#the woman who chucked a dresser across the room

[wxldchxld]

Another dumb sound I can’t escape from on tiktok. 

#re8 #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #ethan winters #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #i always thought it was really funny she had like a diary #like i get it but at the same time #the woman who chucked a dresser across the room #sitting down to write about her feelings #is really funny to me #please ignore me lmfao #ooc #crack #garbage #also idk why ethan just looks like he shat his pants here #but i'm dying

[babybluebex]

retribution pt.1 [charles blackwood smut]

➽ pairing: dark!stepfather!charles blackwood x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.9k ➽ summary: after charles marries your mother to gain a massive fortune, he realizes that he married the wrong woman, and he sets his sights on the real heiress: you.  ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. explicit language, smut, thigh-riding, oral (f!receiving), power dynamics, step!cest, masturbation, yandere/obession (i think??), daddy kink, breeding kink, slapping, mentions of murder/suicide ➽ a/n: i know that is different than what i usually post, but charles blackwood just... hmmm he grinds my gears in the best way. so, enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio (and the sequel will be soon!)

From the very moment you laid eyes on Charles Blackwood, you loathed him. There was something about him physically that turned you off of him. Maybe it was the way his hair was just too perfectly done, the caramel highlights too pretty to be natural. Maybe it was the way his cologne filled your head, dark and lovely, but too masculine, like he was making up for something. Or maybe it was the smile that graced his pink and pouty lips when your mother introduced him to you as her husband. 

It had hardly been a year since your father had passed, and you had no idea just how your mother could move on as quickly as she did. It had torn you up in a way that nothing else quite had. You had always been closer to your father than your mother and, when he got sick, you were left to bear the weight of what was happening. You went to visit him at the hospital alone and sat with him and read to him, and you held his hand as the nurses carefully turned off his machines. You guess that it was worth it, though; you found out that your father had altered his will and now, instead of his money being left to your mother, it was left to you. The only condition was that you had to get married to receive the money, going back to a conversation many years ago where your father tried to convince you not to go to university, telling you that the life of a wife and a mother would suit you better. You said that you would think about it. 

“You’re not my dad,” you told Charles Blackwood. You expected him to be cross or maybe even hurt by your insistence upon that, but he smirked, as if he had expected that sort of answer. “I’m not gonna call you that.” 

“Aw, that’s alright, honey,” Charles said, and he pressed his hand to your mother’s shoulder to stop her from scolding you. “I didn’t think you would. That’s awful, what happened to him. I’m really sorry about that.” 

So casual, the way he talked about your father’s death. As if it was nothing more to you than a bad exam grade. You cried that night, locked up in your room, wanting Charles gone already. He was in the kitchen when you went in in the morning, sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, and whistling. He had the glow of a recently-spent man about him, and you internally sneered at the thought of him fucking your mother. “Hey, you,” he said, putting the paper down. “Let’s have a talk, huh?” 

You glared at him, but sat down at the table all the same. You dug your thumbs into your orange and raised your eyebrows expectantly at him, and Charles pursed his lips. “I want you to know something,” he said. “I love your mom, right? And I have no interest in being your new dad or whatever. But I expect you to treat me with a little bit of respect, not any of… This.” He waved his finger at you, obviously talking about your current abhorrent pose. “I may not be your dad, but I’m still paying the bills and paying for you to go to university. So you’re gonna treat me like you fucking worship the ground I walk on. Got it, honey?” 

“And what do I get outta this?” you grumbled. 

“You get to keep living here,” Charles said. “You still get all that money that your father left your mother when he died. I don’t see what else you need.” 

You scoffed. “Right,” you whispered. “‘Cause you only care about money. Well, Chuck, that’s fucking hysterical, that you think I’m even remotely like you. I can see past dollar signs and see what people are actually about. Anyway, I could care less about your money. I’ve got my own.” 

“Doing what?” Charles asked with a dismissive laugh. “Waitressing?” 

“You wish,” you sneered. “Mother didn’t get any money from Father.”

“All that money?” Charles asked slowly. “Where the hell did it go?” 

“Into my trust fund,” you said highly, and you watched Charles’s blue eyes widen. “I have every cent of my father’s. All I have to do is get married, and me and my husband can fuck off, away from you.” 

Charles stuttered for a moment, then said, “Let me get this straight. Your father left every red dime to his kid and not his wife? And you can only access it if you get married?”

“I told him that I wasn’t getting married,” you explained. “This is his twisted way of guaranteeing that I tie the knot at some point; soon, I guess. But congratulations, Chuck. Welcome to the family.” 

As you stood up from your place, Charles’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, and you yelped. His grip was strong, veins in his hand exposing themselves, and his jaw was set with a rising anger. You could see the red flush in his chest and neck, and, as pleased as you wished you were, you were frightened by him. Your father had never grabbed you like that before. Nobody had. “What did I say about a little goddamn respect?” Charles asked through gnashed teeth, and he twisted his hand, pulling your skin and making you cry out in pain. “You don’t call me Chuck. You call me Charles, or Father, or fucking nothing.” 

“Let go of me, you fucking bastard,” you hissed. 

Charles’s face was red now, and he lashed out and struck you across the cheek. Before you even had time to cry out, he had you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. “Go to your room,” he told you. “Next time I see you, if this fucking attitude isn’t fixed, you’re gonna be really sorry. You hearing me, honey?” 

You nodded, using every ounce of your self control to not burst into tears on the spot. You cursed him in your head, wishing for him to leave you and your mother alone. You wanted him gone, maybe even dead. Certainly nowhere near you or your mother anymore. Charles stared at you, watching you, making sure of your compliance, then he let go of your face and tugged you close to his body by your wrist. Confusion overtook you as he hugged you, but then it made sense when you heard the floorboard in the hallway creak. “I know you miss him,” Charles said, quiet but certainly loud enough for your mother to hear from the hallway. “And I can’t be him, but I’ll try my best. Alright, honey?” 

He sent a quick pinch to your tender wrist, and you finally let out your caged sobs. “Hey, hey,” Charles said, shushing you in what could be mistaken for comfort. “No need for crying, little one. I’m here for you.” 

When you finally tore yourself from Charles, he looked happy. The anger was gone from his face, and he smiled at you. “‘Morning, lovely,” he said to your mother, and he stepped around you to embrace your mother and kiss her cheek. 

“What’s going on?” your mother asked, looking at you worriedly. 

“Having a little heart-to-heart,” Charles said softly. “Said she missed her father, and I told her that I’ll try my hardest to be there for her.” 

“Aw,” your mother cooed and placed a kiss on Charles’s lying lips. “You’re too good to us.”

That conversation seemed to change something between you and Charles. He was still an asshole when your mother wasn’t looking, but you knew not to tell her. She wouldn’t believe it, and it would inevitably just mean more trouble for you. However, there was suddenly something more with Charles. He seemed charming, as always, but you sensed something sinister underneath it. You knew that he was only after your father’s money, and he was now stuck with your mother when it was you who had all the money. You knew that he was mad at marrying the wrong woman, but he couldn’t do anything about it now, and the thought that your presence vexed him as much as he did you pleased you. 

Except, as you found out one night, Charles still could do something. 

It was still dark outside your window when you heard your bedroom door creak open. You liked to sleep with it closed, and you brushed it off as the house shifting as it settled. Your clock said that it was five in the morning, and you nearly got up to close your door back, but you smelled him first. Fresh from his morning shower, cologne still potent, Charles lingered in the doorway to your room before stepping in. You squinted your eyes to try to see what Charles was doing, but still trying to act asleep, and you watched him cross to your dresser, across from your bed. He carefully opened drawer after drawer, obviously hunting for something specific, and your heart dropped when he crouched to the bottom drawer and his hands came up to brush back his hair. 

Your heart burned with hate and disgust as you watched your mother’s husband, your stepfather, pull out a pair of your panties. You had done laundry just two days earlier and hadn’t worn them yet, and you watched as Charles pressed the bundle of cotton to his face. After a moment, he stood up, your panties in his fist, and you quickly closed your eyes to feign sleep as Charles approached the bed. You felt his presence right by your face, felt his eyes watching you as you slept, and he whispered, “Fuck, little one...”. Then, you heard the zipper on his pants. Through your eyelashes, you watched Charles press his half-hard cock into his fist and begin to stroke himself, rubbing himself with your panties. He slotted his bottom lip between his teeth as he masturbated, watching you as you “slept”. “So fuckin’ pretty… Gonna be mine.” 

You tasted acidic hate in your mouth, but you couldn’t make yourself confront him. To your knowledge, nobody had ever masturbated to the thought of you before. There was a tiny part of you that liked that Charles was so hung up on you, even if the dominating part of your brain told you how sick it was. Anyway, you hardly wanted to interrupt him and stop an orgasm and give him yet another reason to hate you. 

Charles’s cheeks went red in the dim light of the room as his fist moved faster. Your panties were bunched around his cock, flushed and nestled there like it belonged, and you closed your eyes fully. You didn’t want to see him come. You didn’t want to know what he looked like. You moved slightly, adjusting your legs under the blankets, and Charles let out a quiet little grunt. “One day…” he mumbled to himself. “Gonna be mine… All that’s gonna be mine.” 

His breath caught in his throat, and you heard the wet squelch as his cum coated your panties. Charles stood for a moment, watching you, feeling his cock soften in his hand, and he finally sniffed and stuffed the used panties into his pocket. He tilted his head as he continued to examine you and the way you gave little noises as you slept, and he smiled. Oh yes, he thought as he brushed a bit of hair from your cheek. You would make a good wife. 

Later that day, you were absently wandering around the house. It was too hot to do anything outside comfortably, but you definitely didn’t want to be around Charles or your mother for the moment. Even though you hadn’t seen anything that Charles had done, his grunts and hisses were enough for you to know that he enjoyed his time in your room that morning. You had yet to find your panties, and your stomach roiled when you wondered if he still had them in his pocket. 

Your stepfather called your name from across the house, and your heart dropped. As you made your way to his office, you decided to play with him in the worst way possible. If he was going to haunt you and make you miserable, you were going to do just the same. Charles was leaned back in his desk chair when you got there, smoking from his pipe. His tie was loose, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his gelled hair coming a bit undone. He looked stressed, and perhaps a little anxious. “Yes?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the doorframe. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Charles asked, blowing out a mouthful of thick smoke. 

You shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose,” you said. “Why?” 

“I wanted to take you to dinner,” Charles said. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, and I would like to make it up to you, if I can. I… I truly apologize for hitting you. I have a short temper, see, and I’m trying to be better about it.” His lips were pursed, his eyes trained on you. 

If you didn’t know any better, you would think that his apology was genuine. But he needed you on his good side in order to get your fortune. He was buttering you up. You sighed. “That’s alright,” you said. “Umm… I’d like that, I think. Would Mother be coming as well?” 

“No, little one,” Charles said, and you remembered how he had called you that as he pleasured himself into your panties. “Just us. A father-daughter dinner.” 

“Alright,” you said. “Umm… Would you be angry if I called you Father? I just think…” You trailed off and pretended to be ashamed as you played with the sleeve of your dress. “Maybe it would help me adjust.” 

“Not at all, honey,” Charles replied. “Anything to make you comfortable.” 

You gave him the smallest smile, and you approached his seat. “I should have greeted you with a bit more open-mindedness,” you mused. “I was being childish. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, because I… I just want you to like me, Father.”

“Aw, honey, I do like you,” Charles said, tilting his head. “You’re already forgiven.”

Your smile grew, and you leaned over to give Charles a tight hug. You could smell his strong cologne as you embraced him, and you made sure to give a soft little moan in his ear. “Oh, Father!” you started. “I can’t seem to find some of my clothes. Would you happen to know where they might have gone? Mother’s always on about donating unused things.” 

“I have no idea, little one,” Charles said, and you straightened up. “What exactly are you missing?” 

“Just a few sweaters,” you said, tracing the etching on the desk. “A skirt or two… A pair of panties with daises on them.” You gave a little laugh, and added, “They were my lucky pair and I just… Never mind, that’s embarrassing.” 

“No, I mean,” Charles began, and he shifted in his chair. Your words had done exactly what you had hoped; he was suspicious and uncomfortable. “If it means a lot to you. How exactly are they lucky, might I ask?” 

You laughed quietly. “Oh, Father, I couldn’t possibly tell you,” you giggled. “It’s not the sort of things girls talk about with their parents.” 

“C’mon,” Charles smiled, reaching forward and playfully tickling your side. “If you don’t tell me, then I’ll assume the worst.” 

In truth, the panties meant nothing to you. You couldn’t even remember when or where you had gotten them. But if it made Charles uncomfortable, then you would stretch the truth however far you needed to. You bit your bottom lip and giggled, and you said, “Fine, fine. I wore them the night I almost lost my virginity, and I… I just feel good wearing them.” 

Charles straightened in his chair, setting his pipe aside. “You’re not a virgin?” he asked. 

“I said ‘almost’, Father,” you whispered. “I still am.” 

“Well, that’s not a bad thing,” Charles told you. His hands went to your waist and tugged you closer to him, and he carefully parted your legs with his knee. “Are you waiting for marriage?”

You shrugged. “Or whatever,” you said. “I wanted to do it, but I just… He wasn’t my type.” 

“And what is your type, honey?” Charles asked. 

Your stomach was curling with disgust, but you kept up the ruse. “I don’t know,” you whispered. With a sigh, you settled yourself on Charles’s thigh, playing with the collar of his shirt. “Just, someone who knows what they’re doing, I guess. Who can make me feel good without making mistakes. Older, I suppose.”

“What else?” Charles asked. His thumb brushed against your hip bone, and you shivered when you felt your walls flutter. You couldn’t possibly be turned on by playing this sick game with your stepfather, could you?

“I like dark hair,” you said softly. “Tall. Nice eyes.”

“So…” Charles began and gave you a satisfied grin, one like a wolf who had cornered his prey. “Me.” 

“Oh, God,” you whispered. “I-I guess, when you put it that way--” 

“It’s alright, little one,” Charles said softly, and he leaned forward and kissed each of your cheeks. “It’s alright if you’ve got a little crush on me. Tell me, honey: have you ever been touched before?” 

“Yes,” you replied with a fake meekness. He seemed to like the more innocent side of you. 

“Yes…?” 

You swallowed down disgust, disguising it as nerves. “Yes, Father.” 

“Good girl,” Charles whispered. “How have you been touched?” 

“A boy put his fingers in me,” you told Charles, avoiding his eyes. “And his mouth on me.” 

“Where on you?” Charles pressed on. His hand slipped down to your bare legs and let his fingers linger on the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

“Father,” you mumbled. “I can’t say it.”

“Show me,” Charles demanded, his face suddenly stony. “Put your hand where that kid had his fucking mouth.” 

You let your hand rest on top of Charles’s, and you lifted it to your breast first. “Here--” 

“Over your dress?” Charles laughed. 

“N-No,” you laughed softly. You bit your lip as you guided his hand down the neck of your dress, and you shuddered at his warm palm on your soft nipple. Your cunt fluttered again, and you fully blushed when you realized that Charles had certainly felt it against his tense thigh. “Here,” you whispered, and you found yourself letting out a quiet moan as Charles groped at your breast. You weren’t supposed to be enjoying this. No, this was supposed to be torture for him. 

“You like when I touch your tit like this, honey?” Charles asked, and you nodded quickly. “So good for your father, little one. Where else?” 

You took his wrist and pulled his hand up to your mouth, and you placed a gentle kiss to his fingertips. “He kissed me,” you said. 

“Did you like it?” Charles asked. He pressed his thumb to your bottom lip, and you took it into your mouth as Charles watched greedily. 

You shook your head, and Charles pulled his thumb from your mouth. “What did he do wrong?” he asked softly. 

“Nothing,” you whispered. “I just didn’t like him, I suppose.” 

“Do you usually fuck guys you don’t like?” Charles asked. 

“I didn’t fuck him, Father!” you said quickly. “I-I stopped it. Remember?” 

“Oh, right,” Charles said in a hushed tone. “Saving yourself for the right person, who just so happens to have every quality that I possess. Is that right?” 

“Father,” you groaned, leaning forward to press your forehead against his shoulder. For some reason, you didn’t entirely mind the smell of his cologne anymore. You didn’t mind his perfect hair. You didn’t even mind the wolfish smile that overtook his pink pout. 

“Where else was that boy’s mouth?” Charles whispered. “Did he put it anywhere else? Or just on your pretty little mouth and tit?” 

As you grabbed his hand, you realized that there was absolutely no going back. Your plan was set in motion and there was no way to stop it. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself, and you slowly took his hand down your body. You carefully lifted your dress and settled his hand over your cunt, and you shuddered at the warmth of his palm. His fingers were against your hole, the heel of his hand pressed to your clit, and you watched him lick his lips. “You naughty little thing,” Charles chuckled. “You let him put his mouth on your pussy?” 

“I didn’t like it,” you told him quickly. “I didn’t like him.” 

“Honey, I’m gonna ask you this once,” Charles whispered, pressing his hand fully against you. Even through the thin layer of your panties, you could feel every inch of his hand, and you bit your lip and tried to control your hips from bucking into his palm. Amongst other things, you were sure that you would get in trouble for it. “Do you want me to fuck you? I can show you how good you’re supposed to feel, little one, you’ll love me for it.” 

You nodded quickly, but yelped when his free hand landed a smack on your ass. It truly hurt, and you whimpered when his hand stayed on your ass and squeezed. “Use your words, honey,” Charles said. “As much as I like the little dumb whore act, I wanna hear you beg for it.” 

“Yes,” you said quickly. “Yes, Charles, please. Please, Daddy, please fuck me.” 

“Ooh, Daddy,” Charles purred. “I like the sound of that, baby. Stand up and take off your panties, sweetheart.” 

You did as he told you, shivering when the cool air hit your wet cunt, and Charles tugged you back down onto his thick thigh. The roughness of his pants made you whimper louder, and he sent a slap to your cheek. It wasn’t hard and didn’t even hurt, but you gasped all the same. “Keep your fucking cock-hole shut,” Charles hissed. “You want your mother to hear you fucking yourself on my leg?” 

“N-No, Daddy,” you whined. 

“Good girl,” Charles whispered. “Show me how badly you want me.”

“Huh?” 

Charles took fistfuls of your dress and tugged it downwards, letting your tits escape. “I said, show me how badly you want me to fuck your little hole, babygirl,” he growled. “Fuck yourself on my thigh, and maybe, if you’re good for me, I’ll bend you over this desk right now and fuck you ‘til you can’t walk. You want that, baby? Want your daddy’s cock wrecking your pretty little pussy?” 

You rested your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, and you rocked your hips down onto his hard thigh. The material of his pants brushed your cunt and clit and made you bite back a whimper, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You hated the way that you were enjoying it. You hated him. Maybe you even hated yourself. But self-loathing could wait until you got off, because the pleasure of everything was too overpowering to focus on much else. 

Charles’s hands roamed your body, touching you everywhere that he could manage. He squeezed your tits and pinched your nipples, and bolts of pleasure rocked through your whole body. That, added with the feeling on your clit, was almost too much, and you whined out. “Daddy--!”

Suddenly, his hand was over your mouth, the other clamping down around your throat. “Shut up!” he huffed. His eyes were alert, locked on yours, and his face was red. Was he really angry? The thought that he was truly angry made your stomach flip, and not in a good way. “I told you to shut the fuck up, why can’t you listen?”

You pleaded with your eyes, asking him to forgive you. It was important for your plan that he didn’t have any ill will towards you. You needed him to want to marry you, and to actually do it. Then, you would get the money, and you could find a way to stage a suicide before the money was put into his bank account. Then, you would have your father’s money, and live with just yourself and the fortune he gave you. But, in order to do that, you had to do everything Charles Blackwood asked of you. You had to treat this horrible man like the sun shined out of his lying ass. You had to make him want to marry you. Which, at the current moment, didn’t seem like it would be too difficult. 

You mumbled behind his hand, trying to warn him that you were going to come, but he only hit you across the cheek again. “Not another sound, you fucking whore,” he said. “Fucking yourself on your father’s leg. So slutty. You gonna come? You wanna come on Daddy’s leg?” 

You nodded quickly, and you started your hips faster. Your legs were quivering and you could hardly hold yourself upright anymore, and Charles took note of the tears brimming at your eyelashes. “Is this the first orgasm you’ve ever had, honey?” he asked. He seemed softer suddenly, and his hand left your mouth; the other stayed secure around your throat, though. You nodded quickly, and he gave a little coo. “Aw, my poor baby. I guess I oughta take some pity on you, huh? You’ve been good to me after all… Take off your dress and sit on the desk.” 

Your dress hit the floor, and you settled yourself on the edge of Charles’s desk. It was a hefty thing made of mahogany, and you clenched your thighs together as Charles’s eyes raked over your entire body. “I know you’re not trying to be modest now,” he laughed. “Open your legs and show Daddy that pretty pussy.”

You bit your lip and did as he said, and you gasped when his eyes finally landed on your cunt. You were dripping wet, your slick glistening off your thighs, and Charles let one thick finger glide up your slit and collect your wetness on his fingertip. “Jesus Christ, baby,” he laughed. “You were really close, weren’t you? Let me guess, you want me to shove my cock in you, huh? Want me to fuckin’ split you in two and stuff you full of my cum? God, you would look so pretty, gettin’ all big with my baby.” He paused to suck your wetness off of his finger, and he gave a quiet little sigh. “Oh, God. Of course you taste good… So sweet, like sugar. It’s almost like you want me to eat you out, sugar.”

“Please,” you sniffled. You reached for him and pulled him in by his tie, and he slotted easily between your thighs. “Please, please, please, Daddy, want your mouth on my pussy, please, make me come, Daddy…” 

Charles placed a soft kiss on your forehead as a way to placate your begging, and he whispered, “You’re asking so nicely, sugar. How could I say no to your pretty little face?” 

You didn’t know what exactly to expect as Charles kneeled down in front of you, and you carefully pushed your fingers through his hair, through those perfect blond highlights. The moment his tongue touched your clit, though, you forgot entirely about how you were supposed to be hating him. You forgot practically everything that wasn’t Charles. He lapped up your wetness and placed a wet kiss to your lips, and your stomach clenched as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. “Aw,” he whispered, his warm breath making your cunt flutter again. “You look so pretty, sugar, all fucked out like this. Can’t wait ‘til I can actually fuck you…” 

And, with that, he dived in. He was kissing, licking, and sucking your cunt like it was his only goal in life, your thighs in his bruising grip. You had the instinct to clamp your legs shut, and you nearly did, but Charles pulled his mouth away just enough so that his lips teasingly brushed your clit, and he whispered, “Now, that’s not what good girls do, is it?” 

“M’sorry, Daddy,” you whispered. “Just feels so good.”

“I know, sugar, I know,” Charles whispered. “You’re being so obedient for me, though. Do you think you deserve a reward?” 

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please, Daddy, I’ve been so good for you. Done what you’ve asked, please let me come.” 

Charles sighed, looking up at you once more. “I love listening to you beg,” he whispered. “But you’ve been doing good for me. Go ahead, sugar. Come on my face, baby.”

The way his lips shined with your cum nearly made you pass out. If it were anyone else, you would have adored the sight of it, but, since it was your awful fucking monster of a stepfather, you loathed it. Still, you pulled him close and kissed him all the same, cringing at the taste of yourself on his mouth. 

“What do we say?” Charles asked. His hands smoothed down your body, landing on your waist, and he tugged you flush against his body. 

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered. 

Charles smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. “You’re welcome, sugar.” 

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader smut #charles blackwood #charles blackwood fanfiction #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood smut #charles blackwood x reader smut #hehe whoops my hand slipped #and i wrote nearly 5k of awful smut

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Idiot | Tony Stark

Hey lovelies— I wrote some flangst even though I have a billion other things that needed to be written. I really woke up and said “comfort character? I think you mean: Tony Stark” and then wrote a fic with no plot. It’s just sappy and sad and cuddly and kinda’ elusive as to the relationship. Might expand on this or might let it sit in the void like I am :) Enjoy

Description: Literally like zero plot, this was literally written today this morning because I am a heartbroken mess and I fucking hate real life men right now and I hate the military and I hate guys who tell you that you’re special when they don’t fucking mean it and I really need a Best Friend/Maybe More!Tony Stark cuddle

Pairing: Best Friend / Maybe More!Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Warnings: Like nothing, kinda angsty

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Fluff, Angst, breakups LOL

She wakes up screaming again. This is the ninth night in a row and she’s starting to think that the others are going to request to soundproof her room. She wouldn’t blame them. She would almost prefer they do that because at least then she won’t have to stop screaming when she wakes up. She can just keep going and finally run out of voice and then maybe— maybe— she won’t be able to say his name anymore.

She flips over, her hair plastered to the back of her neck, her stomach tossing like she’s on a roller coaster. She can’t tell if she wants to cry or throw up— she wants to scream at both choices. She wants to rip her hair out too but then she would be sad and bald and she can only do one of those things right now. She’s not deep enough in the spiral to chop it off yet— that’s a day twelve activity.

She settles on crying— like she even has a choice— and soon her room is filled with the sound of her heaving against a pillow that still smells too much like him. She tosses it— she whips it across the damn room and doesn’t flinch when she hears something shatter. It was nothing important, she knows that for a fact. She hopes it’s the picture of them.

She pulls her knees up, tucking them under her torso, praying the pressure will alleviate the bubbling in her stomach. It won’t— she’s only fooling herself. He’s not a cramp— it’s not food poisoning; it’s rage. It’s brain melting sadness. It’s every ‘Good morning beautiful’ and ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love—

No. Nope— not that one. She can’t think about that one. If she does then she might never stop— she might take a match to everything in this room, every piece of clothing in her closet, every mug in the kitchen that he ever touched. Where would she be then— stuff-less, clothes-less, and with every Avenger looking for a coffee mug pissed at her?

Yeah no— better to just not think about it. Better to just scream.

She squeezes her eyes closed— not like it matters, the room is pitch black anyway— and slams her fist against the mattress, letting the sting that rips up her arm ring louder than his name in her head. It only works for a moment before it’s back— louder and angrier than ever. Louder and angrier than her. His name in her head is a separate entity, haunting her skull like it’s a dilapidated mansion, trying to evict her from the endless halls of her own mind.

She bunches the blanket up, shoving it against her mouth and praying that it muffles the crazed roar that sheds from her lungs— like an animal being ripped apart, she can’t tell if she’s screaming for help or for something so much worse.

There’s a knock on the door and she freezes, her blood running ice cold. A few seconds tick by, her limbs and jaw glued into a tight position, tongue heavy and aching in her mouth. Her heart pounds hard in her chest— the entity knocking back to whoever’s at the door— there’s just no way.

“Would you open the door if I told you there are macaroons in my hand?” A collected, slightly sarcastic, familiar voice breaks through the wood barrier of her door.

Her shoulders drop, her throat closing slightly— it’s just Tony.

“I— erm—” she jumps off her bed quickly, stumbling in the dark until she finds the lamp on her desk, turning it on the the sight of her blasphemous pillow and the shattered remains of a purple mug— damn she overshot the pillow by an inch— “gimme’ a minute, ‘k?”

“You get five seconds — these walls are thick but Friday alerted me to the— and I quote— distressed wailing.”

Oh god of course she did— how could she forget about the damn AI? She presses her palms against her eyes, wicking away as much moisture as possible. She’s so tired— her bones feel like cement, her neck barely keeping her head screwed on let alone straight. She’s a mess and all she can do is chuck her pillow back on her bed and ignore the purple shards peeking out from behind her dresser. One thing at a time.

She pushes her lead bones to the door, trying not to wince as the light pours into her dim room. She blinks a few times, her eyelashes sticky and cheeks stiff, taking in the man in grey sweatpants and a worn MIT hoodie in front of her. She glances down and sure enough he has a mug of pistachio macaroons. A mug. How ironic.

She flicks her gaze to his face, blinking back another wave of tears when she sees the concern mingling with his coffee eyes. “Hey doll.”

She swallows, trying to clear her stinging throat. It doesn’t work, her voice still sounds like she’s been chain smoking since the ripe age of five years old. “Hey Tony.”

He raises a dark brow, eyes drawing down her front, and she shifts on her feet, wishing the hallway light would flicker out. She just knows her eyes are puffy and her hair a mess. Her t-shirt is definitely crumpled, hiding what she can only hope is shorts and not just a pair of panties, and she only has one sock on— she can feel it now, the hardwood like ice against her toes. Her face flushes with heat, fingers clasping awkwardly in front of her— she may as well have a sign flashing above her head. Heartbroken idiot.

For a moment they just stand there, eyes locked, daring the other to move or speak or do anything at all first. Finally Tony sighs, holding his arms out, shaking his head. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Get your butt over her— now.”

That’s all it takes for her to practically jump into his arms, throwing her weight against the man like a drowning woman would a life preserver. That’s kind of what he is. Her best friend— her life line. Any other time she would have been the one knocking on his door— kicking his door down is more like it— but he told her— he told her that he was no good and she didn’t listen. She wraps her arms around his neck, biting her lip hard enough to keep the tears from dripping down her face again. She missed him— she’s been missing him for months.

“He’s an idiot, doll.” Tony mumbles against her hair, arms circling her back and pressing her to him so tight that it feels like he’s trying to fuse their bodies together.

He smells like motor oil and coffee and her chest shakes from the contrast of the fire in her veins and the cool relief of finally going home. It feels like longer than months— it feels like years. She’s been walking on eggshells around him since she introduced her— now ex— boyfriend. They don’t fight— at least, they didn’t before. They’ve never had a reason to.

Not until him.

Warmth seeps from him, curling around her limbs. She presses her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent ingrained in his hoodie. He’s been wearing it for a few days, she can tell. If things were normal she would be tugging at the pocket, slipping her hands in and tangling them with his, tracing his knuckles with her thumbs. She’ll settle for this though— she’ll take anything.

“I’m the idiot.” She mutters dejectedly, fingers tugging on his hood, trying desperately to distract herself from how much she wants to scream again. “I thought, Tony— I— god I’m so stupid.”

Tony stiffens, chest like marble and pressing against hers so hard she can feel his heart beating against her practically bare skin— deadly calm but beginning to pick up.

“Don’t you dare.” His voice is gravelly, grinding his words against her ear.

His hold on her loosens and she panics, her own heartbeat spiking rapidly in her chest— what is he doing? Is he leaving? No, no, no he can’t leave! She locks her arms around his shoulders as he bends down, shaking her head, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks, hot and angry and desperate. “No please— don’t go I’m sorry— I’m— please don’t leave me.”

She’s incoherent, not even sure that the words coming out of her mouth make any sense at all but she has to at least try. He can’t leave— not now. She can take a broken heart, she can take one stupid man, she can take having a sockless foot and a head that feels like its caving in— she can’t take her best friend walking away and leaving her in this obscenely bright hallway to fend the light off by herself. If she loses her home she’s done for. “Tony no you can’t— you can’t go.”

She’s sobbing, chest heaving, and she just barely registers the soft clink of the mug settling against the floor before one of his arms is slipping under her thighs, hauling her toes off the floor. His other arm remains anchored around her back, fingers digging into her side to keep her from falling. The sudden motion makes her gasp— a watery, broken noise— her legs pushing around his hips and clinging for dear life.

“Hey—” his jaw rubs against her temple, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, stubble scratchy enough to regain her attention— “I’m here, doll. Right here— you honestly might be an idiot if you think I’m leaving you.”

She chokes out a laugh. It sounds more like a whimper— like she’s scrounging for the last drops of happiness in her for his sake. Probably because she is. She tightens her legs around his waist, socked ankle crossing over bare ankle, sucking in a deep breath as his thumb rubs circles on her ribcage.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” She sighs and his hand stills. “You were right.”

“Trust me— I wish I wasn’t.” His fingers crawl up her back, curling around the back of her neck, pushing the hair from her clammy skin.

The warmth of his skin on hers is like heaven and she tries to ignore the fact that he’s touching her while she’s a complete wreck. “You should hate me.”

His hand clamps harder around her skin, the sharp inhale he takes making his chest rise and push against hers. His fingers slip into her hair and he tugs gently, coaxing her to lift her head from shoulder. When she does she meets his determined, narrowed stare and his minute frown. Her heart clenches when she takes in the rest of his face, her gaze landing on the off purple bruises under his eyes, the tell tale sign that her best friend hasn’t been sleeping. It’s her fault— she knows it is.

He shakes his head, his brown hair ruffling slightly. “God, baby, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

Her lip trembles, her stomach squeezing— baby. “Tony—”

His forehead drops, his damp skin meeting her own, nose bumping against hers, drawing up the bridge and then back down— she can’t breathe. “You’re an idiot if you think for a second that I could hate you. For anything let alone something so damn ridiculous.”

He laughs a breathy, frenzied sound, nose drawing along her cheekbone. She must be dreaming. That's the only explanation as to the sudden lack of oxygen in the hallway— the only explanation to the way her veins are thrumming like guitar strings being plucked. This can’t be real. She feels like she’s going to wake up any minute now, throat raw and chest aching twice as much.

She opens mouth— she has to say something— but he keeps going. “An idiot if you think I wouldn’t follow you to the other end of the earth. Of the galaxy. Here you are thinking I hate you because you dated a moron? Because, what, I told you not to? Big deal— you tell me not to do things all the time. That’s what we do, baby. We tell eachother not to do stupid things and then we don’t listen.”

He pulls back enough to take in her face, eyes drawing over the curve of her nose and the slope of her cheeks before landing back on hers. His stare is intense— demanding, like him— she wouldn’t be able to look away if she wanted to. That’s impossible though; she could stare at this man all day and not get bored. She thinks back to all those days in his workshop, watching him fiddle with his suits. What she wouldn’t give to be there now, legs curled under her and his MIT hoodie— the same one on him now— pulled over her, singing along to their playlist and passing him screwdrivers. Her chest squeezes at the thought— she can’t remember the last time she did that.

His hand in her hair tugs again and she forces herself to stay in the moment, watching his lips form the words first and then letting her ears catch up. “He was a tool and you’re too good for that, alright? That has nothing to do with us. Point blank, whatever, he has no effect on us. Okay?”

She nods, her nose bumping against his again, and for the first time all night— all week— it feels like she can breathe. “Okay.”

His chest sags under her, the tension in his shoulders releasing under her fingers. “Good. Don’t say stupid things. That’s my job.”

“You’re right.” She cracks a smile, one that feels too foreign but entirely familiar. “You can have it back.”

Tony’s brows push together, head pulling back, his own smile beginning to carve over his lips. “Have what back?”

“The title of world’s biggest idiot.”

Just like that she’s giggling, throwing her head back and letting the laughter pour out of her. It’s cathartic— it’s natural. Like a dam breaking, it’s fast and dangerous and exhilarating. Before she knows it he’s laughing too, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, chest shaking, and she’s digging her fingers into his hoodie to keep herself steady. They’re definitely waking up everyone else in the compound but she doesn’t care. She only throws herself closer to him, hugging him so tight that she’s practically falling over his back, legs locked high around his stomach.

He turns his face against her neck, mumbling his words into her skin. “Missed you, doll.”

Her fingers slip into his hair, toying with the soft strands and sighing. “Missed you more.”

Groaning, he straightens, re-securing his arm around her. He passes her another smile, this one softer, more in control. She pulls at his hair in return, earning a half-hearted eye roll and the reward of him sinking his head against her hands. She scratches at his scalp lightly, scrunching her nose and trying not to giggle again. Now that she’s started she can’t stop— that’s his real super power; leaving her in stitches.

“You think you’re ready to sleep again?”

She sobers at his question, shrugging. She already knows she’s not. The thought of going back to her room and having to sleep without a pillow again, alone, makes her blanche. She would rather not sleep at all then do that. She may as well go make a pot of coffee if that’s her option. The answer bubbles in her mouth— no.

No she is not ready— but she has to be. She has to be a big girl. Even if it means sleeping with the window open so that she can’t smell her sheets, even if it means freezing because the windows are open and she can’t use her blankets, even if she would rather be tucked under the covers of Tony’s bed like the old days when things were normal and she was happy.

But she can’t say that— can she?

“I guess— you gotta’ put me down though,” is what she finally settles on, trying to keep the disappointment from her words. It definitely doesn’t work but for the sake of her sanity she pretends it does.

He frowns— fully this time— blinking at her like she’s grown another head. “Uh no I don’t.”

He says it sarcastically— like she’s crazy for even suggesting such a thing— his face incredulous. It makes her heart spike, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She’s missing something.

“Tony, what are you talking—“

And then he turns, starting down the hall, starting towards his room, and she shuts her mouth. She’s not going to protest— she’s not risking her chance.

She’s not an idiot.

#Tony Stark #tony stark fluff #tony stark angst #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #iron man #mcu #mcu fic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe fic #tony stark fic #iron man fic #wow sad dizzy hours

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (11)

word count; 12,58

summary; following the tragic events of your last call, Vince has given the team a few days off, covered by other shift rotations, and coping alone can be hard.

notes; prepare for a few tears, but a lot of smiling and blushing.

warnings; reference to death, mentions of a funeral service, mentions of panic attacks, reference to injury, fire & arson.

The first tear fell the second your front door closed behind you. It was like a weight had been sitting on your chest, crushing you slowly for hours, from the very second you’d woken up this morning.

It had all been numb, seeming detached from who you really were, meeting members of Chuck’s family, introducing yourself, answering questions from the medical side of it all as they all stood confused as to what had happened to their son, and having to remind yourself on a mantra that you hadn't been at blame, as the unwarranted guilt threatened to topple over you at any given moment.

A beautiful ceremony of life, words that made the back of your throat sting as you sat in the church pews and listened to tributes, and the slight smudge of mascara under your eyes that you’d tried to clean up as your eyes watered, but you’d held strong throughout the entirety of the funeral. The dress sticking to your body felt too tight, like it was clinging to every inch of your skin, pushing in on you and crushing you from the outside.

He’d had a fireman’s funeral, the team deciding that despite never getting the chance to pass his exams, he would be sent off the proper way, and Vince had offered no argument. The morning started at the firehouse, nine o’clock sharp, the lights on the van flashing silently with the sirens turned off. The hurst had guided the pathway, lines of firemen along the edges of the cemetery as his family had arrived, and Newt’s hand had found your own to squeeze tightly as the black car had rolled to a stop.

His father, his uncle, his brother, a childhood friend, his best friend, and Thomas. Those six men carried the wooden box holding your friend to the front of the church for the gathering, respectful and calm, his mother offering a speech dedicated to the team, and you’d almost broken on the spot. There was something mentioned about all of you, about how proud Chuck made them all every day, and how much he loved what he did. Apparently, he spoke about you all to his family, at every chance he got. You felt like they were an extension of the team by the end of it.

Your social battery was drained; the simple small talk and polite exchanges you’d shared with everyone, but it had been overwhelming. You were no stranger to funerals or death, but you’d never lost someone so close to you before. It was utterly terrifying, to care so deeply for a group of people, to allow your walls to come down and let them in, only for the ever-looming threat of losing them to always be hanging over your head, and yet, somehow, it only made you stronger.

You suspected Chuck himself had something to do with that.

You’d placed a rose the same shade of red as the fire engines down on the top of his coffin, and whispered your thanks to him, for being your first friend in firehouse ‘21. You wouldn’t be who you were without him, you weren’t even sure whether you would have been able to stick it out there without his support, and without him, you certainly wouldn’t have the family you did today. You had him to thank for all of it, and you’d never be able to repay him.

You were invited out with them all, the family had booked a small conference room to go to, to share memories and chat, but the idea of it seemed like it might throw you over the edge, and you didn’t feel like having any more public breakdowns for a while. Your team had seen enough of you crying in recent weeks, and you felt like you’d done enough of that. You knew that Chuck wouldn’t want you to cry, he’d want you to make a cup of herbal tea - something stolen from Gally - and to watch a movie with Adam Sandler in or a rerun of Brooklyn 99, and he’d want you to smile, because that’s what he’d encouraged every other time you’d been sad.

He had never wanted anyone to do anything but smile, he was a ray of pure sunshine, warm and friendly and enough to light up any room or mood. You’d been sure to tell his mother that, and she’d held you in a tight hug that left you feeling weak, like you were being pulled down to the ground, the emotions overwhelming.

And so, you’d denied their request to join them as respectfully as you could, because you didn’t want to mourn surrounded by people. You didn’t want to do your mourning in a formal black dress that was smart enough for the occasion and heels that made your feet ache, watching as Newt pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, and the rest of your team wander around in the formal firemen’s uniform that was usually reserved for special occasions with a happier undertone, breaching on being tarnished, and you wouldn't let that happen.

So, you’d driven yourself home, eyes blurring a little and the clock tickling just past midday before the dam finally broke and you were slamming the front door shut a little harder than necessary. One gasping breath as you stood still, a second to follow, and then you were kicking off your shoes. The tears fell freely, hot and salty and unending as you sobbed, shoes abandoned and soles aching as you reached up to try and roughly jerk the zipper on the back of your dress down.

As you peeled it away from your body, you felt like you could breathe again, the pressure having been the opposite of soothing and you worry you were going to tear it in your haste to get it gone. It was chucked across the room, haphazardly into the laundry basket in the corner, and your stockings did rip as you tried to shed them from your skin. Elegant and professional, your appearance had been perfect, but you had felt the opposite. You felt broken, damaged and wounded and messy, like your emotions and inner feelings were leaking out for everyone to see, your deepest and darkest fears on display to be gawked at, your innermost worries open for public viewing.

It was a churning pool in your stomach, one that chilled you from the core, blood running cold in your veins, and you shivered a little. The smell of your perfume felt wrong where it lingered on the air from where you had sprayed it before, and you collapsed down in the seat at your dresser, hating the face that was staring back at you in the mirror.

It was wrong, you looked so professional, pointed eyeliner and a flick of lipstick, more makeup than you’d worn in a long time, but it was a mask, a shield to hide behind as you put up your defences against the pain you were experiencing, armour to wear to hold the pain at bay for long enough, but now it felt heavy. You grabbed for a makeup wipe, two coming loose and then a third, before you were scrubbing at your face. Flawless skin and artful designs were scrubbed away, your flesh blotchy underneath and flushed from the day’s events already, and it was only growing sorer as you scrubbed your skin clean.

The tears kept running, silent and slow as they flowed, and you struggled to even find the strength to push yourself back to standing up. The cold air in your apartment made you shiver, the simple but comfortable underwear was already feeling uncomfortable on your skin, everything did, now. Your fingers were shaking as they turned on the tap, trembling as you washed your face free of any remaining grime until you felt fresh, and you managed to get a handle on your tears.

They stopped somewhere between brushing your hair up out of your face and rubbing some moisturising cream onto the skin that was red and raw from salty tears. Tugging on your sweats and rolling them at the ankle away from your feet. Unclipping the bra from behind your back, it felt like the final restricting garment that was binding you to the pain of the day. It was left dropped to the floor, alongside torn stockings, kicked into the corner. You were fishing out a long-sleeved shirt from your dresser, the comfortable maroon coloured one with the hole in one sleeve for your thumb to slip through, when there was a knock at the door.

Nothing too startling, it wasn’t too quiet with the traffic outside, neither was it dark as light poured in from the sun outside, but you were one edge, and so the sudden intrusion on your quiet was shocking. Tugging the fabric over your head as you walked, and adjusting it across your front, you stuck your thumb through the hole and wiggled your fingers a little to grow comfortable, before you were opening the front door.

You were a little surprised to see who was on the other side. You had expected a neighbour, possibly the grumpy woman that lived a floor below, but you hadn't expected the towering frame of a familiar firefighter. He’d changed too, smart navy uniform swapped out for some jeans and an oversized jumper that would make him look smaller than he was if it wasn’t for broad shoulders and tall stature you knew lived underneath. Soft brown hair was freed from a white cap, and his face held equally as much sorrow as yours did.

“Thomas.. what are you doing here? How did you even know..?”

“I remembered. From the night we went to the vets. You pointed out which window was yours, I counted the floors, and tried to work it out. The resident two doors down told me where to find you.” Pink tinged his cheeks at the confession, and you laughed lightly, his hands rubbing together as he moved to stand up fully from where he’d been leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “I thought you might need a friend right now.”

“You didn’t want to go to the little get together his family arranged?”

“Absolutely not.” He grimaced, shoulders sagging a little more. “I loved Chuck, I did, but I don’t think he’d be mad at me for not being able to handle another few hours of his crying relatives looking at me like I was the one who failed them, because I was supposed to be his lieutenant.”

“You’re not allowed to blame yourself if I’m not.” You whispered, his eyes sparkling a little in amusement as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, before his gaze was dropping down again.

“Look, I know my presence is unannounced, and that I am crossing all kinds of boundaries right now, but you were the first person I thought of when I got home and started feeling alone, and so I got changed and drove here without really thinking about it. I know it’s wrong, and you probably need time for yourself, and so I can go if you want me to, b-”

“Don’t go.”

He let out a relieved sound as you cut off his rambling, rubbing a hand over his forehead, and daring to look you in the eye. “Are you sure? I mean, my company right now, are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure about ninety-nine percent of the things going on in my life right now, but I’m pretty sure you’re one thing I’m absolutely certain of.” He smiled a little at your words, something soft and adoring flickering over his features, and he held his arms out a little wider for you.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

You didn’t wait, letting yourself topple forwards into his grip as your hold on the door to keep you steady and upright in your weakened state moved to him, letting him support you as your arms wrapped around his neck, his around your waist to pull you flush up to his body for support, and you felt like you’d finally found your comfort as his warm breath washed over your cheek, before his face was burying in your neck, and a sweet kiss was being pressed to the skin there briefly.

His hands dipped a little lower, no doubt feeling you tremble against his hold, knees buckling as you relinquished the last of your self-control and stability to him, to hook under your ass, and lift you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him hold you a little tighter as he stepped blindly into your apartment, kicking the door shut and leaning back against it as he held you, and the presence of wet tears and muffled sniffles against your shoulder wasn’t missed.

You raised a hand, brushing through his hair gently, and taking the time to comfort him this time. You pressed a kiss to his temple, and again, before squeezing yourself around him a little tighter and letting him reciprocate the actions in silent acknowledgement of your comfort, as he let himself break down now he was behind closed doors, much like you had.

Your feet slipped back to the floor a few minutes later, when his heart had slowed and breathing calmed, and the moment of insure weakness had passed, leaving you to lean against him, staring up at red-rimmed eyes as his hands rubbed circles onto your hips, silence being all that was needed.

“Thanks for letting me in.”

“Thanks for coming over.” Your words were barely even audible, shared into the space between you both, and he nodded his head, licking over dry lips, and clearing his throat slightly.

“It was really no trouble. Like, at all.” You smiled, forehead bumping against his chin as you leaned forward, before your cheek was pressing to his shoulder, and his arms were circling more fully around you for the hushed conversation. “I was hoping you’d let me take you to lunch, or something? We could hang out, try not to think about it all for a few hours.”

“God, it is lunchtime, isn’t it?” You rubbed at your eyes, gaze flickering to the clock on the wall overhead the open-plan kitchen counter. “I haven’t even had breakfast, yet, I felt too nauseous this morning to even consider eating something.”

“You’ve not eaten yet?” He pulled back a little further, his hands coming up to sit over your jaw, allowing his thumbs to sweep gently over your cheeks as he directed your eyes back to meet his own, and you shrugged, a smile on your lips.

“Oh, c’mon, Tommy. It’s not exactly anything new for us to miss meals in our line of work. I swear, that siren waits until I make something to eat to ring.” He chuckled, nodding his head, before pulling you forwards to press a kiss to your forehead, your hands bunching up in the fabric of his jumper around his waist, holding onto him tightly and hoping it conveyed what you couldn't say with words, a silent offering in gratitude for simply having his presence. “My body would probably be more shocked at a regular eating and sleeping schedule than it would one missed meal and a day without needing to nap to get through it.”

“Well, I guess we’d better start with breakfast, then.”

“You haven’t had breakfast?” You questioned, hopping up onto one of the bar stools beside the kitchen counter, and you watched with some form of amusement as Thomas moved across the room to open your fridge, clearly making himself comfortably at home in your home as he rooted through the contents.

“No, I’ve had breakfast.” He hummed, beginning to pull things out and stack them on the counter. “Well, kinda’. I picked up coffee on the way to the.. on the way, and I got a couple of muffins to go, too.”

“Muffins do not count. I bet they were chocolate chip ones, too.”

“Only one of them was chocolate chip!” He defended himself, the fridge rattling a little as the door closed and he turned to stare at you from the other side of the counter, eyes narrowing a little, before a teasing smirk was appearing on his face once again. “They only had one chocolate one left, the other was blueberry, which is fruit, so it’s basically like eating an apple.”

“You’re so full of shit, I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong that is, and how unhealthy that is, for a lieutenant of a fire station, no less.”

“Yeah, well, I have to live life a little unhealthily. If I didn’t how would I get cute paramedics to fuss over me?” He winked, the moment slipping away from you both for just a second as you gaped at him, feeling a warm blush race over your skin to find a home on your cheeks, and he chuckled to himself cheekily at his ability to make you so flustered, your eyes rolling but it was out of fondness as your head dipped. “So, pancakes? I’m really good at making pancakes.”

“You sure? Something about you just screams ‘I-cannot-cook-for-shit’.”

“I take that as a raging insult. I’m an excellent chef. An excellent and usually healthy chef, actually. I mean, I’m a lieutenant at a fire station, I’ve gotta’ stay in shape.” You scoffed, your words used against you again, and your eyes trailed along broad shoulders and arms for a second, taking in the muscles you knew to exist there that were hidden under a baggy jumper. “Are you checking me out right now?”

“No.”

“You totally are, you’re checking me out.” He gasped the words, reaching up to grab at his pecs like a woman would grab her tits, and you grinned at his actions, lips pursed together to try and contain it as your heels ached, and his jaw dropped, as though he was utterly modified and disgusted at the idea. “I feel so violated right now. Take your eyes off of me, this is disrespectful, my eyes are up here, you know.” He pointed up to his face, and you raised a brow, hopping down from your seat to around the counter, his gaze following you as you moved past him.

Pressing the button on the small countertop coffee machine and placing a mug underneath, you turned back to him, hands wrapping around his wrist to bring them down, your eyes dragging purposefully slowly over his chest, up to his face, and he there was a more serious look on his face as you did this time. Leaning up a little, his breathing hitched, eyes fluttering to sit hooded as he leaned in enough to bump his nose against your own, and you let out a breathy laugh. “It ain’t nothing I haven’t already seen, big boy.”

You pulled back, laughing at the shocked look on his face as he blinked to clear his mind, and you turned away to face the coffee machine, the man behind you stuttering a little bit. “You little tease.”

“Not a tease, maybe I’m just playing hard to get.”

You replaced the mug, making him a freshly brewed coffee too as soon as yours was finished, and Thomas was rooting through your cupboards to find the equipment he wanted. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or excited. Insulted, because, after all we’ve been through, I figured I’d at least have a place in the runnings, but excited, because you just admitted that I at least have a shot.”

“I thought you already knew you did.” You blew the steam from your coffee mug gently, and he found the mixing jugs he was looking for, his eyes twinkling a little as he glanced at you, turning back to the pile of ingredients he had made.

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

“Hm.” You took a sip, settling yourself back in your seat, and watched as he began to crack eggs, clearly working on mental estimates rather than an actual recipe as he created a batter. “Well, for the record, you have a really great shot. Good ranking in the runnings, or whatever. Go for the gold.”

“Are you my top prize?”

“I could be.” You tried to convince yourself the blush on your cheeks was simply a bodily reaction to the heat steaming from the mug.

“Then I’m in it to win.”

“I hope so.” You whispered, the coffee machine beeping again as another cycle came to an end, and you nodded towards it, letting the moment be carried away, left on a high note, and not allowing yourself to overthink it or start to become doubtful of your decisions. “That coffee is for you, I made you a cappuccino.”

“I love cappuccinos.”

“I know, you like the foam on top so you can lick it off your upper lip.” He paused, glancing up at you, something you were unfamiliar with flickering across his features, before he was nodding his head.

He didn’t say anything, and for a second, you worried you had messed up somehow, that you’d done something wrong or freaked him out, or made an error, but you were certain you were right, you remembered Thomas telling you about his love for the frothy drink a few months ago when the station coffee machine had broke and you’d all had to make coffee from a kettle, and you’d seen him lick the froth from his upper lip with a grin every time he had one of the drink, when he thought nobody was looking, and he could be a child again for just a few seconds.

Then, though, you caught sight of the smile he was trying to hide, the way his face was lit up a little as he stared into the recipe, beating the eggs with a fork, a variety of other utensils laid out before him. He turned, placing a pan over the hob and starting it up on it’s lowest flame, before dropping a large wedge of butter into the pan to start melting, the lump sliding across the metal surface slowly as it began to heat up.

“So, these pancakes might be a little off. I normally use protein powder instead of flour, so, go easy on me.”

He added a large scoop of flour to the mix, milk being splashed in by eye-measurement only and some butter added, the pan popping a little behind him as it heated up, and you raised a single and slightly judgey brow at the unusual mix of quantities he was adding before mixing it. It seemed to work out for him, because somewhere along the line, it had formed a decent batter, and he was scooping out enough to slowly drop into the pan.

It sizzled at it cooked, his back to you as he worked at the hob, and you twisted a little more in your seat, facing forwards to the counter and resting your elbows on it, to be able to balance your chin on the top of your hands. Scanning your eyes over Thomas slowly, your cheeks flushed with heat a little as you realised you were very definitely checking him out, but you couldn’t help it.

His broad shoulders couldn't be hidden, no matter how big his jumper was, filling his frame widely. The muscles of his back became evident occasionally as he moved, the soft cotton of his jumper pressing to them but never becoming stained, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to cook as butter and oil in the pan popped, the veins along his forearms becoming a little more prominent each time he flipped a pancake over, or served it up onto a plate.

He was humming a song to himself, hips swaying a little as he occasionally mumbled a word or two, barley even audible to you as you listened in and you didn’t recognise the song but it sounded like something that would have been made in the 70s, your lips sneaking up into a soft smile. It was unusually domestic, it had been years since you’d ever had anyone to cook for in your own home, and you couldn't remember ever having anyone cook for you.

Well, bar when you’d been living at home, and a child, but that didn't count.

You weren’t blind to how attractive Thomas was; he was attractive in a beautiful kind of way. Soft chocolate-coloured locks and golden eyes that seemed to change shade with his mood, skin imperfect with constellations of pretty moles that only made him seem more like a piece of art. Of course, being the lieutenant of a firehouse team had its perks, he was often fitting in workouts at the firehouse on slow days between calls and you’d seen the stretch of his shirt across biceps and lean pectorals, and you’d been caught staring when he had comforted you after Chuck’s death. You’d been close enough to him so many times now that you were no stranger to the hard muscle under his clothes and soft but warm skin to cover it, or the long fingers on calloused palms that often found their way to you.

You’d just never really allowed yourself to be affected by any of it before now, putting up walls meant shutting out anything that might cause you to connect to someone, including physical attraction. Now, though, you’d been forced to take those walls down. You were happy about it, even if you weren’t happy today, but it meant noticing the more intimate things. It meant you noticed the scar on the side of his nose, almost indistinguishable until you’d been allowed close enough to see it, or the way the moles on his face continued all the way down along his flesh, but were more heavily grouped on his left side.

He turned, a plate for both of you in hand as the heat had been turned off, pan sitting there to cool, and he wandered over, pushing the condiments he’d assembled from your cupboards into the middle of the table, and you chuckled at the small collection of fruits he’d chopped on a separate plate; strawberries and apples, all you had, but he’d slipped something healthy in there.

“You want me to get the cutlery?”

“I found it. Third drawer across from the fridge.” He smiled, turning, and grabbing a matching set of knives and forks for each of you, before settling himself on the opposite side of the kitchen island, and you were already reaching for the syrup as he placed a piece of apple into his mouth, a satisfyingly loud crunch sounding out as he chewed it. Grabbing the knife and fork from the counter, your hands hovered over the plates, holding in mid-air before your first cut, and you could feel Thomas’ eyes on you. “Is it okay? I can make something else.”

“It’s perfect. Nobody has ever really cooked for me before.”

“You and Fry cook at the house all the time! He’s always making you meals.” He looked confused, brows pulling together and he sliced off a piece of pancake, stabbing it through a strawberry and sweeping it through some syrup, before chewing happily, and waiting for you to explain.

“No, that’s different. I mean, nobody has ever cooked for me before. Just made me food, in my own kitchen, for the sake of it. When I cook with Fry at the firehouse, that's cool, but we’re making lunch for everyone and he’s testing recipes. This is different. You didn’t have to come over and see me, or cook for me, or comfort me, but here you are.”

“Here I am.” He whispered, a sweet expression on his face as he chewed, eyes flicking between you and his food, and you finally chopped off your first piece, bringing it to your mouth.

You didn’t need to thank him, he already knew, just from your words, how much it meant and the message you’d been trying to convey had been shared. Every experience you made with Thomas was like something entirely new, you weren’t sure why or how it had happened, he was never someone you thought you’d end up in such a situation with, and if someone had told you six months ago that he was the person you’d be turning to in your grief, you’d have laughed.

It was good food, the two of you sitting quietly for a few moments, a grin on his face as you approved of his cooking, warmth spreading over his cheeks at the compliment, and it was well-deserved. You wondered why he didn’t cook at the house more often. The fruit between you was dwindling, though he had eaten the majority of it, and you were at least a third of the way through your food before he spoke again, this time, his eyes fixed on his plate, voice barely above a whisper, but it seemed to fit the delicate mood. “You looked beautiful today.”

You paused, swallowing your mouthful thickly, and Thomas’s fingers were tapping at the counter as the other one navigated his fork around his plate, watching it intensely as though it was the most intense action in the world, but he seems to sense your gaze, his lips pursed as he looked up, one shoulder rising and falling in a shrug.

“I think you always look beautiful, even right now when you want to cry, but you looked really beautiful today. Sad, heartbroken, but beautiful, too. In an epic Ancient Greek tragedy kind of way.”

“So did you.” You murmured, heat washing over your face and burning at you as his brows raised a little, and you let out a frustrated exhale through your nose. “Handsome, I mean. You looked really smart. And good. In your formal suit.” The word vomit was starting again, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his lips as he stared at you, but the hole was already being dug and you were just falling deeper, unable to stop it. “Not that your normal fireman stuff doesn’t look good, you look really good in that, too. Fuck, are you going to shut me up any time soon or are you just going to let me continue embarrassing myself?”

He grinned, toothy and wide, a sight that made your guts twist a little, and your stomach feel like you’d lost gravity for a second, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “I think it’s cute when you ramble.”

You were even more flustered now, cursing a little under your breath, and staring back down at your half-eaten meal, poking the top pancake angrily with your fork like it was to blame for your embarrassment.

“I also think it’s pretty cute when you get embarrassed about rambling, and you blush, and you get all flustered because of me. I like knowing I can make you flustered.”

“Shut up.” You scowled, and he chuckled, but gave in, quieting his laughter with another mouthful of his food, and silence took over again.

It was a few more minutes before the heat bled away, and you were able to look back up to meet his eye, finding the amusement in the situation now that it had passed, but the dark cloud of the day was still hanging over you both.

You poked at your food, stirring it around the plate for a while, and eventually, you had finished your meal, moving on to snacking on what was left of the fruit in the middle of the table. You appreciated the gesture, because you were certain that had you been left to your own devices you wouldn’t have eaten, you probably would have spent the whole day moving around in some kind of daze, wallowing in your pity before eventually dropping into bed. Tomorrow would have been a mess, and yet, it was looking a little more promising now.

“So, do you want to talk about how you’re doing?”

You paused mid-chew, looking up to face him as you felt more like you were choking down the bite of apple, rather than swallowing it, and you sighed, your bottom lip finding itself being worried between your teeth as you thought about it, before eventually shrugging. “There’s not much to say.”

You stood, moving around him, breaking away from the bubble you had created together in order to start loading up the dishwasher, any kind of menial task to avert yourself from the conversation, but he clearly wasn’t letting it go that easily. He stood, his empty plate following, slipping it onto the rack beside your things, and reaching for the pan next. “I know you’re not okay, but you’re not alone, because I’m not really okay either.”

“Tommy, it’s different.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t shut me out.” You closed the machine, loading it up with a capsule and pressing a series of buttons, the machine humming to life, and you turned around, leaning against it, arms crossed as you stared at the floor. It was more like a glare, as though the tiles of the kitchen had personally offended you, but it softened considerably when a finger hooked under your chin, dirty sneakers filling your vision as he stepped in front of you, forcing you to look up at him. “Stop blaming yourself, sweetheart. You can’t, because it’s not your fault. It was a whole load of unfortunate incidents that all came together, and you couldn't have known any of them. You did your best, you did everything you could, and sometimes even when you try your hardest, bad things still happen, but that's not your fault.”

You sniffed lightly, a soft sob leaving you before tears were beginning to slip free, and he wiped them away gently with his thumbs, both hands now cupping your cheeks, and you allowed yourself to once again be weak with him. Your hands were shaking, finding his forearms, smoothing along until you reached his wrists, the back of his hands, pulling his touch away from your face until you could wrap his arms around yourself and press your face into his chest.

He didn’t resist, instead, he lifted a hand to cup the back of your head, his cheek coming down to press softly to your crown as the other slipped around your waist to hold you close, and your cries were muffled as you clung to him. As you did, as you sought comfort from him and let your pain out, you couldn’t help but settle, decide that you were far too comfortable in his arms and with this team, too comfortable at this house to ever let it go. You’d always wanted a family, the bond that came with finding a group of people you could bare your very soul to, to find someone who would see you in your worst state as well as your best and still stick by your side, and you’d found it all.

Holding him a little tighter, you found the tears were slowing, misery was still weighing heavy on your heart, but it was a little easier to carry when you let them help you.

“Can you stay?”

“Stay?” He echoed, letting you pull back to wipe at damp cheeks, before you were nodding, and giving him the best smile that you could muster in that moment.

“Like, here, with me. If you don’t have anything else to do today.”

“Only thing I have to do today is you.” He smiled, and you knew there wasn’t supposed to be an innuendo in the words, but he seemed to realise the same moment you did, a laugh breaking free from your lips as his face flushed with a pink blush, sitting up on his cheekbones and spreading right to his ears, a shocked look forming. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.”

“I gathered that.”

“What I meant to say, is that I don’t have any plans except being with you, for as long as you want me to be here.” You smiled, letting the moment go rather than teasing further, because the colour on his cheeks was already too much.

“Wanna’ watch a movie? I’m pretty sure we could get all the way through one without any distractions, there’s no alarm going off today. Hopefully.”

“Knowing our luck, your building's fire alarm will go off.” He teased, his arm lifting up to tuck you into his side and settle back over your shoulders, guiding you through the space to the couch and living room only a few metres away.

“Well, if it does, I know that I’m the safest I could possibly be since I’m here with you.” You tapped the tips of his nose as you settled down, Thomas slumping into the cushions and spreading out a little as you sat beside him, legs crossed under yourself as you reached for the remotes, trying to reset your emotions as you scrolled through the comedy section, deciding that it was definitely the time for something light-hearted and fun. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you want is fine by me.” His hand found a place on your thigh, just above your knee, casual and relaxed, and you paused for a second. Glancing down at it, you realised your pause hadn't been from insecurity or anything unsure, but simply from the overwhelming shock of being so comfortable in the action. You didn’t feel put on edge, or tense, it just felt right, and you rested your hand over the top of his, his fingers spreading out to lace loosely with your own, and turning over to hold onto you properly. Pulling the appendage a little closer, your joint hands sat connected in your lap as you scrolled the movies.

You settled on something easy, something with a lot of laughs and giggles, and enough to boost your mood without even having to think about it. You shifted, spending a while sitting up, playing with the fingers of a hand that didn’t belong to you, before he’d seemingly had enough of that. Thomas lifted that arm about thirty minutes in, forcing you to settle back into the couch but wrapping that arm around your shoulders and pulling you backwards, tucking you into his side.

His fingers played with your hair, and you let a hand splay out over his stomach, and he felt like he was a permanent part of your life. It wasn’t a comparison to a piece of furniture, he wasn’t an essential but taken-for-granted piece of house-ware like a frying pan or a kettle, but instead, he was a comfortable addition that you didn’t feel like letting go of.

He was like a throw pillow or a blanket that went on the end of your bed, something for comfort and accessorising, something you could live without but would fight to have taken away if someone tried. He’d wormed his way in, you weren’t sure when or how, but he’d gone from hating you, to tolerating you, to accepting you, to caring for you, to something else. His nose brushed along your hairline every so often, soft smiles and muffled laughter as he kept his voice low, like the comments he made would shatter the mood if spoken above the whisper.

You never moved away from him. He never made you.

Rather, he held you close, and if there were a few times when the emotions all became a little too much, when the tears came again, when the crushing guilt you were working on dismantling threatening itself again, you would let the edge of his jumper soak up the tears and he wouldn't say anything, simple holding you close, and tracing patterns onto your skin as his fingers ran up and down your arm or held onto your shoulder, and if he got a little emotional partway through, or if at the only point in the movie when his arm unwrapped itself from around you, it was to wipe at his cheeks, or cover his face as he tried to protect what he had left of his emotional stability, you only squeezed him a little tighter.

You watched a second movie, one that you assumed was supposed to be a sequel to the first one you had watched, but you hadn't been able to follow the plot that much. Your mind was spinning, your thoughts like a tornado, ricocheting from every side of your brain.

You wondered how Newt was doing, whether he was still with Chuck’s family, whether he was sick of having his cheeks pinched and shoulders squeezed in a tight hug by older family members and swooning relatives. He had a way with words, he had a way with charming people; charismatic and cheeky. He was able to find a joke or a story for any situation, and something about him put you at ease just to be around. He was like medicine for the soul, patching you up from the inside out and making flowers bloom in spaces that had been cold and frozen. Maybe he’d had enough, maybe he’d gone home, or perhaps he’d called Derek for support. You hoped it was the latter, you had high hopes for the two of them.

Your mind also brushed over Brenda and Minho. You had no doubt that the two of them were together, that they were comforting each other. You would see her soon, you made a note of it. Calling people up and asking them to hang out wasn’t something you were used to, but you’d make the effort for her. You’d take her for coffee, or lunch, or simply show up with a bottle of wine and her favourite snacks, and take a girl’s night that you were in desperate need of.

You were picking at a loose thread that was dangling from the inside of his hoodie, a different colour to the pal jumper, it was more of a khaki green shade, and you suspected it wasn’t a thread from his jumper but from the t-shirt he wore underneath, and you jumped a little as you realised that there was a voice in your ear, closer and sharper than the television, which seemed or have been turned down and had become muffled, and you startled slightly, a chuckle following it as you moved to sit up.

Your eyes had been drooping a little, you’d been close to nodding off, not having even realised it as you absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread and let your thoughts take over.

“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said, have you?”

“Not even one.” You mumbled, glancing around, before rubbing a hand over your eyes, and noting the late-afternoon sun that was beginning to lower towards the horizon, fading light as the hours ticked on, and you sighed, shaking yourself down a little and his arm slipped free from around you to let you stand as you wobbled a little on legs that hadn't been used in a while. “I was thinking. I got wrapped up in my thoughts.”

“That’s okay, I wasn’t saying anything important, I was talking about the movie.”

“I’ll be right back, just, hit rewind. And pause. I’ll focus, I swear.” He nodded, legs popped up on your coffee table and you weren’t aware of just when he’d made himself at home, an air of domesticity that he seemed comfortable in. The image was burned into your mind as you wandered away, closing the bathroom door and taking a deep breath. The cushions were spread out around him, he was nestled among them, head lolled back against the edge of the couch, feet popped up on the table, shoes kicked off by the couch somewhere and an obviously wrinkled patch on his jumper where you’d been leaning.

You didn’t want to let it go.

You flushed, the sound drowning out the occasional shuffling noises Thomas made as he adjusted himself, the squeaky springs in your couch, and then the sound of the tap to follow, lavender overwhelming your senses as your hand wash flooded the room with the pleasant scent.

You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, red-rimmed eyes and cheeks a little raw from salt, and you switched hot water to cold, cupping your hands under the faucet and bringing your hands up to your face as you leaned over, trying to ease sensitive skin and wash your eyes, wash away where eyelashes were still clumped together, washing away the residual pain. Like a cold shock, waking you up from the hazy slumber you were threatening to fall into once again, and the emotional turmoil of the day had been just too exhausting.

You snapped the scrunchie from your hair to sit around your wrist instead, the dull ache on your scalp eased as you ran your fingers over it, your hair sitting in odd shapes that only a hairbrush would be able to truly tame, and Thomas was looking at you already. “I want to take a nap.”

“I can head out.” He rubbed his hands along his jeans, reaching from the remotes as he lifted his feet down from the coffee table to the floor and switching the television off. You padded your way across the polished wood towards him, taking his hands in your own, and his brows furrowed a little. “What?”

“I want us to take a nap.”

A myriad of emotions moved across his features. He started with confusion, before he was moving to something between bashful and shy, a sweet smile following that and his expression smoothed over until he was simply staring at you, nodding his head slowly and twisting his hands more to lace the fingers of one hand together, and letting you guide him through the halls.

He followed after you, feet scuffing on the floors, and sliding in his socks, and he paused outside of the bedroom door as your fingers found the handle, pulling you to a slight stop, and there was a nervous look on his face.

“Are you sure?” You weren’t sure what he meant, and he seemed to sense it from the shifting in your expression, because his eyes left yours, flicking up to the closed bedroom door long enough to signal what he meant. “I just, well, I mean.. your bedroom. It’s a private space, y’know, and I know there’s this thing between us, but I just want to be sure you really want it.”

You only pushed the door open, stepping into it backwards and taking him with you, and his lips inched up at the edges into a fuller smile, gaze leaving yours to take in the room. It was still a little messy, you hadn't bothered to properly tidy up from before when he’d arrived and the blankets on your bed were still pulled haphazardly tidily from when you had crawled out of bed this morning with barely enough energy to face the day. He took it all in, observing the space that was so intimate to you, taking in every detail, and he watched as you pulled the curtains shut, blocking out some of the light to cast a darker atmosphere over the room.

His fingers were running over the books on your shelf, and you settled down onto the bed, edging your way up it and tucking yourself down underneath cold blankets, shuddering a little and peeling them back to make a space for him when he was finished observing. He took the hint, turning to see you, and stepping a little closer to the bed.

He rested a knee on the edge of the mattress, a hand reaching behind his head to peel his jumper up and over his head, and you didn't even bother to hide the lingering of your eyes on the skin that was revealed, before you were watching him shake his hair free and throwing his jumper away to rest on your dresser chair.

He crawled his way up towards you, pressed a prolonged kiss to your forehead, before flopping down onto the mattress beside you. You lifted the blankets up, tucking them around him as he made himself comfortable, one hand resting under his pillow beneath his head, and facing you as his legs crooked, and he adjusted the blankets more securely around himself. His eyes found yours once he was settled, something that was both awkward and comfortable at the same time, and he sighed as the feeling washed over you both.

You waited a moment longer, his other hand resting just above the edge of the covers that were sitting around your middle, before you gave in to the temptation swelling within you, and you reached out. Smoothing your hand over the top of his own tentatively, he smiles, turning his hand to weave your fingers together once again, like magnets, your hand now only having a home as long as it was wrapped with his own.

“Was Chuck your first loss?” His words barely reached your ears; they were spoken so quietly, and you were certain that in the entirety of the day, you’d yet to actually use your voice at the volume it usually was, in fear of damaging an already fragile aura.

“No.” You mumbled, swallowing thickly, your eyes sliding shut to hold back fresh tears that may threaten to rise, his hand squeezing yours a little tighter in support. “He was the first friend I lost, though.”

It went silent for a moment after that, enough time for you to get a handle on your emotions, before you were opening your eyes back up to meet swirling honey-brown that were watching you through a somewhat sleepy gaze. “The first loss of someone I really cared about was hard. His name was Ben.”

His voice cracked a little as he spoke, and you dared to shuffle an inch closer across your pillow towards his, the bedding barely even making a sound as you moved minutely. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to. I want you to know about me.” He let out a shaky breath, and you realised that this was perhaps the first time he’d spoken about it since it had ever happened, and so it was just as therapeutic for him as talking about Chuck was for you, even if you didn’t want to. “It hit hard, I liked him, he seemed like a cool guy. He was a lieutenant candidate with me, we were training together. It was competitive but all in fun and games, nothing serious. He was better than I was, he’d been preparing longer, he was definitely going to get the promotion when our house lieutenant retired. He’d been there years, I’d only been there for three months, but it felt like three days.”

You chuckled a little at his words, his expression brightening a little at the sound, seeming to perk up just slightly, and he tugged you a little closer, your cheek pressing to the end of your pillow as his own head remained firmly planted in the centre of the opposite one.

“We got trapped, burning building, it was all coming down. Nothing new. I was trained for the situation, and I tried so hard to get to him, but I couldn’t, he took a piece of debris straight into his abdomen, he was dead before I’d even made it across the room.” He choked down a lump in his throat, and your heart cracked a little in your chest at the broken look that flicked across his features. “I blamed myself for so long. I kept going over the moment, so sure there was something I could have done, that I could have run faster, asking myself if I hesitated just because of the job I wanted that he would have gotten.”

“Tommy..”

“I did all I could. I did my best. I know that now, and I don’t feel guilty, but sometimes it just hurts to think about it.”

“Thank you for telling me.” You could see that it was hard for him, and that he was reopening old wounds just to make you feel better, and it was a silent promise, something more permanent and solid, a confirmation that he was here for you, and that he wouldn't let you fall. That he was inside of those walls now and that he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon, his thumb playing gently with your own as you fell quiet once again.

“Newt’s first loss was a guy called Alby.” He eventually spoke, and you looked up to him again, brows raising slightly. “Before I even joined this firehouse. I remember Newt telling me about him, though. It took Newt a long time to get over it. He was new, basically a candidate, if they have that thing for paramedics. Do you? Have that kinda’ thing for paramedics?”

“We call ‘me greenies. Because on their first few cases, they usually look a little green, and throw up.”

“I like that. Greenies. That’s good.” He chuckled, and you shrugged one shoulder, letting him continue when he was ready. “He was the greenie, I guess, and Alby was the house chief. He took Newt under his wing, fresh outta’ the academy, early graduate at just twenty, and they became good friends. About a year in, they got in some trouble, Newt never really told me the full story, but Alby died on the stretcher to the hospital. Newt tried to pump his heart all the way there, he was sure that if he just kept pumping, his heart would start beating on its own again. It didn’t.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, a pang of sadness for your best friend racing through your veins, and your eyes flicked over the edge of his pillow, contemplating getting a little closer, but he seemed to make that decision for you, shuffling himself up further toward you until his face was balanced on the edge of his pillow like yours, the soft pants he let out occasionally able to felt against the tip of your nose.

“Then, of course, there’s Brenda.” Your heart sank at the mention, and you knew she had to have lost someone along the line somewhere, but you hated the tone in his voice. “Arguably, the worst of them all. She really was the candidate, at a firehouse a few miles over, with her brother. He was a couple of years older, his name was George, he inspired her to become a firefighter. Apparently, they played firemen together ever since they were little, she followed in his footsteps.”

“I never even knew she has a brother.”

He lifted your hands up, instead of stretched out between your bodies, they were folded up near your faces between you both, resting on the mattress and holding tightly. “He was on Squad, she was on Truck - of course - and the Squad team got trapped on an upper floor. Everyone but her brother made it out. She finished her candidacy, passed her exams, and transferred to a new house, our house, she needed a fresh start.”

“Not that I don’t want to know, but, why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I want you to know that you’re not to blame, and that everybody blamed themselves after a loss, but we all moved on, because we found each other and we let ourselves grieve without holding onto it.” He lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, and you watched his lips move slowly along your hand, dragging along your skin.

“My first-ever loss on the job was a patient, in my first month. A stab wound victim, he died on the way to the hospital, while I was trying to hold the wound shut. I considered quitting, it hurt, not like this does, but it hurt because I felt like a failure.” Your smile only widened as his kisses moved as far as your wrist, his face inching ever closer to your own, able to taste the sweet syrup still on his breath from your shared late-breakfast hours ago.

“I’m glad you didn’t, because if you had then I wouldn’t get you now.”

His nose bumped against your own, his lashes tickling your cheek as lids lay closed and your own followed, darkness surrounding you as every other sense went into overdrive on him. The smell of his cologne, the feel of his nose brushing against yours and his breath tickling your lips, the tingle that shot along you at the barely present brush of his lips that you wondered if you were imagining it as so light when he adjusted himself on the cushion, but the connection you were waiting for never came.

Instead, you caught the sound of a soft sigh, and his hand squeezing a little tighter around yours, before he was letting go, and begging his hand up to sit over your waist under the covers, fingers spreading out until they reached your spine.

“Tommy?”

He hummed, nose nudging a little more roughly against yours as he’d begun to fall away. “Yeah, angel?”

“You’re not gonna’ kiss me?” Something breathy resembling a chuckle left him, and the hand from your waist ran up along your body, evading goosebumps in his wake until he was cupping your cheeks. When your eyes opened, it was to find he had already taken that step, watching you fondly, pulling away enough to rest on his pillow once again.

“No.” He eventually gave in, seeming to be lost in thoughts, and you felt your features rumple with confusion and disappointment. “Oh, sweetheart, I want to. I really, really want to. Have for a while, actually, but not now and not like this. You’re sad and I’m sad. Every moment we’ve had so far that brought up the chance to kiss you has been stressed, depressed and near-death.”

“But you are going to kiss me, at some point?”

A sleepy smirk, that had way more of an effect on you than it should be allowed to have, and he seemed to know it too, because it only got wider. “Oh, definitely. But when I kiss you, it’ll be amazing, and breathtaking. When I kiss you, you’re going to feel it. It’ll make you a little weak in the knees, but that’s okay, because I’ll hold you up. It’s going to be perfect, it’ll be a kiss you’re never gonna’ forget, so I don’t want our first kiss to be when we’re sad.”

You didn��t know what to say, a long beat passing, before your lips were pressing together, and you were unable to contain your grin. “Well, okay, then.”

You moved forwards, his laughter only increasing as your face pressed into his neck, rolling him onto his back as you let your full body weight fall against him, his arms wrapping tightly around your back. You pressed a kiss to his neck, any spot you could reach, and the deep and rumbling laughter he let out was replaced with something softer and cracking, lighter pitch as he bordered on giggling, squirming a little as you kissed just above the patch, sensing a weakness in him.

You moved up, before eventually, he was giggling without restraint, squirming at the tickling feeling over the featherlight kisses you pressed to his jaw.

“Alright, alright, cut it out, before I lose all of my masculinity.” He was pink along his cheeks when you propped yourself up over him to get a better look at his flushed face, sparkling eyes peering up at you with messy hair and a dopey smile to match, and that sight was definitely something you could get used to seeing.

This was all new to you, it was ever-changing and constantly evolving, it was unsteady and unsure and it made you feel nauseously anxious and yet ecstatically excited all in one, and you leaned down, the promises he’d made were you giving you the confidence to so so as your forehead pressed to his. “Nap?”

“Cuddle?”

“Yes.” He beamed, twisting his body like you weighed nothing until you were on your side against the mattress again. He pulled you over, adjusting you on your side to face away from him, before pulling you back into his body.

His arm wrapped around you, one spread out under the pillow to support your head, and you weaved your fingers with the other, bringing it up to your mouth to kiss the back of his hand like he’d done for you. He was resting behind you, legs tangled together as your bodies sat snugly to one another and he held you tight in a gripping hug, and you were able to drift off to the steady beat of his heart against your back and the feel of his body surrounding you.

“You know, it’s rude to text when you’re having dinner with someone.” you jibed, his gaze flicking up from his phone as his elbows rested over the empty plate on the counter, lamps making his skin look more golden and highlights in his hair seeming to stand out as the light outside had faded, the evening meal being the next thing the two of you shared; chicken nuggets from the bottom freezer drawer and homemade wedges as he refused to eat curly fries.

“It’s not my fault you’re taking ages to eat.” You scoffed, swiping another nugget through some of your tomato ketchup, and lifting it on your fork to take a bite. He picked up his discarded fork, stabbing it into one of your nuggets, stealing a smear of ketchup that left a mess on the plate, and putting the whole thing into his mouth at once, winking as you protested weakly. “Besides, I’m talking to the group.”

“How are they all doing?”

“They’re good. As good as they can be. They want to meet up for drinks in a little bit, they’re headed down to the bar we like.” You finished your food, placing your knife and fork down to match his, and chewing the rest of your mouthful, considering it all, and his attention was back on his screen as he typed away.

“Can I come?”

He paused, looking at you over the device, before turning it off and putting it down on the counter, the buzzing and lighting up going ignored as he stared for a second. “Seriously? I just, I mean, you’re up for it?”

He stumbled over his words a little, he didn’t mean to come off as rude and you knew it, and so you let it slide, shrugging and smiling a little as you hopped down from your seat to put the plates in the sink to be washed later. “You said that everyone else got past their sadness by being together. I’ve never had anyone before, but I would like to be with you all now.” His seat scraped along the floor, and a second later, arms were wrapping around your waist from behind in a tight squeeze, shocking you a little as he did, and you straightened up, twisting in his hold to face him. “Is that really so shocking?”

“A little bit. We’re kinda’ used to being shut out. They’re all going to be surprised.” He tapped the end of your nose. “A good surprise, though.”

“Well, I can go change into something that isn’t sweatpants, and we can go.”

His eyes dropped down, taking in your outfit as he let you go, seeming like he’d only just noticed your attire, and you wandered away, leaving him to whatever he was going to do, confirming his arrival to the rest and getting his shoes on, while you tried to find some suitable clothes.

Once you had pulled on a pair of jeans and a more comfortable and bar appropriate top to replace your pyjamas, you folded them, resting them on pillows that had only just gone cold, before straightening the sheets out, erasing all evidence of the nap you’d taken as your bed was reset. A pair of shoes came next, hopping about a little bit to get them on, before running a brush through your hair and checking you looked presentable enough to go out. There was no doubt that Brenda would look like a supermodel, she always did, grieving a friend or attending movie night, she could put everyone else to shame, but it was just another thing you loved about her.

As soon as you stepped out of the room, there was a whistle meeting your ears. Thomas had found his jumper again and pulled it back on, his shoes too, phone tucked into his pocket as he beamed at you, and you rolled your eyes, walking straight past him to the coat rack to find your belongings as you got ready to go.

“Oh, shut it.”

“Why? You gonna’ get all cute and flustered, blush for me a little bit? Sweet and shy?” He was teasing now, and you scowled, pulling on your coat and hiding your face from him as you grabbed your keys, batting yourself down for everything you’d need and finding it already in your pockets.

“I’m kicking you out.”

He laughed, wandering past you and into the halls of the building, letting you flick the lights off before locking up, and he offered his arm to you for you to link your own through, before guiding you down the corridors to the elevator.

A short car ride, Thomas holding the door of his car for you to let you in before opening it for you again when you arrived, commenting both times about something gentlemanly, before his hand was finding yours as the car lights flashed to signal it’s locking, and a fresh wave of anxiety was washing over you.

You wanted to see your friends and be with them, you truly did, but that didn’t make it any easier to take yourself into a crowded place when you were in such a vulnerable place. The opening of the door made muffled snap into sharp surroundings, the bar filled with people, crowds weaving among one another, and Thomas took the lead, shouldering through the people milling around the entrance politely. The cold air of the outside was overwhelmingly different from the stuffy inside, the smell of liquor and sweat overwhelming your senses, but it wasn’t a smell you were unfamiliar with. The music pumping through the floor was vibrating right up along your bones, pooling in your gut, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter as the crowds cleared once you passed the high tables and the dance floor.

You could just about see your friends, gathered around the largest booth with extra chairs pulled up, bodies constantly weaving in and out of your sights, blocking them from your view. Lips brushed your ear, a jolt of electricity making you jump, before you turned to find Thomas, his head ducked to speak to you but eyes flittering over the scene.

“I’m going to go buy everyone another round. What d’you want to drink?”

“Uh..” Your words died out, a little overwhelmed at the sight before you, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Just something cold and refreshing, maybe fruity. I don’t know.”

“I got you, don’t worry. Why don’t you head over to the table?” He gave you a final lingering stare as you nodded, before the two of you were parting, and you were left to try and make your way toward the table. Luckily for you, it was only a few metres upon leaving Thomas’ side that Brenda spotted you, her entire face lighting up and glass slamming down onto the table, before she was practically climbing over the men to get out of the booth, and all but pushing people out of the way to get to you.

A tight hug as she rocked you from side to side, clearly tipsy as she spoke faster than she normally would while mumbling into your ear about how happy she was to see you. The story Thomas had told you came back to mind, and you didn’t mention it, but you wrapped your arms around her just as tight and held her to you, a show of your love for her, belated sympathy for the tragedy, and comforting her as she needed it, weak inside even if she didn’t show it right now.

Newt followed, cheering a little, hair messy and cheeks flushed with warmth from the drinks he’d had and the temperature in the bar, and you were already beginning to grow overheated. He hugged you next, walking you backwards to the table as you giggled, and settling back into his seat as several other welcomes and greetings echoed in their place. You couldn't help it, the smile that broke free, the way you fitted in so perfectly, your anxiety melting away just from being with them.

“You’re here!”

“Is that okay?” You teased, Brenda shuffling back into her seat at the back of the booth, nodding avidly as she sipped at a glass of gin through a thin straw.

“Of course! We just didn’t expect you, you haven’t been answering your phone all day.” Your brows furrowed, hands digging into your pockets to find it. “I was worried about you.”

You located it, metal cold to the touch from where it had been abandoned for so long, and you realised that the last time you’d checked it had been before turning it off as you entered Chuck’s service, not having a chance to turn it back on before Thomas had arrived, and stole all of your attention solely and unwilling to share.

Turning it on at the side, the device flashed back to life, and you waited a few moments, before it reset itself, and all the notification you had missed began to flash through one by one. Multiple missed calls from various members of the team, the oldest of which begging Thomas, probably calling to let you know he was coming over, before alerts from only a  few minutes ago, the groupchat you all had with recent notifications, and you chuckled at the volume of them all.

“Sorry, my phone had been turned off all day. I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear.”

She shrugged it off, and you placed your phone down to be able to shuck yourself of your coat, the heat growing stifling with the extra layer on.

“How’d you know where to find us? How’d you know we were here?” Newt piped up, and you let your cat hang over your arms, turning to face him.

“I, um, Thomas. He told me you’d all be here.”

“But I thought your phone was turned off, so-” He cut himself off, brain seeming to catch up in his slightly inebriated state, and you were grateful that the heat in the room would hide your blush as your skin was already flushed. “Were you with Tommy today? All day?”

An undeniably cocky grin split his face open, matching expressions following gasps that echoed around the table, and you scoffed, placing your coat down on the heap that had been built. “Maybe. It’s not a big deal.”

“He told me he was going to check up on you. I figured he meant, like, call you or something. He came to see you?”

You shrugged, the questions suddenly being shot at you, among teases and winks that made you stare at the floor, bombarded with gentle humour from your team. Newt was through the roof, Brenda was yelling louder than all of them about her ‘ship’, some gazes being given over to her from strangers, and Minho was trying to shush her while laughing. Gally was simply grinning like the Cheshire Cat into his beer, and your head was spinning too much to even process anybody else’s questions or remarks.

“Alright, well, I’m not drunk enough to start this conversation with you all.”

“Well, where is lover boy, anyway?” You rolled your eyes at Newt, before tipping your head back towards the bar.

“He’s getting you all a fresh round of drinks.” Your retort resulted in a cheer from them all, hands banging on the table in excitement; empty bottles, glasses, and cans rattling as the surface shook. “I’m going to go and see if he needs any help.”

“You spent the whole day with him, can’t we keep you for a little while?” Newt pouted, and you stepped away, sticking your lower lip out to mock him a little, before flipping him off, and making sure to wave the gesture at the rest of them for good measure, chuckles taking up all around.

“No, because you’re teasing me, and I need at least two shots to handle that.” He raised a brow, a mumble of ‘touché�� spoken into his beer and he smirked, before you were turning and weaving to the bar.

He wasn’t hard to find, tall and messy hair unmissable once you were set on him, and as you got closer, you realised it wasn’t the bartender he was talking to. A woman, not too far from your own height, dark curly hair and tight jeans, a blue eyes that were piercing as she spoke to him, and it seemed to be a hushed conversation as she leaned on the bar against him, two trays of drinks stacking up beside Thomas, his wallet sitting out on the bar.

You considered turning back, letting him have his privacy with whoever he was speaking to, and you paused in your path, ready to turn before his eyes were moving from her face to you, lighting up a little as he smiled, and there was no way you could backtrack now. He’d seen you, you had to at least go over and explain yourself, his attention moving back to the woman.

Her words went silent as you approached, and you smiled politely, her gaze dragging over you, before she was offering a polite smile herself upon realising you were stopping by their sides, and not just passing by.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just realised you might need a hand with the drinks.” You pointed to the two trays building, an empty laugh leaving you all, but the atmosphere was still tense. “You want me to come back in a few minutes, instead?”

“Yeah-”

“No, now’s fine, we’re pretty much ready,” Thomas promised, the woman by his side frowning, and you grimaced at the tension continuing to rise, gaze moving between them for a second. Thomas turned, paying for the drinks with a swipe of his card, and nudging a try toward you, while picking up the other himself. “I appreciate the help.” He mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple as you tried to balance the drinks, and you smiled softly, eyes catching his, hoping the affection was returned without you having to lean up and actually return it, risking toppling all the drinks you were holding. “I gotta’ go. I’m sure we’ll catch up or something another time.”

You stepped away from the pair, at least trying to give them a second's privacy without lingering, slow steps away from them and back to the table. “My number is the same, still. Call me, alright?”

He didn't reply, not verbally at least, Thomas falling into step with you a second later, and you couldn't bite back the curiosity on the tip of your tongue as no introductions had been made. You didn't know many other people in town, and if you were going to stay, it was probably wide that you got to know your neighbourhood; “She seemed polite. Who was she?”

He glanced at you, a complicated look on his face, and you realised it must be deeper than you thought, a list of names and suspicions moving through your mind, before he sighed away his worries and shook his head lightly. “Nobody important.”

You placed the drinks down on the table, accepting his answer, and the group shuffled up to make room for you all, greeting their lieutenant and thanking him for the refills as they grabbed their drinks. A bottle of something fruity and fizzy was placed in front of you, and it seemed satisfying enough, you weren’t overly picky about it, and it tasted fine as you took a sip. Perching on the leather booth, an arm you had grown familiar with throughout the day returned to sitting over your shoulders, and you settled into him without hesitation.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile, feeling at home as you sought comfort with your friends, moving on together, and letting your burdens be carried by friends and not just yourself for the first time in a long, long time.

#thomas #thomas the maze runner #ff!tommy #firefighter!tommy #the maze runner #thomas/reader #thomas x reader #smoke and fire #SAF #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut

[calpalirwin]

Are We?

A/N: Based on Are We by Taylor Acorn cuz I’m obsessed with her music (and you should be too)

Word Count: 1.9k

And away, and away we go!

__

You could feel the music from Michael’s DJ setup thumping in your bones as you stepped outside, the cool night air immediately bringing goosebumps to your arms. You slid into the jacket you brought with you, catching a lingering scent of cologne as you did, and sighed. That’s what you got for leaving your jacket right next to his. That’s what you got for having his hoodie on your dresser in the first place.

“Yeah, it’s a lil on the cold side, isn’t it?” a familiar voice drifted into your ear and you turned to the sound.

“A little, yeah. Too bad you left your hoodie at my place.”

“Eh,” Ashton shrugged. “I don’t mind if it stays there honestly. I have plenty of others. And I’m over at your place a lot, so at least I know I’ll always have a back up if I need it, ya know.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” you tried to laugh off as you raised your gaze to properly meet his, feeling your stomach tie itself in knots. 

“You good?” he prompted after a beat of watching you work your mouth, trying to form words and failing.

What are we? is what you wanted to ask, but what came out was a forced smile and a choked “Yeah, I’m good. Gonna grab a drink. Catch up later?”

“Sure thing,” he mumbled as you quickly walked off, before muttering a string of curses under his breath. “Just fuckin’ talk to her, for fuck’s sake…”

~~~

“Hey, I’m Ashton,” the brunette smiled widely at you, offering his hand.

“Y/N,” you smiled back, shaking his hand.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

Ashton giggled, pushing a hand through his hair. “Alright then. Well… if you change your mind…”

“I probably won’t, but I’ll find you if I do.”

“Cool.”

You sighed, maybe a little dreamily, as he walked off. Sure, he was cute. But the first time meeting butterflies in your stomach would settle eventually. And with how you and Ashton appeared to run in the same circle of friends, you needed the phase to pass without playing into it. A relationship was the last thing you needed right now anyway. 

~~~

“Some fuckin’ phase…” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed a water bottle from a cooler. When you turned, you could see Ashton chatting with other friends of yours, his shirt being pulled tight against his back and shoulders as he moved his hands animatedly.

Your mind raced with who’s fault it was for the storm you couldn’t make sense of. On one hand, rationally, you knew it was your fault for being the one to set the friend boundary in the first place. But Ashton was the one who had crossed it. And now you were the one who felt like the clingy one-night stand, trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together with both sides blank. Although, in hindsight, maybe if it had only been a one-night stand, you could be playing it cool like he was.

~~~

“Oh, my God, get a room!” Calum groaned before chucking a pillow at Luke, and another one at Michael. “We have a rule against fucking in a public space for a reason.”

“We’re not fucking,” Michael defended, his words mumbled as his lips stayed locked on Crystal’s.

“Well, fuck you, I’m going to bed then. And wearing ear plugs I guess…” Calum rose to his feet with a huff.

“Night, mate,” Luke told him as he and Sierra came up for air, their foreheads knocking gently against each other’s.

Now alone to deal with the two couples making out like sex-crazed teenagers, you and Ashton shared a look where he made a kissy face that had you busting up laughing. 

“Alright, fine!” Michael threw up his hands in defeat. “We’ll go to bed.”

“Have fun!” Ashton grinned.

“Use protection!” you joined in on the teasing as both couples headed to their own rooms. “Ugh…” you sighed, stretching your arms over your head. “Is it wrong to be jealous?”

“Jealous of what? That?” Ashton asked, motioning towards Luke and Michael’s rooms.

“Yeah. Not necessarily the relationship bit. Still not sure I want that. But God, to just get fucked senseless by someone who’s not a rando every now and again would be nice.”

“Well…” he started, and you noticed the subtle switch to his suggestive tone. “You know where my room is.”

“Are you seriously trying to hit on me right now?”

He shrugged, raising his hands defensively. “Look. You’re the one who said you wanted to get fucked senseless by someone who’s not a rando. I just happen to be someone who’s not a rando to you, and I have a great track record of being one hell of a lay. So… you could just go to your room, and do whatever it is you do. Or you could come to mine, and I’ll treat you to a good time, no awkwardness afterward guaranteed.”

“No one can know.”

“Pity… I like ‘em loud.”

“Ashton.”

“Alright, alright. This stays between you and me, got it. Not a problem.”

~~~

Both of you thought that it would just be that night. That if it happened too much, things would either get awkward, or you’d run the risk of your friends catching on. But sex with Ashton was like a drug. And now things were definitely awkward. Or at least, you were awkward. And you didn’t know how to take it all back. To be the people you were when you first met. And more than that, you didn’t want that. All this time, you thought it was space that you needed. But Ashton wasn’t someone you could erase. Because even if you acted like regular friends in public, those moments underneath the sheets were heaven. But you could do without each middle-of-the-night goodbye tearing you more and more apart. You could do without thinking about him in every spare moment, and second guessing everything you ever thought you knew about him. And you could really do without crying every time you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter whether it's all in your head, or if it’s real. But alas, it seemed like you were destined to be just another woman who fell for Ashton Irwin, wishing to wake up with him still next to you just once. 

~~~

You stayed at Michael’s party for a while longer, making your rounds, while avoiding Ashton as much as you could, until you started your rounds of goodbyes.

“Headed out?” Ashton questioned, one arm wrapping around you for a side hug that made your insides twist more.

“Long day,” you half-lied.

He pulled a frown, wondering how much he should believe you or not. “Well, alright then. Text me when you get home so I know you got there safe?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And uh…” he paused as his eyes darted around, checking to see if anyone was in earshot. “Call if you need to.” His breath was hot as it brushed against your ear, before his lips planted a quick kiss to the side of your head.

“Yep, see ya!” you said, maybe louder than you needed to before making your final exit.

Don’t call him, you thought on a loop the whole drive back to your apartment. 

Don’t call him, you thought as you texted the group chat that you got home, rather than just him. 

Don’t call him, you thought as you stared at your phone screen, finger hovering over his contact info. 

Sighing, you set your phone face down on your nightstand. It’s not like calling him would do any good if you didn’t know what to say anyhow. 

“Seriously, don’t do it,” you whispered to yourself as you changed into his hoodie for bed. If you couldn’t have him the way you wanted, this would have to be enough. Everything with all its complications would have to be enough.

You were double checking locks and turning off lights when your phone started ringing. You didn’t have time to process the name calling as you hit accept. “Hello?”

“Hey…” Ashton’s voice responded, sounding almost broken. 

“You alright?”

“Are you?” he countered. 

“Ash… look, it’s late, and I’m pretty tired.”

“I’m not calling you for sex, Y/N.”

“Then what else are you calling me for this late?”

“Would you just let me in please? It’s freezing out here.”

“Are you…?” You made your way through your apartment to the door, twisting the lock and pulling it open. “What are you…?”

“So you sleep in my clothes now?” Ashton asked, in lieu of answering your own half-asked questions. 

“It’s comfortable…” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, as he walked past you, and sat down on your couch.

“I’m not mad,” he said, as you shut the door and made your way to sit next to him. “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t care that you wear it. It uh… looks good on you that way.” As if to illustrate his point, his fingers ran over your bare thighs.

You shifted away from his touch, tucking your legs underneath you. “What do you want, Ash?” you asked, cutting straight to the point. 

“I honestly don’t know. Cuz it changes. Sometimes I want my friend back because I feel like I’m losing her, especially these past few days. And other days… I dunno.”

“You think you’re losing me?”

“I mean…” he shrugged. “I hope I’m wrong. But yeah. It feels like that sometimes.”

“Ash…” You reached out to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. “You’re not losing me.”

“But it feels that way.” His hands pulled yours away from his face, but continued to hold them tightly as your hands dropped in his lap. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why are you acting like something’s changed?”

“Because something has changed, Ash.”

“Well, tell me! Tell me what it is, and I’ll fix it.”

“It’s me, Ash. I’m the something that’s changed.”

“I- I don’t think I understand.”

“I love you, Ashton.”

“I love you, too.”

“No. I’m in love with you.”

“Okay, and what’s so wrong with that?”

“Because you’re not in love with me back! Because I did this to myself! I tried to keep my distance because the last time I fell for someone I got hurt! But I let you get close anyway, because you’re you! And now I’m falling, and dammit I don’t wanna get hurt again!”

“Shh,” he soothed, pulling you into him as hot tears spilled down your face and onto his shirt. “Shh, it’s alright, Y/N. Everything’s alright.”

“No it’s not!” you sobbed into his chest. “I don’t know what we are, Ash! Are we just friends who have sex sometimes? Is that all we get to be to each other?”

“Look at me,” he coaxed gently, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “God damn it, look at me,” he repeated more sternly when you didn’t, his hands guiding your face to look at him. “Remember how I said I thought I was losing you?” he asked, his thumbs brushing away the tears as they continued to roll.

You sniffed loudly as you nodded.

“It’s because I’m in love with you, too. I thought I was pushing too far, and that’s why you were pulling away.”

You shook your head. “N-no. I was pu-pulling away, cuz I’m sc-scared to be in love with y-you.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to be scared of that.”

“I d-don’t?”

He chuckled lightly, placing soft kisses along your hairline. “Of course not,” he murmured. “Because we’re friends first, which means I’m not going anywhere.”

“But we’re more than that, too?”

“So much more than that.”

“Ash? Will you stay with me tonight? And be here in the morning?”

“Of course, baby.”

__

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996​ @creator-appreciator​ @philthepegacorn​ @myfavfanficsever​ @cxddlyash​ @youngblood199456​ @stormrider505​ @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof​ @hoodhoran​ @metalandboybands​ @maybeememez​ @major5sosstan​ @kaitieskidmore1​ 

#are we #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #5sos #calpal irwin

[falcqns]

Free Fall

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader (first person pov)

Chapter Summary: You have a talk with your family, and Henry has a surprise for you. 

Warnings: fluff, swearing, family angst, smut, lactation kink, bodily fluids

A/N: hope you enjoy :) I also wanted to just address something quick. I know some people are going to have questions about why I haven't added a specific description for Y/N or Lavender, and that is simply because I want everyone to feel included, and welcome to read my fics! As I am a (very) white woman myself, I wouldn’t want to write a POC character incorrectly, so I’ve opted to not include a description! 

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six |

chapter six

You were sat in Henry’s trailer with Lavender a few days later. You had finished filming for the day, but Henry hadn't. Normally, you would have gone home, but Henry had asked you to wait and come home with him, because he had a surprise for you.

Lavender and Henry were pretty much inseparable now, and you had no worries about them bonding.

You had decided to take the free time and call your family to tell them, since Henry had told his. 

You video chatted your mom first, who picked up right away.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?” She said, sitting down on the couch with her phone in her hand.

“Hey, mom. I have some news,” You said, and glanced over at Lavender, who was laying on the bed with Kal next to her, asleep. “You remember Henry right?” 

Your mom nodded. “Yes, of course I do. He played Superman, how could I not.”

You laughed. “Okay well, him and I are together, and he has decided he wants to adopt Lavender.” You said.

You watched as your mom processed the information. “That’s amazing! Are you planning on telling her in the future that he’s not her father?” 

You shrugged at that. You wanted her to grow up safe and loved, and be spared the back and forth game you were put through with your mom and your absent father. But, at the same time, she deserved to know eventually.

“I don't want to, and neither does Henry. But if she asks us, we won't lie to her.” 

Your mom nodded. “Okay, good. Will you be home in time for dads family gathering next in two weeks?” She asked.

Now it was your turn to nod. “Yeah I will be. We don't leave for 3 weeks so I’ll be able to make it. I’m going to bring Henry, as well, I just haven't asked him.”

Your mom nodded. “Sounds good. I have to get ready for work, so I’ll let you go, but I’ll talk to you later tonight, alright?” She said, and you nodded.

“Yep, sounds good! Have fun at work!” You joked. Your mom rolled her eyes.

“Ha ha ha. Very funny. Okay, bye,” She said. 

“Bye,” You responded with a laugh.

Your mom hung up, and Henry walked through the trailer door not long after.

“Hello Mr Bad Guy,” You said, which made him laugh.

“Hey. How’s our children doing?” He asked, turning to look at where Lav and Kal were laying on the bed.

“Okay, last time I checked we only had ONE kid, Henry.” You said, looking at him quizzically. 

He turned to look at you with an amused look on his face. “I was talking about Kal.”

“He’s a dog, Henry.” You said, amusement present in my voice.

“He’s my blood!” Henry said, giving you a fake glare before he pulled you into a hug, which made you giggle against his chest.

He changed out of his August costume and into jeans and the blue tank top (you know which one). He gave Kal some head rubs, and checked on Lavender before joining you on the couch. He pulled you into his lap, and rested his hands on your hips. You pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Are you busy in two-ish weeks?” You asked, hoping the answer was no.

“Only with you and our baby girl,” He said, that charming smile finding a home on his lips again.

You snorted at him, but continued. “Well, dads side of the family is having a get together and my mom wants us to come. I checked and its on a Sunday so we can fly in on Saturday and leave Monday?” 

Henry pulled you closer, and pressed a kiss to your neck. “Of course. Now, I think I hear our baby waking up, and if you remember, I have a surprise for you at home.” He said, moving you off of his lap so he can stand up. 

You smiled at him, but stood up and began packing up the trailer while Henry got Lavender ready to go home.

“What is this surprise,” You asked Henry, on the ride home. He glanced over at you, and his hand that rested on your left thigh squeezed tightly. 

“If I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, now would it?” He said, as he pulled into his gated community. You just laughed at him.

He pulled into the garage, and you both hopped out. Henry grabbed Lavender, and you grabbed the bags and let Kal out, who followed his dad and little sister into the house.

When you walked in, Henry had gotten Lavender out, and was giving her lots of hugs and kisses, to which she was giggling and smiling. Henry noticed you were there, his eyes lit up, and he adjusted Lavender so she was sitting comfortably and safely in his right arm. He took your right hand in his left, and began to lead you to the stairs. 

“Time for the surprise my dear.” He said. You smiled and gladly followed.

The three of you stopped outside of one of the spare bedroom doors, and Henry opened it to reveal a beautiful light pink and light grey themed nursery. 

“Oh my gosh, Henry, did you do this?” You whispered, tears in your eyes.

He smiled, and nodded. “I figured she needed a more permanent place to sleep, rather than just a playpen in my room. This is what I did when you fell asleep the first night we all spent here together,” He explained, walking over to the crib, and laid Lavender down. “I ordered all of this stuff, and put it together when you were on set the day after. She loves it already,” He said, motioning to Lavender who was wiggling and making herself comfortable. “She sat with me the whole time I was putting it together,” Henry finished, reminding you of when he offered to watch her for the day when you had to be on set and he didn’t.

You took in the room around you. Henry had left the walls white, as well as the carpet. He had ordered a light grey crib, with a matching dresser and bookcase.  In the corner sat a light grey rocking chair with foot rest, and there was a fluffy rug on the carpet. 

“I was going to paint flowers on the wall, but then realized I can't paint for shit, so I thought maybe your little sister could come and paint them at some point. I also ordered a wooden sign with her name off of Etsy but it won't arrive for a few more weeks,” He said, wrapping an arm your waist. 

“I love it Henry,” You said, and pressed a kiss to his lips. You both glanced over at Lavender who had fallen fast asleep, and then back at each other. Henry grabbed your hand and pulled you across the hallway to his room. As you entered, you realized you were about to continue what you hadn’t the other day, since the both of you ended up falling asleep for the night.

The second the door to Henry’s room shut, he lifted you up in his arms and carried you to the bed. You giggled as he stood in front of you, and lifted his tank top over his head.

“I love that tank top, but I love what’s underneath much more,” You said, which made him chuckle, and kiss you. He pushed you until your head hit the pillows, and climbed on top of you. 

He deepend the kiss, and pressed his full body weight against you. His lips moved from your lips to your jaw, and then down your neck. They came to rest at the top of your t shirt. You suddenly felt very self conscious and gripped his wrist tightly.

He looked you in the eye. “Do you want me to continue?” 

You immediately nodded. “Desperately, I’m just nervous.” 

His eyebrows immediately wrinkled in concern. “Why baby? What’s wrong?” He asked, brushing the hair out of your eyes and gently rubbed his thumb against your jaw. 

You averted your eyes before continuing. “My body isn't the same as it was before I got pregnant. I have stretch marks on my stomach and legs, and I’ve honestly been scared to look down there because she ripped me to fuckin seeds when she came out,” 

Henry chuckled, but pressed a reassuring kiss to your cheeks.

“Baby, I love you, and I will love your body no matter what. You shouldn't be ashamed of what it looks like because it grew and delivered something so beautiful into our lives. And honestly,” He said, looking you deep in the eyes. “Stretch marks turn me on A LOT.” 

You hid your face behind your hands and giggled, but pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Can we have sex now before she wakes up?” You asked.

He smiled, and his hands traveled up from your waist, and under neath your shirt. He moaned into your neck when he felt your smooth skin,  which cause you to run your hands up his hairy chest and moan at the same time he did. 

“Of course, my angel.”

He slid down your body, and kissed every inch of new skin that appeared as he tortuously slowly slid your shirt up.

“H-Henry,” You moaned in pleasure with a hint of annoyance at his slow pace. 

He looked up from your stomach and chucked. 

“Yes, my love?” 

You rolled your eyes at him.

“Stop teasing me,” You said.

He began to kiss your stomach again, at the same pace he had before. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you are talking about,” He said in between kisses.

You were finally tired of the all the teasing, and pulled him up. You made it appear like you were going to kiss him, but surprised him as you curled your leg around his, and flipped him on his back. You climbed on top, and crushed your mouth to his. You immediately felt him  grow harder underneath your hips, and ground you hips onto his.

He sighed into the kiss, and actually pulled your shirt off. He broke the kiss and looked up to your body sitting above him. 

“Looks like my combat training is paying off, my dear,” You said, smirking at him.

He didn't answer though, because his eyes were fixed on your bra. It was a pale green lacy nursing bralette, with clips where the cups met the straps, so you could unhook it. 

He noticed these clips, and his hand slid up to unclip it. Once the front fabric fell away, and your breast was exposed with lace running along the top and bottom for added support, he moaned.

“Th-that’s a cool feature,” He said, unable to tear his eyes off of your breast. “Do all your bra’s do this?”

You snorted. “No, silly. It’s a nursing bra. It allows for better access when I feed Lav.” His eyes snapped up to yours at the mention of her name.

“Don’t say our daughters name when we’re about to have sex,” He groaned, which made you laugh, and kiss him again.

He unhooked the other clip, and once the fabric fell away, he covered both your breasts and squeezed. 

You began grinding your hips again, when you heard him exclaim. 

“W-what?” You asked, before you noticed his hands, which had drops of breastmilk on them. You busted out laughing at the look of horror on his face.

“Henry, baby, it’s breast milk.” Immediately a look of relief came over his face, and he flipped you over. He buried his face in your neck once again.

“Thank god, I thought I hurt you,” He mumbled against your skin. “This isn’t going as smoothly as I had hoped it would.”

You didn't have a chance to laugh at his comment though, because he immediately started grinding his hips into yours. His hands wrapped around your back and he undid your bra, before tossing it on the floor. 

You moaned at the feeling of his facial hair against your skin as he trailed gently kisses down your chest, and to your stomach. He began to kiss every single stretch mark that had appeared on your body during your 9 months of pregnancy, while his hands paid attention to your breasts. 

“You are so beautiful, baby,” He whispered into your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“H-Henry,” You moaned.

You felt him chuckle against your skin once more, which sent even more shivers down your spine.

“I’ll stop teasing you,” He said, and he slid his hands down your torso to the top of your pants.

“Thank god,” You breathed out, causing Henry to swat you gently on the bum.

You lifted your hips, your eyes not leaving Henry’s face as he slid your pants down your legs, and ended up face to face with your matching panties.

He moaned, and tossed your pants on the floor with the rest of the clothes, before pressing a kiss to your centre. 

“Ahh,” You moaned out, as your hips arched into his face. His arm came up to your waist and pushed your hips right back down.

“Calm, baby.” He said. He sat up on his knees, and hooked his fingers into your panties, gently gliding them down your legs. 

Afraid of what his reaction to your centre would be, you squeezed your eyes shut. That was, until you felt a a tongue gliding up your folds, and a moan pulse into you. 

You opened your eyes and arched your back and moaned at the sight. 

Henry had begun to eat you out, his moans reverberating. His eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure, and his left arm gripping your leg like you would float away from him if he let go.

Your hands flew down into his hair, and he removed his right arm from your waist, and brought his fingers down to circle your entrance, causing you to cry out again.

He removed his mouth for a moment, glancing up at you for consent.

“Do you want me to keep going baby?” He whispered, pure love and lust swimming in his eyes.

You nodded, but Henry protested. “No, baby, I need you to say yes,” He said in a sing song voice.

“Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill, if you stop, I will go all August Walker on your ass.” You groaned out through your clenched teeth.

He chucked, but attached his mouth right to your clit, while he gently slid a finger inside. 

The sensation of his finger moving inside you, coupled with his tongue brushing over your clit, had sent you barreling towards your high.

“H-Henry, please, I need you inside me,” You managed to cry out. He noticed how desperate you were, and immediately removed his mouth and fingers before sliding up your body once again.

As you slid your hands down his body, Henry whispered in your ear. “If we weren’t on such a time crunch, I would eat you out over and over again, and make you come on my tongue until you were begging me to stop.” He then brought your earlobe into his mouth and sucked while you rubbed your hand over his still clothed cock.

You unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down to his knees, before he took over and kicked them off. He then pulled his underwear downwind your mouth dropped open at the sight of him.

“Jesus, Henry, is there any part of you that is regular sized?” You exclaimed, as he rubbed his hand up and down his cock, before spreading your legs again.

“Nope,” is all he could muster, as he rain his head through your folds before slowly pushing inside. 

You both moaned out. Henry dropped his forehead against yours, and looked you in the eyes lovingly.

“You okay?” He whispered. 

You nodded, your eyes tearing up from him finally being inside you after wanting it for so long.

“Perfect. You?” 

“Same,” Henry responded before moving his hips. 

Your hands immediately gripped his shoulders, and bucked your hips up to meet his. 

Henry gradually picked up speed to the point of slamming into you, and had dropped his head to your breasts. You knew what he was hoping for, and you granted his wish.

You brought a hand up to your breast, and squeezed gently, until some breast milk began to trickle out. Henry immediately groaned, and dropped his head to lick it up.

“Fuck, all of you is bloody delicious,” He groaned, as he ground his hips down onto yours.

You just moaned in response, unable to form any coherent words. 

Henry, noticing your state, snaked his right hand in between your legs and began to rub your clit in circles.

“Yeah, come on, baby, cum on my cock,” He groaned out, and your back arched involuntarily.

“I’m so f-fucking close,” You managed to say, before Henry started to rub faster.

“So am I, I wanna see you let go baby. You can do it,” He said.”You’ve done so well, I love you so so much baby,” He dropped his head to your ear. “Cum on my cock like the good girl I know you are.” 

Immediately, you were sent flying over the edge. Your back arched even more somehow, and you couldn't keep quiet. You basically screamed in his ear, but he didn't seem to mind. You drug your nails down his arms, hard enough to leave marks, but not so much to draw blood.

Henry followed you moments later, letting out the most beautiful moan you had ever heard, as he filled you up.

Soon after, Henry pulled out of you, and collapsed on the bed beside you before pulling you onto his chest.

“That-” You said. “Was amazing.” Henry nodded in response. “Best orgasm I’ve ever had.” 

Your head shot up. “Really?!” You exclaimed, but before you could answer, a cry rang out from Lavender’s room.

Henry moved you off his chest before grabbing his underwear from the floor. 

“That’s my cue,” He said, leaving you on the bed in a fit of giggles.

#henry cavill smut #henry cavill #august walker #mission impossible #lactation kink #myinnerdemoncameouttoplay #iapologize

[jedi-mabari]

Runaways

Word Count: 2158 Warnings: None, A/N: I wrote this as a secret Santa gift for @sawyer-craft and I am just to proud of it not to share it. I hope you like it, and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season!

Summary: Molly and Sadie run away from the gang, planning to take a train from Valentine. But something gets in the way. Will they make it out? or will they have to return with their tails tucked between their legs? _________________________________________________________

Molly had spent all day sneaking back and forth from hers and Ditches tent, carefully hiding her bags in a bush by the horses. She had been careful not to be seen, and easily came up with excuses when someone asked what she was doing.

The sun had gone down and the campfires had been lit. Molly sat at the table furthest from my chuck wagon, moving chunks of potato around her dish. She smiled up at Sadie as she sat down across from her. Sadie took a large bite of Pearson's stew, making a face before spitting it back out.

"I am not going to miss this," she said quietly, so only Molly could hear.

"Me either," Molly said, scooping up a spoonful before letting it drop back into the dish. They both sat quietly for a minute, stirring the stew around the plates.

"Is everything ready," Sadie asked after a long moment of silence. Molly nodded, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder at the bush where she had hidden her belongings.

"Yes," she answered, watching a slice of carrot turn to mush. Sadie reached across the table, grabbing Molly's hand.

"Good, we'll wait for everyone to go to sleep. I think Karen is on guard duty. We should be able to bribe her." Molly nodded, grabbing Sadie's hand back. "We're so close. Just a few more hours and we'll be out of here." They shared a smile, and Sadie stood up, dumping her plate of food behind a tree.

Molly ate a few bites, struggling to get them down, but knew she'd need her strength. She took her dish to the tub, dropping it into the water before heading back to Dutch's tent. It was late enough that Dutch should have already been stretched out on his cot, but it was empty and he was missing. Molly knew he must have been snooping around the younger girls in the camp, or he had managed to get drunk enough to fall into Grimshaw's bed. Despite knowing she was leaving, she felt a spike of jealousy knowing he was spending her last night in camp in someone else's bed.

She shook the thoughts from her head and stood up, making the cot so it looked like she hadn't been there at all. She puttered around the tent until she could no longer hear the chatter from the campfire or the lyrical sound of Javier's guitar. She poked her head out of the tent, seeing several members of the gang asleep on the bedrolls. She forgot that they were going to be between her and her escape. She could barely make out the shape of Sadie on the other side of camp, gathering Molly's and her own things.

Molly crept out of Dutch's tent, walking as quietly as she could, her skirt bunched up in her hands to keep it from swishing and making noise. She managed to make it to Sadie without waking anyone up, and the two women embraced.

"We're almost there," Sadie said, lifting Molly's last bag. "I've got the horses packed, all we have to do is get out of camp." Molly was practically buzzing with nerves, her hands twisting a bit of her shall to keep them from shaking.

Sadie handed Molly her last bag and the two of them walked over to the horses. Sadie grabbed the reins and led the horses away from camp. They had almost made it out when they heard a distinctly male voice call out to them.

"Where the hell do you two think you're going," Sean asked, and Molly spun around to face him. Her stomach was twisting in knots. She was running over all of the things that could go wrong from here. Sean could alert the entire camp and their escape would be ruined, or he could shoot them both seeing their leaving as a betrayal of Dutch. But what he does instead is make a joke.

"Are you two sneaking off for some girly fun," he asked, a letchy smile on his face. Molly rolled her eyes, stomping over to him. She grabbed the front of his grimy shirt, shoving a finger in his face.

"You listen here you letch," she snapped quietly. The amused look on Sean's face fell away, and he held his hands up. "You aren't going to mention having seen us, or I will personally kick your scrawny ass."

"I meant no disrespect," Sean said, shaking his head, "honestly. I was just joking. No one'll hear it from me." Molly let go of his shirt, wiping her hands down her skirt, taking on her ladylike posture again. Sean swallowed hard and looked back to camp.

"Please, Sean," Sadie said, looking over at Molly. "It don't take a fool to see where Dutch is leading this group. If you were smart, you'd get out too."

Sean opened his mouth to respond but Sadie had already grabbed Molly's hands and was heading away from camp, leaving Sean standing alone, slightly confused. The tree's thinned the closer they got to the road, and Sadie stopped, checking to make sure they were alone. She helped Molly onto her horse first before stepping into her saddle.

"We're going to ride to Valentine, then from there we'll catch the train out of the territory." Molly nodded, and they headed down the road, following the railroad tracks towards the small cattle town. It wasn't long before the lights from town came into view. Molly and Sadie rode up to the train station, and Sadie instructed Molly to stay put. Sadie dismounted from her horse and walked up the ramp to the ticket window inside.

Molly watched through the window as money and a couple slips of paper exchanged hands. When Sadie come back outside, her lips were pressed into a thin line of disappointment as she walked back to Molly.

"The next train ain't pulling in 'til morning. We should get a room down at the hotel for the night." Molly nodded as Sadie looked around, her hands clutching the tickets tightly. "Come on I guess," she said, jumping back up into her saddle. Something in her tone set Molly on edge, sent her mind a turning, wondering if Sadie was having second thoughts about leaving. Molly remained silent as they carried down the road to the hotel. Sadie and Molly dropped their bags bags at the hotel, ordering a room for the night before taking the horses to the stable.

Sadie dropped a handful of bills into the stable master's waiting hand to assure the horses were well taken care of for the night. Molly looped her arm through Sadie's, carefully making sure the the coast was clear before before the two crossed the road. They had almost made it to the steps when three men ran into them.

Sadie stopped, standing protectively in front of Molly as she took in the look of the men. They all wore dark clothing, and looked like they had spent their lives living rough. Sadie's eyes landed on the green bandanas around their necks that marked them each as O'Driscolls.

"You should watch where you're going, lassies," the one in the front said, smirking in a way that made Molly's stomach turn into a ball of nerves. Sadie and Molly stayed where they were as the three men circled around them and walked behind the hotel.

"Go one inside," Sadie said, her eyes not leaving the spot where the three O'Driscolls had disappeared behind the building. Molly grabbed Sadie's hand and shook her head.

"Sadie, don't. We're this close to getting away. Don't give that up for those three." Sadie didn't look at Molly as she tried to convince her to stay with her.

"I'll meet you in the room," Sadie said, pulling herself away from Molly. Molly stood in the street as she watched Sadie follow the outlaws into the dark. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself before going into the hotel.

The man behind the desk led Molly to the room her and Sadie rented for the night. He waved her in and closed the door, telling her to come to him if she needed anything with just enough of a smile that told her it would be better if she didn't. When he was gone, Molly began to get ready, waiting for Sadie to come knocking in the door. But by the time she had dressed down for bed and braided her hair to keep it contained while she slept, Sadie still wasn't back, and Molly was beginning to worry.

Molly woke up to a hard knock on her door. The sun was just coming up, and the room was beginning to lighten, and Molly stretched across the bed to find it empty and cold, meaning Sadie hadn't come back to the hotel.

"Miss, you asked to be woken up. The train is due at the station in about an hour." Molly chewed her lip, wondering if Sadie was going to make it or if she had found something more important.

"Thank you," Molly called through the door, sliding out of the bed. She filled the basin on the dresser with water to wash her face and help style her hair. She put on her green dress and made sure she was ready to get on the train when it arrived. She gathered her bags and went down stairs, stopping at the front desk.

"I hope you enjoyed your stay, ma'am," the clerk said, folding his hands on the desk.

"It was very nice, thank you," Molly said, sliding the room key across the desk. She glanced around, hoping that Sadie was walking through the door, but frowned as the door remained closed. "Did a woman come in earlier," Molly asked, hoping Sadie was in town and just buying supplies for the train ride.

"Can you describe her?"

"She's the woman who rented my room for me last night," she said, and the man shook his head.

"I'm sorry miss, I haven't seen her since last night." Molly nodded and picked her bags back up.

"Thank you for the room," Molly said, turning and walking out of the hotel. She walked up the boardwalk, passing the bank and the gun shop before turning down the road towards the train station. She set her bags down under a bench and sat and waited for both Sadie and the train.

She began to panic that Sadie wasn't there yet when the train came hissing to a stop in the station. She grabbed her bags and stood, hoping to see Sadie among the crowd as people filed onto the train. She flinched as the attendant called out that the train was about to leave, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as it dawned on her that she was either going to have to stay, or go on without Sadie.

She stepped into the train, blinking back tears as she made her way to a secluded seat. She smoothed her hands down her skirt, trying not to let herself cry as the train started to pull away from the Valentine station.

The train had almost reached the heartfield oil fields when Molly felt someone sit down next to her.

"Please leave me alone," Molly said, not looking from the window.

"I'm sorry I didn't meet you at the platform," Sadie said. The moment the voice registered in Molly's mind, she spun around and her mouth fell open as she stared at Sadie. She looked like she had had better days, with a black eye so dark it didn't look purple and a split in her lip that made the Mississippi seem narrow.

"How did you make it onto the train?" Sadie shrugged, wincing as she tried to smile.

"I managed to jump on just as it was pulling out. One of the guards had me stay in the back car until they found my ticket." Molly grabbed Sadie's hand, lacing her fingers with the other woman's.

"I wish you hadn't gone after those three," she said, gently touching her hand to Sadie's cheek, her thumb hovering over the cut on her lip.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Molly," Sadie said, looking around to make sure no one was watching them before lifting Molly's hand to her lips, "but where we're going, you don't ever have to worry about that again." Molly blushed and scooted closer to Sadie.

"And you'll never have to worry about O'Driscolls again." Sadie smiled and nodded.

"No O'Driscolls, not Van der Lindes, what are we gonna do with ourselves," she asked, chuckling as she pressed her lips against Molly's hair. She closed her eyes and felt the heavy weight of exhaustion push her towards sleep. And with Molly's arm wrapped around hers and their hands clasped together, Sadie gladly let herself drift off into sleep.

#Molly x Sadie #SFW #red dead secret santa #jedimabari writes #Red Dead redeption 2 fanfic #Molly O'Shea #Sadie Adler

[hopelikethemoon]

First Steps (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: First Steps Rating: Explicit Length: 2500 Warnings: So much fluff and some smut (woman on top) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in Februrary 1994.  Summary: Josie takes her first steps. 

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive​ @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty​ @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great--perhaps

“It’s going to be so weird going to work without you,” You remarked as you brought your beer bottle to your lips, but you didn’t take a sip yet. “I’m sure if I could get you a job with the P.D. if you wanted to get back into the swing of things.” You added, taking a swig.

Javier’s jaw tensed and he shook his head, “I need a fucking break, baby.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, before rubbing at his cheek. “I was already in Colombia for a couple years before you got there.”

You knew it had taken a lot out of him. Hell, it had taken a lot out of you. But there was this weight on his shoulders that you weren’t entirely sure he’d be willing to let you carry some of its burden. 

It wasn’t an easy job. Tough decisions, bad decisions, too many mistakes. 

“Staying home with Josie is going to be good for you,” You scooted towards him on the sofa, resting your cheek against his shoulder. 

Javier shifted so he could wrap his arm around you, keeping his beer bottle perched on his thigh with his other hand. You watched the way he ran his thumb over the side of the bottle, the way he picked at the edge of the peeling label. 

There was still a part of your mind that hadn’t fully processed your departure from Colombia and the DEA. The trip to Texas — spending Christmas with his father — it had all felt like a holiday. But it was less of a vacation and more of a new beginning. This was home now. You didn’t have to live with the anxiety of your relationship anymore. You could just be. 

And now that Steve and Connie knew about your relationship, there was no one else you were keeping this secret from. Everyone that mattered knew. You and Javier were finally free to be happy. 

Josie squealed loudly, drawing your attention back to her as she chucked the baby doll that she’d been contentedly playing with across the floor. Javier snorted as she started scooting her butt across the floor to get to the discarded doll. 

“What a goober,” Javier remarked, shaking his head as he gave your shoulder a squeeze. “JoJo, are you playing fetch with yourself?”

Josie tilted her head as she looked towards both of you, babbling nonsensical things as she snatched up the doll and tossed it towards the sofa.

Again, she scooted herself on the floor towards the toy. 

“At least she’s happy about it.” You laughed, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you stayed nestled against him. 

Josie squealed, slapping her palms against the floor before she held her hands out towards Javier. 

Javier pressed a kiss to your temple, unwinding his arm from around you as he sat his beer bottle aside. In the time it took for him to sit up, Josie had concocted a better plan for getting what she wanted. She grabbed onto the side of the coffee table with one hand and hauled herself up off the floor.

“Oh my God!” You nearly dropped your own beer bottle in your haste to get up. “Shit, where’s the camera?”

“Bedroom.” 

You ran down the hall, ducking into the bedroom to grab the camera off the dresser. You took off the cap, slinging the strap around your neck as you headed back into the family room.

Javier had her by her hands, helping her stand up in front of him on the sofa. “Baby, looking at her!” He grinned and you focused the camera on his smile as you started recording. 

“We should’ve known she’d start walking because we weren’t quick enough to give her attention.”

Javier laughed and Josie echoed his laughter with a little put-on chortle of her own. “I’m gonna let go of her hands.” He explained as you approached with the camera. 

You positioned yourself on the floor a few feet away from Josie. He released her, staying close as she teetered on her feet like she might fall over. Instead she took a step towards you, wobbling from side to side as she tested the action again.

Javier covered his face as he laughed and you couldn’t help but turn the camera back on him, capturing the look of sheer joy on his face. God, he was so happy. If only you could put a pin in this moment and revisit it again and again. 

Josie started to lose her footing and you quickly turned the camera back on her, catching her as she thumped onto the floor on her butt. Her eyes widened like she might start to cry, but Javier was quick to sweep her into his arms. You laughed as you watched him cradle her against his chest and shower her little face with kisses. 

“Someone’s a daddy’s girl.” You remarked as Javier tossed her into the air a little, earning him more squeals and giggles. She was beside herself with the attention and forgot all about being upset over falling over. 

Javier sat her back down on her feet, letting her clutch at his hands as she walked forward towards you. “Someone’s going to drive daddy crazy now that she’s walking.”

You laughed softly, “You’re going to be dying to get out of here in a week.” 

“Maybe.” Javier held his hand out to take the camera from you so you could trade off with him. You took ahold of Josie’s hands, guiding her across the family room. 

Javier turned the camera on you, “And who’s that gorgeous woman?” He questioned, “JoJo, is that your mommy?”

Josie babbled her response, an utterly ridiculous combination of sounds. 

“You know if she’s single?”

She lifted one foot and looked up at him curiously, but didn’t provide an answer. She was too busy trying to walk without your assistance. 

“Uh-oh.” You remarked, grinning at the camera. “What does silence mean?” You questioned, keeping one hand in Josie’s hold as you both moved towards Javier. 

She grabbed at his legs and you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “She’s happily taken.” You told him. “By a very handsome man.”

“Yeah?” He put the camera in your face again.

You rolled your eyes, pretending to push the camera away. 

“What’s his name?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, giving the camera a coy look. “Some fruit loop I picked up in Colombia.” You shrugged. “Javier Peña or something.”

“Damn and here I was thinking I had a shot.”

You snorted, “Maybe after our little walker goes to bed.”

Javier chuckled, peering the lense back at Josie. “Are you an official walker now, JoJo?”

“Mmmm!” She responded, slapping her little palm against his knee. 

You grinned at Javier, “We are officially the parents of a walker.”

The smile he offered you in return made your heart leap in your chest. 

 ——

 Javier was already in bed when you entered the bedroom after your shower, “You’re not asleep already, are you?” You questioned as you toweled off your hair and tossed it over the hamper to dry. 

“I’m awake,” He assured you as he sat up, taking his fingers through his hair. “I did fall asleep in the rocking chair with Josie.”

You laughed and shook your head as you peeled back the covers and joined him in bed. “You were crying weren’t you?”

“Is it that noticeable?” Javier made a face, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he met your eyes. 

You curled up beside him, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “This was the giveaway.” You whispered, before stealing a kiss. “I broke down in the shower.”

“Your eyes are red.” Javier curled his arm around you. “She’s already walking.”

“And she’ll be in high school by Friday.” You remarked with a mirthless smile. 

“I’m not ready for her to grow up.”

“Me neither.” You stroked his cheek, “At least I didn’t miss it. Shit, if she had done that while I was at work tomorrow…”

“I would’ve lied and waited until she did it in front of you.”

“Sweet, but you’re a terrible liar.” You ran a finger down the length of his nose, before tracing your thumb over his lips. 

Javier narrowed his eyes, “You think I’m a bad liar?”

“It’s all in the eyes,” You kissed him again, letting your lips linger against his. “Though, it’s sweet that you’d wait until I was there for it to be the first time.” 

“You sure you’re ready to go back to work?” He questioned, brushing his nose against yours.

“It’s only three days a week. One of us needs to make money.” You remarked with a sigh, “It’s still four days with you and Josie. Which was more than I had in Colombia.”

Javier tilted his head and kissed you, “It’s been nice. These past couple of weeks.” He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb over the rise of your cheekbone. “Just the three of us.”

“It’s spoiled me.” You laughed, rubbing your hand down his chest. “I’m going to miss you tomorrow.”

“Maybe we’ll come visit you on your lunch break.” Javier suggested, covering your hand with his own. 

“Really?” You grinned. “I think the Captain said lunch is usually around one. I have a meeting with their narcotics team at two.”

“I’ll be there at ten til one.” He drew you in for another kiss and this time you let it linger, slowly moving your lips against his as you deepened it. 

A low groan rose up in the back of Javier’s throat as he sank his fingers into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he slanted his mouth against yours. His tongue swept out, dragging over your own, teasing the roof of your mouth. 

You trailed your foot up the length of his calf beneath the covers before you shifted to straddle him. Javier sat up, an arm curled around your waist to keep you pressed to him. You wrapped your legs around him, settling yourself against the hardening length of his cock — rocking against him. 

“Javi,” You breathed out as you broke the kiss, your fingers tugging at his hair. 

“Hmm?” Javier questioned, his hands sliding down your curves. “What is it, baby?”

You scraped your teeth over your bottom lip as you caught your breath, your eyes searching his. “Let me take the lead on this one, Javi.”

He nodded slightly, “Whatever you want.”

“I figured you’d be into that.” You quipped, pressing your palm to his chest and pushing him back onto the bed. You sat astride him, grinding your core against his cloth-covered cock as you pulled your tank top off of your head and tossed it aside. 

Javier groaned, his hands skimming up your stomach and waist, but not quite reaching your breasts. He was so good about not touching them, even though you knew he desperately wanted to. 

Javier Peña had always been a breast man. 

You leaned down, your wet hair falling into your face as you peppered kisses along his collarbone and down the center of his chest. You relished the feel of his warm hands as they trailed over your back, greedily touching wherever he could reach.

Sliding off of him, you quickly did away with your sleep pants and underwear, leaving them on the bed beside you as you moved back to straddle him. 

Javier couldn’t help himself, he tugged you back downwards so he could kiss you, curling his fingers around the back of your neck. You wiggled atop him, seeking friction as your slick core dragged against the fabric keeping you from his cock. 

“You should’ve showered with me,” You whispered, nipping at his bottom lip, pulling it back before releasing it as you sat up. “I had no luck taking the edge off alone.”

Rising up on your knees, you reached down between you and slid his boxers down his hips, letting his cock spring free. “Fuck.” You breathed out as you curled your fingers around him and pumped it along his straining length. 

Javier’s hands curled around your thighs, his gaze locked on yours as you rose up just enough to sink down onto his cock. You moaned as his cock pressed into you, filling you deliciously until you were sat astride him. 

“Baby, fuck. You feel so good.” He told you, rubbing his hands over your skin. “Fucking gorgeous.”

You smirked, “I feel fucking gorgeous riding you.” You pried his hands off your thighs, interlacing your fingers with his as you drew them towards his head, pressing them back against the mattress. 

His grip on your hands tightened as you started moving, rolling your hips as you built up a rhythm. “That’s it, baby. That’s it — fuck. Ride me just like that.”

Your nails bit into the backs of his hands as you moved atop him. It felt like heaven. And it was just the cure you’d needed to chase away the first day jitters that were plaguing you. It wasn’t like either of you could enjoy yourselves tomorrow morning. 

A flicker of pain crossed his features and you instantly released his right hand. You weren’t about to exasperate an old injury, just to enjoy the upper hand.

“Thank you.” Javier whispered as his hand moved to your thigh, brushing his thumb over the skin there. “Can I?”

You nodded, letting your eyelids flutter closed as Javier’s fingers found your clit. His thumb rubbed circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, timed perfectly with every upward rock of his hips. 

Your release took you by surprise, a wave of pleasure washing through you, pooling hot and heavy in your core as you clenched around him. You’d didn’t stop — riding him through your release until you felt him tense beneath you.

“Baby.” Javier urged, his voice tight as your eyes snapped open. The look on his face made your heart flutter — pure unabashed desire and adoration, quickly replaced by his own moment of pleasure. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he came apart — his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled out his release. 

You kept rolling your hips, grinding down against him even as you sank forward against his chest. You let him wrap his arms around you, your own snaking beneath him, pressed between the mattress and him. 

“Is that how much you’re going to miss me tomorrow?”

You snorted, nuzzling at his throat. “Even more.” You told him, winding your fingers through his hair as you leaned up to kiss him. 

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twelve: cherry bootleg

Sam, Greg, and Louie all but stumbled out of the back door of the club and into the cool, late spring evening: the former turned her head to make sure nothing was going on with the actual club itself. The golden street lamps about the street lit their way and kept them cozy from the big brawl in there.

“Where are the Anthrax guys, by the way?” Louie asked them. “Did you see them?”

“I haven't, no,” Greg replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I saw Scott and Charlie in the hallway,” Sam said, “but that was before showtime, though. I dunno otherwise.”

“There you are!” Eric called from across the street. He had run to the bar over there, and then he doubled back to the three of them. Even bathed with the dim light from the street lamps, his skin had washed out to a sickly pale and his hair matted to his forehead.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Sam asked him once he came within earshot.

“No, I feel sick,” he answered, “that whole thing just freaked me the fuck out back there.”

“You need to sit down, man?” Greg offered him, and he gestured to the curb next to them. Eric sighed and then he sank down there in between Greg and Sam.

“Can I get you anything?” she kindly asked him, and Eric shook his head.

“Here comes Chuck,” Louie announced; Sam and Greg glanced around the street until she spotted Chuck on the sidewalk to her right with his hair smoothed back.

“Alex!” he shouted down an alleyway before them, and then he gestured for him to follow suit; Alex appeared right next to him, still with that stoic look on his face. “C'mon—little man—”

Alex stopped right next to Louie, and then Chuck stepped out into the street.

“Alright, we all together?” he asked them.

“The five of us plus Sam,” Greg said.

“The Cherry Suicides just bolted,” Alex told them, and then he turned his attention to Sam. “Zelda ducked out from under the curtain and she ran out the back door there. And then, uh—the two black girls—what're their names?”

“Morgan and Minerva,” Sam filled in.

“That was it! They just got into their van and then the four of them bounced. I asked a guy walking by me to call the cops and then I helped a little old lady with her groceries—that's why I was down that little alleyway.”

“Okay,” she breathed, and Chuck put an arm around her. Her heart pounded in her chest. She thought of Joey and if he had gotten somewhere safe near there.

“You alright?” he asked her.

“I am, yeah.” Zelda huddled closer to her, and Greg in turn inched closer to her, and he put his arm around her. Alex gazed up to the dark sky overhead: the amber light from the street lamps made his deep eyes resemble to the dark sockets of a skull.

“You alright, Eric?” Chuck tilted his head a bit. “You don't look good.”

“Whole thing scared the living daylights out of him,” Louie explained. “D'you see where Anthrax run off to?”

“I saw Joey,” Chuck replied. “Like I saw him run out the back door and into the street, but that was it after that. Haven't seen Scott, Charlie, Frankie, or Danny, though.”

“It's gonna be a long night,” Greg said.

“Absolutely. Might as well hang out.” Chuck ran his hand along Sam's shoulder and her upper arm out of comfort. But her heart still hammered away inside of her chest and she still wondered about Joey. She also had no idea what hotel she was supposed to stay in, either.

“There is a bar across the street,” Sam pointed out.

“Alex can't go in there,” Eric blurted out.

“Oh, yeah, that's right.” Someone threw a bottle of beer out the front door of the club and onto the street. The sound alone was enough to make Sam jump a bit.

“Well, we gotta get you something, man,” Louie told Eric, “you look like you're about ready to pass out.”

Sirens off in the distance caught their attention.

“I need to call my girlfriend, too,” Chuck said, and Sam looked up at him, puzzled.

“You have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. I only just met her, though, 'bout a month ago. Still—I gotta call her and tell her what's up. Tell her that there was this big brawl during the opening act but we all made it out okay.”

He tightened his grip on her shoulder and she huddled closer to his chest. Even though he wasn't very big, but still a little bigger in comparison to Joey, Chuck resembled to that of a big teddy bear. His long smooth hair covered the back of her head, much like that of a heavy Indian blanket; Louie joined on her left side, and then Greg and Alex followed, and the five of them huddled around Eric there on the curb.

Sam recalled what she often heard in the days leading up to that night: “we don't have much, but we have each other.” Even though she was still on the fence with Alex, she felt more comfortable with all of them there than she did back on New Year's.

Within time, the police showed up and began to clear the place behind them out before it all escalated into a riot, and at that point, it was nearly ten o'clock at night, and Anthrax still hadn't returned to the club to pick up their instruments, or Sam for that matter. The pitch dark sky overhead made her yearn for the safety of a soft bed with clean sheets.

“I don't even know what hotel they're staying in,” she confessed to Chuck. “Danny has my things and I can't call Aurora for that reason, either.”

“I think we have room in our hotel room,” he said to Eric, whose complexion at that point began returning from his rest there on the curb.

“I mean, if anyone asks,” he started, “we can always say that she's just with the label and that she needs a place to stay.”

“Because that's exactly what it is,” Sam pointed out with a befuddled look on her face, and Eric couldn't help but chuckle at that.

“Need help?” Greg offered him with an open hand, and he shook his head.

“Nah—I think I got it.”

Eric shot out his arms and he stood upright right there in the storm drain. He almost lost his balance right there but he caught himself before he stumbled ass over teakettle onto the dark pavement before them.

“So where are we going?” Sam asked Chuck as the six of them began up the street, and away from the club.

“We're actually just going around the corner here,” he pointed to the curb up ahead of them. “Just a single room but I think it's big enough for the six of us.”

“I've been in smaller rooms, though,” she admitted.

“Oh, yeah! With Stormtroopers. Although we've got a shower in there so there's no need to track down Joey for one out in the wilderness.” Sam chuckled at that, and they rounded the corner: indeed, there stood a long low inn on the corner that awaited them for the night. Chuck led them into the room closest to them: she was greeted by the feeling of the cool air from the air conditioner, even though it wasn't very hot out that evening. There were in fact two beds in there as well as a blow up mattress right near the bathroom door, plus a small television on the dresser on the left side of the room.

“Our home for the next two nights,” Greg told her once they were inside.

“Who's sleeping where?” she asked him.

“Good question.” A brief moment of silence.

“I'll take the floor,” Alex offered.

“We're sleeping head to toe, though,” Greg told him.

“Well, duh,” he teased him back, and that got a laugh out of her

“Head to toe on one of the beds then, Eric,” Chuck joined in. “Someone's gotta keep an eye on you, anyways.”

“Dibs on the one closest to the bathroom,” Sam quipped.

“Dibs?” Louie giggled.

“Yeah, and you guys thought I was bad with 'shotgun',” Alex scoffed.

“Only problem with sleeping close to the bathroom is you have to step over Alex and Greg,” Louie pointed out.

“That's alright,” Sam assured him with a shake of her head.

“Well, we've got a lady in here with us tonight,” Eric announced as he ran his fingers through his inky black hair and then he took a seat on the foot of the bed closest to the window. Sam was quick to take to the bed tucked in the far corner of the room, and Louie joined right there next to her. He had gone out and lived with Zelda for almost a year, and thus she had a feeling that he knew how to treat a woman he didn't really know very well. He took off his white gloves and flexed his fingers.

“Not gonna be needin' those for a while,” he told her in a low voice.

“So what do you guys do tomorrow?” she asked him. “Just go back to the venue and then play the show you were supposed to play tonight?”

“I hope so? It'd set us off course, though, 'cause we were supposed to play two nights here in Boston with the guys and the girls. If we do just play for one night, we're out a bit of money.”

“So you'd hope that maybe your landlord can think of something?”

“I've asked landlords and landladies many a number of times to fill in for Zelda and me,” he confessed to her in a near whisper. “I'm a little used to it at this point.”

He turned his attention to the television, which had been tuned to the news there in Boston. Alex had his eyes glued to the screen.

“They gonna try to bring the Wall down?” Greg asked him.

“Hopefully. And hopefully Reagan'll keep his damn mouth shut, too.” He turned back to it with a stern look upon his face. Something about Britain having an election, and something Sam hadn't really paid much attention to before.

“Hope she doesn't get elected again,” Greg said in a low voice.

“Right? I mean, if it happens, it'll be just... it's confusing, vile, abhorrent, gross, disgusting, sick, sickening, ghastly... grim...” He stopped in his tracks. “...awful... I'm running out of bemusement words.”

“Unacceptable?” Greg filled in.

“Unacceptable, yeah!”

Sam turned to Louie right then.

“It's a regular thing with us,” he told her in a low voice. “Alex is so in tune with everything that it's kind of comical at times.”

“I haven't really seen Anthrax, or even Metallica act like that, though,” she recalled.

“It's usually present in lyrics with them—especially Metallica right before Cliff passed. Master of Puppets? Refers to mind control and being manipulated. There's a song on Anthrax's new one called 'Indians' that's about the Native Americans and the piss poor treatment they go through. It's present in lyrics, but it's often hiding in plain sight, though, so if you're not aware of your surroundings, then it can be confusing. We—the whole thrash 'scene' you could call it, everyone signed to the label and them some—all kind of started in a pissed off reaction to Mr. Reagan, and Alex is like the prime example of it.”

She thought back to when she and Belinda were in the parlor together, and Alex ranted a bit about the government lying to them. He was a teenage kid having entered manhood and he had his concerns about the world.

“Guess he read Animal Farm when he was in school, too,” Louie continued, still with his voice down. “I remember the two of us getting into a conversation about books when I came back to the drum position, and he told me he had just finished that. He said it just opened his eyes to the world. He told me that the world we live in is dangerous and out to kill us all, but fighting for what we know is right will keep us alive. And this was—about a year before Cliff passed, too. Like right when I came back into the fold.”

“When you're a kid, you're impressionable,” she followed along.

“And boy, did that book make an impression on him. Could be way worse, though.”

“How so?”

Louie nodded to the television on the other side of the room, and she saw the image of a young man and woman, both of whom looked to be about Alex's age in fact: she had a baby in her arms. Alex himself had gotten up and gone into the bathroom for something.

Aurora entered her mind right then and she wondered if she and Emile had plans to start a family between them. It definitely could be worse, but at the same time, he didn't act like how she did when she was eighteen; nor did he look like one. Whenever he had his attention fixed on the television screen, his expression always grew extra stern as if he had aged a whole decade.

Chuck had fallen asleep on the other bed, and Eric had picked out Gideon's Bible from the drawer in the nightstand. Sam didn't have her art supplies with her, but she did ask Louie for the little pad of paper there and the accompanying pen.

“You wanna doodle me something?” he asked her.

“If you don't mind—one of my specialties is pen and ink after all.”

With nothing more than the pen in hand, she sketched out Louie's smooth black hair first, followed by his round face and his sinewy shoulders. She ran the tip of the pen over her original lines to give it a bit of depth.

“Okay, that's adorable,” he remarked with a grin on his face.

“You got a pillow with you?” Greg was asking Alex.

“Yeah, right here—lay with your back to me, too. Last time Eric and I slept head to toe he kept kicking me in the face.”

Greg then poked his head up from the foot of Sam and Louie's bed.

“You guys turning in soon?”

“Yeah,” she told him as she signed her initials at the bottom of the narrow piece of paper. She took it off of the binding part of the pad and handed it to Louie. “Merry Christmas.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged her shoulders at him.

“This is too cute for words,” he told her. “I'm gonna keep this in the safest place ever. With my gloves.” He showed it to Eric, who put the Bible back into the drawer, and he chuckled at the sight of it.

“Way cute,” he remarked.

Sam then climbed under the bed sheet next to him, and she turned over onto her side. Louie slid his legs down in the bed and leaned his back against the headboard; he then shut off the lamp there on the nightstand. He lay there on his back next to her; she lay there with her eyes closed but she wasn't the least bit tired. The sheer feeling of being on a good chunk of the tour and it was only getting started that night, despite their having to call off the first night of the stop.

Eric breathed heavy within time. But Louie cleared his throat and moved his head in closer to her.

“You know, when Zelda and I broke up, it was so hard on me,” he confessed in a whisper.

“Yeah, I remember she cried about it,” Sam whispered back to him. “At this point, the only time I ever saw her cry.” She paused for a second. “Earlier, we were talking and at one point, she mentioned you and she got this like... I wanna say wounded look on her face.”

“Huh. I will tell you this, though—it helped me drum like hell on our album, though. I know that when you get to hear us it's gonna be nuts to experience. And when we first embarked on this tour, I could feel it coming out of me.”

“One of the things Cliff told me when we first got together was he was driven by pain. That's why he was so good at playing bass. He had so much pain left over from his brother dying—”

“—and he just channeled it all into those four strings. God, I miss him.” In the darkness, he turned his head back to her. “Can't imagine how much you miss him, though.”

“Every day,” she confessed. “I miss him every day.”

He stared straight ahead of him into the darkness. Sam felt her eyelids weighing down; at some point, she had fallen asleep next to him, and she woke up to Alex and Greg giggling about something to each other. One of them whispered something to other and then they both laughed like a couple of kids playing around with something.

Sam lifted her head from the pillow: in the pale gray morning light, Louie was still propped in an upright position with his back against the headboard as if he was a hospital patient. His smooth black hair had spread over his face and hid his slumbering eyes from her view. She sat up next to him: she spotted the back of Greg's head right at the foot of the bed and opposite him was that light patch on Alex's head. He grinned about something, the first time Sam had ever seen him grin about anything, and then he raised his gaze to her and nodded at her.

Greg turned his head a bit for a look back at her, and he leaned over a bit all the while.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted her in a soft whisper.

“We were just talking about that little sketch you made for—Clemente there,” Alex explained, also in a whisper. Sam rubbed her eyes.

“What'd you think of it?” she asked them.

“Cuter than fuck,” Greg said with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah, we were just joking that maybe you could sketch out a video for us,” Alex added. “But I imagine it being the subject of ridicule, though.”

“A-ha beat us to it,” Greg said again with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah, like 'Testament are the ultimate rip-offs!' or something like that.” Alex shook his head about and rolled his eyes when he said that. She rubbed her eyes again.

“Do you guys know what time it is?”

“It's—six thirty?” Greg lifted himself up and looked on at the clock on the nightstand. “Yeah, six thirty.” He showed her a serious look. “Wanna go back there?”

“Is it even open?” Alex asked him.

“Good question—”

A knock on the door caught the three of them off guard, and it made Louie stir a bit. But Chuck and Eric were both still sound asleep, head to toe, on the other bed.

“Here—” Greg climbed to his feet and he sauntered over to the door, and unlocked it. Zelda stood right there before him with Sam's purse in hand, and she had something else in other her hand, something rectangular and dark.

“'Mornin', Greggy,” she greeted him.

“Miss Carmichael,” he returned the favor with a smirk on his face.

“I've got Miss Shelley's purse here plus a little favor from Aurora.” She turned her attention to Sam, who was sitting upright in bed next to Louie. “By the way, Frankie and Danny are keeping a watchful eye on your things.” She looked over at Louie, who was still sound asleep.

“Where'd they even go last night?” Sam asked her, nonplussed.

“Back to the hotel near the state line... after the brawl, they bailed along with us...” Zelda frowned. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah. He just—got in bed next to me and fell asleep right there.” Sam had butterflies in her stomach upon saying that.

“Oh. He was just laying like that, I thought something happened to him.”

“No, no, he's alright. Anyways, what's Aurora want?”

“She wants you to record the Cherry Suicides' show tonight. The show for real tonight. There's not gonna be any chairs in the venue tonight so there's no brawls of any sorts. She really wants us to get a record deal.”

“Is even that legal?” Sam asked her.

“Sorta. I mean, you are with us—it's not like you're some random person out there with a tape recorder. We need you to hit 'play' on this and just record the whole show until the tape fills up. And it will!”

Zelda strode past Greg and she handed her the blank cassette plus the casing. The first time Sam had done anything like this but she knew she could trust her on it. She also set the purse on the nightstand next to Louie; then Zelda turned to the other bed, at Chuck and Eric, both of whom were still sound asleep even after the chattering.

“Man, and I thought ol' Lewis over here was a heavy sleeper,” she remarked. “He actually slept through road work once.”

“The two of them'll sleep through an earthquake,” Alex told her.

But Sam paid more attention to the blank tape cradled in her hands. Her first real work with the record label as it was about to be bought out by someone else. But it was for Zelda, and the band she had suggested to manage as well. Pushing the envelope for her friends, with love from Rhode Island.

Once Chuck and Eric had woken up, the six of them headed out of their room and back around the corner towards the rock club. Louie had on his gloves once more: he showed Sam the cartoon she had made for him as if it was his driver's license.

“The safest place I know,” he told her as they made their way back in through the back corridor once again, and towards their dressing room.

Anthrax were opening that evening, which gave Sam plenty more time to prepare the cassette tape for the Cherry Suicides. She only knew of a handful song titles, and they had a whole batch of new ones: thus she hoped that Aurora or Zelda would fill in for her as she scrawled on the paper the title plus the date of the show and the venue. She also wrote: “also featuring, Anthrax and Testament.”

She gazed on at that last word, and she thought about Louie as the crowd outside of the corridor erupted into applause for Anthrax. He was another one who seemed so distant from her, and yet so close at the same time.

Pain is what drives you, as Cliff had told her that one evening.

“This next song is called 'Indians'!” Joey declared into the microphone. Louie had mentioned that song!

Charlie pounded on his big bass drum as if he beckoned a drum circle. Scott came in with a big guitar riff. Frank followed with his big pounding bass. They all came together.

She peeked out from around the corner. She spotted Joey at the front of the stage.

She frowned at what rested upon his head: she could hardly see it in a decent light, but she swore that there were feathers on that man's head. He turned his head a little bit so she could make out the sight of his straight Roman nose against the bluish white light on the ceiling.

A full crown of big red and white feathers right upon his head: the fact his black curls sprawled down his shoulders and the front of his chest only accentuated the look of it. She lowered her gaze to the streams of feathers down his back. All the way down his back and his hips, and the backs of his legs, all the way down to the floor. His voice meanwhile sailed high and powerful into the rock club. Far too big for that room.

All the times he had talked about it with her and there he was for her, right in front of her.

“Oh, my Chief,” she stammered.

He kept his promise to her, and it was right there she knew he would continue to do so for her. It took a full night away from him, but he did it for her. She just knew that that was the truth.

“WAR DANCE!” Frank and Scott yelled into their microphones at the same time during the breakdown. Joey danced around as if he was a little Indian boy doing a rain dance. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She held a hand up to her chest.

She saw something out of the corner of her eye: Chuck stood right next to her.

“Are you seeing this?” she asked him over the roar of the music.

“I am!” Chuck declared with a twinkle in his eye. “My Indian brother!”

She had the duty for a bootleg to help the Cherry Suicides, but she stood there in Joey's essence, and she realized what it was all about right then and there.

And a wave of elation had swept over her.

She was a part of it all.

#fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 12 #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #a skeleton in the closet #book three #anthrax fanfic #testament fanfic #testament #testament band #chuck billy #eric peterson #alex skolnick #greg christian #louie clemente #oc tag #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #writing #text

[urlocalfrogmammy]

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but i have it—ronald speirs

inspired by

(and my 12-1am contemplation)

@yeahcurrahee : Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Ronald Speirs imagine with the prompt “you can’t keep avoiding your problems!” “i avoid you well enough!”? Thank you!

when your feeling utterly lost, speirs shows you a side you're not used to seeing.

literally started writing this as sOON as i got the request because i was listening to the song and i was like 👀. not re-read it, not cut it down. my pure, unfiltered 12am thoughts. word count 2k because i don't know where to stop at this time. i hope u enjoy it <3 thank u for the request

there was a soft breeze that blew the sheer curtains. the doors to the balcony had been left open the night before, you couldn't be bothered closing them before slipping into your silk sheets. now, the rays of sunshine cast a heavenly glow on the marble floor of your room, and believing in a god no longer felt foolish to you. you, however, were not exactly feeling like you belonged in the paradise of that austrian hotel room. you'd spent your night tossing and turning, stripping layers of clothes off in cold sweats between nightmares. you now lay wearily in your bed, wondering why you couldn't sleep as well as everyone else. you were a lieutenant, for christ's sake. you were supposed to be training the men to go to war once again. but you were haunted by the images of the war. you'd seen almost all your friends injured or dead. chuck grant with his head shot, bill and joe with their legs missing, gordon paralysed, hoobler bleeding out, jackson in that dingy basement, skip and penkala being blown up—

breathe, you told yourself.

now you could barely look your men in the face without feeling guilty for sending them off to the hell you'd experienced. you had the points. you could go home. but you knew in your heart you'd forever feel ashamed if you left now. your head, being wiser, knew that you'd forever feel guilty for leading these men back into combat, after they'd earned long and happy lives.

instead of worrying about your inner conflict, you lay and stared up at the lighting fixture. there were three lightbulbs, surrounded by tulip-shaped lampshades. they were edged with gold, and they reflected in the light. you stared and stared, until your eyes began to drop. a bang on your door startled you, and you called: "i'm naked!"

ron speirs came barging into the room. "lieutenant what the hell are you playing at?"

see, the awkward thing was that you really were naked. you grasped the sheets to pull over your bare chest and a small squeak cane out of your throat. "i told you i was naked sir!" speirs awkwardly stood in your room like he was lost in the middle of a jungle and had stumbled into a foreign camp. he slowly prowled towards the dresser, lifting up a jewel encrusted brush you'd snagged and holding it up to the light. the reflection was cast on the wall opposite, leaving a glowing pattern on the cream walls. you sat up onto your elbow and stared at your captain. you weren't blind, you knew he was handsome in a sort of rugged way, but the delicate light from those french doors radiated a celestial glow onto him, making his appear angelic. you watched as speirs fumbled with the silver box of pins, trying to figure out how to open it. a soft click confirmed he'd succeeded and he peered inside, unimpressed at the contents of the box.

you wanted to scream. you wanted to tell the man to get out your room. but instead, you just observed him as a glint from your bedside table caught his eye. slowly approaching both you and the bedside table, he lifted up the best thing you'd snagged. a diamond necklace, four diamonds thick, with tendrils of diamonds hanging down from it. you knew it was worth a small fortune, because it was one of the most luxurious pieces of jewellery you'd ever seen. looking down on you, ron leaned down and held it up to your bare neck. "it's pretty."

"thank you." your voice was breathless, ron had taken that away. standing back up and letting the necklace clatter on the glass tabletop, ron's demeanour returned to normal. "are you going to get dressed?" you simply pointed to behind the door.

ron's footfalls were the only thing heard in the room as he grabbed the silk robe from the back of the door and chucked it at you. you caught it with one hand, and ron turned around to give you some privacy. he heard you place yourself back on the bed before telling him you were decent. as he turned back around to look at you, he swore he'd never seen anyone as ethereal as you in that moment. your hair was down, something he had never seen before, and it caught the light. your eyes gleamed as the looked at him, sparkling with something he couldn't recognise. your cheeks were flushed and your lips looked soft. “you’re not sleeping.”

“of cour—”

“you’ve got dark circles.”

he watched as you scoffed, walking over to the dressing table mirror and peering into it. “maybe i’d get less stressed if i was tested less.”

picking up the hairbrush, you slowly began to pull it through your hair. ron watched your reflection in the mirror. “why are you here, captain speirs?”

“why aren’t you with your men?” you paused, hissing as you got to a knot in your hair you couldn’t untangle, right at the back of your head. ron felt an insatiable urge, and indulged himself in it. taking the brush from your hands, your hair was like silk in between his fingers. he dragged the hairbrush through your hair slowly, and your head tilted back towards the movement of the brush.

“you never answered my question, lieutenant.” you hummed in content at the soothing feeling of having your hair brushed, and looked up at him in the mirror. “just let me enjoy this. this is the best things that’s happened to me since nixon brought me that bacon sandwich.” ron chuckled at the statement, and continued to brush your hair with a softness you hadn’t expected from him. the gesture was very out of character, but you accepted it with open arms. maybe you just didn’t know your captain as well as you thought you did. there was a clank as ron set the brush back down and you turned on your stool to look at him. he looked down on you with a look you couldn’t decipher, so you stood and padded over to the bed again.

"the men need someone else." ron stared at you from across the room. arms crossed. "i can't do it."

"why?"

"because..." you couldn't articulate what you were feeling. "i... i can't watch another boy die. screaming for the medic, or their mother, with blood coming out of their mouth and—" you cut yourself off abruptly in order to stop yourself from crying in front of the captain. he approached you, crouching down until he was at your eye level. "aren't you just happy that the war's over in europe?"

you scoffed again. "don't ask if i'm happy."

"why?"

"you know that i'm not." your traced your fingers along the silk of the creamy sheets, stained with your sweat and a reminder of all the images you'd had in your dreams. "at best i can say i'm not sad." you glanced fleetingly at him, with a half smile on your face. you wondered how your captain would ever understand how you were feeling. ronald was ruthless, to the point. he acted as every solider should, no second thoughts, no remorse.you wondered if he ever understand the guilt that hung heavy on your conscience, like a plaque that read i've murdered more people than i can count.

ron sat on the bed next to you. "you're a good leader, y/n."

"yeah?" you tucked your hair behind your ear.

“yeah.” he smiled, something you hadn’t seen properly before. ron had always been stern faced or shouting, but it was worth it for the smile. his eyes crinkled, twinkling like the constellations in the sky. you looked away from him and shrugged. “i don’t know. maybe.” you stood back up, collecting your clothes off the floor, and dumping them on the bed. “y/n.” you ignored him, picking up your army pants and folding them leg to leg. “y/n, you can’t keep avoiding your problems.”

“really? because i avoid you well enough.” a neatly folded shirt now joined the pants. speirs walked behind you, and you could feel the warmth he radiated on your back. his hands captured your wrists. “stop.” you turned your head to look at him, and his lips met yours.

at first you froze, and then you jumped back. ron felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. had he read the signs wrong? “y/n, i’m sorry i—”

“no. i’m sorry. i panicked, i...” you turned around properly, “spilling my guts with... drunkards who don’t care about me... is the only love i’ve ever known.” he felt a pang if guilt, that someone as beautiful as you had never experienced what love really was. he looked down on you and murmured: “let me look after you.” you wrapped your arms around his neck. ron’s hands found your waist, and he pulled you back in for another kiss. this time, it was reciprocated. softly, gently, and with feeling. lifting you up and sitting on the bed with you in his lap, the kiss continued with more compassion and care. you pulled away.

"wow." your laugh was breathy and shaking. ron just grinned, hair ruffled and chest heaving under you. easing yourself off him, you could feel your legs trembling. "i should... probably get ready." a sudden wave of guilt slammed into you. you were enjoying yourself, and you should have been out there training your men. the men you were responsible for. your chin wobbled and you turned away from your captain, unable to stop the tears welling in your eyes. "hey, y/n look at me." ron lifted you chin up to look at him. "everything is fine. you have done your very best. just..." his voice softened, "hope for the best." you sniffled, and he told you he'd leave you to get dressed. as he was about to open the door, when you answered him. "hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have," you said softly. he turned to look at you, "but i have it."

he left you alone to your thoughts as you got dressed. your ike jacket was a little loose, you didn't have the broad figure expected, and your hair could barely stay in its pins, but you looked a lot better than you had done for a while. your face wore a smile. going down the luxurious stairs of cream marble to meet the other officers, you were greeted by a slightly drunken lewis nixon at the bottom of them. "captain nixon."

"lieutenant y/n. nice lie in?"

"shut up." you shoved him with an elbow and he just giggled that dumb giggle. he held his hands up in mock surrender, "i'm serious, y/n. you're looking a lot better than when we got here." wrapping an arm around your shoulder, nix guided you into the glass room with the huge wooden table and sat you down on it. ron was stood at one corner, drinking coffee and consulting his map. you smiled shyly at you, and he smirked back. lewis seemed to pick this up, and he handed you a teacup and saucer and winked at you. you couldn't help but smile at the gesture, shaking your head and glaring. you sipped your tea and almost gagged on it. “christ nixon! stop drowning everything in alcohol!”

“sorry! thought it would be a good pick me up!” you stood up, leaving the teacup where it sat.

“i’m going sorting third platoon.”

“alright kid. have fun.”

speirs smiled and nodded as you lit up a cigarette. you felt pride swelling up in your chest. he was proud of you. and you were proud of you too.

#band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs x reader #speirs x reader

[bangtanfancamp]

Of Dusk and Summer

✨ Teaser ✨

Sneak peak at my upcoming one shot!!!

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∴ one shot

∴ playlist/ soundtrack

∴ pairing : Park Jimin x reader

∴ teaser length: 1.8k words

∴ final length: at least 25k + words

∴ rating: Mature (is very soft. And probably doesn’t need one this high but just in case. I’ll amend if need be once story is complete)

∴ genre : coming of age, angst, fluff, romance, bf2l (best friends to lovers), high school au

∴warnings: mentions of emotional abuse and dysfunctional family dynamics, light smut? Sort of? (Intense makeout-still SFW)

Graduation and academic excellence is all Jimin has had his eyes fixed on for as long as he can remember. Today, it finally happens. Today, he finally walks the stage and graduates. Today, his goals finally become reality. Or at least, that’s what he thought-until the best friend he thought he knew inside and out shows up in his window while he’s getting ready, and his life is never quite the same.

Alt: Park Jimin and his best friend have one incredible night that changes what they are to each other forever.

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There it is again- that clattering sound.

That’s at least the fifth time he’s heard it. It’s almost like fingernails tapping against the glass behind him, but that can’t be possible- he’s on the second floor. Every time Jimin looks back at his bedroom window, there’s nothing there.

Not even a pollen drunk honeybee bumping against the glass- nothing. He’s beginning to feel like he’s losing his mind. Turning his attention back to his mirror, he chooses to ignore it this time- he’s finally almost got the knot right in his tie. It’s taken him the better part of twenty minutes to even get this close.

But there it is again.

That sound- the tinkling against the glass.

Before he can stop himself, he’s whipping his head back to look and...there goes the knot. Dang it. Brow furrowed, he frowns down at his tie before giving up completely, sliding it from beneath his collar to chuck it on the floor. Agitated and swearing under his breath, he stomps, disgruntled, toward the accursed window and flings it open.

“For the love of God, what is — Y/n??” Jimin looks positively gobsmacked, because there you are- your palm full of rocks, arm cocked mid-throw as your silky red graduation robes flutter in the breeze.

“There you are! Took you long enough.” You taunt him from the lawn.

“What the heck are you doing here? Graduation’s in less than an hour!” Jimin is a patient man, but this is not remotely the time for shenanigans.

“Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I’m here?” You roll your eyes, striding across the lawn before hiking up your robe to reveal denim shorts and hoisting yourself up the ivy trellis on the front of the house.

“I don’t know why you’re here! That’s why I’m asking- y/n, what are you doing? My mom just fixed that trellis! You know she hates when you stomp through her garden! Why can’t you just use the front door like a normal person?” Jimin tips his head to the side in frustration, strands of his silky black hair falling into his eyes before he can push them away.

‘Because, Chim, I don’t need to go through the rest of the house when I have a direct route to the person i'm here to see. Now move- let me through.” You dip your head and crouch as Jimin resignedly steps back to give you room to slip through the window.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here, y/n, or why you couldn’t just call to say whatever it was. We’ve got to get ready to go.” Turning back to his dresser, he begins to hunt for his black bow tie from Prom- maybe he’ll have better luck with that.

“That’s just it, Chim. That’s why I’m here.” You’re still standing resolute in front of the window, dodging as a pair of Jimin’s swim shorts fly past your face in his hunt for his bow tie.

“Do you need a ride to graduation?” His confusion is apparent in his tone as he moves to ransack his closet. “Goddamn it, where is my bow tie?! I don’t have time for thi-

“No, because I’m not going, Chim.” Your voice is so quiet, he almost misses it.

“I know i put it right— wait. You’re what?” His face goes slack as he turns back to face you. “What do you mean?”

Sighing, you cross the room to grip his shoulders. “I mean- I can't do this. I’m not going to graduation today, Jimin.”

“Are you crazy? You have to go!” He searches your eyes for some sign that this is a joke but doesn’t find one.

“No actually- we don’t have to go. It’s optional,” you say softly as Jimin frowns.

“I don’t think that means what you think it means, Y/n.”

“If you’ve completed all your finals and have a high enough GPA, you don’t actually have to walk. Pietro Salazar got strep last year the day before and didn’t attend and still got a diploma,” you shrug.

“Because he had strep! Do you? Are you ill?” He questions as he presses the back of his hand to your forehead. You swat it away and frown at him.

“No, I don’t have a fever! I’m serious.” There’s a grit in your tone that he’s not used to and doesn’t understand.

“Are you sure? Because you’re clearly either mad with fever or just plain lost your mind because this is crazy! You’re being crazy,” he huffs. He doesn’t mean to sound so belligerent- really, he doesn’t- but he doesn’t understand. The clock to graduation is ticking down, and you’re standing in front of him like a lost sheep while he has an aneurysm over the fact that he can maintain a 3.9 GPA but can’t manage to tie a goddamn tie. He loves you, he does, but he just doesn’t have the patience for whatever this is right now. Still, he thinks, She’s your best friend: word it better than that. He sighs and tries again when he realizes his frustration isn’t going to get through to you.

“Y/n, we’ve been looking forward to today for years. You can’t just decide to not go half an hour before-“ he glances at the wall clock behind you as his throat suddenly seizes up.” Oh my god, it’s only half an hour til four?? Y/n, we can talk about whatever alien tried to do a biopsy on your brain later, but we have got to go!” He tries to slip out of your grasp, but your grip around his biceps only tightens.

“I’m serious, Jimin. I’m not going.” You look more resolute than he’s ever seen you before- much too focused, with much too much clarity for a woman who’s clearly lost her mind.

“B-but you’re Valedictorian! I would’ve killed to make valedictorian. You know how hard I tried. Why in the world would you just not show up?” He looks at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

“Because! I’m just not. That’s all there is to it. I’ve got to get out of here, Chim. And I... came to see if you’d come with me.” Your eyes are softer then as you brace for his reaction.

“Come with you?” The words feel strange leaving his mouth.

“Yeah, I took the truck. It’s got a full tank of gas. I’ve got a backpack full of everything we’ll need- I just... need my best friend.” Your eyes meet his, and he realizes you’re serious.

“I - Y/n, what's really going on?” Brows pinched, his dark eyes search your face for a reason you aren’t ready to give him.

“Look, I know today is a big deal for you. I’m not a complete jerk. You know I know that. I just- I need to do this. And if you can’t come, I at least wanted you to hear it from me so-“

“Y/n where are you even gonna go?” He cuts you off. Breaking out of your grip to card his fingers through his hair, he studies you as he waits for your response.

“I don’t know for sure,” you say honestly. Jimin is not amused by how little you’ve prepared for this.

“ Are you leaving- like permanently? Or just like, going to hide out down at the froyo spot?” He frowns, wincing at how caustic his stress is making his tone. You look a bit hurt, and he tries to soften his voice to hide his impending hysteria as the clock ticks behind you.

“Cause if you’re asking me to run away with you indefinitely, I can’t leave my cat behind. You know my mom can’t stand her. Do I need to bring her? Cause if you’re thinking this is long term and I don’t bring her, I won't have a pet to come home to when we come galavanting back from Narnia.” His eyes are far off, detached as he rambles over the semantics of it all. That’s what he does. He’s the thinker. You’re the dreamer. He’s just doing his best to get a grasp on it all.

“What? No, Jimin- Calico’s gonna be fine. I have a couple of ideas- I just... know I need to get out of here, at least for today.” There’s something off. About all of this. This isn’t like you. You don’t do things like this. What is going on with you?

There’s a look in your eyes he’s never seen before. Five years of friendship and somehow there’s a panicked terror in your gaze that’s entirely brand new to him. Except, it’s not. Somehow, it’s strangely familiar. It’s just never been this bad. It makes him wonder…

“Y/n...is it your mom again?” His face is soft with concern and the second he sees your features shift he knows he has his answer. He catches the way your eyes harden, the way you swallow, the way it looks like you’re about to crawl out of your skin. There it is. Dang it. He can’t leave you like this. Not again.

Shaking your head, you plant your feet and try one more time to meet his eyes. Sniffling, you tell him in a voice laced with conviction, “It doesn’t matter. Chim, I’m leaving- are you coming or not?” You palm your keys in your hand as you pin him with a look.

A heavy sigh tumbles from his chest as he realizes what he’s about to do. “I know there’s something more to this that you’re not telling me…” he states calmly as your eyes fall away from his. “But I’m not gonna leave you alone with whatever this is.”

Your face snaps up to his, relief flooding you as you crash into him, embracing him in an excruciatingly tight hug. “Oh my god, thank you.”

He holds you back, arms firm around your waist, and gives himself a minute to realize what he’s committing to. No official cap and gown. No cheesy pictures with his parents. No walking with his classmates to receive the paper declaring that he’s finally, officially an adult. No final milestone of high school.

But there’ll be you….

And as he feels the warmth of you melt against his neck, maybe that’s all he needs.

His mother will probably kill him. No, she’ll definitely kill him. But if today is supposed to signify his transition into adulthood, then maybe it’s time he makes his first real stance in what kind of man he’s going to be.

To make his first proper adult decision.

Figures it would somehow be tied to you.

“All right, all right,” pulling himself out of your grip, Jimin tries to ignore the way your relieved smile and watery eyes tug at something in his chest. He’s never been able to explain his irrational soft spot for you, least of all right now. “If we’re gonna do this, then we’ve gotta go now. Just let me grab a few things,” he sighs.

(to be continued)

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Author’s note: hey guys!!! Hope you enjoyed. This piece is incredibly special to me. And I can’t wait to share the rest with you. The story will be told from both Jimin and Y/N’s perspectives and will hopefully be going through final revisions in the coming week. - christiana ✨

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!!!!

#btsguild #bangtanscenery #btswriterscollective #thewritersclub #park jimin x reader #jimin bf2l #coming of age #jimin fic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #of dusk and summer #a glimpse of your light #jimin romance #high school!au #jimin smut

[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - Harry Hook x reader - Part 10 -  A day out

you all can thank @musicarose​ for commissioning me to help continue this series! for the next 9 parts! enjoy!

=

It was your first anniversary in two days and you decided to gift Harry with a day, a day at Disneyland. This was going to be awesome. You had purchased the tickets about a month ago, and were excited to show harry one of your favorite places in the world.

“harry” you cooed, patting his chest “wake up” he snorted in his sleep and turned over, tossing his arm over your waist and pulling himself closer.

You pouted and grabbed your pillow, smacking him in the face. He jolted up with a laugh. “im up, im up! Now, what do yeh want woman?” you hit him again “hey!”

“get breakfast then get dressed, we’re going to Disneyland!” harry looked at you confused, sleep still clinging to him.

“wha’s a Disneyland?” he asked, tilting his head in that cute puppy way. You grinned and ruffled his hair.

“one of my childhood loves” he gave you an odd look but got out of your bed anyway.

“Alright, lemme get dressed” you hummed, smirking as he fixed his boxers.

“yer staring~k” he teased, and you just shrugged, leaning as he disappeared into the bathroom.

“not my fault you got a good butt!” you called back as he closed the bathroom door. You snickered and stood up from your bed, walking over to your dresser and taking out your clothes for the next day (or a couple of days, depending on how far Disneyland is for you)

You laid them out on your bed, grabbing Harry's hat and sunglasses from the top of the dresser.

“hey harry!” you yelled out, harry cracked open the bathroom door, toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

“aye?”

“bring that shirt Thomas got you kay?” harry paused and smirked, laughing as he slinked back into the bathroom.

“Alright, that'll be funny”

--

Harry watched as you bounced in place as you waited for your tickets to be scanned “yeh really like it here don’t yeh lass?” he chuckled, you looked to him and beamed.

“yees! I loved coming here has a kid, but my family had to stop coming because it got too expensive” you ended with a sad tone, but a bright smile still on your face.

“well” harry leaned down, pressing a kiss to your cheek “ill be happy to experience this world with yeh~” you laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“dork, now come on, we're almost up”

--

Harry downed his soda, licking his lips as he looked around the main square “this is quite beautiful lass, I can get why yeh like it so much” you snicked, tightening your grip on his hand and leading him through the road.

“This is just the opening view Harry, wait till you see the rest!”

---

You were kneeling on the ground, unable to breathe as a little kid  pestered harry, the parent, trying to gently pull them away “come on sweetie, hes probably on vacation and is spending time with his friend”

“harry hook!” the little girl screamed, waving around her little d3 uma doll. harry sighed, taking off his hat and glasses, handing them to you and kneeling in front of the girl, turning on that hook charm.

“Hello little lassie, what's yer name?” the mom's jaw dropped, she had thought harry was just someone who looked kinda like Thomas and her kid had thought Harry really was…well, Harry (which he was but the mom didn’t need to know that).

The little girl beamed and held the uma doll to her chest “sam!”

“well sam, im harry” he held out his hand, engulfing sams little hand in his larger one “and that’s a little uma yeh got there?” sam nodded, holding out the doll, Harry grinned and tapped the teal boot.

“looks jus’ like her, she yer favorite?” sam nodded again, reaching out her hand, leading Harry to grab it again, giving her a head tilt and smile.

“well Sammy,” sam giggled at the name “im on a date with this beautiful lass over there” he pointed over to you, sam waved at you enthusiastically, you smiled and waved back “and it was awesome meeting yeh, but I would love to get back to being with ‘er, is tha’ alright?”

Sam nodded, releasing Harry's hand and pushing at his shoulders “go go! Have fun! Tank cho!” sam ran back to her mother, waving goodbye to harry and you.

Harry sighed, standing and cracking his neck, waking back over to you, raising his brow as you grinned at him “wha’?”

“I just hope your as good with our kids as you were with her” you teased, Harry's face turned red as he grabbed his hat and sunglass from you and shoved them on.

“well I know yeh will be an awesome mom” he muttered back, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, letting you lead the way to Matterhorn bobsleds.

---

You sighed as you looked behind you for the third time, seeing a group of girls giggling to themselves and taking pictures of you and Harry. “the girls again” harry muttered, pulling you closer to him.

“Yeah, they’re back” you growled, watching as Harry turned and they scuttled off, hiding behind a corner and peering at you.

“little runts” harry snarled, eyes scanning the area and landing on the tiki room. “let's just go in there yeh said it had really good pineapple stuff right?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, it’s a nice place to chill as well”

As you entered the tiki room waiting area, you heard the girls enter behind you, and whisper among each other.

“harry” you whispered, he turned to you and leaned down “if they come up to you and ask about Thomas, just say you have no clue who he is, and if they ask about the shirt just ell them your girlfriend got annoyed with the same question about Thomas and got you the shirt, got it?”

“aye” Harry chuckled “I got it”

As you stood in line, waiting to order, you saw the group of girls walk over to harry, who was just chilling on his phone waiting for you.

He looked up as they started to speak, and he made an angry confused face, you chucked as you could tell he said ‘who the hell is Thomas Doherty’

The girls backed up a little and pointed at his shirt, he looked down and shrugged, gesturing over to you before turning back to them.

The girls looked at you, looked back at Harry, and apologized, backing away into a random corner and waiting for the tiki room to begin.

You held in your laughter, smiling as you ordered two dole whips and paid.

A minute later you grabbed your treats and thanked the workers, walking back over to harry and sitting down next to him.

“well done harry” you giggled, leaning on his shoulder and licking at the mountain of pineapple whip “outstanding performance”

Harry laughed with you, nodding his head ina mock bow “I do try lass” he shoved a spoonful of the whip in his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as the taste hit his tongue.

“oh, darling where have yeh been all my life” you snorted, burying your face in his shoulder.

“what about me” you giggled, he shushed, you, cradling the fruit treat to his chest.

“shhh, your irrelevant now darling”

You let out a silent scream and further burying yourself into him.

---

You stared at a pair of mickey ears, the silver cursive words staring back.

Captain hook.

You looked back at Harry, who was across the street at the candy store, and you quickly went inside, picking up a blank pair of the red, black, and silver ears, gasping as you spotted a (favorite color) pair with (favorite flower) for the ears.

“ooh I need it!” you whispered excitedly, grabbing that as well and going to purchase them and jumping on your toes as the words were embroidered into the bands.

You thanked the girl as she handed them to you and started to walk out the store, letting out a squeal as you bumped into a body.

You looked up, smiling as your eyes locked Harry's ocean blue. “hey lass, what yeh got there?”

“take off your hat” he looked confused but obeyed, eyes following your hands as you slid the ears onto his head. “…you’re adorable”

“an’ so are yeh, but why am I more adorable righ’ now?” he reached up and touched the ears, furrowing his brows as he felt the velvet of the ears.

“Mickey ears!” you cheered, putting on your own, giggling as harry smiled and touch the flowers.

“I love yers darling, wha does tha’ say?” he pointed at the golden cursive words on your band.

“quartermaster (y/n)” you grinned “my position on the revenge” you pointed at his set of ears, “yours says first mate Hook~”

He smiled and touched his ears again “thank yeh lass, I love em”

“and I love you!” you cheered, pulling on his shirt and kissing his cheek.

“love yeh too my bonnie lass”

---

“that’s it, pirates of the Caribbean is my favorite ride, everythin’ else is dumb” you burst out laughing as you exited the ride with harry.

“so even better than space mountain?” Harry paused for a moment then shrugged.

“it’s a tie between those two, but pirates is…yeh know?” you nodded and swung your hands between the two of you.

Oyu heard music sound from the castle and you started to run to thunder mountain “lassie what's up!” “fireworks! They look awesome when you’re riding thunder mountain!” harry caught up to you and nodded. “then let's go!”

=

You sighed as you tossed your bag and ears on the chair next to the hotel bed, flopping face first as you hit your knees on the frame.

“That was amazing, thank you my love” harry kiss your slightly hidden cheek, stepping into the hotel bathroom to shower.

“your welcome harry” you muttered, scooting up on the bed and laying down properly.

Soon you git the stage of being asleep but still able to hear and feel the world around you.

Harry exited the bathroom, smiling and picking up your sleeping form, taking off your shoes and jacket, and helping you slip under the covers.

“goodnight lassie,” he slipped in next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest “ill see yeh in the morning” he whispered, kissing your forehead and shutting off the lights.

--end of part 10--

pertaglist

@queer-cosette​

@sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​

@random-thoughts-003​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

@amorathegamingkitsune​

#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #encore #part of your world #reprise

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 5: Fright Night •

    The children, all seven of them now dry and dressed, coast down the street on their bikes, Ben in the lead.

    Ben, Y/n noticed, seemed in an awfully big hurry to get inside first. They had all ditched their bikes on the front lawn of the Hanscom residence and sped inside after Ben, eager not to lose his trail. Though Y/n and Richie lingered behind when Eddie had tripped and fallen over Richie’s bike. Each of them had been in such a hurry of their own to catch up with the rest, they had failed to notice the woman on the corner of the street, who was stapling a missing poster of Patrick Hockstetter to the telephone pole.

    When the kids reached the open door at the end of the hall, they could only assume it belonged to Ben. As they entered, their previous conversations died down as their eyes fell on his walls. Dozens upon dozens of pages, much like the ones in his folder littered each wall.

    “Wow,” Richie breathed.

    Ben smiled, shifting on his feet excitedly with pride swelling in his chest. “Cool, huh?”

    Richie reached the end of the room, readjusting his glasses with a thoughtful look on his face.

    “No, no, nothing cool,” Y/n felt guilty for the quiet chuckle she released at Richie’s remark. “There’s nothing cool.”

  Richie stepped closer to the wall, adjusting his glasses squinting over so slightly.

    “This is cool, right here,” he feigned a sigh. “Wait, no. No, it’s not cool,”

    Y/n chuckled once more, lightly whacking Richie on the arm as she joined him and Eddie by the wall. Ben stepped out of the way to make room for her and he looked across the room at Beverly, who was mindfully traveling the walls, soaking up all the information provided.

    Stan had joined Y/n, Richie, and Eddie by Ben’s dresser, a curious look on his face. He gestured to a particularly long piece of copy paper, with several things circled and written in red ink.

    Ben returned his gaze to the wall, and back at Stan.

    “Oh, that? That’s the charter for Derry Township.”

    Richie scoffed, smirking at Eddie and Y/n.

    “Nerd alert.”

    Ben simply shrugged it off. “No, actually, it’s pretty interesting.”

    Y/n smiled at this and nodded impressed with Ben.

    “Derry started as a beaver trapping camp,”

    “Still is, am I right fellas?” Richie asked, a smirk on his lips and his hand outstretched waiting for a high five.

    No one reciprocated, though Stan did give him a disapproving shake of the head.

    Her eyes scanned the walls, and she felt the mood shift to that of uncertainty and she could almost feel a weight sitting upon her shoulders. Y/n hadn’t realized just how many missing kid posters were hung up and she felt herself grow uneasy, and the pit in her stomach only grew as Ben continued unfazed by Richie.

    “Ninety-one people signed the charter that made Derry. But, later that winter, they all disappeared without a trace.”

    “The entire camp?” Eddie asked in disbelief.

    Y/n was still transfixed on the papers tacked onto the wall, though still very much tuned into the conversation.

    “There were rumors of Indians, but no signs of an attack.”

    The rag clad girl gulped as her eyes landed on illustration depicting the signing of the town charter. The knot in her stomach tightened and she felt a wave of nerves and nausea though she could not say why. Something about the illustration bothered her and made her hair stand on end. Something that churned her stomach and drained the color from her skin. Something, she still could quite put her finger on.

    “Everybody just thought it was a plague or something. But it’s like, one day everybody just woke up and left. The only clue was a trail of bloody clothes leading to the well house,”

    Y/n’s eyes flickered to the illustration of the wellhouse, but they didn’t linger long. Her attention returned to the signing of the town charter when Richie spoke up.

    “Jesus. We can get Derry on Unsolved Mysteries.”

    Ben thought he heard the creaking of a door and he turned around quickly. Sure enough, Beverly had nearly closed his bedroom door, silently revealing his New Kids On The Block poster and he felt as if he might die. He sent her a pleading look, almost certain his face was completely pink, and a small smirk found its way onto her face. She returned the door to its original position without another word, hiding the poster where it would remain their little secret.

    Taking advantage of Ben’s diverted attention, Stan turned to Richie, Eddie and Y/n in a hushed whisper.

    “Why is he showing us this stuff?”

    Y/n was finally pulled from her quizzical trance and directed her attention back to the boys. Richie shrugged, also speaking in something of a whisper.

    “Maybe he’s just trying to make some friends, Stanley.”

    Bill, who had been drawn in by a small selection of slides on Ben’s desk, spoke up for the first time since they had arrived.

    “Where was the well house?”

    Everyone turned to face Ben. Y/n noticed that Eddie had picked up a bottle of what must have been cologne, and took a big whiff. The strong smell caught him off guard and Y/n smiled mischievously. She quickly and lightly smacked her palm against the bottom of the bottle, bumping it against his face and nearly knocking it out of his grasp. Some of its contents flew up against the glass and splashed his nose leaving droplets on his face as well as the rim of the bottle and she snickered.

    “I don’t know,” Ben answered, shrugging. “Somewhere in town, I guess. Why?”

    Feverishly, Eddie wiped his face. His nose was scrunched up in disgust, unable to escape the strong and overpowering musk that clung to his nose.

    Bill, who like the other kids - save for Richie who caught the tail end of Y/n’s little trick and was hiding laughter of his own - had not noticed Eddie’s discomfort. His lips pressed into a firm line and he looked away distracted with thoughts of his own.

×××

    Eddie turned the corner passing the old church, his feet carrying him down Neibolt Street. His backpack clutched tight, he brought his hands up to his mouth, hoping he could still do the trick he had been so proud to learn.

    Sure enough, he managed a few discernible notes. But the tune he held and all desire to practice the skill died down as he approached the familiar broken down house at the end of the block. Everything around it was either dead or dying and if one were to look at that and only that lot they’d think it was mid-October. His Mama always warned him against that house and going anywhere near it.

    No good could come from it Eddie Bear, no good. God forbid you ever find yourself around that house, or any one like it, you just keep to yourself and you keep on walking, you hear me, Eddie? You keep on walking. Places like that are a hotspot for death and disease and you’d be making a fool outta me if you do otherwise. Now tell me, is your mama a fool Eddie?

    “No, Ma.”

    “Good boy,”

    He could hear her scolding him even now as clear as if she was standing next to him. He could not say why he had stopped just outside the house, perhaps it was the memory of her warning him against such things or the way the house seemed to cast a shadow over the whole street but he found himself in a daze unable to move.

    Channeling his mother and her fearful worried cries, the stopwatch beeped rhythmically on his wrist as if telling him, “Keep on walking! Keep on walking! Keep on walking!” He brought himself out of his trance and the stopwatch, not unlike his mother, was now wailing at him, reminding him it was time for his afternoon pill.

    He unzipped his fanny pack, his small hands dug through its contents for the familiar plastic container. Popping open the cap, he grabbed the pill in his hands and raised it to his lips but he felt himself stiffen at the creek of an old door. He watched frozen as the front door of the dreaded house on Neibolt sat wide open.

    He knew it wasn’t open before, he was sure of it. Nevertheless, it was wide open and it was so dark inside the house it seemed to swallow up all light that entered. He could hear a bone-chilling voice echoing in the back of his mind, calling out to him.

    Eddie.

    His eyes remained on the front door, almost too afraid that if he looked away something would swallow him up. The voice he believed to be from the darkest depths of his twisted imagination continued.

    What are you looking for?

    But his mother’s shrill voice was louder in his subconscious and he had never been so thankful.

     No good can come from it, Eddie Bear. No good. Keep on walking!

    Thankful to be pulled from his trance he tore his gaze away from the house and continued on. He opened up his fanny pack, his hands still trembling. Unfortunately, the container slipped from his sweaty hands and hit the pavement cracking it open. All his meds spilled out onto the dirty concrete and he cursed himself.

    “Fuck. Mom’s gonna fucking flip.”

    Eddie picked up far too many pills to carry and he quickly crawled forward, grabbing the blue container to hold them all. He could already hear his mother’s lecture that would come.

    Do you have any idea how expensive these are Eddie? And you might as well have chucked ‘em down the drain! You need them, Eddie! You know how fragile you are, how could you be so careless?

    Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, he had picked up nearly all of his pills, not bothering to sort them in the container. He followed them like a trail of breadcrumbs, plucking them up and quickly discarding them into the container one by one. He reached for the last remaining capsule, it’s bright red hue making it easy to spot on the grey concrete.

    The last thing he expected was a long, discolored and bony hand with blackened nails wrap around the pill. The hand was shaking as much Eddie’s was and it slowly raised the capsule in front of his face. The hand was wrapped poorly in a dirty cloth, and Eddie realized it wasn’t just the fingernails that were black but nearly all of the fingers. It was curled around the pill, and Eddie could swear he saw every bone.

    The same raspy voice from before was now loud and clear.

    “Do you think this will help me, Eddie?”

    The figure attached to the hand leaned forward suddenly, giving Eddie a look at Its horribly disfigured face for the first time. It was a leper, Eddie recognized. Its face was a sickly grey, bulbous pink warts bubbled on the grey skin that hung off Its face. One of Its eyes was completely rotted and drool dribbled from Its chin and if Eddie had to pick what was most jarring to see, it was the shriveled up slit where Its nose was supposed to be.

    The first breath of air Eddie managed to get was the sharp gasp that left his mouth. He tumbled onto his back, his pills now completely forgotten. He scrambled away though his limbs felt like they were made of lead and no matter how much he tried he couldn’t seem to go fast enough. The leper could barely balance properly, and It’s twig thin legs wobbled as It walked. He charged forward after Eddie. Eddie hadn’t realized he had been heading in the direction of the Neibolt house until he felt the crunch of dead grass beneath his palms.

    All he could see apart from the drooling figure was the blinding sun poking from behind the leper’s head. Scrounging up every ounce of energy he could muster Eddie jumped back, somehow able to mind the rusted iron gate.

    The leper lurched for Eddie once more, swiping Its frail arm at him. Miraculously, Eddie was able to dodge the attack and he scrambled to his feet. He had to pull his legs up high as he ran to keep from tripping over the tall grass. The leper growled and Eddie zipped through the yard at a speed he didn’t know he had. But it didn’t matter, the leper was still hot on his trail, swinging Its arms back and forth as he sped after him.

    His fearful cries ripped from his throat as he ran around the side of the house.

    “Help! Help!”

    Much to his horror, Eddie felt himself lose his balance and he tumbled to the ground and the momentum rolled him forward across the grass. The leper was closing in and he scrambled to his feet once more, he risked the chance of capture and spared a glance behind him. The leper swiped at him and Eddie yelped in fear.

    Eddie thought he spotted a small hole in the fence just behind the shrubbery and he thanked any all-knowing force in the universe he had an exit. He feverishly swiped at the shrubbery, trying desperately to get by. But the leper must be inches away from him by now, his head whipped around and he unexpectedly stopped. What he saw made him stop in his tracks even though everything in screamed to move but the sight was all too strange he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not.

    The leper was gone and just across the yard a tall and lanky figure. It was dressed in a silver puffy suit, with bright orange pom-poms and it looked to be from across many different decades. But of course, the shocking image that mystified Eddie was the array of blood-red balloons that formed an upside-down triangle that defied the laws of physics. Its head was hidden behind the singular balloon at the base of the pyramid.

    The balloon simultaneously slowly rose, revealing the face of a clown. It was pale white apart from his lips that were painted blood red and the edge of his lips trailed up all the way above his brows, bisecting each yellow eye. He had three large tufts of orange hair and his forehead was chipped and cracking like cheap paint. The clown stared at Eddie, hatred in his eyes.

    And yet, the clown’s lips curled up into a smile, his bottom lip making a sharp ‘v’ revealing large buck teeth that reminded Eddie of a rabbit’s.

    “Where ya goin’ Eds? If you lived here, you’d be home by now.”

    When the clown spoke, Eddie felt as if all that was good and pure in the world had shriveled up and died and he felt his stomach plummet. It was a gravelly and squeaky voice, a voice that chilled him to the bone.

    He gulped in fear and Eddie felt the absence of air in his lungs and he had no idea if it was his asthma or the fear that gripped his heart. As if sensing this, the clown’s smile grew, a feat Eddie hadn’t previously thought possible.

    “Come and join the clown, Eds. You’ll float down here. We all float down here. Yes, we do.”

    The clown shook It’s head, speaking in a voice that might remind one of someone speaking down to a dog. A sharp and squeaky cackle left the clown’s mouth, startling Eddie out of his trance. He returned his attention to the shrubbery, desperately swiping aside the thin branches blocking him from the fence. A scream ripped from his throat in a combination of fear and hope that someone would hear him.

    Eddie scrambled for the hole in the fence, for once in his life not concerned about the possibility of any damage he might take in the process. He felt dirt and pebbles wedge into his the creases of his knees but nothing compared to the dangerous hammering of his heart against his chest. The sounds of thousands of balloons popping grabbed his attention once more and he glanced over his shoulder to see nothing but an empty yard.

×××

    Beverly closed the front door behind her, she made her way to the end of the hallway towards her bedroom. The entire apartment was quiet, and the only sounds that carried down the halls were the rattling of the old fan in the living room. She took a seat on her bed, opening up her bag she had taken to the quarry. She unzipped the main pocket and began sifting through her belongings when she heard something tumble to the ground. Curious, she picked it up.

    It was a postcard of Derry. Someone must have slipped it into her bag at the quarry. Beverly flipped the postcard over to find a little note etched in pencil.

    That was all she allowed herself to read before she stood from her bed and retreated to the bathroom, the only safe space in the house. Her heart was aflutter as she closed the door behind her, locking it.

    To: Beverly

    From: Secret Admirer

    Bev took another lingering look at the front of the postcard and the sound of her boot heels clicked against the tile as she headed for the bathtub. She lowered herself into the mint green tub, her legs dangling over the side and she rested her back against the other side.

    She held the postcard up to the light, excitedly. A smile tugged at her lips as she read the scratchy handwriting. She read aloud in a quiet whisper, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest and her stomach did flips. Not the kind she was used to, this was a giddy feeling and she never knew she could experience such a beautiful feeling.

    “Your hair is winter fire, January Embers, My heart burns there too,”

    Beverly was certain she had never smiled so hard. She read the poem once more, making sure she wasn’t imagining it and she brought it close to her heart.

    “Beverly,”

    Bev frowned, and her attention was drawn across the room. All she could hear at the moment was the sound water droplets falling from the faucet and into the drain. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had imagined it. Right on cue, the voice spoke again, calling out her name and she was almost certain it was coming from the drain in the sink.

    “Help me,”

    It sounded like a familiar female voice. Y/n? No, it couldn’t be, that wouldn’t make any sense. Then again, none of this did. Cautiously, she rose from the tub and inched towards the sink.

   "Help me, please" the voice spoke again, this time in a harsh whisper.

     She slowly approached the sink to examine it. Her heartbeat was still fairly slow, though it pounded against her ribcage and it was forceful. The voice from the drain continued, though now it was accompanied by a few other voices, all of which sounded fairly young.

    “We all want to meet you, Beverly. We all float down here”

    Maybe this was all a dream. She was imagining the whole thing, including the postcard. The poem seemed much too good to be true anyway. And yet, curiosity still drew her in.

    “Hello? Who are you?” She asked, peering down the drain.

    “I’m Veronica.”

    “Betty Ripsom.”

    “Patrick Hockstetter.”

    She leaned closer, racking her brain for some kind of explanation as to what could possibly explain this. Maybe if she could see them. Maybe they got stuck below the apartment building somehow and were communicating through the pipes? It was a long shot and it didn’t make much sense, but again, none of this did. The voices seemed to have read her mind and they spoke once more, encouraging her.

    “Come closer.” One said.

    “Wanna see?” Another asked.

    “We float.”

    “We change.” The last voice grew deep and hoarse, and it let out a distorted giggle that echoed through the pipes.

    A tape measure, it just might work. Beverly thought she last saw it in the living room. Where her father was. Well, hopefully, she could sneak in and grab it without him waking up. The last thing she needed was being bombarded with a bunch of questions she herself couldn’t answer.

    Beverly crept into the hallway, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboard near the corner’s edge. When she approached the living room, the sound of the rattling fan and the static of the television set grew louder. Her father was still fast asleep, past out in front of the TV, beer cans on the side table. But just across the room sat the tape measure.

    When she returned to the bathroom, she closed the door behind her gently once more, neglecting to lock it. She stood above the sink, tape measure in hand, and the bathroom now silent as a tomb. Extending the end of the yellow coil, it snaked further and further down the drain. She extended the measure until her fingers touched the sink, expecting a dull thud from the curve of the pipes but none came. Further and further down it went, defying the shape of the pipes. Finally, to her relief, she felt a thud, and a small metallic clang echoed up the drain.

    Beverly sighed and began reeling in the tape, up and up, and up some more. It had nearly reached the rim of the drain when Beverly noticed a change in color. The yellow strip blended into a bright red hue and she grimaced when she found the tape measure was now covered in blood. It was restricted by a thick rope of hair that was tangled around the lip, making it harder for Beverly to retract it and she grimaced at the ugly sight.

    Clumps of blood were threaded through the strands and it knotted at the ends where it gripped the blade. Beverly was too slow and vastly unprepared to rip her hand away from the unexpected attack. Strands of hair whipped out and curled around her hand and wrist. The tape measure dropped into the sink making a loud clang, though it was quickly drowned out by Beverly’s frightened screams.

    Beverly was pulled closed to the sink no matter how hard she fought. Her other wrist was quickly restrained in another lock of sentient hair and she grunted trying to escape its strength. Bev felt her throat grow raw from the screams that erupted from her throat. Twines of hair coiled around her neck, pulling her closer. Thick tendrils of hair burst from the drain and wrapped firmly around her head and curling around her face. She felt the hair grow and wrap around her body, restraining her legs so it was impossible to run away.

    “Daddy! Help!”

    Her words were barely discernible as they were lost in her screams but she knew that didn’t matter. The hair pulled tighter and she was jerked harshly towards the drain. The hair was now sprawled all across her face like roots spreading in every direction. Her voice never wavered and her screams grew harsher if at all possible.

    A dark red substance bubbled up from the drain and oozed out into the sink. It was blood so dark it was almost black and it was thick and slow but it bubbled like a stew being brought to a boil. Before her brain could instruct her mouth to close, gallons and gallons of blood spewed from the drain like a guiser. Her mouth was filled with the metallic taste and she felt every inch of her skin soaked in blood. It splashed off her face and hit the walls around her.

    It reached every corner and crevice of the room, it even splattered across her poem. The current of blood was so strong it moved the glass lampshade of the light above the sink. The pressure of the blast stung her face and the blood stung her eyes.

    Finally, the grip on her body loosened and she was able to wiggle free. She stumbled back and crashed on the slippery floor. Her screams withered into weak whimpers of fear and she felt her feet and hands slipped out from under her several times. Her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest and she never stopped scrambling until she felt her back hit the wall. She cowered in fear, her whole body was trembling and the blood was still gushing from the sink like a hose.

    Beverly closed her eyes and sobs shook her body. The blood had finally stopped and she barely registered the sound of the hair slithering back down the drain. Her sobs turned into weak screams and she was still wailing when her father swung the down open.

    “The hell’s going on?” He asked.

    He looked more annoyed than concerned and he looked at her, waiting for an answer.

    “T-t-the sink…” her lips quivered and she looked desperately around the room. “And the b-b-blood… I-it’s…”

    “What blood?”

    She gaped at him and she tried not to open her eyes too wide, lest more blood sting her eyes.

    “T-the s-sink. You d-don’t see it?”

    Her words were lost in her shaky breaths. No matter how hard she tried to get the words out, only incoherent mumbles tumbled out.

    Her father knelt down before her, and he tilted his head.

    “You worry me, Bevvie.” He looked her up and down, and he clicked his tongue. “You worry me a lot.”

    She stared at him astonished, thankful she had gathered enough composure to get a sentence out. Her voice quivered and it came out in a hoarse whisper, sore from the screaming.

    “But don’t you see?”

    He frowned distastefully and brushed away her bangs.

    “Why’d you do this to your hair? Makes you look like a boy.”

    His voice was filled with disappointment and disgust. He gave her one more once over. He rose to his feet and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving behind a sobbing Beverly.

×××

    All was quiet in the Denbrough residence. The only signs of life came from Bill’s room, his small bedside lamp was on and he lays in bed, watercolor pencil in hand. The leak in his ceiling had dampened once more and droplets of rainwater fell onto his sketchbook. It was opened next to his pillow where he had created a rough but accurate sketch of Beverly Marsh with her new haircut.

    The rainwater had landed on the shading of her hair created a small red splatter that reminded Bill of blood. He frowned, knowing he had to get up from his warm bed and go across the hall to retrieve the bucket they kept in the closet for these such occasions. The soft lamplight poured lightly into the hallway becoming his only source of light. Thankfully though, Bill’s eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark.

    Bill felt the familiar dull ache in his heart when his eyes flickered to his brother’s bedroom door. It had not been touched since Georgie’s disappearance, apart from the times Bill had come in to silently grieve. It was still open a crack just as he had left it from his last visit. He cast the saddening thoughts from his brain, not allowing himself the emotional toll.

    Bill retrieved the bucket from the lower shelf, remembering where he had placed it from the last leak. He was sure to close the closet door quietly as to not wake his parents and he heard his feet patter against the hardwood floor.

    CLICK

    Bill froze. He recognized the sound as Georgie’s bedside lamp but it took seconds for his brain to register that as unusual. Bill looked over his shoulder to find a soft light flooding out into the hall from his brother’s room. He set the metal bucket down, it made a quiet clang, and cautiously he crept forward. Perhaps one of his parents had come to grieve? That couldn’t be. To Bill, that was just as likely as flying pigs, because ever since Georgie’s disappearance, both of his parents refused to talk about him. It’s like they had always had just one child.

    With cautious steps, he entered his brother’s room. He felt the heavy weight settle back onto his heart and chest, the room looked exactly how Georgie had left it. Bill felt all sense of caution and tension vanish as he stepped into his brother’s room. All of Georgie’s toys and trinkets where right where he left them. Even the turtle he built with Bill.

    With a heavy heart, Bill crossed the room to pick up the turtle and he took a seat on his brother’s bed. He felt a familiar lump in his throat and sting in his eyes, and yet no tears came. Bill had shed them all. He was so swept up in the overwhelming floodgate memories of his younger brother, he failed to notice the silhouette of Georgie being cast onto the door from the hall, watching him. It turned and fled and only then was Bill pulled from his thoughts when he heard the sound of wet galoshes scurrying down the hall.

    The boy rose to his feet, the turtle still clutched tightly in his hands. It gave him an odd sense of comfort that he could not explain and he followed the footsteps all the way downstairs. When he reached the entryway Bill tensed when he saw the living room light had been on, like it had been waiting for him. He stood across from the kitchen, moonlight was spilling from the skylight and it cast a pale green light on the tile floor. The sound of squeaky footsteps had stopped and so did he.

    A sharp, piercing beep rang in his ears, startling him, much like it had for Georgie the day that he died. But Bill saw a small figure, dressed in a familiar yellow rain slicker dart across the end of the kitchen and into the cellar. The sudden sight startled Bill and the plastic turtle he forgot he had been carrying fell to the floor, shattering into its original pieces.

    “G-Georgie.” The name left his tongue in a weak whisper and yet it felt foreign.

    Like it didn’t belong to the youngest Denbrough boy.

    Bill could hear the blood pounding in his ears but he followed the figure. He hesitated when he reached the cellar door, his gut screaming at him to turn around and go to bed and forget the whole thing. But Bill couldn’t, not when there was even a chance he could see Georgie again.

    Bill tried not to let the creaking of the old cellar stairs add to his nerves, though it didn’t help. The basement had flooded, Bill realized. Moonlight from the cellar windows had spilled into the room, hitting the water and casting an ominous glow that danced along the walls. Bill heard a disturbance in the water, he could hear the water sloshing around and the noise brought his attention to the sight of his little brother hiding behind a shelf.

    Bill couldn’t believe it. Georgie looked exactly as Bill remembered, the very same bright yellow rain slicker and matching galoshes. Even his hood was up, just as it had been when he waved Bill goodbye. Georgie looked to Bill, with the very same big doe eyes and spoke in a whisper Bill could barely hear.

    “I lost it, Billy. Don’t be mad.”

    Bill felt the grip on his heart grow tighter and he struggled to swallow the lump forming in his throat. He knew, even if by some chance he had never left his bed and he was still curled up safe and sound, dreaming he was seeing Georgie again, he would regret not speaking to him.

    “I-I’m not mad at you.”

    The moonlight bouncing off the surface of the water illuminated Georgie’s paled face in waves. He was hugging the wall, and his head was tilted down like he had been gazing at the reflecting pool. He wore a smirk but it didn’t look or feel right to Bill. His brother’s eyes were dark and the smirk held a malicious glint. Bill could see that this Georgie was as real as he was but when he looked at him, he felt as if he was looking at a ghost.

    In a way, he was.

    Georgie stalked forward, creeping around the corner of the shelf.

    “It just floated off.” His voice was barely audible above his breath and he stared at Bill. “But, Bill, if you’ll come with me, you’ll float, too.”

    “Georgie,”

    Bill’s voice came out in a weak plea, though he did not know what he was pleading for. Georgie’s smile widened and it didn’t sit well with Bill.

    “You’ll float, too.” Georgie giggled, and his voice began increasingly gradually in volume. “You’ll float, too. You’ll float, too. You’ll float, too. You’ll float, too.”

    His entire demeanor changed, he wore a scowl and his face began to rot. His voice deepened into a demonic growl and his chanting increased.

    “You’ll float, too. You’ll float, too.” A large bulbous head emerged from the water beside Georgie’s feet that Bill almost missed. “You’ll float, too. You’ll float, too. You’ll float, too! You’ll float, too!”

    The large swollen head now had it’s pointed chin just above the water. Dark hair clung to its distorted forehead, it’s glowing eyes were pointed in different directions, one eye on the fake Georgie and one on Bill. It was mouthing along to Georgie’s unsettling chant as one might lip-sync to their favorite song. It was mocking Bill.

    “You’ll float, too! You’ll float, too! You’ll float, too! You’ll float, too!”

    The clown, Bill realized it was, had an arm up Georgie’s back, much like a puppeteer would on its puppet. The next words to be spoken came from the clown, in a shrill demented shriek and he shoved Georgie into the water as he did so.

    “You’ll float, too!”

    Georgie’s tiny, now rotted body, hit the surface of the water with a giant splash. The face glared at Bill for a brief fleeting moment, before it burst forth from the water, charging after him. A terrible shriek erupted from the clown and it twisted violently as it flew after Bill.

    Not daring to waste another precious second, Bill turned and sped up the cellar stairs. He ripped open the door and slammed it shut after him, not caring if the noise woke his parents.

    The clown landed on the cellar landing, grinning maliciously up at where Bill disappeared. With one last hungry look, Its eyes rolled back into Its head and It slithered back into the murky depths of the basement.  

×××

    Y/n’s head shot up for the fourth time in the past hour, and she blinked several times. She lay on her couch, her favorite quilt draped around her shoulders. Y/n looked at the ticking clock on the wall above the TV and sighed, rubbing her eyes and the dark circles underneath them. The moment she feared had come.

    She had put off her attempts at sleep for as long as she could in front of the TV. She now feared sleep, afraid of allowing herself the vulnerability she was in when she was attacked. She had nodded off a few times on the couch, her head rolling on her shoulders only to be awakened by the cheering of the audience as Johnny Carson welcomed a new guest to the stage. Fearing the possibility of another nightmare like the one only nights earlier - a lie she told herself to stay sane, even though she knew deep down it had been very real - she rose from the couch and crossed the living room to turn up the volume hoping it would keep her from drifting.

    It didn’t, had she not adjusted the set, Beverly’s screams from upstairs would have woken her. Instead, she had nodded off, her feet tucked tightly under the quilt, and the blood-curdling screams were drowned out by the bustling late-night television program and her unconscious mind. That was until roughly an hour later she had been woken up by a sharp whistled from the cheering crowd as Johnny Carson signed off.

    Y/n switched off the TV set, the low hum brought a quiet ambiance to the room as the screen dimmed. She stood on the tips of her toes, ignoring the dull throbbing in her left ankle as she reached for the metal chain of the ceiling fan light. She cursed herself for not leaving the hall light on before turning everything off in the living room, now she had to rush down the hall to the safety of her room before her imagination got the best of her.

    Lights now on and the door shut tight, Y/n trudged across her room to her bed and shed her clothes. She had completely forgotten that she had been wearing her bathing suit underneath and she was reminded of the day’s events. Her eyes wandered to the mirror across the room and she found that she had been smiling. Y/n had not expected to have as much fun as she did. And it had not been Beverly so much as it was the Tozier boy who had brought her out of her shell.

    While it was true they had known one another for at least a year, and they only just really interacted, it felt as if she knew him a lifetime. In fact, during her time at the quarry, she felt as if she had known each of them for a lifetime. Like some cosmic force in the universe had always meant for these seven misfits - these losers - to meet and form an unbreakable bond. And yet, it felt as if there was something - or someone missing - like the last piece of the puzzle and it filled Y/n with a sense of hope. Hope for good things to come - new memories to be made.

    Y/n, who had peeled off her bathing suit and exchanged it for a fresh pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt, slipped under her covers and snuggled into her pillow. And it was the new and budding sense of warmth spreading in her chest that replaced the icy grip of fear that allowed her to turn off her bedside lamp in peace. A darkness fell over her room, and her mind replayed the joyous memories of the day like a slideshow in her mind.

    The chicken fight with Richie “the trash mouth” Tozier and his cheeky remarks. The new kid, Ben Hanscom, and his kind and soft-spoken nature that brought a peaceful presence to the energetic group dynamic. She enjoyed the sarcastic remarks of Stan Uris and getting to know him and watch as walls of his own slowly came down throughout the day. The effect of comradery that Bill Denbrough so effortlessly instilled into the group. And of course, she enjoyed the company and stable feeling Beverly gifted to her, grateful she had overcome her fears and joined the fun, defying the little green monster that loved to tear her down.

    And of course, the kind and quirky boy, Eddie Kaspbrak, who had been nice enough to bandage her leg that day in the alley. She could tell he was a very hyper boy, with a great deal of energy bouncing around in that unusually small stature of his. And he had a very odd habit of staring, she noticed. But nevertheless, he had a knack for making her smile. She was smiling even now, eyes closed and curled under her blankets - despite it being another hot summer night, she made sure to take extra precaution, toes tucked in and safe, just in case.

    A weak laugh escaped her, though her body had grown so tired one might have mistaken it for an exhale. Her mind had wandered to the little prank she had pulled and how enduring Eddie had looked when his nose was scrunched up from the splash of cologne. And she was of course very grateful he was willing to jump with her when she was hesitant. And something she had not admitted to herself until now was the small flutter in her stomach when she interacted with Eddie. From his kind offer of taking the leap together, to the sportsmanship exchanged between them during the chicken fight. And though she had pretended not to have noticed, she had, in fact, caught the glimpses the hypochondriac boy had stolen while she had been sunbathing.

    The way he looked at her gave her butterflies, not while sunbathing, but innocent moments that made up the bliss of childhood. While she had been caught in an unflattering belly laugh from one of Richie’s jokes, he smiled fondly at her. Or even after she had snuck up on him in the water and splashed him, he still had beaming smile and mischief in his eyes.

    The way Eddie Kaspbrak looked at Y/n L/n was very different from the way most boys looked at Beverly Marsh.

    It was never out of lust, nor was it out of obsession, but admiration. The way one might watch the fireworks on a warm night in July. It was quick and it was fleeting, and you had to be looking at the right moment to catch him, for you see, his adoration for her soon would quickly be replaced by irritation at Richie, or a witty comeback to mask his feelings that even he was denying seeing as it was a foreign concept to him. But Y/n noticed it anyway, and while she brushed it off in the moment, it was times like these in the dead of night and the safety of her own mind that she allowed herself to consider these feelings.

    Only once more did she think of the safe feeling Eddie and the other losers brought her before sleep blanketed her conscious. And thus was the first time since her traumatic encounter and her injury that she had enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep.

@seasidecrowbar ​ @bevxmarsh @supernovavisionary @readyforitbitch @edsloveshisrichie ​ @sivords ​  @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories  @sweetpeasserpentprincess23 @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak ​ @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon ​ @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica ​ @kaitlynjones12 ​ @songbird-writes ​ @traceylader ​ @eggytozier ​  @annimalq @lexylovesfandoms ​ @russian-romanova ​ @paigey-mcfreedomly ​ @whitetrash12345 @witch-of-all-things-soft

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#it rewrite #eddie kaspbrak x reader #Eddie Kaspbrak #it 2017 rewrite #it 2017 #jack dylan grazer #jack grazer #james ransone #pj ransone #it rewrite series #eddie x reader #richie tozier #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #stan uris #bill denbrough #IT y/n l/n #finn wolfhard #sophia lillis #jeremy ray taylor #jeremy taylor #wyatt oleff #jaeden lieberher #jaeden martell #it chapter 2

[spoookymuulders]

you make my heart beat like the rain

read it on ao3 here word count: 3600 warnings: mentions of abuse summary: The air smells damp - it definitely rained last night, and it’ll probably rain more today, judging by the dark clouds above and the gloomy gray sky. As he trudges through the dewy grass, the sounds of the cows waking up makes him smile. He tugs the doors to the barn open, inhaling slowly. He takes in, for the millionth time, just how lucky he is to be where he is. This ranch has been home for the past ten years, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the universe.

chapter one. i’m a new soul i came to this strange town. in which spencer reid makes a friend.

           Early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, dust motes dancing in the rays as they make puddles of light on the floor and across the bed. Spencer Reid rolls over with a yawn and smacks at his alarm clock, burrowing his face back into his pillow for a few more minutes before he drags himself out of his cozy nest of blankets and shuffles to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. He pokes at a few buttons on the coffee maker, waiting to make sure it’s actually brewing before padding back to his room to get dressed for the day.

           By the time he emerges again, this time fully dressed and at least a little more awake thanks to the cool morning air, the coffee is done brewing. It fills the whole house with its heady scent, and he hums sleepily. Pouring some into his faded travel mug, he dumps his sugar in and swirls it a few times before setting it on the counter. As the sugar dissolves, he tugs on his muck boots and jacket, zipping it up and heading outside.

           The air smells damp - it definitely rained last night, and it’ll probably rain more today, judging by the dark clouds above and the gloomy gray sky. As he trudges through the dewy grass, the sounds of the cows waking up makes him smile. He tugs the doors to the barn open, inhaling slowly. He takes in, for the millionth time, just how lucky he is to be where he is. This ranch has been home for the past ten years, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the universe.

           “Morning, ladies.” He calls, moving through the barn and patting each of his cows on the nose gently. They moo in response and he grins when Rosie nudges her head against his hand. He scratches between her ears lightly before going to open the doors leading out to the pasture. He repeats this motion on the other side of the barn, letting the horses out as well. He shuffles around doing what needs to be done - cleaning up the stalls, refilling the feed - then heads back inside.

           Spencer’s ranch sits on 40 acres of land - it’s a lot for one man to handle, but he handles it just fine, thank you very much. Having the cows and horses helps with the mowing, at least. His house is modestly sized - too big for one man by himself , JJ had said once, but he’d countered that with the fact that most of their get-togethers are held on the ranch so having a bigger house means he can accommodate more people, as well as the fact that most of the kids in their little makeshift family love having sleepovers at the ranch.

           Shuffling back inside and nudging the door shut behind himself, Spencer tugs off his muck boots and abandons them in the mudroom. His coffee has cooled off enough now that he doesn’t scald his tongue when he takes a sip. Settling at the kitchen table, he drags his notepad closer and scribbles down what he needs to do for the day;

Grocery shopping

Send mom’s letter

Stop by flower shop, bring Will’s birthday present

           Not too many things to do, thankfully. He starts on his grocery list next, mumbling under his breath as he putters around the kitchen and adds things to it. Looks like a big shopping trip this time. Which is fine, he doesn’t mind. And he’s hosting Will’s birthday party on Saturday anyways (with Dave’s help, of course), so he’ll need things for that, too. JJ had assured him she’d bring the decorations, and Dave had insisted on cooking as always, which Spencer has no problem with. Cooking for himself he can do. Cooking for himself plus almost thirty other people on the other hand..

           Stifling a yawn behind his hand, he tosses his notepad back onto the table and pads into his room to change again. He abandons his heavy flannel and scuffed jeans, tossing them into the hamper and climbing into the shower. He hums to himself as he washes his hair, trying to think of anything else he might’ve missed when making up his grocery list. Satisfied that there’s nothing, he hops out of the shower and shakes his hair out, wrapping a towel around himself and padding out to his dresser.

           He pulls on fresh jeans and a button down, digging a cardigan out of his closet and pulling his Chucks on. He stuffs his wallet into his pocket and heads back out, grabbing his peacoat and keys and heading for the truck. He flicks the radio to a classical station, humming along softly as strains of Beethoven fill the cab of the truck. The drive into town takes about ten minutes, and with the leaves changing the way they are, it’s gorgeous.

           Driving through Callahan, Maine (population 400) before everyone wakes up is one of his favorite things in the world. It’s seven-thirty now, most of the town waking slowly, kids getting ready for school, parents getting ready for work. His first stop today is JJ’s flower shop. She’s outside already - Will must be at home with Henry this morning - and she looks up from where she’s setting out a wooden crate as the truck rumbles to a halt outside, waving with a broad smile.

           “Morning, Spence.” She calls as he climbs out of the truck. She turns to pick up another crate, passing it to Spencer when he returns her greeting and holds his hands out. “I see we’re going full Doctor Reid today, huh?” She teases gently.

           “Where d’you want this one?” He asks, laughing softly, then sets it behind the one she’d just put down when she points. “How are Will and Henry?”

           “They’re good! Henry’s all excited about Halloween.” She says, dusting her hands on her jeans. “Wonder who’s fault that is.” Spencer grins at her, his nose crinkling - as godfather, Spencer had taken it upon himself from the day Henry was born to instill a love of all things spooky in the boy.

           “Did he decide what he wants to be yet?” He asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets as JJ scoops up the hose and starts misting the flowers.

           “Not yet. We’ve narrowed it down to Spiderman or Luke Skywalker.” JJ laughs. Spencer chuckles, then jogs back to the truck and grabs Will’s present from the passenger seat. He holds it out when he returns and JJ takes it, looking it over. “Oh, he’s gonna love this, Spence, this is great!” Spencer grins proudly, stuffing his hands back into his pockets and rocking on his feet.

           They chat for a few more minutes, and as Spencer says goodbye and goes to leave, JJ makes a sudden noise and calls for him to wait a moment.

           “Hey, are you gonna be driving by the B&B by any chance?” She asks, tipping her head. Spencer nods.

           “I’ve gotta go that way, yeah. You need me to drop something off?” He asks.

           “Would you mind?” JJ asks. Spencer shakes his head and she grins, hurrying back inside and returning a moment later with two bouquets. “Thank you so much, Spence, I’ve been meaning to bring these by but I just haven’t had a chance.” Spencer waves a hand, taking the bouquets and moving back to the truck. JJ calls a farewell as he climbs in and pulls away from the curb, one he returns with a wave. In his rearview mirror, he can see an old VW Bug take his spot, a young brunette climbing out and hurrying to hug JJ.

           The bed and breakfast is across town, at the corner of Wilson Street and Harker Road. The house it occupies sat empty and abandoned for a long, long time - up until Aaron Hotchner (call him Hotch, please and thank you) and his son Jack moved in a few years ago. They’d moved to town after Hotch’s wife had been killed in a home invasion, something which Penelope Garcia had found after about five minutes of searching. They needed a fresh start, Hotch had said when Penelope had insisted on throwing them a welcoming party - at the ranch of course, because where else would it be?

           The B&B had become something of a passion project for Hotch. Spencer had been more than willing to let Hotch and Jack stay with him while Hotch worked on fixing up the old Mills house in town, with the help of their very own Derek Morgan. Hotch and Jack had endeared themselves to their little family quite quickly, and they had been welcomed in with open arms.

           As he parks, Jack is leaping down the porch stairs and sprinting to the corner, waving over his shoulder as Hotch stands at the railing. Jack shouts a greeting as he runs past Spencer, backpack bouncing against his back as he hurries to catch the bus. Spencer gathers the bouquets from the front seat and heads for the stairs.

           “Morning, Reid.” Hotch says as Spencer makes his way towards him.

           “Hey, Hotch.” Spencer returns, holding out the bouquets. “JJ asked me to drop these off.” Hotch swallows his mouthful of coffee and takes a bouquet, gesturing for Spencer to follow him inside. Spencer trails along behind him, looking around absently as Hotch leads him into the kitchen.

           “Can I get you some coffee?” Hotch asks, reaching for the pot on the counter.

           “Oh, no thanks, Hotch, I’ve gotta run some other errands.” Spencer says, setting his bouquet on the table. Hotch nods and gives Spencer the check for the flowers, then sees the younger man out. He hovers on the porch as Spencer pulls away, honking the horn once and waving out the window.

****

           When Spencer returns to Roz’s Garden some two and a half hours later, it’s to see JJ standing at the counter with a young woman with a yellow cast on her left wrist and a pale pink sundress that just barely brushes her knees. As JJ sees him and waves and the young woman with her turns around, Spencer feels his heart jump into his throat - because good God she’s gorgeous .

           Her dark hair is pulled into a braid over one shoulder, tendrils of curls framing her face delicately. Her eyes are impossibly blue and warm and her lips are impossibly pink and the white cardigan she wears over her sundress complements the tan of her skin so beautifully Spencer thinks he could weep. He clears his throat a little and moves further into the shop, holding out the check Hotch had given him earlier and making note of the way the girl keeps her eyes on him, her whole frame tense.

           “Hotch asked me to drop this off on my way back out to the ranch.” He says, stopping beside the girl. JJ thanks him and tucks the check into the register and leans on the counter again.

           “Spence, this is my best friend from Pennsylvania, Zoe. Zoe, this is Spencer Reid.” JJ says, looking between the two of them with a smile. Zoe offers a small wave, shifting to face Spencer properly.

           “It’s nice to meet you.” She says, her voice soft and gentle and exactly what Spencer imagines a fairy might sound like.

           “I - yeah, you too!” He says, giving her a small smile. She returns it almost nervously and Spencer shuffles his feet. “Are you just visiting, or?”

           “Zoe’s moving to town!” JJ says brightly, reaching over to squeeze Zoe’s shoulder lightly. Zoe looks at her with a small smile and nods. “She’s gonna stay over at the B&B.”

           “Just until I can find a place of my own.” Zoe says quickly, looking at JJ. “I don’t wanna intrude or impose or anything-”

           “Oh, don’t be silly.” JJ tells her gently. “Hotch says you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” Zoe nods and Spencer shuffles his feet again, then looks at JJ.

           “I’ve got cold stuff in the truck so I should head home, but I’ll see you tomorrow?” He says. JJ nods, grinning at him.

           “The boys are excited for brunch!” She says eagerly. Spencer nods and grins, heading for the door.

           “It was nice to meet you.” He calls to Zoe. She nods, watching him go. As soon as the door is closed and Spencer is climbing into his truck, Zoe whirls back around to face JJ, her eyes wide.

           “ That’s Spence?!” She cries quietly, “Genius-IQ-photographic-memory Spence?!” JJ nods, laughing softly and moving around to the front of the counter to stand beside Zoe. “You didn’t tell me he looked like that !” JJ laughs again, shaking her head fondly.

           “He’s cute, right?” She says, nudging Zoe gently. She’s not going to try and force Zoe into anything anytime soon - God knows the poor girl doesn’t need it - but she can’t say she’d be upset if Zoe and Spencer got together. They’d make a cute couple, she muses internally, and makes a mental note to bring it up at the next girls night.

           “He’s beautiful.” Zoe says softly. JJ chuckles, winding an arm around Zoe’s shoulders gently and leading her towards the front door.

           “C’mon. Hotch has a room waiting for you at the B&B. You can daydream about Spence while you unpack.” She teases. Zoe sputters, shaking her head as they go.

****

           That night, as Spencer gets ready for bed, his mind keeps wandering to the girl from the flower shop - Zoe. The top of her head had barely come up to his chin, and something about her had seemed so.. Timid. There’s something that makes him want to wrap his arms around her and promise that he’ll protect her from the rest of the world, that he won’t ever let any harm come to her. At the same time, however, something about her seems strong. Resilient. He’ll have to remember to ask her how she got the cast the next time he sees her. As he lays down in bed and burrows under his covers, he finds himself thinking about blue eyes and pink sundresses and the sun.

           Fifteen minutes away, Zoe sits in the middle of an almost annoyingly soft mattress in her room at the bed and breakfast. The pace of her day is catching up to her quickly, and she lays down, burrowing into her blankets and pressing her cheek to her pillow. She yawns into the fabric, sniffling quietly and trying to let herself relax for the first time in years - she’s safe here. He can’t find her, he’d never think to look for her here.

           And maybe, just maybe , she muses as her mind drifts to JJ’s genius-IQ-photographic-memory friend, she can let herself be truly happy here.

           She dreams that night, but for the first time in years, they aren’t bad dreams. When she wakes up in the morning, she doesn’t really remember them, but she remembers enough to know that they were good dreams for once, and the face that’s been tormenting her for so long now wasn’t there. Her phone dings merrily on the nightstand and she grabs it, squinting at the message displayed on the screen, then slides out of bed. JJ had said something to her yesterday before she’d left the B&B about brunch, so Zoe gets herself dressed quickly and heads downstairs.

           “Morning.”

           The voice makes her jump about a foot in the air, and Zoe whirls around, putting her hand to her chest. Hotch is perched in a chair, holding his hands up innocently to show he means no harm.

           “Sorry.” He says quickly, offering a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

           “It’s okay.” Zoe says, willing her heartbeat to return to its normal pace. Hotch closes his newspaper and stands, moving to stand beside Zoe and look out over the town square for a moment.

           “Did you sleep okay?” He asks, glancing down at her. Zoe looks up and nods after a moment, offering a small smile. She wonders briefly how much JJ told Hotch about her situation. As if he’s reading her mind, he continues. “JJ didn’t tell me much about what you’re going through, just that it was an emergency and you needed somewhere to stay.” Tipping his head, he watches her for a moment, considering the way she seems to shrink away from him as he looks at her.

           “Yeah.” She says quietly after a moment, watching a few kids across the street run back and forth across their lawn. “Mr. Hotchner, I can’t thank you enough for giving me one of the rooms.”

           “Any friend of JJ’s is a friend of ours, and if I can help, then I’m more than happy.” He says, smiling gently. His smile widens just so when she gives one in return, and he nods. “And please, call me Hotch.” Zoe nods again, shuffling her feet on the floor of the porch.

           “JJ invited me for brunch.” She says softly. It almost sounds like she’s asking for permission, and he hums.

           “Well, if Will’s making his New Orleans French toast, you’re in for a treat.” He says, leaning on the railing. Zoe hovers by the stairs for a moment before moving down them slowly. “Have fun.” Hotch calls after her. She waves over her shoulder as she goes, and Hotch wonders momentarily what exactly she’s gone through.

****

           JJ is in the front yard with Henry and Spencer when Zoe arrives, Henry settled in Spencer’s lap as they read a book together, and Henry shrieks at the sight of her. He worms his way out of Spencer’s arms and collapses into the grass before jumping to his feet again and running full-tilt towards Zoe. She drops into a crouch instantly, glad she’d chosen jeans this morning as Henry knocks her on her ass.

           “Zoe, I missed you!” Henry yelps, clinging to her. Zoe laughs softly, a small smile touching her lips as she hugs the boy close.

           “I missed you too, bug.” She hums, squeezing him tightly for a moment. He returns the squeeze with one of his own, unaware of the way she winces just so at the pressure he applies to a bruise on her throat, then leans away and smooshes her cheeks.

           “Uncle Spencer is here!” He says, leaping off of her lap. She stands and Henry grabs her hand, yanking her down the walkway and stopping in front of Spencer, who looks up with a small smile and gives a wave. Zoe waves back, scooping Henry up and settling him on her hip when he raises his arms at her.

           “It’s nice to see you again.” Spencer says, standing and dusting his jeans off.

           “You too.” Zoe says, resting her cheek to Henry’s hair. She sways with the boy slowly and Spencer watches with a small smile. He glances over his shoulder when Will shouts from the kitchen that brunch is ready. Spencer steps aside, gesturing for the girls to go in ahead of him, then follows them in. They gather around the island in the center of the kitchen, Henry bouncing on Zoe’s knee lightly as they all dig in.

           Zoe listens more than she talks during their meal - something she’s used to, but in this setting, it’s a welcome thing. She’d rather listen to JJ and Will and Spencer chatter about work and the flower shop. She tips her head down as Henry starts babbling about school, playing with his hair gently as he talks. As they finish, Spencer and Henry rush back outside with Will, and JJ and Zoe stay in the kitchen to clean up.

           With the dishwasher full and running, Zoe trails after JJ to the front yard again, hovering on the steps as JJ hops down them and joins her boys, stealing a soccer ball away from Will and kicking it towards Henry gently. Spencer is perched on the steps as well, and Zoe sinks down to sit beside him lightly.

           “How’s your move going?” Spencer asks suddenly. Zoe glances at him, surprised, and shrugs lightly.

           “I settled into the B&B okay.” She hums, rubbing her knees. “Hotch is really nice.”

           “Yeah, he’s great.” Spencer says with a grin. “Everyone around town is pretty nice, really.” Zoe nods, resting her chin on her good hand, and Spencer glances at her. “Can I ask what happened?” He asks, gesturing to the cast on her left wrist.

           “Oh. I fell down the stairs.” Zoe tells him. The lie comes easily, as easily as they all have over the past two and a half years, but she can tell Spencer doesn’t quite believe her. He doesn’t push it though, just nods his head and looks back out over the lawn.

           “Hey, if you ever want a tour or something, I’d be happy to show you around town.” He says, looking at her again. Zoe looks up at him, stays silent for a long moment. He holds her gaze evenly, and she searches in his eyes for some sort of ulterior motive, something to tell her that she should be running in the other direction as fast as she possibly can.

           She finds nothing; nothing but honest goodness and gentle smiles. So she smiles back, just a little, but it’s her first real smile in ages, and it feels strange on her face, but in a good way.

           “I’ll think about it.” She says softly, and she has the same thought she did last night in bed. The thought that just maybe she can let herself be happy here.

#tiny town au #au: electric love #abuse tw #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mine*

[venactricisfics]

Malibu Desert

Guess I shouldn’t make assumptions

Mayans Based Story Adult Content

Master List

Chapter Eight

The days had gotten more interesting and the nights, well the nights became much hotter.  We traded off where we slept. If Bishop had an early morning with the club we stayed at his, if I had to be at the hospital early we’d stay at mine. I still wasn’t able to convince him that I didn’t need a bodyguard every moment of the day. So the nursing staff got used to seeing Angel, Creeper, EZ or Gilly either sitting with me at the desk or waiting in the lounge. It was all I could do to keep them from following me into patients’ rooms. 

“Why don’t you go grab us some lunch from the deli across the street?” I ask Angel as I fumble through my purse for cash. 

“Na, then your pendejo ex will come in here and blow you away and Bish will give me shit for days,” he responds.

“Glad to know you care,” I plop down in the chair trying to figure out how else I can get an hour without a Mayan. I draw in a breath and decide the most direct approach would probably be the best, “Alright. I have an appointment upstairs. Come on.” 

“What kind of appointment?” he asks dragging his feet as he follows me to the elevator. 

“Just come the fuck on before I’m late,” I push the button for the fourth floor.  “I need you to keep this between me and you.” 

“Why?” he asks as the doors of the elevator open and we step out. He looks around seeing the doctors and nurses in pink scrubs, “Are you fucking pregnant? I can’t keep that shit from Bish.” 

“Oh fuck no,” I give him a sideways look, “I’m not pregnant. I just have a gyno appointment. You coming with?” I smile seeing him get squeamish. “Just wait there, read a magazine or something.” 

“Right,” he slumps down in the waiting room and starts thumbing through an issue of Cosmo as I’m called to the back. There’s so much they can test for in a cup of pee and a few swabs inside you. Let me tell you it is not as fun as it sounds. But I needed it. Especially if I was going to offer him what I was gonna offer. 

“Have fun?” I asked as I kick his boot off the table. 

“Did you know they make facials for your ass?” he tossed the magazine back on the table. 

I snort a laugh, “I did not know that. You ready to get outta here?” 

“Yeah,” he rests his arm over my shoulder, “you still buying lunch?” 

“You gonna keep my appointment to yourself?” I quirk a brow in his direction.

“I don’t get it, Malibu,” he says as we walk across the parking lot, “Bish knows you gotta pussy. And you gotta get that shit checked out.” 

“That pretty much sums up the gyno visit in a nutshell,” the bell over the door of deli jingles as I push the door open, “I just want to keep it to myself for now.”

“Bish asks me specifics like did you let some guy look right up in your coño I’m not lying,” he says. 

“That’s all I’m asking,” I order a couple sandwiches and we sit. 

“We’re going to Vicki’s tonight,” he sounds overjoyed at the idea.

“Riz’s sister?” I recall exactly what Vicki did.  “Guess you’ll finally get laid.”

“I get laid plenty,” he responds. “When I want.”

“Sure you do,” I chuckle as I finish my sandwich. “I need to stop by the drug store before we head over there.” 

“She has rubbers you know,” he says.  I chuck my wrapper at him.  

After a stop at the drugstore, a quick shower, and a change of clothes, I climb on the back of Angel’s bike to ride out in the middle of the desert. I run my fingers through my hair and straighten my clothes. 

“You look fine,” he gives me a shove. “Come on.” 

“Dick,” I walk with him up the steps. I never had brothers before. I was an only child. But the Reyes boys had become the closest thing to brothers I could have. He yanks open the door and we walk inside. 

If I had pictured a whore house, Vicki’s place would be the furthest place from my imagination.  I mean yeah there were scantily clad women everywhere but other than that, the place looked like a home. I scan the room looking for a particular Mayan. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I meet his eyes, then the woman’s draped over his lap. I turn on my heel and head toward the door. Ignoring Bishop’s voice as it calls after me.  “Angel, I need you to take me home.”

“What’s going on Malibu, we just fucking got here?” he responds confused. 

“Please, just take me home,” I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. 

“Wait, querida,” Bishop voice soft from behind me, “talk to me.”

“It’s ok, Angel,” I wipe my eyes and suck in a breath, I couldn’t ask him to take my side over his president’s. I don’t turn, I just walk out the front door.  I sit down on the steps and fumbled with my phone.  I hear his footsteps stop just behind me.  “You have until my Uber gets here.”

“That’ll be a long ass time. Surprised you got signal,” he sits down beside me. 

“I didn’t,” I keep my eyes focused. Trying to get some kind of connection. 

“That wasn’t what you think,” he said lifting my chin so my eyes meet his. 

“I know what a half-naked woman in your lap looks like,” I responded, “I know we don’t have anything official but I just wasn’t expecting to see that when I came. And I didn’t like seeing you with another woman.”

His thumb brushes away a tear that trailed down my cheek, “That wasn’t anything.”

“Right,” I scoff pushing his hand away and stand holding my phone up trying to get a signal. “I just have to get used to your hands on other women, right? And I’m just a pinche guera who doesn’t know her fucking place?“ 

"Wait a fucking minute,” he was pissed now too. “You are putting words in my fucking mouth. Sit down a goddamn minute and listen to me if you still want to leave the Prospect will take you." 

"Alright, fine,” the word came out emphasizing that it was not in fact fine. 

“Crystal,” he starts. I roll my eyes. Of course, the whore’s name is Crystal. “Was the girl I saw the last time I was here two fucking months ago.”

“And you thought you’d reminisce?” I asked, glaring darts in his direction.  

“Will you shut up and fucking listen to me,” his voice raised. “She thought we’d pick up where we left off. I was telling her as you walked in that it wasn’t fucking happening.”

“So you weren’t trying to fuck her?” I relax my face slightly. 

“No, that’s what I’ve been trying to get through your thick fucking head,” he places his hands on either side of my face holding my gaze to his, “I don’t want to fuck anyone else but you.” His lips are on mine before I could respond. Those words were everything I needed to hear. 

The world could have folded in on itself and I never would have given it a second thought.  Not for as long as Bishop’s lips were pressed against mine.  Time stopped the bullshit faded to black and I was just his. And he was mine. 

“Are you done being a jealous bitch now?” he asks as he breaks the kiss. His palms still holding my face. 

“I think so,” I catch the breath he had taken away. We turn to walk back toward the house and my face flushes bright pink as everyone was standing on the porch watching us. 

“Is the telenovela over now?” Angel asks. “I went to get popcorn.” Bishop pops him on the back of the head as we walk up the steps and back into the house. 

“I’m sorry about the drama,” I offer a smile to Riz and Vicki. “I think I had temporary insanity or something.”

“No worries, sweetheart,” Riz responds.  Vicki brings me a beer.  I settle down with Bishop on the couch. We talk and laugh for the rest of the evening away.  

Riding with my arms around Bishop had become second nature to me now. I felt apart of the ride. The night air blows in my face and I look up taking in the view of the night sky. Everything was right here. More so than it had ever been in Malibu. 

He pulled his bike to a stop beside my SUV and helped me down. I slip my hand in his as we stroll up to my walk to the door. “You did want to come in still, right?” I asked as I fish my keys from my jeans’ pocket and open the door.  I drop the keys in the bowl. 

“You gonna shout at me some more?” he quirks a brow. 

“Probably not,” I give his hand a squeeze, “I hadn’t planned on it anyway.” 

He smirks pressing a kiss to my temple, “Though seeing you pissed was pretty fucking hot.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I lead him by his hand to my room. Smiling at the traces of him that had intertwined themselves in my place.  The book he’d been reading lay open on the bedside table. His shirts and jeans that were hung up in my closet.  The docking station he set up on the dresser.  

He plugged his phone in and then mine then I helped him out of his kutte and hang it on the back of the closet door. The rhythmic way he tapped his pack of cigarettes on his palm before pulling one out. We had a routine. We worked. I had no more doubts.  

I dropped a small wrapped box in front of him. 

“What’s this?” he turns back to me. 

“Open it,” I sit down on the bed looking up at him as he rips the paper off. 

He looks at the packet confused, “Hermosa, I don’t think I can take birth control.” 

“They’re not for you to take,” I give him a playful shove, “They’re my way of telling you that I don’t want to fuck anyone else either.”

#Mayans #Mayans MC #mayans fanfic #Bishop Losa #Bishop Losa x OC #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa smut #SOA #sons of anarchy

[here4theheartbreak]

Tasting Starlight Ch.2 (V3Min)

AO3 Link Here

Relationships: Lee Taemin x Park Jimin, Choi Minho x Kim Taehyung, Choi Minho x Kim Taehyung x Lee Taemin x Park Jimin (V3Min) Rating: Explicit

Genres: angst, smut Tags: smut, angst, fake dating, jealousy, pining, friends with benefits, getting together, bottom Taemin, switch Jimin, top Taehyung, top Minho

Summary: Minho has been in love with his best friend since forever. But Taemin was determined to be unattached… Until suddenly he wasn’t. Taehyung spent his entire life pining after happiness with his best friend, only to have it ripped away when Jimin finds someone else. The rational response? Hatch a plan to make their respective crushes jealous. The part where they fell in love with each other, however, wasn’t part of the plan.

Chapter Word Count: ~4.8k

After a while, film sets started to look the same. It wasn’t that Minho was jaded toward his job; on the contrary, he loved it. But faces passed by, scripts went in one ear and out the other as soon as the shoot was finished, promises of hanging out with cast members never actually came to fruition. It was just the nature of the business he was in.

Another often unfortunate part of the business was cocky newcomers who thought they were going to be the next Lee Joon Gi. Most of the time they were mediocre at best, shining bright for one or two dramas before fading out to let the next hot thing come to the spotlight. There were, of course, always rumors of the next hot shit being “different”, so it came with no surprise to Minho that the same rumors surrounded the tall, shy newcomer with the square smile, Kim Taehyung.

What did surprise him, however, was the first time he met Taehyung. Most of the cocky newcomers, regardless of age, approached him as just another networking acquaintance. A hurdle to impress and soon walk over to the top. Taehyung was different. He looked at Minho with a silent reverence that rivaled even his fans. When Minho stuck out his hand to greet Taehyung, he was greeted instead with a low bow and a soft, silky, deep voice.

“My name is Kim Taehyung. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I am a big fan.”

Minho laughed a little. “No need to be formal. We’re not so far apart in age, or experience. You’ve been taking dramas by storm.”

Taehyung’s trademark square smile showed up full force, and Minho would have been lying if he’d said his heart didn’t do a little stutter step at it. “Really? I really love acting, it’s my passion. Someday I want to be as good as you and all of these other amazing stars.”

Minho squeezed Taehyung’s shoulder. “Keep up the good work then. I look forward to working with you.” The smile that Taehyung departed with stuck with Minho for the rest of the day. He’d never had someone seem so genuinely excited to meet him or work with him on a set before. He was eager to see how well the kid and him got along.

And they did. Not only from a professional aspect, but the guy was good. He managed most of his lines in minimal takes, redo’s only when he thought he could do it better or to get different angles. He was a bright, joyful light even during the most difficult days.

As Taemin had warned, his father sent him to the woman he was meant to be married to that Friday. Minho had kept his schedule free that evening, assuming he’d have a frustrated, whiny best friend to console for a good chunk of time. He did not expect Taemin’s face to be split in two with a grin when he answered the phone, however.

“Good evening to you too,” Minho said, laughing a little. “You look happy.”

“He’s perfect,” Taemin said.

Minho scowled. “He?”

“Park Jimin.” Taemin spun, flopping onto his bed and holding the camera up to capture his face. “He’s the best, Minho-hyung. His smile is angelic and he’s such a good dancer.”

“Weren’t you going to meet a woman?”

“Ah, psh. She was fine too. But not into me.” Taemin rolled his eyes. “Her parents are the same as mine, determined to push her off on some rich kid. She’s got a girlfriend already. So we’re gonna go through the motions for our parents, act like we’re dating, getting to know each other. She introduced me to her brother though and he’s…” Taemin sighed deeply, smiling. “It was like a spark between us. I have a date with him tomorrow night.”

Minho felt an icy knife twist in his guts. He smiled despite it and nodded. “Good. I’m glad it worked out. How long’s this one going to stay around, eh?” He joked.

Taemin shook his head. “This feels different. I don’t want to say too much and curse it… But… This feels different. I’ve gotta go, Jiminie said he’s gonna call me tonight. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure. Yeah. I’ve—” The call ended, leaving Minho blinking at the black screen. It went back to his home screen, a photo of he and Taemin, Tae’s arms around his neck as he hopped on his back.

Minho let his phone drop onto the bed and flopped back on it, scowling at the ceiling. Taemin regularly had new boyfriends and girlfriends. That wasn’t something new or unusual. It was just how Taemin was. He bounced from person to person, having fun for a few days, weeks, a month at most, before leaving them behind. Minho had always been his constant. Good breakups, bad ones, amicable, equal decisions, ghosting – Minho was the one right beside Taemin. In all of their life together, he’d never seen Taemin act like this with a new partner. He sounded so… Happy. He sounded like he was falling in love. The idea made Minho sick to his stomach. He knew he should be happy for his best friend, but it just drove home the cold reality that Taemin would never pick him. He just wasn’t good enough. The more Minho thought about the phone call, the angrier he got. How good could this kid be? Some rich dancer, he was probably just as anti-relationships as Taemin was. No way would it last longer than he’d be filming. That was the thought that allowed Minho to drift to sleep. Taemin would be single by the time he returned to Seoul. He was sure of it.

The following day came and went, with only a quick text from Taemin that the date went amazing, and he was “falling for Jimin” with a series of emojis that made Minho consider shattering his phone. Then Sunday, and Monday, with not a peep from Taemin. Minho tried not to let it bother him. He refused to text first until Wednesday, a particularly difficult shooting day. At around lunch time, he sent off a quick message to Taemin.

‘Miss you.  Director is beating my ass. We should chat tonight.’

He was busy for the following few hours, redoing scene after scene, exhaustion taking a toll on his ability to focus and making the final stretch even harder. When the shoot was finally finished for the day, Minho fished his phone from his coat pocket, eager to see if Taemin had called. The message he’d sent nearly four hours before was read… But not answered. And it remained unanswered until nearly ten that evening.

‘Sorry! Went dancing with Jimin, getting ready for a midnight walk in the park. We’ll chat later!’

But later, it seemed, would never come. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed without a peep from his best friend. Minho refused to mope, instead spending his evenings with Taehyung, who continued to make him laugh and forget about his problems even if only for the few hours they were together. Though he was four years younger than Minho, he made up for it easily with his quick wit and well-formed opinions. They spent hours debating the mundane and the controversial, eating dinner together and playing video games in each other’s rooms. Some nights one dozed off with the other, sharing a space as comfortably as long-time friends. If Minho was being honest, he was forming a bit of a crush on Taehyung.

Wednesday of the third week of filming, and still not a peep from Taemin despite a few left-on-read texts, Minho knocked on Taehyung’s room. When there was no answer, he opened it, peeking in to see Taehyung at his table, glaring at his phone.

“Hey, Tae. Did you hear me knocking?”

“What? No,” Taehyung muttered, not lifting his head.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go get dinner tonight? I’ll buy.”

“I’m not in the mood,” Taehyung snapped, surprising Minho. He seemed to sense the surprise, because he looked up, his eyes red rimmed. “I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized.

The shock turned to worry. Minho slipped into the room, shutting the door. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

Taehyung shook his head, looking back down at his phone. He grunted and grabbed it, chucking it across the room. It bounced off the wall, landing on the bed.

“Hey, hey…” Minho hurried over to him, grabbing his wrist. “What’s up?”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s bothering you. Talk to me, Taehyungie,” Minho soothed, settling into the chair next to him.

“My best friend. He’s got a new boyfriend and he’s been fucking ignoring me for a week. He never ignores me, we talk every day. He’s my only same age friend, he’s everything to me. I feel like I’ve been abandoned.”

A knot of familiar pain settled in Minho’s stomach. He nodded. “I know that feeling,” he said softly, thinking of the series of unanswered texts to Taemin.

“And what’s worse?” Taehyung said in a softer voice, “I’ve been in love with him since puberty. I used to daydream about marrying him, adopting a kid… And now I’ve been thrown aside for a fucking—Fucking—Stupid rich boy. He wasn’t even supposed to meet Jimin, but he couldn’t stay in his fucking place and date his sister.”

The name hit Minho like a bucket of ice water. “Ji—Jimin?” He said softly. “Park Jimin?”

Taehyung nodded. “The dancer, yeah. He’s dating some fucking hair dresser named Taemin.”

“Taemin,” Minho said at the same time.

Taehyung looked up, surprise etched on his handsome features. “How—”

“Lee Taemin is my best friend. He was meant to date and marry Park Jisoo… But ended up meeting her brother.”

Taehyung’s face twisted into frustration, then anger. “Get out!”

“Wh—” Minho pulled back. Taehyung shoved him, almost overturning the chair he was in.

“Get out!”

“Don’t you snap at me!” Minho shouted. “It’s not my fault your friend seduced the guy I’ve been in love with for a decade!”

“Jimin would never!” When the words sank in, Taehyung’s fury shifted to something softer. “You—Taemin?”

Minho nodded, his shoulders sagging a little. “We grew up together. Same story as you and Jimin. Childhood best friends, he was my first kiss… Hell, I lost my virginity to the kid. Bu he never wanted anything serious. And I—I liked him so much that I took whatever he gave me. We were friends with benefits, but I was always his permanent. Putting him back together when breakups went bad, or just getting his mind off shit… He’s completely ghosted me. Last time we talked was almost two weeks ago, right after he met Jimin. I’d never seen him so happy and gooey… I feel like my heart’s been ripped out and I wasn’t even dating him.”

Minho sighed heavily, feeling his eyes blur with tears he didn’t realize were welling. “I guess you know the same feeling. I had no idea—”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whispered.

“I’m sorry he took Jimin from you,” Minho said softly.

“Jimin took him though too… I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Me too.” Minho smiled and shook his head, looking back up at Taehyung. “I was angry. It wasn’t fair.”

“So, what now?” Taehyung asked.

“I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. I really like you,” Minho answered honestly. “And, if I’m being honest, Taemin is a flighty guy. He’s probably gonna end up broken up with Jimin by the time we get back to Seoul.”

“You think?”

“He’s never had a relationship last longer than a month. I would be truly surprised.”

Taehyung nodded. “That’s comforting.” He sighed. “Wanna go get that dinner now?”

“I think maybe just going and getting a few drinks might be a better option,” Minho admitted. Taehyung smiled brightly, and Minho found his heartrate increasing despite the sadness surrounding their conversation.

“I think that’s a great idea… You’re still buying.”

Minho laughed helplessly, shoving Taehyung lightly. “Sure, sure. Come on, let’s go.”

Minho knew it was dangerous to get drunk with Taehyung when they were both down about their respective best friends. But it definitely felt good. As they stumbled back to Minho’s room, Taehyung leaned on him, his alcohol laced breath warming Minho’s cheek and neck and sending tingles straight down to his dick. One hand was around Minho’s shoulders, the other on his stomach, playing with the fabric of his shirt.

They fell in a heap onto the bed, Taehyung half on top of Minho. As he looked up at him, his eyes were drawn to Taehyung’s soft, pink mouth. He wet his own lips, resisting the urge to lean up and kiss him.

Taehyung’s smile wavered. “Hyung—”

“Hm?” Minho grunted.

“We’re drunk.”

Minho closed his eyes, nodding and taking a deep breath. “Yes, we are.”

“I kinda wanna… Kiss you.”

“Me too,” Minho mumbled. He pushed Taehyung off him and sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Not the reaction I was expecting,” Taehyung muttered, and Minho could hear the pout without even seeing him.

“It’s not—I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“I get it,” Taehyung snapped. He sat up and then rose, fixing his shirt. “I’m never good enough. I’m used to it.”

Minho grabbed his wrist. “Don’t, Taehyung. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk down on yourself like that. It’s not attractive. I want to kiss you. But we’re both emotional right now because of Taemin and Jimin, aren’t we? Do you really want this to be some rebound? Ruin the friendship we’ve made? Plus, we’re wasted – I can barely see straight and you couldn’t walk home without leaning on me. Doing anything right now… We’re not thinking straight. That’s not consent.”

Taehyung relaxed a little, letting Minho tug him back to sitting on the bed. He sighed. “You’re right. I’m just having a pity party because of Jimin.”

“I get it. I feel like I’m never going to be good enough for Taemin either. But falling into bed with each other… We’d regret it.”

Taehyung snorted, smiling a little. “It’d sure get Jimin’s goat though. For as much as he refuses to see that I like him and dates around… He gets so jealous the minute I show interest in others. It’s what made me wonder if I had a chance all this time.”

Minho laughed. “God, they’re perfect for each other. Taemin is the same way.”

Taehyung laughed as well. “What a pair we are. Both hopelessly in love with the idiot best friends that want nothing to do with us.”

Though it stung, Minho knew it was true. And it felt good to laugh about it with Taehyung, despite the bitterness. Things always felt good with Taehyung, when he thought about it. He squeezed his wrist.

“Stay the night. You’re not sober enough to get to your room and I don’t feel like walking you there.”

“Deal. But I’m sleeping in the bed,” Taehyung said, stripping out of his shirt.

“We’ll share.” Minho agreed, doing the same. He rose slowly and the world tilted dangerously. “Oh, bad idea.”

Taehyung giggled. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you.” Minho laid back on the bed. “I wanted pajamas.”

“Sleep in your boxers.”

“You’re okay with that?” Taehyung nodded. “I’m gonna. Deal with it.”

Minho chuckled. “So arrogant.” He struggled with his belt for a moment before unhooking it and wiggling out of his jeans and socks. He crawled up the bed, kicking the covers down to slide under them.

Taehyung joined him. “I’m a cuddler. Deal with that too,” Taehyung mumbled. True to his word, he wrapped his arms around Minho’s middle. Minho tensed for a moment, but smiled softly, settling into a position that let him wrap an arm around Taehyung.

“I don’t mind,” he answered honestly. And he really didn’t. Taehyung’s body was warm and firm in all the right places, and it felt damn good to sleep next to someone. Minho found himself drifting to sleep quickly, peaceful and deep.

Minho groaned against the morning sun when his phone went off. Squinting one eye open, he peeked at it, surprised to see Taemin’s name across the screen. He shifted out of Taehyung’s octopus grip, answering and sitting up.

“Hello?” He rasped, rubbing his eyes.

“Did I wake you?” Taemin asked, his smile infectious despite the early morning. “I thought you’d be up getting ready for work.”

“Late shoot today,” Minho mumbled. He rose, raking the fingers of his free hand through his hair as he padded to the bathroom. “Why are you calling?”

Taemin pouted. “I haven’t talked to you in forever.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking.” Minho knew he sounded a little sharp, but he was still hurt, even if he couldn’t exactly voice why. He grabbed aspirin and popped a few, grimacing.

“What’s the matter?” Taemin asked. “You don’t look well.”

“Just a little hungover. What’d you need?”

“I was just wanting to say hi. Jimin’s at a dance thing in Busan, so I’m bored and alone.”

Minho padded back out into the main room, smiling at the bleary-eyed Taehyung, sitting up.

“You hungover?” He asked.

Taehyung groaned, flopping back down and burying his head under the pillow.

“Who’s there with you?” Taemin asked.

Taehyung peeked out from under the pillow. “Who’s that?” He mouthed.

Minho handed him the bottle of aspirin.

“It’s my friend, Taehyung,” he said, heading to shut the blinds. “We went out drinking last night.”

“And he slept over?” Taemin asked. Minho chuckled.

“You sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Taemin said, a little too quickly.

Minho stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “He slept over. We were both pretty drunk. Actually, it’s a funny story. You’re fucking his best friend.”

Taehyung sat up at Minho’s words, his eyebrows disappearing into his shaggy bangs.

“What?” Taemin asked.

“Aren’t you fucking Park Jimin?”

“Well – We’re dating… Yeah.”

“Hasn’t he mentioned his best friend? Kim Taehyung? Actor.”

“Oh.” Taemin scowled. “I think he mentioned him… Not that he was an actor, I didn’t put it together.”

Minho turned the phone. “Taemin, meet Taehyung, Taehyung, Taemin.”

Taehyung waved, then flopped back down onto the bed. Minho chuckled. He was kind of endearing. He turned the phone back to himself. “Small world, huh?”

“I’ll say.” Taemin’s voice was hesitant. He chewed his lip. “Are you two…”

“What?” Minho smirked then, cocking a brow. A little twist of anger formed in his stomach. Taemin was actually jealous. He shook his head. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

“Hyung…”

Minho glanced at Taehyung, who was gawking at him once more. “I’ll text you later today, okay, Tae? I’ve gotta get some breakfast and try to kick this headache.” “Oh—Okay.”

Minho hung up the phone, tossing it onto the bed.

“What was that about?”

“He’s jealous of you,” he said simply, heading over to dig in his closet for clothes.

“Of me?”

“He saw you shirtless in my bed. I’m guessing he assumes I slept with you.”

“And he’s jealous… But he’s sleeping with my best friend,” Taehyung said, scowling.

“Told you. It’s how he is. You’ll probably get an angry call from your friend too.”

Taehyung laid back on the bed. “I don’t want an angry call from Jimin,” he mumbled. “I just want him to see me as a good option.”

Minho sighed, offering a sympathetic smile. He crawled into the bed and laid next to Taehyung. “I know the feeling. It was mean to make Tae jealous but… It felt good knowing he feels how I feel, you know?”

Taehyung laughed. “We should pretend to date. Maybe if they realize how jealous they are of us…”

Minho snorted. “You’re right. I feel bad about wanting him to leave Jimin – I guess… I’d always thought someday he’d see me as more.”

Taehyung nodded in understanding. “Same. I keep wondering if they are perfect for each other and maybe I’m a dick for wanting them to split up.”

“But Taemin is such a player, I can’t see him actually sticking with anyone long term.”

“And Jimin falls so deeply in love with people… I don’t want someone like that to hurt him. Not saying your friend is bad, just…”

“Not for someone like your friend.”

“Exactly.”

Taehyung rolled over, putting his head on Minho’s chest. His hair tickled his skin lightly, his breath warm over his skin. Minho let his arm settle around Taehyung, fingers brushing lightly over his arm. It was strangely comforting, Minho realized. The soft intimacy of their position, the way their bodies fit. Despite having only known each other for a few weeks, it was familiar.

“Let’s do it,” Taehyung whispered softly.

“Do what?”

“Pretend to date. I know Jimin, and you say your friend is just as bad. Do you think it could split them up?”

“Maybe. If their jealousy got the best of them they’d have to realize it’s not just a normal friendship thing. I’ve never pursued a long-term relationship with anyone because of that – thinking Taemin’s jealousy would turn into more… Maybe it would if he had a reason to examine it.”

Taehyung nodded, turning to look up at Minho. “And we’re both great actors. I bet we could fake a relationship easy.”

Minho laughed a little. “You’re right… Yeah. I say we do it. I mean, we don’t even really have to lie all that much. We met, got along great – that’s the truth. Our friendship just shifted into more, that’s the only lie.”

“Exactly. And we live in the same city, so going on dates will be easy.”

“And something we probably would have done anyway as friends after this.”

Taehyung nodded, sitting up quickly. He held his head, pouting a little. “Ugh.”

“Don’t move so fast, I don’t want you to puke on me,” Minho joked, earning a halfhearted punch in the arm from Taehyung.

“What I was going to say, is I like the idea. I bet it’ll work.”

Minho nodded. “I mean, who knows. Maybe they’ll be broken up before we even finish filming. But having this as a plan… Couldn’t hurt.”

“And if they are, we can just say we decided not to date,” Taehyung agreed. “Then maybe we’ll both get the nerve to tell them how we feel.”

“You’d better, going through all this.”

Taehyung grinned that stunning grin once more. “You too.”

Minho sat up, offering his hand to Taehyung. “Shake on it? Fake boyfriends?”

“Fake boyfriends.” Taehyung gave his hand a firm shake. “Now… You mentioned breakfast… You buying?”

Minho groaned. “You’re gonna break me.”

“I’m the youngest!” Taehyung whined.

Minho rolled his eyes deeply. “Dating or not… You and Taemin will get along great. Pouty brats who have a direct line to my wallet,” he grumbled, climbing out of bed. “Fine, come on. We’ll go eat. You can wear something of mine if you want, that way you don’t have to put that alcohol smelling stuff back on.”

“You’re the best.” Taehyung stood, hanging off Minho’s shoulders as he headed to his closet once more. He reached around Minho, pulling out a soft, well-worn deep green t-shirt.

“Can I?”

“Sure,” Minho nodded. “Just please don’t spill anything on it, that’s my favorite shirt.”

Taehyung hesitated, looking at the faded screen print on the front, barely legible. “New York?” “Taemin and I went a few summers back. His graduation present. We both got those for each other.”

“Are you sure I can borrow it?”

Minho smiled a little. “Yeah.” He nodded, taking the hanger and pushing it toward Taehyung’s chest. “Green suits you.”

Taehyung grinned and pulled it over his head. He held his arms out. Minho laughed, reaching out and patting down his bedhead. “Comb that and add jeans and you’ll be perfect.”

“What are you talking about, my parents say I’m already perfect.”

Minho groaned, swinging at Taehyung halfheartedly. He dodged easily, giggling as he headed into the bathroom. Minho watched him go, an unfamiliar clench in his chest.

Despite the night before and the tension in the morning, by breakfast things had fallen into their familiar camaraderie. Taehyung was his normal, giggly self, no sign of the hangover that had made him grouchy just an hour prior. His happiness was contagious, and Minho found himself laughing and playing along without a care.

When Taehyung asked to have a selfie with him, he barely questioned it, leaning in close and resting his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Ah, it’s perfect,” Taehyung cooed, showing the phone. Minho huffed a laugh.

“You’re cute.”

“Can I post it to social media?”

“Of course.”

“Do you have a Twitter?”

Minho nodded. He rambled off his handle, and Taehyung nodded, tapping away at his phone. Minho pulled his own out, smiling a bit at the notification. He retweeted it, and Taehyung beamed.

“When do you start filming?”

Minho glanced at the time. “About an hour. You?”

“Same.”

“Head there with me?”

Taehyung’s grin spread once more. He nodded. Minho took the check, paying and handing it back before heading out with Taehyung.

The two walked the long way to the set, enjoying the cool summer day. Minho found himself asking questions in earnest about Taehyung’s childhood, enjoying the stories he told and telling his own. Things felt easy with Taehyung, and peaceful. Minho found himself thinking how interesting it would be to have Taehyung and Taemin meet, their opposing personalities would either work perfectly or be at perfect odds with one another. He hoped for the former.

When they were nearly to the location of their filming, Minho’s phone buzzed incessantly. He held up a finger to Taehyung, stepping off the sidewalk to pull it out.

“Taemin,” he said, smiling into the camera.

“Hyung… You looked well on your date… He’s cute.”

“I told you he was. Why do you look so sullen?”

Taemin shifted in the chair he was in. “Isn’t he a bit young for you, Minho-hyung.”

“Hey, you punk, you make it sound like I’m some perverted old man,” Minho scolded without venom. “He’s only a few years younger than you. Ninety-five.”

“He looks younger.”

“He’s got a youthful face. You needn’t worry, he’s perfectly legal. And we get along splendidly.”

“Are you dating him then? Steadily?”

Minho glanced at Taehyung, who was listening just off camera, his head cocked a bit. He grinned when Minho met his gaze, nodding rapidly.

Minho smiled. “We think so. We’re still in early stages. You know how it is, right? Especially now that you’ve found Jimin.”

Taemin’s smile drooped a little. “I suppose, yes… When will you be coming home?”

“End of next week is our final shooting day unless it gets extended somehow.”

“Does your friend…”

“He lives in Seoul as well. I will be interested in seeing you two meet. I’m sure you would have anyway, with him being Jimin’s friend. I’m curious to meet Jimin as well, from what you and Taehyungie both say he seems like a splendid person.”

“Right… He’s pretty great. You should call me tonight, hyung. I miss talking with you.” “I will try. I have to go, we have to get to set.”

“We? Oh… Are you with him?”

Minho nodded. “We walked to set after breakfast.”

“He’s wearing your favorite shirt.”

“Isn’t green such a nice color on him?”

“I suppose… It is on you too. That’s why I chose that color.”

Minho laughed a little. “Are you jealous, Tae?”

“What? No.” Taemin scowled. “I’m just not used to seeing you with someone else.”

“Someone else?” Minho smirked. “Someone other than you?”

“Well, yeah. It’ll just take some getting used to. He’s really pretty… You two make a good match.”

Minho glanced at Taehyung out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks… I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and looked at Taehyung, offering a small smile. “I think our plan is working.”

“Good.” Taehyung turned, heading back to the sidewalk. Minho frowned, following after him. “Why do you look so sullen? Do you think it’s a bad idea now?”

“No, no… He’s just really pretty. I can see why you and Jimin both want him.”

Minho chuckled, “he’s dramatic and flamboyant… But I wouldn’t trade him for the world. He’s always been there for me. I guess like you and Jimin. I’m eager to meet him.”

Taehyung nodded. “I’m sure he’ll adore you.”

The remaining walk was silent, but not entirely uncomfortable. Minho could tell Taehyung was a little tense, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. As they began to work, Taehyung relaxed, laughing more easily and becoming more himself as the day went on.

That evening, Minho returned Taemin’s call, enjoying the ease of conversation. Both seemed to be dancing around the topic of their respective other halves, and Minho was entirely fine with that. It felt normal and natural, and reminded him how deeply he cared for Taemin, and how badly he wanted him. But when the call ended, and Minho was left in the dark of his room, his mind continued to wander to Taehyung, just a few doors down. His heart was fully split, and he had no idea what to do about it.

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