up at him. “We didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t know what to say. “Didn’t do it for you?” He tried to joke, but based off your expression he realized that really wasn’t what he should’ve said.

“Just thought you should know,” you looked away from him again, voice quiet. “Since y’know, we’re…”

Condoms had been long forgotten between the two of you. It was a silent agreement, that one should tell the other if they were going to be having sex with someone else. But for some reason, Harry had never imagined that conversation happening.

“Are you,” he tried to not let his voice shake. “Are you telling me you want to sleep with him?”

“No,” you shrugged slightly, pushing the onion around with the knife. “Don’t think that’ll happen. Just thought you should know.”

He willed himself to seem unbothered. “Okay.”

Back towards you again, pouring some oil into the pan on the burner. He could feel you watching him. Spinning back around, he saw you with your lips pressed to a thin line.

“What if I did want to sleep with him though?”

“You said you didn’t.” He desperately needed to change the subject.

“But what if?” For the first time, he realized he couldn’t read what you were thinking.

“Are you saying you want to end this?” Avoiding the question once again, he hated himself for the way he did it.

You blinked quickly, as if physically affected by his words. “I mean no, but,” you paused, and he panicked over what the end of that sentence would be. “What we’re doing its not – I mean what are we doing?”

He hated the tone of your voice, he hated how anxious you sounded. But instead of wrapping you into his arms like he wanted – and should have – he tried to swallow back any feelings he thought he might have for you. “We – we’re both taking advantage of the situation, no? Both being single and all.”

Your eyes narrowed on him. “So that’s it then? Call me over when you’ve had a few drinks and your hand isn’t enough to get you off?”

Fuck. “Darling that’s not –”

“Don’t. I practically live here, Harry. It’s not just ‘taking advantage of the situation’.”

The oil popped on the pan behind him, burner getting too hot. Swearing under his breath, turning back around to shove the pan off the heat. “I have half my things here. Wasn’t like this when we were just friends.”

Facing you again, he breathed out a sigh trying to calm himself down. “You didn’t have to bring your things over.”

You snapped your head up at his words. “That’s a low fucking blow.”

Suddenly you were moving away from him, away from the kitchen. He swore to himself again, hating himself for the way he handled the conversation. He hated himself for the way he avoided where the conversation seemed to be heading, to having him admit he wanted more from your relationship.

Calling your name behind you, watching with wide eyes as you grabbed your bag form the table, throwing it over your shoulder. “What are you…?”

“’m leaving.” Muttering as you brushed past him, heading towards the door.

Fuck. “Wait no,” he reached for your shoulder, hating the way you shrugged him off although you still spun around to him. “I – I didn’t mean it like that. I just,” he needed to say something, anything to get you to stay. “What are you saying?”

You sighed, dipping down to tug on your shoes. “I don’t know what I’m saying Harry. Maybe,” you sighed, gazing up at him. You looked tired, and sad. He hated it. “Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should stop.”

All his blood left his body. No. “You want to stop?” This time he wasn’t able to hide the shake in his voice.

“I gotta go Harry.” You turned away from him, reaching for the doorknob.

“Wait,” he repeated your name over and over. “Don’t leave please –”

You refused to look at him, spinning away from him. He continued calling after you, pleading you to come back but soon you were backing out of his driveway and turning around the corner.

November 24th

In hindsight, he realized he should’ve just told you he wanted you all to himself. He didn’t handle it well; he knew that then and he knows it now.

What he didn’t know at the time, what he refused to let himself think was that he wanted more with you and probably always had.

Recalling the first-time boundaries were crossed when he kissed you; the jealousy he felt when he thought about someone else being able to see the tattoo on your hip.

He remembered when you had gotten that tattoo, the skin still sensitive and wrapped in protective plastic. He still kissed at it, pulling small whimpers from the back of your throat.

He supposes that boundaries were disappearing when you started bringing over and leaving your things at his place, including those goddamn shampoo bottles. You were right to question him over the nature of your relationship, but he was too stupid and stubborn in the moment that he chose to push you away instead of admitting his feelings.

Fiddling with his phone in his hand, opening and closing your contact in his texts. He had drafted countless unsent messages, but had ultimately left you in radio silence.

And how fucked was that?

He didn’t care if it had been three weeks, or two weeks and five days to be exact. He pressed his phone to his ear, holding his breath as the phone on the other end rang.

After the second ringer, he was sure you wouldn’t pick up. He was about to end the call altogether, not having the heart to face your voicemail when a quiet “hello” spoke through the line.

“Hi,” he couldn’t breath. “It’s me – it’s Harry.”

“I know,” your voice sent a jolt through his chest.

“Didn’t think you would pick up.” He laughed humourlessly, realizing in all the fake conversations he had with you in his head he never really was prepared.

“I can hang up if you wan –”

“No,” he spoke quickly. “Sorry I just…” I love you. “I just want to talk to you, need to talk to you.”

You remained silent on the other end. “Can we meet? I can come over are we can get coffee or anything, up to you, I just need to see you.”

You were silent again, and he needed to check his phone to make sure the call was still ongoing. “I can be at yours in 15.”

His heart flipped. “Yes, that’s perfect. I – yes, see you soon.”

It was probably the longest fifteen minutes of his life. He spent it pacing around his place, trying to tidy up but ultimately not getting anything done. By the ten minute mark he was sure you weren’t coming, but right on time you were pulling that beat up red car into his driveway.

The sight of you was making him flush. Seeing you in his space, in his company like nothing had ever changed.

“How are you?” He could hear the nerves in his own voice.

“Fine,” the word was muttered, as you tentatively sat down on his couch. The very spot he had first kissed you, he realized.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, Harry, I’m not here to chit chat.”

He nodded, knowing you were right and sat far across from you on the couch, watching as you hugged your knees to your chest.

“I know, I –” he looked down at his hands, fiddling with his rings. “I miss you. And I’m really sorry for everything, for the way I handled everything.”

You looked up at him at his words, fidgeting with your sleeves. “I miss you too.”

“I really… I really fucked up and losing you was the last thing I wanted.” He needed to look away from you. “You were right, about us. We shouldn’t – I shouldn’t have let things get to be the way they did.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was small, calculated.

“I mean… I was being selfish. I – fuck I wanted more and I was being selfish with you.”

He tried to gage your reaction, but just like last time he wasn’t able to read your expression. “When you asked me what we were doing, when you said all that I panicked. Thought you might try and end things, I was too in my ass about my feelings I just… fucked up.”

“You wanted more?”

“I did – I do.”

You were quiet, too quiet. After a moment in silence, you suddenly stood. “I have to go to the washroom.”

He could only nod, standing as well as he watched you disappear behind the door. Grabbing himself a glass of water, having no idea what you were thinking in this moment. He was wrong before, when he thought that those fifteen minutes were the longest of his life. This moment right now seemed to last so much longer.

You finally reappeared a couple minutes later, joining him in the kitchen but still standing at a distance. He had no idea what to say, he wished for you to say something, anything.

“You kept all my things.”

“What?”

You pointed to the bathroom behind you. “All my things, my toothbrush my shampoo… figured you’d throw them out.”

He smiled a weak smile. “Would never. Can’t bring myself to. Plus, you know I love the smell of your shampoo.”

“I’m sorry I left that day.” You were fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt again.

“Don’t be, I was a dick. I didn’t know … I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings. Couldn’t get my shit together. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

As you nodded, he was relieved to see your expression start softening a bit.

“I need you in my life, in any capacity. If you need time I get it, but I just can’t… I need to know you’ll be in my life.”

You were worrying your lip, slowly nodding as you took in his words. “I shouldn’t have pushed you that day. I was trying to… it wasn’t fair of me.”

“Stop apologizing darling,” he liked the way the pet name rolled off his tongue again. The two of you stood in silence for a moment again.

“I wanted more too.” Nearly giving himself whiplash for how quickly he snapped his head towards you at your words. You weren’t looking at him, eyes dropped down to where your hands tapped nervously against the counter.

“I – you did?”

You only nodded, watching as you twirled your ring around your finger.

“Never said anything…”

Glancing up at him finally, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well…neither did you. Plus, I thought I was, I don’t know, making it obvious. Spending nearly every night here and all… I was sort of trying to bring it up that day we fought.”

“Truly fucked that up, didn’t I?” He rubbed his hand over his forehead, pushing his hair up. You only hummed, and his heart nearly soared when you saw the corner of your lips twitch in a smile.

He couldn’t help the smile starting to build on his lips either, trying to swallow down his anxiety before asking you what he wanted to. “Do you still?”

“Do I still what?” You were really making him say it.

“Do you still… want more. With me.” He watched you intently, watched your eyes flick away from his; to your hands to the counter and around the room, before meeting his own again.

“Well… came over, didn’t I?”

Heat rushed through his body as he processed your words. “Is that a yes?” His words were a rush of a breath. He found himself walking across the kitchen towards you until he was standing in front of you, keeping a gap but still being the closest he’d been to you all night.

“Yes.” Every nerve in his body urged to jump forward towards you at your whispered word, but he held himself back.

“Good,” his voice matched yours: quiet, breathless.

He wanted to pull you in his arms, to push you against the counter leaving no room between the two of you but he also didn’t want to assume you’d jump right into it; maybe you’d want a bit of time, maybe you were still mad –

Any second thought flew out of his mind when the light touch of your fingertips met his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. His own hand instinctively wrapped around your waist, other hand sliding to your cheek, fitting with you like nothing ever changed.

Mouth quickly met his, and it was like kissing you for the first time all over again. You were still just as warm against him, still smelt like the shampoo that you left in his shower.

Your lips were light against his at first, a ghost of a touch as you pressed yourself against him and bunched the collar of his shirt in a fist. His hand on your cheek moved to tilt your head up to him slightly, as he held you tight against him not wanting you to ever leave.

A small sigh left your lips as he took a step forward, pushing lightly back to trap you between the counter and himself. Kiss quickly deepening as you let him taste deeper into your mouth, wandering hands pushing up under your shirt.

You were tugging at his hair as he pulled small whines from the back of your throat, gripping your thigh tightly as he helped you sit up on the counter. Mouth leaving yours with a pant, he reveled in the way you hooked your legs around him to keep him against you.

“Missed you,” he kissed the corner of your mouth. “So,” lips moved down your jaw. “Fucking much.”

He loved the sigh you made at his words; he loved every sound you made. Resting his forehead on yours for a moment, lips barely brushing. “You’re so warm darling. Missed kissing you, missed being with you.”

“Me too,” you whispered, pecking a small kiss to his mouth.

“I get to be with you, right?”

“Yes,” his heart soared at the single word. He was enamoured with the smile that took over your face. “Might still be a bit mad a you though.”

His smile matched yours, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Sounds like I have some making up to do.”

#ah there was a mistake i reposted it okay ! #hi yes #this is just my lil something hope u enjoy #its short and kinda dif writing #pls let me know what u think and share ! thank u love u #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction

[justice4falum]

do NOT give money to tumblr user roboticwheelchair

Hi, so you’ve probably seen this post or some of its permutations on this website lately! (The old version of this post broke because I mistakenly deleted it. Let’s try this again, shall we?)

This is a “RAFFLE” for a Nintendo Switch Lite and the poster is asking people send them $10 to earn a spot in the raffle, of which there are 52. People have already sent money in.

This post was made by user roboticwheelchair and the name which currently displays on their paypal is “Mick Garcia” - it’s very possible you’ve heard their story already from several weeks ago. User roboticwheelchair claims that they were physically assaulted for being a transgender man, and that they sustained a concussion.

The BAD news is that roboticwheelchair is a blog which has been on tumblr for a very long time, and used to belong to someone named Falum Gibson. You may have heard this name from their #justice4falum campaign ages ago. They are a notorious scammer and has been doing this since 2016. LET’S REVIEW (LONG, LONG, LONG POST AHEAD.)

Part 1: #BieberMeetFalum and Meeting Ed Sheeran

In 2016, Falum ran a Justin Bieber fan account on Twitter called @bieberfreezer (account has since been suspended). They began a campaign called #BieberMeetFalum by posting a Twitter thread about their disability, cerebral palsy, and how they had intended to meet Justin Bieber personally because his music was important to them. However, the venue he was performing at was not wheelchair accessible and Falum uses an electric wheelchair. They were trying to get the attention of him or his team in order to ensure they met. (LINK)

This was a reasonable thing to post about! Accessibility is a necessity. We know this. And they weren’t asking for money. Twitter got this the attention it needed and they were able to meet Bieber despite the trouble. (LINK)

Later on, they gunned to meet Ed Sheeran and succeeded.

Part 2: #TaylorNoticeFalum

In 2018, Falum was on Tumblr as user taylorsgetawaycarxo. At this point they still say they have cerebral palsy, but has also said they have COPD (something they later will drop.) Claiming that they are terminally ill and has 2 years left to live, they talk about how Taylor Swift is their idol and they want to meet her before they die.

This came right after they had done the same thing with Demi Lovato fans, claiming they idolised Demi and needed to meet her, so on and so forth. They ran a GoFundMe for this. 

The GoFundMe is now defunct, but the URL was “falumlastwish” I believe. Here’s where the plot gets a little lost, because the sheer number of different GoFundMes, donation posts, and meet-a-celebrity campaigns that Falum was running in these couple of years is... pretty wild. There’s a post from another blog here on Tumblr about the Taylor Swift fandom’s run-in with them. (LINK) 

Here’s a GoFundMe they ran from a music fan account on Instagram, where they were asking for help escaping homelessness. They raised almost 5,000 dollars out of the 10,000 they were asking. (LINK)

At some point they also ran a GoFundMe for a PTSD service dog. I’m not sure how much they were asking for this one, but they apparently made $880 off of it. 

Part 3: Ellie Elizabeth

This part is a little muddled, because the tumblr blog connected to it has been deleted and it’s really difficult to find archives of the posts, but at some point in early 2019 Falum started using the blog ellie-elizabeth21 to ask for money as well. The story was that they were being sent to conversion therapy for being bisexual by their father, who had them deemed legally mentally incompetent. Further stories they posted about were potential evictions, needs for grocery money, etc.

Here’s a link to an imgur album of some of the posts this account made. Many of them achieved their goal of over $200 or more. (LINK)

“Ellie” also ran a GoFundMe to escape conversion therapy. Although the person running the campaign was listed as Ellie Elizabeth, the “beneficiary” listed on the campaign is Falum Gibson, proving that Ellie was another pseudonym - just a better hidden one. Here’s the link to that GoFundMe, where you can see it for yourself. (LINK)

This was Ellie Elizabeth’s PayPal account at the time, I believe? And anyway, you might note that they apparently made nearly $6,500 on this account.

Part 4: #Justice4Falum

Now in November of 2019, Falum moved away from the world of Fan Internet and decided to try out something new. They made the blog roboticwheelchair in September of 2019 and reblogged a photoset of cats to it, which for a while was the only thing on the blog besides the donation post they initially made. They’ve gone through a cycle of reblogging and deleting things there, basically clearing out the blog every couple of weeks to make a new post.

At this point they were also @falumgibson on Twitter. The account has since been locked. This is when they posted a GoFundMe describing medical abuse they were allegedly undergoing at the Ottawa Hospital. Weird side note, this GoFundMe is still running and can be donated to, though obviously I’m recommending you don’t do so. (LINK)

They made several donation posts on Tumblr about this campaign, frequently linking it or their PayPal account and asking people to donate. Sometimes it was to go directly to their legal fund for this lawsuit, other times they were asking for money for medications or other immediate costs.

Side note, they had claimed to be in the hospital since August of 2019 due to suicidal ideation and claimed they had been psych warded. From what I can tell, the Ottawa Hospital General Campus they claimed to be hospitalised at does not actually have a psychiatric ward. It has a mental health team, but they appear to do outpatient work. It’s not really clear what they were in the hospital for at this point.

#Justice4Falum was originally about fundraising for a place to live because apparently they were in danger of being forced to leave the hospital due to homelessness. Later on they turned it into a legal fund to sue the hospital for mistreatment.

Part 5: Further Fundraising, Coming Out As Trans

While Falum was in the hospital, they started identifying as nonbinary. I’m not in any position to speculate about whether or not Falum is transgender, because that’s honestly not the point. Either way, they have started using their trans identity in much the way they use their disabilities - as a way to garner sympathy and trust, and to scam people out of money.

On their Twitter at this point, they did seem to have kind of a bizarre interpretation of how transition worked and appeared to be under the impression that the first thing trans men do is get top surgery? (LINK)

Shortly after this, still during the November that #Justice4Falum ran during, they began asking for donations to a different PayPal account than their normal one, because their stepdad was dying of cancer. There was a GoFundMe for this as well, but it appeared to feature their parents and was possibly not created by Falum.

No date on this tweet unfortunately, but right after that, they made a post about how they had been outed to their transphobic father and needed to escape living with him.

At this point, Falum has added several diagnoses to those they claim to have. In addition to cerebral palsy, they now claim to have multiple sclerosis and several mental illnesses. No more COPD, though! I’m very impressed that they recovered from a terminal illness!

Now that they’re out of the closet, in early December they begin making donation posts on Tumblr again and have now made a Patreon. (LINK: POST) (LINK: PATREON) Soon after this, they apparently left their home and became homeless, and started posting about this on Twitter and linking their PayPal.

In late December they posted on Twitter about having attempted suicide by taking 75 extra strength Tylenol. Warning for a photograph of their IV in this link. (LINK)

Not very long after, Falum returned to their narrative of being terminally ill by posting about how their multiple sclerosis (something they have only claimed since 2019, I believe) causes them over 20 seizures a day and will eventually kill them. (LINK)

Then they locked their Twitter account and decided to try something new.

Part 6: Connor Kay, “anontransman”

Enter Connor Kay. At this point Falum makes a new Twitter account called @ConnorIsTrans which eventually morphs into @anontransman. They initially link this account to their old main account, saying that they’ve switched in order to be openly trans on their new account because their transphobic father is stalking them. (LINK)

They continue asking for donations on Twitter, now with a Ko-Fi account called Connor Rocks.

They also post a story about an ex-friend of theirs spitting on them for being trans, apparently, and say they’re calling the police on her, which really doesn’t seem like something that’d be safe for a disabled trans person to do but whatever. (LINK)

On their blog at roboticwheelchair, they post stories about how they are being assaulted and mocked for being transgender. I should note that on Twitter they’ve said they are not out IRL and have not taken steps to transition.

Not only does this particular story sound kind of like the “down with cis bus” post, it’s also somewhat suspect that they allege they were called a tr*nny as an AFAB trans person, given who is generally targeted by that word. But. Moving on.

When the COVID-19 pandemic came around, Connor created a Facebook group for disability support. This was run by the Facebook account Connor Kay, which has since been deleted. It was the same account that they used to have and they’d not changed anything except for the name; prior posts showed it was Falum Gibson’s account.

It turns out they deleted this Facebook account because someone on Facebook posted about their years-long history of scamming people online. Here’s a link to an imgur album of some of the Facebook callout and the images the OP posted. (LINK)

So Falum, or Connor, decides to start anew with an all new PayPal, Ko-Fi, Patreon and Twitter account. At this point they begin to break away from linking these accounts to the name Falum Gibson and their past donation posts, although they are still using the same Tumblr blog. They change their Twitter handle to @anontransman and remove links to Falum. (TWITTER SCREENCAP) (KO-FI SCREENCAP) (PATREON SCREENCAP)

Then they tweet about how they have been diagnosed with cancer. (LINK) Then they begin asking for $100k to go to the US for treatment. (LINK)

Soon after, this Tweet has been completely deleted and they have instead started asking for money for top surgery. (LINK) I believe this is in reverse chronological order, but here are a week’s worth of tweets from them - all deleted at random times in order to make room for the others - asking for money for various reasons. Yes, this was all literally within the same week. (LINK)

Note the very last image of that album contains a reference to an “Amazon Raffle” - they were basically telling people that donations would win them a spot in a raffle for an Amazon gift card or something? It seems they moved on from the @anontransman account before the raffle could come to fruition, or possibly that they just deleted all references to it. Not sure.

In April of 2020, roboticwheelchair posted a specific donation post about being attacked for being transgender and sustaining a concussion. They said they did not see a doctor after the assault because they didn’t think it was important, so their concussion went untreated and because of it they were unable to get groceries. The donation post linked to Connor Kay’s PayPal account. It was deleted and reposted several different times, with basically the same text.

Part 7: Mick Garcia

This is a more recent post with the exact same story, now about their multiple sclerosis medication. The only difference is now that the PayPal link sends you to the PayPal of Mick Garcia. Mick Garcia has a different PayPal username than Falum, Ellie, and Connor did.

On April 12th, the @anontransman account deactivated after Falum, or Ellie, or Connor, or Mick decided to leave Twitter. Then yesterday on April 19th, it reactivated and they tweeted once again.

However, around this same time, another Twitter account under the name Mick Garcia with an icon @anontransman used to use and a very similar tone/style cropped up.

The Mick Garcia account has not tweeted yet, as it appears that they may be staying with @anontransman for their current purposes, but it appears that for some reason or another they’ve decided to start going by Mick Garcia now.

I guess it’s probably relevant to note that while I suppose there are probably some white people out there with the last name Garcia, Falum is really seriously white and it’s suspect they would pick out Garcia as a pseudonym, whether they list “white” in their Twitter bio or not.

More from the current state of the roboticwheelchair blog includes many, many posts where they’re either reposting their own petitions or basically grabbing for as many followers as possible. You can probably guess why. (LINK)

As of April 20th, 2020, there are 2 donation posts still standing on their blog. Here are both of them. (LINK)

Finally, The Switch Raffle

Literally today, April 20th, roboticwheelchair posted something that is allegedly a raffle. They claim to be giving away a Nintendo Switch Lite to a lucky winner. There are 52 slots in the raffle; they are asking that people send them $10 over PayPal in order to enter. They’re also claiming this is to further fundraise for their medication.

They are claiming their doctor has put them on an MS medication that costs $450 every two weeks. (Note that if they’re trying to make money for that right now and also going to buy a Switch for the winner, than they’d only have about half of that at the end? The Switch Lite is about $260 in Canada and their total earnings from a full raffle would be $520.)

You should not give money to them for this raffle, or for any reason. The reason I’m compiling all of this is because after months of seeing them pull this scam over and over again, they’re now promising people an actual product that given their history, I would say they are highly unlikely to deliver.

Given their past, it is most likely they will delete this raffle once they have the money they want, and refuse to allude to it ever again. Or maybe they’ll just disappear! Or hell, maybe they’ll have some kind of nebulous problem ordering the Switch when someone wins, and that’ll be that.

But it’s clear based on this history, I hope, that Falum or Ellie or Connor or Mick has a long history of taking lots and lots of money from strangers online. Like, a lot of money. My estimate is that they’ve made over $15k on this, and that’s exclusively based off of the visible numbers on their GoFundMes and Ko-Fi accounts.

Please do not give this person your money. They are not trustworthy. There are other people who need it - like you, or maybe like, someone you personally know and not some complete stranger who keeps telling people they’re terminally ill so they can meet a cool musician.

Disclaimer

I’ve compiled all of this information to the best of my ability, but I am just one person and it took a lot of digging due to the deleted accounts involved.

Falum is actually disabled; I believe they do have cerebral palsy and may have other disabilities. I do not know if they really have MS, but it’s hard to trust them because they previously lied about having terminal COPD.

I have no idea if Falum is really transgender or not. They have apparently taken no concrete steps to transition, which I know means very little. That being said, if they are transgender, they are leveraging their identity in dangerous ways against other people for money and sympathy. Their stories about being assaulted by strangers for being transgender are highly suspect, given their lack of transition and the fact that the scenarios they describe are highly cliche.

Finally, I’m not trying to harass Falum or threaten them in any way. I don’t know them. If they’re interested in talking candidly about what they have been doing all these years and why, that’s fine. I would honestly love to understand, but at this point it seems like the only thing they can do is apologise for their dishonesty and stop doing this.

Reblog this post if you want! The point is to get the word out there, because this person has been a pervasive presence on this website for some time and has not yet been called out.

#tumblr scam #signal boost #donations #falum gibson #roboticwheelchair #anontransman #connor kay #mick garcia #ellie elizabeth

[phlox238]

i wrote a pretty long rymin fic and half of it is min being anxious and getting advice from a lesbian at a gay bar,,, it sucks but here it is anyway

2.5k words this is the most ive ever written

"So," The girl began, gesturing wildly with her hands. "You think you're in love with your best friend, who you've known since you were born, and you're in a band and traveling across Canada and the USA with. What did you say your name is?" 

"Oh, fuck." Min-gi sighed, letting his head rest in his hands. "This is weird, isn't it? I barely know you."

"Nah, I just thought that, if we're going to have a slightly drunk chat in the back of a gay bar, then we should know each other's names. I'm Eryn, and you?" Eryn stuck out her hand, the many bracelets she wore on her wrist clanking together. 

Min chuckled a little, then took her hand and shook it. Her dark skin was warm, which was surprising, since this part of the bar was near freezing. "Min-gi. But you can call me Min." 

"Awesome. So, tell me about it, Min." Eryn tightened her ponytail, leaning forward on her arms. 

"Tell you what about it? There's so many things that I could say." He was so caught up in this gay crisis stuff that he hadn't even considered stopping for a moment to really think about it.

Eryn shrugged. "Whatever you want to say. Get stuff off your chest, just let it out, if you want to. There's like, nobody else back here. Doesn't really matter, right? I'm not judgy." 

"Okay...well, he has a girlfriend, first of all; has had many of them. So he's not into dudes." Min crossed his arms. 

"Hey, he could still be. Just because he dates women doesn't mean he's straight. Could still be into guys. Don't give up hope just yet, okay?" Eryn laced her fingers together, as if she was planning something. The dark lighting of the bar didn't help anything.

“Damn,” Min rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know you could like both.”

Not without laughing at him first, Eryn started to explain. "Oh, wow, you really are new to this, huh?" She chuckled a little more, shaking her head. “That’s okay. There’s a lot of different ways to love people, you just gotta figure out what works for you. Oh, also; it isn’t just both. There’s the genderqueer people, too, don’t forget about them!” She smiled. 

Min didn’t quite know what genderqueer meant, but he figured he could find out later. He was asking too many questions already. "Damn...how do you know all of this? I only realized I was, er, gay, like six months ago."  Min marveled at her, the same way a nerd at school would marvel at the 'cool kids.' And honestly, she really looked like one, with her ponytail and undercut, her yellow, patched leather jacket, even the flashy jewelry she wore.

It made Min want to start dressing differently. Dressing cooler, like Ryan, like Eryn. Maybe he could.

Eryn grinned wider. "Oh, you know. It's just things you pick up along the way. I've known that I'm lesbian for a long time, since I was like 11. And I'm 21 now, so that's a long time. Lots of experience." She shuffled a little in her seat, taking another drink of beer. "Anyway. We're getting off track, aren't we? Keep talking, man." 

Min laughed, a real laugh. "Okay, okay. A year ago, we, er…" He reached desperately for an explanation for the train, but decided that, just maybe, he could tell her. Really, the worst that she could think of him is that he's a drug user. "Can I tell you something? It's going to sound absolutely insane, probably, but I just. Need to tell someone." 

She looked concerned, her dark brown eyes wide, but nodded anyway. "That's real ominous. But sure, go for it."

"Okay. So. Stick with me, here. A year ago, him and I got on a train, right? But then, there was another train door within the train. We just...went into the door. Well, the bastard threw my keys into it and then ran in, so how could I not follow?" Eryn was looking at him intently like she understood. Min could tell he was pretty drunk by now; he'd never be able to open up to someone this much sober. But that's okay. More than okay, really. 

"It gets even weirder from then on. Ryan- that's his name, by the way- and I woke up on a giant, infinie train in the middle of nowhere. Gotta be pretty unbelievable, though. You probably think I'm on drugs." Min sighed.

Eryn was silent for a moment, but it was obvious she was getting ready to explode. "Dude, no fucking way!" Yep, there it was. "I got on that train! When I was eleven. I was super conflicted on my sexuality, had a shit ton of internalized homophobia as a result of having homophobic family. I felt like a disgusting person. So I got on the train, and it actually helped me through it." She'd completely lit up when Min mentioned the train. Looked like she was going to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. 

For a moment, Min was speechless. Soon, though, he regained his voice. "You're kidding," was all he could muster.

"Nope." Eryn's grin nearly reached her ears. "Did you have someone to help you along, too? There was a white cat named Samantha for me. She was French, for some reason. But I miss her." 

"Oh! Yeah, Ryan and I had a floating, talking bell named Kez. Weird, right?. I miss her, too. Wonder how she's doing." Min thought for a second, completely and utterly relieved to have met someone else to share an experience with. Then something clicked. "Hold on...I might have met this cat you speak of. Yellow eyes? Uh, blonde...hair?" 

"Blonde hair? Well, she didn't have that. But yeah, yellow eyes, French accent." Eryn nodded. They were silent for a moment. 

Min chuckled, suddenly getting the urge to continue on with their story. Telling someone about the train would feel wonderful. "We had a lot of...issues...regarding our friendship, at the time. That's why the train picked us up in the first place." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "The train did help us. But we had a lot of weirdly intimate moments on it, and that's where my sexuality crisis started. Like, there was a car where we had to perform a song with each other to get out of it, and of course I got stage fright right before it. I left him alone on stage. Again." Min paused, the guilt almost making him feel like he was living through that moment again. 

Eryn nudged him. "And? That doesn't sound intimate. What happened next?" 

"I hid in the bathroom. So he came in, and at first he was angry, but I was having a full on anxiety attack. We sat in the bathtub, hip to hip, knee to knee. It was weird, but nice. He helped me calm down. And like...in our last year of Highschool, I gave him a shirt with our band name on it. In that bath tub, he had it with him. He kept it. Said he'd never done a show without it." Min laughed, but there wasn't much humor about it. "Man, I wanted to kiss him so bad right then and there. But I didn't." 

Eryn had a soft look in her eyes. "I dunno about you, but that sounds pretty damn gay to me. Maybe he's just dating other people to distract himself from his crush on you, who knows! All I'm trying to say is, don't give up on this, Min. You two have something going on, I don't know what, but it could blossom into a relationship." She patted him on the shoulder, then took another drink of her beer. 

Min did the same. "What if he's not gay?" His voice was small. "Worse, what if he's homophobic? I don't know...fuck, it's terrifying. I could lose him because I'm gay." 

"Well," Eryn paused for a moment, "you could try and subtly bring it into conversation. Maybe, like, bring up a celebrity who's gay. See his reaction." She gestured with her hands a lot, Min noticed. 

Min nodded. It seemed simple in theory, but he knew he'd manage to fuck it up somehow. The logical part of his brain knew Ryan wouldn't leave him for being gay, but at the same time, there was this voice in the back of his head. Irrational thoughts, irrational fears; that's all it spoke of. 

"Thank you. Really. It's been nice to talk about this, especially with someone who's been on the train. That thing is...a freak of nature. Maybe not even nature, I don't know. I'll try that with him, too." Min said finally, after some silence. Eryn laughed. 

"Yeah, it absolutely is." She smiled widely. Eryn glanced around, her eyes finally landing on the only visible clock in this part of the bar. Her eyes widened. "Shit, I should really get going! Sorry. I told my girlfriend I'd be back around now." She, out of nowhere, gave Min a hug. It'd been a while since he'd hugged anyone, he realized, and it felt nice. Although, very unexpected. 

Min hugged her back, sort of awkwardly. They separated soon after.

"That's okay. Again...thank you, so much. I should get young too." By now, it was almost 11 pm, and he figured he should leave as well. Ryan should be back at their apartment soon enough. 

Min was about to turn and leave, but Eryn stopped him.

"Hey! How about we exchange phone numbers? This was a good chat, eh? I'd like to stay in contact." Eryn searched her pockets for a pen and some paper, but only found a marker. "Can I, like, write it on your arm and you can do the same?"

Min knew Ryan would tease him over it, but oh, well, he made a new friend. "Yeah, that's fine." He laughed, offering her his arm. She quickly scribbled her number on it, and honestly, it was barely legible. But he could read it, somewhat. 

He then wrote his number on her arm, they exchanged goodbyes, and were on their way. Min dreaded returning to Ryan, who would definitely start to go on and on about his girlfriend, and just prove to make Min feel worse about his stupid crush.

But maybe, just maybe, Eryn was right. Maybe things would finally go his way for once. 

•••

Min's walk home was quiet (as quiet as New York can be at night) and cold, it being the middle of November. Snow was just beginning to fall. Being outside Eryn's words stuck in his head like glue. Talk to him. As if he could do that. The idea of even just mentioning anything close to being gay made anxiety rise in his throat like bile. 

He couldn't. Probably.

Before he could think much more on it, he was home. Home. Back to the decent one bedroom apartment they'd scraped up all of the money in their pockets to buy. Back to the scent of cigarette smoke in the air, back to the strange stains on the carpet in the hallway. Most importantly, back to Ryan. No matter how much resentment Min-gi might hold to him for having a girlfriend, Ryan usually made things better. 

He walked up the stairs and down the hall to apartment number 202, ironically. Unlocked and opened the door to find it dark inside save for a single lamp. Min walked in, curious, just to find Ryan curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. That really made him anxious.

"Hey...Ryan? You good, man?" Min sat on the empty portion of the sofa, near his head. 

Ryan stirred, rolling over onto his back. His head was resting a bit on Min's thigh, and it felt kind of nice. 

"I dunno…" He mumbled. "She broke up with me." 

"What?" Min looked down at Ryan, surprised. "Lisa? You're kidding." 

"Nope, not kidding." Ryan laced his fingers together over his stomach. "The thing is...I'm like, kind of relieved that she did it? How fucked up is that?"  

Min tilted his head in confusion. He really wanted to run his hand through Ryan's hair, but that was a really inappropriate thought for the moment. 

"She, uh...said some things. When she broke up with me." He sighed. "Called me a fag." Ryan laughed, like he found it funny. Min didn't. 

"Dude, what? Why?" Min's voice was a little shaky, for no other reason than that they were talking about gay people. 

Ryan sighed. "Take a good look at us, Min." He brought his forearm up to cover his eyes. "We're two dudes, living in a one bedroom apartment together. We do everything together. Of course she's gonna think there's something going on." 

Min felt like he was going to fucking disintegrate. "U-Uh...and that's a bad thing?"

"I mean...no. It just kind of clicked that...maybe she's right. Maybe I am gay." Ryan sat up, his back facing towards Min. He didn't look back. " I always assumed that I'd be straight, but this...it makes sense. None of my relationships have ever worked out. With women." 

Min reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Ryan...it's okay." 

Ryan looked back, now, and his eyes were watery. Min frowned.

“How could it be okay?” His voice cracked as he spoke. “It’s just another reason for people to hate me. For my parents to hate me. Hell, maybe even you.” By the time that he finished talking, his voice was almost inaudible. 

"No!" Min almost shouted, jolting forward. "No. Ryan, I could never hate you." Fuck, how was he supposed to tell Ryan he's gay now? Part of him wanted to shout it out impulsively, but the other part, it just wanted to keep hiding. Because what if something goes wrong? What if Ryan's in love with someone else? All what ifs. He really needed to stop. 

Min inhaled deeply. Here goes. "This is gonna sound really coincidental, but...I'm gay too." 

Quickly, Ryan turned around to face Min. His eyes were wide behind his glasses. 

"What? No fucking way. You're kidding." Ryan was leaning forward, using his fists to prop him up. 

Min shook his head. "No...I'm not. I was gonna tell you soon anyway, but now seemed like a good time." He scratched his head awkwardly.

Then, Ryan launched at him, hugging him. Arms wrapped around his neck, knees touching Min's thighs, the whole package. Min was sure he'd die with how flushed his face was; but thankfully, he didn't. 

After what felt like a while, Ryan finally spoke. 

"I love you." He mumbled into Min's shoulder. 

Min paused. "In a gay way, or…?" 

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, you idiot." He shook his head in amusement. 

"Good. That's...great." He hugged Ryan tighter, finally letting himself run his fingers through his hair. It was soft, just like he expected. "I love you too." 

#rymin #infinity train #infinity train book 4 #ryan akagi #min gi park #infinity train season 4

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

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

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

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

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

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

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

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Bear.”

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

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

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

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

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

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

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

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

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

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

“I miss you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

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

“Tell me, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

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

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

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

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

“I could say the same for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I’m okay.”

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

He gives her hip a squeeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

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

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

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

“We’re just what, Iris?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

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

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

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

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

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

“Okay, what’s up?”

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

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

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

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

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

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

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

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

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

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

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

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

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

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

“Come here,” he says.

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

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

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

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

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

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

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

“That I’m what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

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

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

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

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

“Did you do that on purpose?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

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