#a couple red flags tonight but i think i can fix him since i think hes coming from a good spot but not executing it well

[southislandwren]

ooogh stargazing makes me all vulnerable i cant help it. somethin about looking into the center of the milky way with meteors coming down and capella twinkling right in front of me. but anyway i told mr. boy that my dog died march 2021 and its still really hard for me . and now i dont even remember how he reacted but i do trust him with that info i think

[mrthoughtbubbles]

Hi Yeet,

How are you? I don’t know if your social battery is still down, but I hope that you’re resting well from your preloved sale last weekend. I’ll be sending this to you now rather than later because I don’t know the problem with my computer… I’ve got a handful of times wherein it showed the blue screen of death to me, which usually happens when one’s computer has a big problem/error… I don’t know how to fix it, so I’ll just have to deal with it… I understand that it’s highly unusual for someone with an IT degree to not know how to fix these types of problems, but that’s me…

I saw what you share in your chat, about the meteor shower and all, Yeet. I don’t know if I’ll be able to see it in my place, due to a myriad of factors, but I’ll still make a wish. I wish to be your partner, Yeet. I understand that wanting to be your partner will be a long time, but I just want to take it one day at a time because I feel that I’ll get overwhelmed when I think about everything in one sitting… I just want to warn both of us to temper our expectations and to accept each other’s imperfections… I’m saying this because I have a lot of imperfections, I’ll most likely disappoint you a lot, I’ll most likely annoy you a lot, I’ll most likely anger you a lot, and I’ll definitely hurt you a lot, since that’s the reality of loving someone…

To me, love is about loving someone who’s imperfect, perfectly, Yeet. When papa chose another lady over our mother and us, we still loved papa, even though it hurts, and in the end, he came back to us. Sure, papa made a lot of mistakes along the way, like having more kids with another lady, but we still loved him nonetheless. That taught me that loving someone meant choosing to love papa day in and day out instead of harboring resentment about what happened in the past. Don’t get me wrong, I still get irritated/angry when he doesn’t want to eat at the right time and so much more, but just like anything with life, there will be ups and downs and my love for him doesn’t diminish even though I get irritated or angry sometimes...  

To end my message tonight, Yeet, I don’t and will not promise something that ties the future with it because I don’t know what will happen in the future and I don’t like to make promises a lot… Instead, I want to take things one day at a time, just like what we did with papa. There will be times wherein you will get angry at me or vice versa, but I hope that we’ll stick together especially on hard days, and once we look back, we’ll most likely see that we had more good days than bad. The same happened with papa, wherein we had way more good days when compared with the bad days that we had. I undesrtand that one can imply that I promised that I’ll never let you go with the music video that I shared with you a couple of days ago… That’s my wish/want, but I want to apply that when things aren’t going well between us… Good night, enjoy the meteor shower, Take care and stay safe, rehabilitate your knee, remember that you’re beautiful despite having flaws/insecurities, appreciate and love everything and everyone around you, pray/talk to God, and remember that I love you, Yeet!

P.S.: I get anxious when looking at things from above, like looking at the amount of topics to study or thinking about everything in one sitting, but taking things one day at a time kind of works for me, like writing every day and such... when I do things a day at a time, I kind of don't notice the time passing by, like the second lady I tried to court before... I'd try, fail, rest for a couple of months, and the cycle continued, and when I was forced to stop by my family, almost 10 years passed by already... That's also another problem of mine... I see love in rose-tinted glasses that I brush off red flags, like when the lady runs away or when being told to see a doctor for some mental illness hurled at me(yesrs before I had my symptoms)...

P.P.S.: I feel that you'll get angry with my message right here... I just want you to look at our previous messages, and I started writing to you last December 25... it's been months now, and we're still going strong with me writing to you almost every day... in my message archive file, it says that I now have 120 pages of messages to you, Yeet... I love you, and I want to remind you that you are loved by everyone, that you're surrounded by God's beautiful creations, and that you’re beautiful despite having flaws/insecurities...

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

Paul's Lullaby | part one

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"Sam?" Paul was, he was in pain. He respect Sam and Emily's privacy, but he needed to talk to Sam now.

Paul wasn't angry, he was in pain. He felt like the world had opened up and swallowed him whole. He ruined his own life, and he didn't know where else to turn.

"Paul?" Sam asked, opening the door. Emily was behind him, face covered in concern.

"I imprinted tonight," Paul said, "but she hates me. She really, really hates me."

"I'm sure it's nothing you can't fix," Sam said, ushering Emily to come closer.

"Sam, I'm not exaggerating, she told me that she hates me. In fact, she should hate me." Paul looked at his feet, but only to try and hide the distress on his face. "If anyone treated her that way I used to, I'd rip them apart."

"Paul," Emily said, reaching out. Paul flinched back.

"I don't deserve your sympathy. I just, I don't know what to do."

"Be patient. Maybe you just have to prove you're a different man now," Emily offered a sad smile, but it was the exact thing Paul didn't want. He shouldn't pitied, he didn't deserve it. He could feel his heart bruise and falter. He broke his own heart and has no clue on how to fix it.

Emily had to go back to sleep, but Sam sat up with Paul for a while longer.

When Paul finally left, it was almost two in the morning. He took off running through the woods, shifting when he knew he was hidden by the tree line. He tried to outrun the heartbreak, but obviously it didn't work.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at your computer. You wanted to work on your writing, but you were so angry at the audacity that Paul had.

You had done everything you could to avoid him the last couple years - and you managed to make it to the first day of summer after graduation. You'd run into him on the beach.

He was just such a jerk, acting like his words had no effect on anyone. Like he could just laugh behind your back and it wouldn't hurt.

But he used to tell people nasty rumours about you. Until nobody really wanted you around them. And then he had to take it that much farther, when you were both fifteen, he took you on a date, acted like he'd changed and grown. And right before he kissed you he said, "I know you fall for it."

That date alone triggered years of trust issues. You'd felt alone ever since.

Back to the beach, he was blocking the trail you needed to head down to get to work on time. You'd hoped that putting your head down and just trying to slide passed would work, but he recognized you. He tried talking to you, but you ignored him.

After taking a couple steps down the path he said, "don't be like that."

This made you look up, astounded that he would even say something like that. Until you finally looked into his eyes, and you recognized how beautiful he was. He also looked stunned, like he'd run into a glass door. He reached out to you, but recoiled, dodging his touch like he was on fire. Somehow, you'd felt even lonelier than ever.

One look at his face and you felt like you were missing something. You tried to keep your cool but you just couldn't. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and his friend Jared Cameron coughed, before walking to the water just to give you two some space.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and hesitant. Making you panic, thinking he was toying with you again.

"Stay away from me," you warned, taking a defensive step back.

That hit Paul harder in the heart than you would ever know. His soulmate, his imprint, recoiling away from him defensively. He found the person he was supposed to protect, to be needed by, and you couldn't stand the sight of him.

"Just wait a second," he begged, not moving towards you again. He didn't want to scare you.

"I hate you," you whispered, and then louder said it again. And louder again. Until you had screamed it, and the tears had taken over your cheeks. Every time you said it was an arrow to Paul's heart. He nodded, and let you turn around to run off without another word.

You didn't notice him run into the woods, followed by his friend.

You called work saying you had a personal emergency, and then went back home for the night.

Back in the present, you were tearing up at the memory of it. You were sick, you think. Addicted to red flag behaviour because there was no way you were thinking of Paul's hurt face, and feeling bad for causing it. He should feel bad for all the pain he caused.

You looked at the clock, it was almost three in the morning, but you were too caught up in all your feelings to send yourself to bed. You walked to the window, and noticed some kind of animal by the tree line. You lived in the middle of the woods, in an old cabin your grandma used to live in. You moved in when she got sick but never moved out. You liked it. It was cozy. It was private.

Finally relenting, you crawl into bed and did your best to sleep.

The next day, you were walking along the same path on the beach. You offered to cover the shift of the girl who had covered yours at such last minute.

Paul was in the same spot, but alone this time. You tried to walk passed him without acknowledging him, but something stopped you. You didn't want to see him sad again, it hurt you. And it made no sense why, you'd spent two years hating him.

You were only a few steps passed him, so you turned around, gripping the end of your sweater sleeves in each hand.

Paul had his head down, but looked up when he heard you sigh. You were standing in front of him, looking so terrified to speak to him. Paul could've started crying.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you like that yesterday," you said. "I should've just walked away so... sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, a flash of excitement crossed his eyes, and you mistook it for something sinister. You tried to remain calm, but you were feeling lightheaded. You just couldn't trust his motives. "I deserved it."

Now that, threw you for a bit of a loop.

Fool me once, you thought.

"I still think we should just keep our distance," you said. "You kind of broke my heart."

"I'm really sorry about that, I was trying to impress the seniors. I was a tool. An idiot."

"Finally we agree on something," you said. He looked at you, and you both let out a small smile. He pushed some sand with his foot. His bashfulness made you want to believe him. "I work just up the hill. You can walk me if you want."

"Can I walk you home when you're done?" he asked, quickly falling in perfect tandem with you.

"No," you said. "But you can walk with me right now."

"I'll take it," he said.

"Why do you want to talk to me anyway? I thought you hated me," you said.

"I could never hate you," he said. "I do hate how I treated you though. Not my finest hour."

"I think your finest hour remains to be seen."

Paul stayed quiet after that. And you were oddly comfortable in the silence. You're not even sure why you invited him to come along, but some sick part of you wanted him to. You wanted to reach out and touch him. His arms just looked so welcoming, and the way he stretched his hand open and shut made you think he wanted the same thing. But you couldn't let him in, not after one day.

"Have a good shift," he said, putting his hands in his pocket.

You smiled at him ,and thanked him for walking you. When you smiled, he smiled. And you caught onto that.

Paul had been standing in the same spot every day to walk you to work. Out of curiosity, on one of your days off, you snuck close to the spot to see if he was there. And he was, leaning against the same railing, in the same spot that he waited for you everyday.

You got comfortable in a cozy little spot in the trees. You wanted to see how long he waited for you. You dozed off before you could get your question answered.

You woke up hours later, when the sun was already setting. You hated walking through the trees in the dark. You started walking on your own, but you had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. So you swallowed your pride and called someone you knew would answer.

Paul was sitting at Sam and Emily's table, enjoying the dinner she made while waiting for his turn to go on patrol. It was Jared and Quil out there now. Paul could hear Seth snoring on the couch, making him laugh. Things that used to annoy him, didn't really seem to annoy him anymore. Not since you started letting him walk you to work. He even got Sam to let him change his patrol times to make sure he could be there every day.

His phone rang, and with a mouthful of food checked the number. He almost chocked on his food when he saw your number. He answered, hitting his chest to dislodge the food.

"Y/N, hi," he said, big grin on his face as he stood up and walked outside. Behind his back, Emily and Sam shared a knowing look, and he leaned in to kiss his wife.

Paul noticed Jared sitting nearby with Kim, and didn't think too much of it with you on the line.

"This may sound stupid," you said, "but can you walk me home? I don't like to go in the dark."

"You never let me walk you home," he said.

"If this is a bad time, it's okay," you said, disappointment clear in your voice.

"No, no... where are you? I'll be right there." He stepped back inside the house to grab his shoes, but the sound of you gasping stalled his movements.

"I'm by our meeting spot," you said. His grin returned when you called it that. "It's so dumb, I wanted to see if you went there when I didn't work and fell asleep."

"You were spying on me?" he asked. You were silent on the other end and he laughed. "I'll be right there."

"Who are you?" you asked.

"Huh?"

He heard you scream, as did Sam and Emily who's cheeky glances turned to concern quickly. "Y/N?" he asked, panicked. He was already running outside, Sam on his heals.

"Jared!" Sam shouted, "Why aren't you on patrol?"

"Seth said he'd do it!" Jared yelled back. Paul dropped his phone, and shifted, running top speeds to where you said you were.

Never in his whole life had he been this scared. He could hear Jared apologizing for the mixup in his thoughts, but Paul didn't really care what he had to say. If you were hurt, Paul would die. Paul would simply die.

He needed you to be there safe.

I knew something was wrong, Embry thought. Paul didn't even see him show up. Sorry I didn't act on it.

Shut the shit up and run, dammit!

When he got to the meeting point, you were gone, but your bag was abandoned nearby. Paul sniffed it, getting your current scent memorized. He took off when he found the trail. He also smelled a retched, filthy bloodsucker. It wasn't one of the Cullens. No, this was different. And it started at the water, that's how it got passed their lines. Not that they had enough people around.

Paul howled, the pain in it was evident for anyone around. It was him saying get here, or suffer the consequences.

I don't smell their blood, Jared thought.

You don't get to talk about them. This anger didn't derive from a bad temper, it was fear. It was just fear talking.

Paul kept running, catching a fork in the scent trails. One way was Quil, Leah and the bloodsucker. And the other was you, all alone. Alone but alive. If he couldn't hear Leah or Quil think, that was a good sign. Meant that they'd changed back, and Leah would never do that unless she killed them.

Go to her, we'll find Leah. Sam nodded at Paul.

You were crying as you ran, clumsy feet stumbling over tree roots and your own blurred vision totally betrayed you. Someone had come out of the water, eyes red like rubies. And they were so pretty that you just had to look at her. Until the showed her teeth, forcing you to flee in fear. She was faster than you, but you think she was playing with you.

And then if that wasn't scary enough, when she was jumping down from a tree to kill you, a wolf jumped from the shadows and grabbed the woman. And it was her turn to flee. Another wolf jumped out, and you were sure you were a goner.

But it just chased after the other two. Leaving you alone and confused.

You stumbled back to your feet, running as fast as you could towards your cabin. You would be safe in there. Maybe. It was the best you could do right now.

You cried harder when you thought you heard more rustling in the trees. You were at your door, struggling to get your keys out and unlock the door. When you did, you slammed it shut and locked it behind you. You dove over the sofa and kept your eyes on the door, as if that's all it took to keep you safe.

Your phone was lost somewhere in the woods, but you could still hear them. Out there. Maybe it wasn't real.

There was a feverish knocking on your door, and you couldn't peel yourself away from the couch.

"Y/N! Are you in there," Paul shouted. Oh my God, thank everything, it's Paul.

"Paul, I'm coming," you struggled, fighting through your tears to answer. It killed him, but he was so happy you were okay.

You opened the door, and cried even harder when you saw his face. You couldn't hate him now, now when he came running for you. He ignored his usual boundaries and pulled you in for a hug. He was so warm wrapped around you. Your arms were still tucked into your chest. And his totally encompassed you.

"Just breath, honey," he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You tried to take his advice, but you couldn't focus.

"You came for me."

"I always will, you can always call me. I will always come running," he said. And you believed him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" you asked, pushing yourself away from him enough to look up at his face. His features were uncharacteristically soft as they looked down at you.

"Of course," he said. He kissed your forehead, and you felt the instinct of pushing him away - but you ignored it this time.

"On the couch," you said.

"Sure, honey." He brushed his hands up and down your biceps, helping you take a few deep breaths. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

"I don't understand what happened," you said, pushing yourself away from him. "She came out of the water, and then she..."

"It's okay," he cooed, "you don't have to say anything."

"And this doesn't change anything," you said. "I trust you with some things but not other things."

"Some things?" he asked, more amused than anything.

"I trust you with my life, not my heart."

"We'll work on it," he said, pulling you in close for another hug.

"Yeah," you agreed. "We'll work on it."

[requested] [part 2?]

I kind of love this?

[duskholland]

No Control || Frat!Tom Smut

summary ↠ tom can’t stop thinking about harrison’s girl, and it’s starting to become a problem. — in love with your best friend’s girl au. warnings ↠ this is fifty shades of morally-ambiguous grey, but I wouldn’t say it’s /too/ out there..?¿ there’s no actual infidelity but because of the au, there are themes of cheating, so avoid this if it’s a touchy subject for you. cw: a lot of alcohol, a ton of jealousy/possessiveness, heavy swearing, ongoing frat/party/bet culture, tom being a bad friend, harrison being a bad boyfriend, y/n being a bad girlfriend, and nsfw content. this contains smut! 18+ minors dni. word count↠ 17.6k. a/n ↠ please don’t do this irl, this is just fantasy !!!! y/n, tom and harrison are all flawed people, so please don’t go into this expecting them to all be perfect !!!! this was almost twenty thousand times more debased and fucked up, but I reeled it in last minute :’) that being said, this was still so much fun to write lmao. I listened to your girlfriend by blossoms + jessie’s girl pretty much on repeat as I wrote this! title is from 1d’s classic banger, which apparently influenced this more than I’d thought. thanks to all the anons who sent in ideas for this the other week!! a lot of them made it into this fic, so if you sent in a concept—thank you so much <3 I messed around with the pov so it flips halfway through! it should be obvious but I’m flagging it so you don’t think I went mad. hasn’t happened yet my lovelies but frat!tom does test me ! :’)) enjoy !!! <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ masturbating (male), oral + fingering (fem receiving), protected mxf sex. possessiveness in the dirty talk. again, there is no infidelity but there is a lot of bad behaviour + boundary pushing <3

✧ *:･ﾟNo Control･ﾟ:*✧

Tom has seen a lot of pretty girls in his life, but tonight, he thinks that he’s seen an angel.

The frat is loud. The crowd is so thick he can barely breeze, and the fog machine has left a deep grey smog smothering the living room. Flashing strobe lights and the deep drums of bass cut through the air, but despite the way Tom’s head hurts, everything irritating fades as he looks across the room and sees a girl. You. You’re standing in the open doorway, leaning against one of the beams, a solo cup in one hand with the other resting on your waist.

He instantly knows that he wants you.

You’re in a red dress, with the flattering material clinging to your waist and shoulders. It draws Tom’s attention, but that’s quick to shift to your face as he watches you laugh at a joke made by one of your friends. He recognises a few of the people that you’re with from one of his lectures, but he’s almost certain he’s never seen you before. He’d definitely remember.

“Bro? What’s up?” Harrison is behind him, Tom’s best mate. They’ve been friends since high school, and when Tom had decided to up sticks and move across the ocean to a college in America, Harrison had followed. He’s good like that. “You’re just staring at the wall. Look like a proper tosser.”

Tom scowls as he drags his eyes away from you, directing all of his most scathing anger at Harrison. The blond is smirking. Perched on top of his head is a black SnapBack, printed with the frat’s logo. It matches the one that Tom’s wearing, just Tom has it pulled on backwards. He’s the only member of the frat that wears it like that, and it’s become an unofficial declaration of his status.

For the last year, Tom has held the revered position of president of the frat. It’s a lot harder than he’d thought it’d be, but it comes with perks. Several perks.

“I’m looking,” Tom replies, crossing his arms.

“At what?”

Discreetly, Tom brings his cup to his lips and uses his index finger to sneakily point across the room. He leads Harrison to you.

“That girl,” he says slowly. “Do you know who she is? Who invited her?”

Tom prides himself on knowing most people on campus—or, at least, anyone he needs to know. Anyone involved in Greek life or the party scene at his college has a face burned to his memory, and he prides himself on recognising matching names too. A lot of power comes with being able to immediately recognise someone. It makes him likeable, and he feels good knowing that someone feels appreciated by him.

“Dunno,” Haz mutters. He squints his eyes as he looks at you too. “She’s with Tyra. Maybe they’re friends?”

Tom scoffs. “Well, I’d guess that, yeah.”

“Are you going to do anything, or continue to stare like a creep?”

After taking a final swig of his drink, Tom pushes the empty plastic cup into Harrison’s hands. His mate thumps him on the back.

“I’ll be back,” he mutters. Then Tom pauses and throws out an easy smile. “Or not. Depends.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Go on.”

“See ya, mate.”

As Tom walks across the crowded room, he tries to hold himself a little straighter. He’s dressed simply tonight, in an all-black combination of t-shirt and jeans, but the gold chain he has around his neck adds a little depth. Around his wrist is his watch, and it glints as Tom reaches up to briefly whip off his hat and tousle his hair. His eyes are fixed firmly on you, and he finds himself grinning when you see him.

You’re even more radiant up close. Your eyes are a beautiful shade, and they fill with curiosity as you look Tom up and down. An expression of intrigue passes over your features as you mutter something to a friend and push away from the doorframe, being pulled to Tom as if by an unseen gravitational force.

“Hi, darling,” Tom leads with, keeping his voice cool. When you step closer, he meets you, easily and lightly pressing his hands to your waist as he kisses your cheek. “I’m Tom.”

You give him a wry smile. “I know who you are,” you reply. Your eyes are fluttering all over his face, and your hips feel soft beneath his hands. “Y/N.”

Tom likes how your voice sounds.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he responds easily. He crosses his arms, angling them in a way that makes his muscles bulge. “I’ve not seen you around here before.”

There’s a shyness to your gaze that makes Tom smile wider, and he watches as you fiddle with your hair and tentatively meet his gaze.

“Do you know everyone that comes to your parties, Tom?”

“Yeah.” Tom slips his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Or, at least, I try to. I know I’d definitely remember someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” You’re speaking louder now, emboldened by how fully Tom’s giving you his attention. All around you, there are people looking, people whispering. Everywhere Tom goes, he garners attention.

Tom offers you an easy smile, tilting his head to the side as he nods. Sometimes he likes to play it cool and keep his cards close to his chest, but he doesn’t think you’d like that. He doesn’t think the chase is necessary. You’re looking at him with round, inquisitive eyes, and your gaze keeps circling back to his mouth.

“You’re stunning, love,” he says. “Do you want to dance with me?”

You reach out and take his hand, and Tom feels a jolt of warmth trail up his spine. It confuses him. He’s pursued a lot of girls in his life, and he’s felt attraction plenty of times before, but he’s never had his heart ache quite like that from just one touch. As you run your thumb over the back of his hand, you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“A dance? With the president of the frat?” you tease. As Tom chuckles, you smile cheekily. “I dunno. What can you give me in return, if I give you what you want?”

“Oh, a businesswoman,” he teases. “I see how it is.”

You smirk. “Business major,” you supply.

Tom arches his brows. “I’m a business major.”

“I know. We’re in the same class.”

For a few minutes, you slip into conversation about your course. Tom learns that you share the same 9am every Monday morning—a class that he only managed to make it to the first week of term. You don’t linger on the topic of academics for too long, though. It doesn’t take much before Tom’s got you in the back corner of the room where it’s quieter, listening to you reel off your first impressions of the frat. You keep your hands on his shoulders, slowly but purposefully rolling your fingers over his shirt, keeping him on his feet as he catches a whiff of your peach perfume every time you move closer.

He almost gets his dance, but then there’s a tap on his shoulder, and it’s one of his brothers, whispering about an incident on the patio involving a table and the pool. Tom grimaces and reluctantly casts his eyes back to you.

“I need to go and sort this out,” he mutters, frustrated. You shrug, biting your lip as you rock back on your heels. “Will I see you later?”

“I don’t know. Will you?”

Tom smiles. “I will,” he promises. Wanting to give a lasting impression, he easily swoops his hand up to cup your cheek. When he receives a nod of approval, he leans in and deposits a lingering kiss to your forehead, inhaling a deep breath of your shampoo and feeling the tip of his nose tingle in response. You cling to his arms a little tighter, and when Tom goes to pull away, he isn’t able to until you’ve kissed his cheek.

“Have fun,” you say, stepping back.

“Thanks, darling.” Tom gives you a final look, his insides debating whether or not he really needs to go deal with the issue. When there’s a loud shout from out on the patio, he sighs. “Take care.”

Even when he’s out on the terrace, you stay on Tom’s mind. As he oversees two of the guys pulling the table out of the pool, he replays his interaction, mind swirling over your face, your figure, your voice. He finds himself scratching at his chin, not entirely present. After a while, he ends up back in the house, huddled with a group of the guys, and it isn’t until someone pushes Harrison forward that Tom truly comes back into the room.

“How long has it been, man?” Jacob, one of the guys, and one of Tom’s American friends, is grinning at Harrison. The man is standing in the middle of the group, bashful cheeks a light pink.

“Eh… a couple weeks,” Harrison supplies.

“Bullshit,” Tom adds, chuckling when Harrison flips him off. “Haz hasn’t got laid in months.”

“Fuck off,” Harrison mutters. “Not all of us are as...promiscuous as you, Tom.”

Tom shrugs. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Harrison pauses, stroking his chin. “Dunno,” he finally decides.

Tom rolls his eyes. “We’ll wingman you,” he decides. He looks around at a few of the other guys and doesn’t stop until they’re all nodding and making similar sounds of agreement. “Anyone you like the look of tonight?”

Haz hesitates but eventually shakes his head. “Nah. Haven’t seen who’s around.”

“Alright.” Tom presses his palms together, an idea forming. “Next girl that walks into the room, we’ll set you up with.”

Harrison hesitates. “But what if she’s taken?”

Jacob steps forward, smirking. “The next single girl who walks into this room,” he clarifies. He holds out a hand and raises a brow. “Bet?”

Harrison looks down at Jacob’s hand. A bet, like the one he’s referring to, may as well be as binding as a contract. There’s no going back. He looks to Tom, a little nervous, but the fear vanishes when Tom nods.

“Alright.” Harrison does the frat handshake, and the guys around them all holler. Tom makes his own loud sound of support, grinning widely. “We’ll do it.”

They have to wait for a while. The first few girls that walk in are all accompanied by partners. Tom’s starting to get tetchy and he knows Harrison is too, but as soon as that thought crosses his mind, the universe decides to throw a curveball right into his face.

You walk in.

“Oh, shit,” Jacob says. He elbows Harrison. “There you go.”

Harrison immediately looks at Tom. “Uh… Isn’t she…?”

Tom sucks in a hard breath, the sound sticking behind his teeth. “Yep.” He looks at Harrison, who’s looking particularly deflated.

For a moment, Tom thinks about Haz and everything that he’s done to support him. Harrison flew across oceans to stay with Tom, moved into the frat with him, operates as his right-hand man. He’s his golf buddy, his gym partner, his best mate. For Haz to go back on such a public bet would be the same as resigning himself to social humiliation, and Tom would be a terrible friend for making him do that. Tom can give him this.

Right?

“I don’t need to—”

“Nah.” Tom decides to step up. “It’s a bet. It’s fine.”

Harrison grimaces. “Are you sure?”

Tom feels like a petulant child. Now he’s agreed to it, he feels his stomach rebelling. You find yourself at the centre of his attention again as he looks back over, instantly regretting it as the action connects your eyes with his. His breathing catches as your lips pull into an eager smile.

But Tom pushes through it. He looks away and stares at the floor as he nods, strengthening his attitude as he reaches out to smack Harrison on the back.

“Yep. Go for it.”

“Thanks, bro.”

He can barely watch as his guys approach you, and Tom decides to stay back in the corner of the room. It’s clear that you’re confused at first, but through quick discreet glances, Tom watches as you start to talk with Harrison. When Tom gets approached by another girl, you start to speak with Haz more freely, and he assumes that you’ve forgotten all about your conversation from earlier. When Jacob and the others split off, leaving you and Harrison alone in the back corner, Tom has to leave the room.

For a while, Tom drinks. He does a couple of shots out on the patio and chats with a few girls, and eventually, he’s pulled back inside the house. He ends up in the large living room, where the main party is happening, and it seems that you and Harrison have taken it to the next level in his absence.

Tom’s lips curve into a scowl as he looks across the room and sees you, wrapped up in Harrison. The blond’s hands roam all over you, moving from your cheeks, shifting back into your hair before curving down your figure. Tom can barely keep watching as Harrison’s palms curl around your waist and go down to squeeze your ass, and he swears he can almost hear the breathless moan you deposit into the air in response.

He looks away when Harrison starts to nibble at your neck and you toss your head back in pleasure, but Tom can’t stop himself from stealing quick glances every few seconds. In the pit of his stomach lies a terrible beast, acidic and possessive, clawing at his heart. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that he can’t quite shake, even when Tom tosses the remnants of the shit beer down his throat. There are easily a hundred people in the room with him, but he doesn’t care about a single one of them. The only one he cares about is you.

After a few moments of his eyes dissecting the contours of your face, Tom feels someone wrap their arms around his waist. He stiffens, turning his head and looking around until he finds himself staring at the face of a girl from his accounting course. She’s pretty, wearing silver eyeshadow, and Tom thinks that her name is Sasha.

“Hey, Tommy,” she greets. Her perfume smells overpowering and it makes Tom grimace. “Wanna dance with me?”

Tom looks back across the room, his stomach turning as he sees Harrison has pulled you down onto a sofa with him. As you straddle his lips and continue to kiss him, his blood runs hot.

“Fuck yeah, darling,” he mutters. Tom reaches out and wraps an arm around the girl, pulling her closer and letting his eyes fall shut as her lips find their way to his neck. “Let’s dance.”

He doesn’t need you. He barely fucking knows you. Tom has met a thousand girls, and it feels as though he’s kissed as many. The only things he knows about you are inconsequential—who cares if you smell like peaches and wear a glossy lip balm? Who gives a fuck that your voice sounds like a pretty wind-chime. Not Tom, that’s for sure. Tom’s got another girl kissing him and tugging on his hair. He doesn’t need you.

So why can’t he stop thinking about you?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The pillow that Tom has wedged over his head makes his ears ache and does nothing to obscure the sounds drifting into his room, so after a few moments of failed silence, he throws it aside. A loud huff passes by his lips.

It’s been a month since the party, and every Sunday morning since, without fail, he’s been woken by the sounds of your moans. Harrison’s room is right next door, and though he’d always complained to Tom that the walls are thin, Tom had never been the one on the receiving end like this. It’s always been Tom having lazy post-party sex with a random girl, or Tom taking a girl into the shower room and locking out his brothers all morning. Now it’s Harrison, making noise with you, and suddenly it’s not just the fact that he’s not had sex in four weeks that’s getting on his nerves.

Your moans are loud as they catch in the back of your throat, and they make Tom hard. He grumbles as he reaches down, hands dipping beneath the covers as he pushes a palm beneath his boxers. A softened groan passes past his lips as he pulls out his cock, pausing only to bring his hand back to his lips and spit on it before he starts to jerk off.

Tom had gotten over the guilt of getting off to you without your knowledge two weeks ago. For all he knows, you know that he can hear you, and you’re being so loud for him. He’s learnt that you’re cheeky like that, and the thought makes Tom tug his cock a little harder. Harrison’s bed is squeaky, and he can only imagine that you’re riding him. Tom bites back a moan as he imagines how pretty you must look on top.

He’s spent more time with you now, since that party, and it hasn’t helped his predicament at all. Every time he runs into you, you seem to grow hotter, and his attraction for you only burns brighter when he sees Haz grab your hand or kiss your lips. What had started as a bet for one night together has escalated, and now you’re both dating. Tom doesn’t think that he’s a bad person, nor would he ever say he’s a bad friend, but you’ve become his forbidden fruit.

Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t have you that makes Tom so incensed. He’s never been denied like this—been blocked so unscrupulously and irritatingly. Whilst you aren’t official with Harrison, Tom knows that his mate likes you. Hell, he can hear how much he likes you, right now, as Haz’s bed continues to squeak and your moans rise in volume.

Tom thinks he could get you to moan louder.

It takes an embarrassing two-minute window before Tom’s biting back a yell of your name, cumming in sync with a set of particularly loud whines that you emit next-door. He falls back onto the mattress, his clean hand going up to card through his curls as he tries to catch his breath. For a few moments, he lays there, scowling up at the ceiling as he tries to bathe in the afterglow of release, but it goes crashing down again when he hears your light giggles followed by Harrison’s deep guffaws.

Tom practically storms out of bed, wiping at his hand with some tissues before he stamps into a pair of grey joggers and leaves his room, slamming the door loudly in his wake. He hopes the sound scares Harrison so much he falls off his fucking bed.

The bad mood continues, even after Tom’s leapt through the shower and scrubbed at his ears. He ends up in the frat’s kitchen, the wide space still partially littered with solo cups and discarded bags of crisps from the party the night before. There are a few junior members of the frat hobbling around with black bin bags, looking pale and peaky. When they see Tom, they try and pretend they’re not hungover, and their act of skittish admiration is enough to make him feel a little better.

He’s just starting to assemble a protein shake when the air in the kitchen changes. Tom finds his eyes drifting towards the door, just in time to watch you walk in. The sun seems to follow you as you stroll into the kitchen, one hand at your side as the other plays with the tips of your hair, a relaxed smile on your face. As you look around the room and take stock of the several fratboys sitting on random pieces of furniture, your smile draws shyer, and Tom watches you glance down at your feet as you hurry towards the counters to where he is. You catch his eye, a blinding smile unfurling across your lips as you raise a hand in greeting.

As you sweep close, Tom blinks himself out of his stupor. He swallows down the lump in his throat as he steps forward to kiss your cheek, his hands falling onto your shoulders. When you step away, he takes in your outfit. Your legs are mostly bare, but you’re in a pair of shorts with an oversized grey t-shirt slouched on top of you. Tom’s eager eyes dip down, caressing your chest until they find the pointed tips of your nipples, straining against the fabric.

He clears his throat as he feels his cock prick to life.

“Morning, darling,” he manages, immediately turning around and facing the counter. He uses the smoothie as a pretence, but really he doesn’t want you to see the building bulge between his legs.

You seem to be oblivious, and Tom sucks in a breath as you step close. You place your chin on his shoulder and peer over it, comfortably leaning into him, and he swears he can feel your tits brushing up against his bare spine.

“Morning, Tom,” you greet, voice raspy and pure. “How’s your hangover?”

Tom chuckles, focusing very intently on ignoring the way your minty breath fans out across his cheek. You’ve got your arms wrapped loosely around him, hugging him easily and comfortably. He’d never complain that you’re at ease around him, but it doesn’t help his boner.

“Fine,” he responds, playing it cool. “I’m a pro at this, darling. Can’t remember the last time I had a hangover.”

You snort, and despite the loud volume, Tom thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you murmur, voice vibrating straight into his ear. “I feel like I’m going to die. Head’s killing me.”

Tom coos. He spends a moment violently mixing some green protein powder into the rest of his smoothie, then reaches up and rummages through a cupboard. When he procures a packet of painkillers, you release a deep sound of relief and finally step back.

“There you go, love,” he mutters. He makes sure to brush your hand with his as he passes it to you, smirking slightly when you jump. A lot of the time, Tom thinks his attraction to you is one-sided, but then something like this happens and casts doubt on that assessment. Neither of you has mentioned the night that you met, and sometimes he wonders if he should bring it up.

Tired and slightly delirious, Tom decides to test the waters. Just for fun, because he can, and because he likes the thought of making you flustered. He knows that his reputation precedes him and that you probably buy into the idea that he’s a flirt as much as everyone else does. If you respond badly, he’ll just blame it on his naturally charming disposition, and if Haz takes issue with it, well… Tom will just bring up the many red marks on his ledger.

“Thanks, Tom,” you say. He watches you rummage through a cupboard and pull out a glass, and his eyes follow your legs as you lean over the sink to get water and the hem of the shirt rides up.

“You know you’re fucking stunning, yeah?” Tom says before he can second-guess his plan.

You freeze, the waterline in your glass threatening to spill as you try to process his words. When you look back, there’s an expression of curious bewilderment on your face.

“What?”

Tom, his boner finally soft again, turns around to face you properly. He brings his arms over his chest, smirking wider as he watches you look at the curves of his biceps. He’s shirtless, and he knows the hours he’s spent in the yard doing weights with Haz shows in the firm definition of his abs and pecs. You seem to enjoy looking at him.

“You look hot.” Tom watches your face very carefully, not wanting to cross too many lines. “I bet Harrison told you that though, this morning.”

Something shifts on your face, and you bite your lip. “Well…”

“Well?”

“Harrison doesn’t say much in the mornings. Or, well, ever.” You pause, a deep line carving between your troubled brows. “He isn’t very vocal.”

Tom hums, stepping a little closer. “Harrison is good at a lot of things, but he has certain shortcomings.”

You lick your lower lip, and Tom’s gaze lingers on the glistening trail of your saliva.

“Like what?”

Tom makes a non-committal noise and pauses to take a sip of his smoothie.

“Well, you know. He’s very intense. He doesn’t always see what’s right in front of him.”

You raise an amused eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be friends?”

“We are. He’s my best mate. But that doesn’t mean I can’t criticise him for acting carelessly.” Tom drops his voice, letting you see the way he checks you out. “I just think that he doesn’t appreciate how lucky he is sometimes.”

You turn away, breaking eye contact as you take your pills. As you hum a soft tune, you pick up the kettle and fill it up, only looking back to Tom when it’s been plugged in and starting to boil.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” you reply, voice curious. You step closer until you’re standing in front of Tom, your eyes again going to his bare chest. “What does Harrison have that you don’t think he appreciates enough?” The suggestive look in your eyes matches the seductive inflexion in your voice, and Tom feels a shiver pass down his spine.

He plays it off coolly, shrugging slightly. “I’m just saying, darling, that if I had the honour of waking up beside someone as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t let you out of my sights all morning.” Tom reaches out slowly, gently letting his fingers bridge the gap between you as he toys with the hem of your shirt. You move closer, subtly encouraging him to continue, so Tom lets his hands shift up to hold your waist, feeling your curious eyes on him the whole time. “What was he thinking, eh? Letting such a lovely lady leave his bed. Crazy.”

You chuckle, a bashful smile on your face as you gnaw your lower lip. “Well, he wanted tea.”

Tom hums. “And I think that that’s bullshit.” He pauses suddenly, eyebrows raising as he finally looks away from your face and finds his gaze sticking on an emblem branded to your big t-shirt. A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest. Of fucking course. “You know what this is, love?” he asks, tugging at your shirt. When you shake your head, he grins. “Boyfriend material.”

Your reaction is immediate: soft frown, arched brows, confused stare.

“Harrison is not my boyfriend,” you say.

Tom clicks his tongue. “Never said he was.” He rolls his hands up your sides, gently caressing your warm figure. Though he wants to run his palms higher to your chest, he stops himself. “This is my shirt, babe. Laundry gets them mixed up all the time, but it’s mine.”

Your lips part and you look between Tom and your shirt with horror in your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur. Immediately, your hands fly down to the hem. “Do you want me to take it off?”

He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “As much as I’m sure I’d like that, there are too many other people in here.” He feels jealous again just thinking about it.

You nod, pausing the movement after a second as your eyes narrow. “Wait, how do you even know? It’s just a plain t-shirt?”

“What, you think I’m making this up?” Tom’s smirking again, and it widens as you fluster. “‘S alright, love.” He reaches up and points at the emblem which marks an event from rush week last year. “Logo,” he states. “And… I think you’ll find if we take a look at the label on the back, it’s got my name on it.”

You let him manhandle you, melting back into his hold as Tom stands forward and turns you around. He brushes your hair out of the way and reaches up, gracing his fingers over your spine as he delicately pulls out the back label. You won’t be able to see it, but it fills him with smugness to see his initials stained stark against the label: TSH.

“Well… I’m sorry, anyway.” Your voice is hoarse, light and feathery as if you’re holding your breath. Tom lets his hand rest on your shoulder after he’s tucked the label back. He’d move away, but you’re leaning into him completely, your hands grasping at the palm that he has curled around your stomach. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Tom leans down, and in a bold move, very gently kisses the base of your neck. Your skin is soft and warm beneath his lips, and the breathless gasp you release is just as sweet.

“It’s okay,” he rumbles. He pauses, eyes fluttering shut as he inhales your peachy scent. “Feel free to use it any time you’d like.”

Not wanting to push too hard, Tom leaves a final, wetter kiss to the bottom of your neck before moving back, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and repositioning his hands back on the counter. He leans against the wooden cabinets, wondering if you’d been able to feel his hard-on that’d peskily bounced back when he’d heard your whimper.

If you feel anything, you don’t say anything. In fact, you’re quiet as you step to the side and pour out the boiled water into two mugs. “Thanks,” you say, speaking through the steam. You glance back to Tom, and he swears your eyes are darker. “It’s soft.”

Tom sips his smoothie, eyeing you over the brim as you poke at a tea bag with a metal teaspoon.

“Fabric softener,” he says, nodding slightly. His brain is running slow, still caught up on how nice it’d felt to kiss your neck. “It suits you.”

You throw him another shy smile. “How does Haz take his tea again? No sugar, yeah?”

Tom bites his lip. “Wrong,” he lies. “Haz likes three sugars. Don’t be afraid to put in a little more, though.”

You eye him sceptically. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“He is my best friend, love,” Tom says. He hides his mischievous grin behind his smoothie, and he watches you roll your eyes. “Listen, if he’s got a problem with it, he can take it up with me or he can come and make his own cup of sodding tea. Lazy bastard.”

You snort, and Tom feels his stomach turn as he watches you spoon three teaspoons into Haz’s mug.

“Well, I’ll let you know what he says,” you mutter. Finally, you pick up the mugs in your hands and walk forward, pausing in front of Tom. Your eyes skim his figure again, briefly zeroing in on his chest before caressing the fine lines of his lips. “Thanks for keeping me company. This was fun.”

Tom nods and steps forward to kiss your cheek. He hopes you can feel how desperately he wants to press his lips to yours.

“Any time, darling,” he assures. “If you ever need anything, you know where I am, yeah?” He lets his teeth brush your earlobe as he pulls back slowly, smiling to himself when he sees you shiver.

“Yeah,” you murmur. You swallow deeply, and your eyes hold his gaze for one moment longer before you tear them away. “Have a nice morning, Tom.”

Tom watches you walk across the kitchen, almost stumbling when you get distracted trying to look over your shoulder back at him. He smirks, raising a few fingers in a lazy wave.

“See ya!” he calls back.

His blood doesn’t stop pumping until you’re all the way out of sight, and even after that, he knows the only way he’ll be able to properly shake you is by attending to his hard-on. Again.

You’re like a shadow that won’t stop chasing him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party is in full swing, and Tom feels like a king.

There are several benefits to parading the title of president of the frat. Tom gets the largest room in the house, along with an ensuite. He’s able to prioritise himself on the gym schedule and the cleaning rota. Every party, he’s looked up to, treated like royalty, his every wish and command carried out by his brothers. If he doesn’t like a song, it’s changed. All it takes is one arched brow in the direction of a partygoer, and they’re ejected from the house. The beer is his favourite make, and everyone loves him.

Tom has the whole world in his hands, which is why it’s incredibly infuriating that his kingdom tonight isn’t ordered how he’d like it.

It’s two months into the semester, and the buzz that’d characterised earlier parties has faded. Finals are coming up soon, so maybe that’s why Tom feels unsettled. Or, maybe it’s the fact that the music isn’t hitting quite as well as usual. It could be that he hasn’t tied his shoes as tightly as he normally does, or maybe that the vibe within the house is just...off.

But Tom knows exactly what the problem is if he brings himself to think about it. He’s tried drowning his ugly feelings in cheap beer, but there’s no denying it: his mood had taken a significant plummet when he’d glanced across the room and seen Harrison with his hands all over you, your lips locked together. The shard of jealousy that had lodged itself in the warm precipice of his heart is unshakeable, and there’s a horrible bitter taste on his tongue.

Tom is so fucking jealous that he’s about two seconds away from pointing at the couple and getting someone to kick you out.

“Bro. Bro. The fuck is wrong with you, man?”

It’s probably a good thing that Tom’s been interrupted, as he’s fairly sure there’s enough poison in his gaze to burn off a large patch of Harrison’s hair. He shakes a grimace over his lips as he looks to the side, eyes falling to his friend, Jacob. Jacob’s in a loose Hawaiian shirt, the red and white pattern glowing under the luminescence of the UV lights.

“What?” Tom says, playing it cool. He takes another drink, shuddering slightly as he lets the alcohol ease him.

“You look like you want to beat someone up.” Jacob squints, trying to look in the direction that Tom knows he’d been staring in. “I only see Haz. Are you guys, like… Good?”

Tom releases a short bark. “‘Course, man,” he says, voice lifting lighter. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Jacob scoffs. It’s loud in the crowded living room, but Tom can feel the undertones. “Uh, we all know about the bet. We all also know that you’d had your eyes on Y/N before Haz pulled her.” He pauses, wiggling his brows until Tom punches his arm and scowls. “I’m just sayin’... Seems like you have some unresolved shit going on.”

Tom doesn’t deem him with a response, not knowing where to start with that. It’s Saturday night. The last thing he wants to do is talk about this. He already drives himself mad every other day of the week as he ponders this particular puzzle.

“We need to get the energy up,” Tom mutters. He spins around, beckoning over a few of his friends with his hands. Someone gives him a shot, and he downs it before looking back at Jacob. “We’ll do a game or something. Get people. We’ll do it on the patio.”

Ten minutes later, there’s an assembly of partygoers on the terrace at the back of the house. It’s a mix of sorority girls, jocks, and fratbros, but Tom doesn’t pay them much attention as he claims his spot on a rickety canvas camping chair and sits back. He lets Jacob take the lead, doing another two shots when he sees you and Haz join the circle.

You’re in a black dress tonight, the material skimming just above your knees. As you walk out onto the patio, the midnight breeze swishes the hem up a little, and Tom watches as you giggle and drop Haz’s hand to smooth it down. Harrison presses an easy kiss to your cheek, and the smile on your face builds. It freezes when you spot Tom, your eyes darkening as your teeth dig into the pink flesh of your lower lip. Tom raises a brow, watching you stand a little straighter as your gaze runs over his form, lingering on the golden chain he’d pulled on earlier.

The spell breaks when Harrison sits on a chair and tugs you down with him, an expression of irritation briefly souring your angelic face before you smooth it back. Tom doesn’t look away until Jacob starts to speak.

“Spin the bottle,” Jacob announces, looking around at each person. There are a few groans, but they’re drowned out by the cheers. Tom just rolls his eyes, sitting back and briefly surveying the circle. He’s pretty sure he’s pulled at least five of the girls already, and the rest of them seem fine, too. Obviously, there’s only one person he’d want the spin to land on, but he’s already accepted that the universe isn’t on his side when it comes to you.

A few rounds pass. Tom isn’t really paying attention until the neck of the bottle lands on him and he has to kiss a girl from his psychology class. It’s a quick kiss, and her lip gloss makes his mouth tingle, but Tom only realises how hammered he is when he has to sit up from his chair and lean over to spin the bottle.

Tom looks around the circle as his fingers ponder the glass, grasping the attention of the group like he’s holding court. He looks at you and finds you looking at him, your lower lip held between your teeth as Harrison rubs your arm. Haz has you in his lap, your legs thrown across his thighs as you sit on him sideways. Harrison’s blond curls rest up against the side of your face, and Tom has to look away as he grimaces.

The bottle spins. It clatters quickly over the paving stone, hurtling with an angry force that Tom hadn’t entirely intended to use. He holds his breath, his eyes widening as it stops. Pointing at you.

“Looks like that’s Y/N,” Jacob announces.

Tom sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at Harrison. His mate’s eyes have lost their charm, a deep frown settled on his face. Tom thinks he looks exactly like the tough-faced models from Vogue with that mardy scowl on his face. He raises a brow, as if to say, up to you, and watches as you turn in Harrison’s lap and whisper something into his ear.

A moment passes, and Tom’s surprised when Haz nods and pushes you up from his lap. He meets Tom’s eyes, giving him another smaller nod, and Tom sits back, pleasantly resigned to the fact that Harrison isn’t going to ruin the game.

“Hi,” you greet as you approach him, smiling.

Tom reaches out, offering you his hands as you finish treading over the collection of limbs and shoes that crowd the patio. Your fingers are so soft in his.

“Hi, darling,” he responds. Tom feels hot, everywhere, and he hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “You look stunning,” he adds, voice quieter.

“Thanks.”

You hesitate, eyeing him up and down as if trying to assess the best way to kiss him. The girl he’d just kissed had bent over to press her lips to his, and as Tom remembers this, he drops one of your hands and reaches up and wipes his mouth again, trying to eradicate all traces of her lips. When he’s achieved this, he tentatively reaches up and presses the palm to your waist. Respectfully, of course. There are a lot of people watching.

You seem to be less reluctant to indulge, and Tom feels his eyes widen as you step forward and sink into his lap, your knees bending as you press your shins into the canvas of the camping chair on either side of Tom’s thighs. Suddenly your face is hanging in front of his, warm breath coming out over his face, and Tom has just enough time to wonder why your breath smells of pineapples before you’re leaning in.

He kisses you, and for a few seconds, he’s frozen. Everything that he’s learnt at the frat and over the course of his college life goes flying out the window, and he’s left feeling like a kid again. The background noise filters out, and all he can focus on is the weight of your body pressing into his legs and the feeling of your lips, soft and silky, moving over his. When you reach up to weave a hand into his hair, he comes back around, the roar of the party filling his ears as an adrenaline rush floods his chest.

Tom knows this will probably be his only chance to kiss you, so he leaves nothing behind. He brings both hands to your waist, urging you closer as he recovers his charm and kisses you properly. His tongue works into your open mouth, pressing against you and exploring the sweet space of your lips as you moan into him. He feels your fingers drift down, one of your hands staying bedded in his curls as the other plays with his chain. Never before has Tom felt so consumed by a kiss, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach around and grab handfuls of your skin, wouldn’t hold back his kisses, or his moans, or his coos of praising endearment. He’d give you everything.

When you pull back, your nose brushes up against his, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“How was that?” you ask, voice quiet. There’s a shyness to your disposition, a nervousness as you meet his eyes.

Tom reaches up, holding your cheek and brushing his thumb across your chin. He tidies up your smudged lipstick as he squeezes your waist.

“Perfect,” he replies, voice low. He can feel Harrison staring at him, but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re… You’re incredible, darling.”

You sit a little taller, looking proud of yourself. “Well, now I understand what all the hype is about,” you mutter. “You’re a good kisser. A really good kisser.” You pause as a shiver works its way down your spine, and Tom glances at your bare arms.

“Here,” he mutters. When you stand from his lap, he’s glad his jeans have some wiggle room so his raging boner is less obvious. Tom’s quick to shrug off his jacket, and he passes it up to you without a second thought. “Don’t freeze,” he says, wagging a finger at you.

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Yeah, you can.”

You bite your lip. “Won’t you be cold?”

Tom just flexes his biceps, smirking again as he sees you checking out his muscles. “Got these bad boys to keep me warm,” he teases, pointing at his guns. He softens, just for a moment. “It’s fine. Said you could always use my stuff, didn’t I?”

You look flustered, opening and then immediately closing your mouth before turning around and making your way back over to Harrison. Tom sits back in his chair, trying halfheartedly to suppress the smirk that continues to hold his lips as he admires how nice his jacket looks draped loosely across your shoulders. You always wear his clothes so well.

Tom looks at Jacob, who shakes his head in response. Then he looks at Harrison, and he can’t stop himself from laughing. Harrison’s a shade of salmon pink, and it only softens out a little bit when you settle back into his lap and kiss his cheek. Tom watches Harrison flip him off then pull you closer and kiss you harshly, and messily. You don’t seem as into it as you’d been with Tom, he realises. You’re holding back, grimacing slightly as Harrison pulls back a triumphant moment later.

The game concludes a while later, but Tom stays out on the patio, feeling dizzier by the second. The camping chair is comfortable, and the chill in the air helps him feel soberer. Whilst Tom doesn’t regret the multiple cups of beer and several shots, he does consider that he might’ve gone a little too far in his efforts to forget about you.

You’re gone, now. Out of sight, back in the party. Tom’s making light conversation with a few of the guys still left in the circle, but they clear out when a shadowy presence falls across the patio. It doesn’t take long for Tom to realise it’s Harrison, and he tries his best to sit up straight and look less smug as Harrison drags a chair over and places it opposite Tom.

Harrison stares at him, hard. He’s in a matching snapback and a loose white t-shirt, his ring glinting as he crosses his fingers and examines Tom’s face.

“So…” Tom starts, disliking how charged the air is. “Y’alright, Haz?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom,” Harrison says instead. When Tom pulls a face, he sharpens his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tom chuckles. He’s feeling drunk and annoying. “Well, that’s a bit of an unspecific question, Harrison. There are many things that you might say are wrong with me—”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Harrison breaks off, sighing loudly as he flops back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. He looks smaller, nervous. “Do you have a thing for my girl?”

Instinctively, Tom shakes his head. “Y/N?” he says dumbly. When Harrison nods, Tom hums. “Is she your girl?”

Harrison flounders for a moment. “I mean… Technically no, but we’ve been hooking up for two months.” He pauses, grimacing. “Look, mate. I know I fucked it when we met her. I knew you wanted her, and I still took on the bet. But I really fucking like her now, and… And…”

“And?”

“If you decide that you want her, you’ll get her. You always do.” Harrison grumbles as he crosses his arms. “Can I not have one thing? Just one.”

“You do know that Y/N is perfectly capable of making her own decisions, yeah?” Tom says, only slurring slightly.

“Oh, yeah. Of course, of course.” Harrison’s bobbing his head almost comically. “But still… Do you know what I mean?”

Tom closes his eyes for a few moments, the patio spinning. He speaks through gritted teeth. “Haz, I love you, man. You know what I’m like. I’m a flirt.” He cracks open an eye and gives Harrison a dopey smile, and the next words he speaks are the truth. “I wouldn’t seriously try to steal your girl, alright? I wouldn’t sleep with her if you guys have a thing. We were just playing the game.”

Harrison releases a deep breath. “Thanks, man, I—”

“Wait.” Tom feels bolder. “You do need to tell her, though.”

“Tell her what?”

Tom narrows his eyes. “You know what,” he says, speaking to a very sheepish-looking Harrison. “She’d want to know that your relationship is built from a bet. If you… If you seriously think that you’re g’nna have a fucking relationship with her, she needs honesty.” Just the thought of you and Harrison going official makes him feel sick.

“No way.” Harrison’s curls go flying as he shakes his head. “Fuck that. Are you mad? She’d break it off.”

Tom grimaces and looks away from Harrison. “I’m just saying,” he mutters. “You shouldn’t lie to the people you care about.”

It’s rich coming from him, but Tom knows that nothing he’s said has been a lie. He won’t sleep with you if you’re still with Haz. Maybe he’d try to break you both up, but he wouldn’t purposefully sleep with someone in a relationship. Logistically, he doesn’t think he’d be able to, even if he wanted to, because despite the tantalising banter he’s able to carry out with you, you’re a good person. You’d never cheat on Harrison.

“Yeah.” Harrison looks guilty now. “I guess.” His eyes shift away from Tom, falling to someone else. Tom startles when he feels two hands come down to rest on his shoulders, and glances down, only relaxing when he recognises the silver rings curled around your fingers.

As if a deity, you’ve appeared, just when Tom was thinking about you. He wonders if it’ll always work like this.

“Hi,” you greet, looking first to Harrison, then Tom. “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re standing behind his chair, perfume light and peachy. When Tom cranes his head back, your perfect face blurs.

“Nothin’,” he murmurs, a sleepy grin on his lips.

You chuckle. “How drunk are you right now?” you ask.

Tom makes a non-committal sound. “I don’t want to stand up and find out,” he admits. “So I’m just going to stay here until I get sober.”

“What if it rains?”

“Well, I guess I’ll get wet.” He reaches back and grabs lightly at his jacket, still covering your upper half. “Some thief ran off with my jacket.”

You snort, then pat his shoulders before walking around to the front of his chair. You offer him your hands, and Tom takes them easily.

“Babe?” Harrison pipes up. “What are you doing?”

With ease, you help Tom up from the chair. He fakes it a little, exaggerating just how woozy he is so that you have to wrap your arms around his waist. He hides his mischievous smirk in the crook of your neck, suppressing his guilt. He wasn’t lying to Harrison—he will stay in his lane. But old habits die hard, and you’re very warm, and he’s very drunk, especially with the blood rushing to his head.

“Putting him to bed,” you respond. “He’s tired.”

Suddenly, Tom finds himself yawning. He leans into you, pouting softly at Harrison as he tries to look as exhausted as possible. He’s always been a convincing actor, and his friend buys it completely.

“Alright,” Harrison says. “Do you need help?”

You shake your head. “Nah,” you respond. “I’ll be fine.” You squeeze Tom’s waist. “He’s just a big teddy bear.”

Tom doesn’t think he likes that (if anything, he’s a lion), but it seems to ease Harrison. The man presses forward, kissing your cheek before giving Tom a firm pat on his shoulder.

“Right, then,” he says. “I’ll be inside.” Harrison glances at Tom, reluctance filling his blue eyes before fading slowly. “Sweet dreams, bro.”

“Thanks, Hazzy.”

“Don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

Tom’s still chuckling as you lead him back inside, and he knows that you’re trying not to giggle too.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom already knows that you’re cute, but as you help him up the staircase and get him ready for bed, your adorableness really comes through.

“Drink this,” you announce, walking back into his bedroom with a glass of water in your hands. Tom admires the way that you walk, glad he’s already in bed and hiding beneath the covers. Your hair is a little wild, and he knows that’s probably his fault—Tom’s cheeky, and he’s especially persistent when he’s hammered, and he might’ve been a bit mischievous in the bathroom when you’d tried to convince him to brush his teeth, refusing until you’d had to physically push the brush into his mouth. You’d rolled your eyes, and he’d been distracted by watching you in the mirror.

“What is it?” he asks annoyingly. Now Tom is almost naked, clad only in his boxers, and he does a deliberately long stretch of his arms above his head, smirking as the duvet falls down to expose his toned torso.

You roll your eyes again as you sit on the edge of his bed, pushing the glass into his hands. “Water,” you supply. You stare at him, raising a brow. “Probably won’t help with the hangover, but I feel like I need to try.”

Tom takes a few sips, looking at you over the rim of the glass. You look tired, up close. Still glowing, and beautiful, and gorgeous, but tired. Your lipstick is faded, and he can see the shadows of your dark circles peeking through your makeup.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You glance at him, chuckling shortly before looking down at your hands. You play around with a few of your rings, sighing.

“Just tired,” you respond. You manage a forced smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

He frowns. “It does.” Tom obediently downs the entire glass, wanting to coax a smile to your face. “Why’d you come out if you’re tired?”

“Haz wanted me to.” You bring your eyes back to Tom. “I wanted to come and support you, too.”

Tom blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Aww.”

You scrunch up the end of your nose as you stand from his bed, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “Well, I do care about you, Tom. I know there’s a lot of pressure on you to make the parties good.”

Warmth bursts through Tom’s chest. “That’s so cute,” he mutters. He looks up at you, the light being cast from the ceiling light cascading over your shoulders like a halo. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re plastered,” you respond, smiling. You walk closer, running a hand over the top of the duvet until you reach Tom. When you’re standing up by his head, you tentatively reach down to push his shoulders. “Lie down,” you coax. “Bedtime.”

Tom sinks into his mattress with ease, smiling when you gently pick up his head and plump the pillows. You reach down and pull the duvet up to his chin, tucking it in around his chest firmly, your tongue held between your teeth as you go. You’re very attentive, and the sight of you looking after him so well doesn’t help his predicament at all.

“Thanks, darling,” Tom murmurs. He sighs contentedly. “So comfy,” he whines. “Why don’t you stay with me if you’re tired?” He cracks open an eye just in time to see the expression of shock on your face fade to one of amusement.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you respond. “Can you imagine how confused you’d be waking up in the morning?”

“Would be a good kind of confusion, though.” Tom rounds out his eyes, trying to look as soft and unassuming as possible. “I’m a great bed partner, babe. I won’t kick you. I’ll give you space. Or, if you want, I’ll cuddle you. I’m great at cuddling people.”

You just laugh, your face vibrant and light. “You’re so funny,” you say. “I wonder if you’ll remember this tomorrow.”

Tom scowls, grumpily snuggling further into bed. “I invite a pretty girl into my bed and she rejects me,” he grumbles. “Your loss, baby.”

“You sound more and more like a fratboy every time we speak.” You stand back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him up and down. “Right. I left painkillers on the side, and there’s more water too. Sweet dreams, Tom.”

You turn to leave, but Tom makes a noise of objection. You pause, raising a brow in question.

“Goodnight kiss,” Tom begs. “Please?”

You laugh again but step back towards him. You bend over, necklace dangling in Tom’s face as your hands smooth up to rest in his hair. He’s overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume and the close proximity, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to imitate the breathtaking kiss from earlier. But then you move up. You kiss his forehead, gently, stroking a few strands of his hair as your lips linger against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. When you pull back, Tom has a dumb expression on his face, and he’s glad that you follow up the kiss by turning off his lamp.

“Night, Tom,” you say, walking across the room. There’s a single shard of light, peeking into his room through the open door, and it illuminates your silhouette as you pause there.

“Night, Y/N,” he responds, voice slightly thick.

You gently close the door behind you and leave Tom alone, with nothing but his thoughts and his fantasies to entertain him. He grumbles as he turns over, a very prominent and selfish thought pushing to the front of his mind:

Tom loves Harrison, but he’s fed up. He can’t carry on like this, yearning incessantly. He doesn’t want to stay in his lane, he wants you to be his girl. Desperately.

Tom has to do something. He has to make you his.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You think that whoever scheduled Intro to International Business for 9am on a Monday hates all college students.

It’s dreary as you make the hungover trek to campus. The ache in the front of your skull rattles with each sombre step, and you never get used to the chill of November’s dark mornings despite having plenty of experience with them now. You’re bundled up in a hoodie, a jacket, and a scarf, yet the flecks of grey raindrops still manage to soak you. By the time you reach the lecture theatre, you’re grouchy and regretting ever leaving your bed.

At the time, going to the frat party the night before had seemed like a great idea—Harrison hadn’t stopped blowing up your phone about it all weekend, and you’d felt compelled to keep him company. There were other factors that made you eager to go, too.

It’s all a blur now. Spin the bottle, disrupting Harrison’s tense conversation with Tom, taking the latter upstairs. You think about the sight of Tom bundled up in bed, duvet pulled to his pouting lips, and your entire body bursts into flame, rippling with an unrestrained desire that makes you feel guilty for just existing. You’d been so affected by the events of the night before that you’d had to go home, too overwhelmed to stay with Harrison in the room beside Tom’s.

Most of the seats around you are empty. You’re early despite rolling out of bed after sleeping through your first alarm. As you settle into the back of the theatre, you begrudgingly pull out a pad of paper and a pen, wishing you’d thought to bring sunglasses. This is the class that you supposedly share with Tom and Harrison—also business majors—yet they’ve never made an appearance beyond a half-assed attempt in the first week. Sometimes you wonder how they’re both able to pass a class they never show face in.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Who the fuck scheduled this so early? They’re taking the piss.”

You startle as a grouchy voice enters your space, and your eyes snap up just in time to see a dark figure drop down into the open seat beside you. The deep navy blue hoodie is pulled above his head, and he immediately crosses his arms, but you know without a doubt who it is.

“Tom?” you ask, voice full of shock. You sit forward, reaching out to place a hand on his arm as you peer at him. When you meet his pale face and see the thick sunglasses covering his eyes, your eyebrows raise. “Since when do you come to class?”

Tom clicks his tongue, lips curving into a smirk. It’s a little disconcerting that you can’t see his eyes, but you can tell they’re dark and seductive. They always are.

“What d’you mean?” he teases. “I’m always here.”

“As if.”

He shrugs and breaks off for a moment to yawn. “Thought I should start being a good student, ‘n all,” he mutters. “Finals next month, and everything.”

“And how’s your hangover?”

Tom pulls a face. All of a sudden, he leans over, rummaging through his bag with loud actions until he procures a bottle of water and a bag of mixed nuts. When he sits back up, he pushes down his hood and jerks off his sunglasses, exposing the damage. You wince as you take in the deep bags beneath his eyes and the way his brown irises are marred with red. He still manages to smile, though, and after ripping open his snack, crunches a couple in quick succession.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “I don’t get hungover, but if I do, it clears pretty fast. I’m built differently.”

You snort. “Yeah right,” you mutter. You find yourself looking at his lips, and briefly, you’re transported to how incredible they felt last night when you’d straddled him and kissed him. Quick to shake that off, you find yourself blinking as you stare at him. “You were trashed last night. I had to take you to bed. Do you remember?”

Tom gives a hapless shrug, not quite looking into your eyes. You wonder, not for the first time, what thoughts are running through his mind. He confuses you immensely.

The night you’d met, you’d been convinced you’d end up sleeping with him. He’d swaggered over to you, dripping charm, looking incredibly hot in an all-black ensemble, chain, and cap, then he’d kissed your forehead and promised to see you later. Just, you hadn’t seen him later—instead, his friends had not-so-subtly set you up with Harrison as Tom had stood across the room, watching. A part of you had felt side-lined by him, but Harrison is attractive, so you’d jumped on him the moment you could.

Harrison is nice. He’s kind. Dependable. He’s the kind of boy that you could easily take home to your mother and hear nothing but kind words about. He isn’t always the most attentive, but he’s funny, and he cares for you, so it’s fine.

Tom is… Tom is an entirely different ballpark. There are no words to describe Tom Holland. You’d thought you knew enough about him before meeting him at the party, but the man you’ve come to know since doesn’t match up to the reputation that surrounds him. Tom is cheeky—it’s obvious in his flirtatious jokes, and his lingering touches, and his habit of kissing your cheek every single time he sees you. He’s funny too, but his sense of humour isn’t mean or callous like most of the lads in his house. Beneath the hardy exterior lies someone who genuinely cares, and looks out for the people he loves.

He makes you feel alive, each one of your cells burning and sizzling every time he’s around. Tom makes you feel the pounding rhythm of your heartbeat everywhere—in your ears, in your chest, between your legs. He gives you everything, whilst giving you nothing at all. It’s entirely perplexing.

You need to stop comparing them. It’s not a competition. You’re seeing Harrison, and Tom has no genuine interest in you. You’re friends, and he’s flirty, but that’s it. You’re friends, and you shared the best kiss of your life last night, but that doesn’t mean a thing. It doesn’t matter that Tom fires you up the right way, because it’s one-sided, and you’re with Haz.

Tom ignores your question about the night before and instead tips his bag of nuts towards you.

“Care for a nut?”

You snort as you pick out a cashew, crunching it softly as he watches. Tom’s deep brown eyes linger on your lower lip as you slowly lick the salt from it.

“Delicious,” you say, earning a loud cackle from your companion.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters, grinning wickedly.

“No, you just have your mind in the gutter. Not everything has to be an innuendo, Tom.”

“Wrong. Everything can be and is an innuendo if you try hard enough. You should know this by now, darling. You’ve spent enough time with me.”

“Maybe, but not all of us share your immature sense of humour, Tom.”

He gasps, eyebrows sliding up his forehead in mock shock. “Are you calling me a child?”

“Childish,” you clarify, smirking as he shoots daggers at you. “You’re such a boy.”

Tom sits back, blinking a few times in quick succession before clearing his throat. His eyes seem to darken as he leans in closer, bringing a hand up to rest on your shoulder. His fingers are warm as he pushes the hair from your face and gently tucks it behind your ear, leaning across the seat until he’s able to whisper gently.

“I am not a boy,” he coos, voice soft. “I’ve just never broken out the proper charm on you, darling.”

Your throat runs dry as his hot breath fans out across the side of your face, minty fresh.

“And what is this proper charm?”

Tom opens his mouth to speak, but it fades a moment later. He pulls back, appearing to lose his cool last minute as his cheeks flush.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mutters instead. He shifts around in his seat, looking back at you for a split-second before glancing away. Tom’s reluctant to meet your eyes, and you watch, confused, as he chugs about half his bottle of water before pulling off his hoodie. He’s still flushed—face warmer and more alive than it’s been all morning.

Your brows furrow as you look at Tom’s shirt. “Hey, is that the one I borrowed the other week?” you ask, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom chuckles, regaining his charm as he throws his hoodie on top of his bag and turns to face you, a hand lodging in his hair. It’s longer than it’d been at the start of the semester, a few strands dangling over his forehead.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Smells of you.” Something crosses over Tom’s face, and he flashes you the tips of his pearly teeth as he smirks. “Smells of us, darling.”

Your reaction is immediate and uncontrollable. A hot flush, moving through your entire body, forming in your centre and rolling across your figure from the inside out. You hope that you can play it off by pulling your notebook into your lap. The back of your mouth is dry, but you manage a weak, quipping response of, “you should wash that,” before you spiral too far.

It’s in the small things. His comments. His lingering touches. His smirks. Tom drives you crazy.

The lecture starts, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you stay huddled up in the back with Tom, killing time as he shows you a collection of photos from the night before. After flicking through the snapshots from a very blurry night, Tom moves on to a different folder in his phone, nimble fingers swiping across the screen and showing off some of his favourite memes. You end up almost crying from laughter, clutching to his arm as you bend over in your seat and try to pass by undetected by the notoriously strict professor. Tom’s hand soothes over your back, and you briefly wonder if you should dissolve into laughter more often just so he can bring you back down.

When the class finishes, Tom throws his arm across your shoulders and walks you across campus. It’s only when you’re halfway towards the car park that you realise where he’s taking you.

“Wait— I can walk back home.”

“Nah. It’s fine.”

“It’s out of the way, though.”

Tom squeezes your side. “‘S alright. You’re my best mate’s girl. ‘Least I can do.” He pauses, apparently oblivious to the sour expression you pull in response to those words. “Plus, you looked after me last night, so… I kinda owe you.”

Deciding to just accept it, you hum in agreement. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

He’s very warm and his cologne smells like a forest breeze. You enjoy strolling across campus with him, especially when he kisses your temple as you separate at his car. It’s a battered old thing, and you’ve been in it a few times before. You’re fairly sure that Haz owns it too, but the way Tom settles into the driver’s seat and keys the ignition makes him look like the proper owner. Tom commands any space he inhabits with poise and elegance.

“You’re out near Sarah, aren’t you?” Tom asks as he jerkily reverses from his parking space.

“Yeah.”

“Nice area,” he comments, which makes you laugh. Tom glances at you, raising a brow. “What?”

“Small talk?”

“Mmm. Well, is there anything else you’d like to talk about, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Fuck, you can’t handle the way that sounds dripping from his lips.

“Nope.” You stretch your hands out in front of you, yawning. “Too hungover to think.”

“Fair enough.” Tom drums his fingers over the wheel, and you find yourself watching the lines of his slender digits. He has very pretty hands. “Good party though, eh?”

“Oh yeah. Crazy. Did you have fun?”

Tom releases a noise of reluctant agreement. “It was alright. Not the most successful night for me.” He risks a brief glance at you, chuckling. “Isn’t really the best look to get escorted to bed.” You aren’t sure if you should feel guilty for that, but Tom’s quick to add, “not that I don’t appreciate it. I do. I just shouldn’t have been so eager.”

“Why were you?” you ask. “It seemed like you were trying really hard to get drunk. Did something happen?”

Tom cackles, the sound so loud and quivering so precisely that it makes you jump. “God, if you only knew…”

“Eh?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

You’re intrigued now. “What?” you press, reaching across the console to pat his thigh. You’re over halfway back to yours now, and like a bloodhound, you want to know answers. “Was it a girl? I’ve not seen you with anyone since… Well, ever.” You furrow your brows. “Did someone reject you?”

Tom’s face clouds over immediately, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat as you watch his jaw set into a hard line.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps, his easy demeanour gone.

“Woah,” you mutter. “Sorry.”

Tom cards a frustrated hand through his hair, his eyes glinting dark. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I was not rejected.” The way his voice quivers makes it sound like a lie.

You pull a face as you cross your arms over your chest, your hangover exacerbating your rapidly falling mood.

“Aren’t we friends?” you ask.

He sucks in a fast breath. “Yep,” he replies, speaking through tight lips.

Something has changed. It’s as if you’ve crossed an invisible boundary that you hadn’t seen, tripped a trick wire only visible to him. The air between you is thick, and Tom doesn’t say another word until he’s turned down your street and pulled into a space outside your house.

“Well… Thanks, I guess,” you mutter. You reach into the footwell and pull up your bag, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn back to face him. For a few moments you bounce between jumping out of the car or staying, but you hate leaving things tense like this. Not with him. “Are we… good?”

Tom turns off the engine. For a moment he stares at his hands on the steering wheel, but then he brings his gaze up to you. His eyes are sad and raw, and it makes your heart hurt.

“We’re fine, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. “Sorry. It’s the, uh… The hangover. Makin’ me act like a twat. I’m sorry.”

You release a sigh of relief. “It’s okay, Tom.” A light chuckle slips by your lips. “I was worried I pissed you off for a moment there.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You? Never, darling.” He drums his hands over his thighs, and you remember the circumstances.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get out of your hair,” you say. You hasten to undo your seatbelt and reach towards the car door, only to pause when Tom reaches out suddenly to touch your arm. “Yeah?”

“I, uh…” Tom’s close, leaning over the console. Your eyes drift over the freckles of his face, and you get distracted by how warm his brown orbs are, like glinting pools of honey. “I really am sorry,” he adds. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “It’s fine.” You glance down to where he’s softly caressing your arm, his eyes fixed firmly on your skin. His hand feels nice. Soothing. He soothes you. He always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tom nods. “Yeah. I’m great.”

You don’t quite believe him, but you’re willing to accept that the hangover has knocked him.

“Well, thank you,” you say. You turn back to face him. “For the lift. And the nuts.”

Tom finally smiles again, and the sight makes your heart soar. “No worries, babe,” he says. He winks. “Any time.”

You lean over the console and kiss his cheek, your mouth hitting a spot of skin closer to his lips than the side of his face. If Tom notices how flustered it makes you, he doesn’t say a thing. You’re still shaking as you pull your bag over your back and hobble from the car, shouting back a tight, “bye!”

Tom raises his hand through the open window and winks again as he pulls away from the curb, leaving your body throbbing persistently and your heart more confused than it’s ever been.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks pass. You don’t see Harrison much, but Tom continues to come to class. Life goes on, nothing unchanged, and finals come and go with ease. Before you know it, it’s the final mixer of the semester.

Harrison’s going to miss it. He tells you as much when you turn up at the frat two hours before kickoff to find him stuffing shirts into a bag. He looks guilty as you walk into his room, question written all over your face.

“You remember Rory, yeah? From UPenn? He invited me to their party. Apparently, they’ve got Travis Scott. It’s gonna be lit, so… I’m going.”

“Overnight?” you ask, looking at his heavy bag. Harrison nods, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. Sorry… I probably should’ve told you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah.” You glance down at your hands and swallow the irritation that festers in your chest. Harrison has never been great at communication. Throughout the duration of your arrangement—whether you’re just dating, or just hooking up—he’s kept his cards close to his chest. He confuses you.

When you’d first spent the night with him, Harrison had acted like he’d wanted something more with you. You’d been on a few dates, he’d brought your flowers, the works. But with time, it’s as if he’s tired of you. The spark has slipped away, and if he wasn’t on his way across state, you’d sit him down and have a discussion about the direction of your entanglement. But he is, and you have no time, so you display your irritation by crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry,” he adds. He finishes zipping up his bag and throws it over his shoulders before stepping towards you. With warm hands, he cups your cheeks and brings you in for a deep, passionate kiss. “You can always come if you want.”

You grimace as you shake your head. “I told Tom I’d help him here,” you say. “It’s fine. Just… Have fun, alright?”

A shadow of jealousy briefly flitters across Harrison’s face, but it’s quick to smooth away when he clears his throat. “‘Course,” he says. He takes your hand and leads you from his room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Hm?”

“Tom. What are you doing with him?”

“Oh. Just hanging up banners, and stuff. He wanted me to help him with the drinks too.”

“Nice.”

The air between you is stale, and you’re glad when Harrison pulls you down the corridor and pauses outside Tom’s room. There’s loud music coming from the room, so Harrison has to rap loudly several times, an act that makes you cringe.

“Come in!” yells Tom. Harrison does just that, pulling you in after him with a firm grip. “Oh, hey guys?”

You instantly wrench your hand from Harrison’s, not wanting him to feel your palm grow hot as your eyes fall onto Tom. You’ve caught him mid-workout, perched on the edge of his bed, shirtless and doing curls with a hand weight. There’s a healthy red flush to his face, and his bicep bulges as he flexes with the weight. All across his chest are lines of thick muscle, and you find yourself staring.

“Hey, dude,” Harrison says. “I’m just on my way out.” He turns to look at you, an easy smile on his face. “Y/N told me you guys have plans tonight, so… I guess, I’m just wondering. Can you keep an eye on her? Look after my girl, y’know?” He pauses to chew on his lip, guilt at leaving reflected in his eyes. “Make sure she’s okay, ‘n all that.”

Tom stands from the bed, tossing the weight onto the mattress with ease before approaching you, smirking. “‘Course, Haz.” He wraps a very hot, slightly sweaty arm around you and pulls you into his side. “I’ll take care of her.” Tom glances at you, shrugging softly. “Take care of you,” he adds.

You don’t know what kind of dangers you might face tonight that warrant a personal guard, but you don’t think you mind it if your attendant is Tom. He’s hot and sweaty and he smells of man, but you burn for him.

“Thanks,” you respond, slightly breathless.

Harrison looks between you both, then shrugs. “Great.” He steps forward and briefly touches his lips to you. Tom freezes, holding you tighter in his arms the moment Harrison kisses you, and that action makes you feel perplexed. “Have a good time, guys.”

“You too, Haz,” Tom responds. You echo similar sentiments.

When the door closes behind Harrison, Tom doesn’t move. He simply holds you tighter, then drops his mouth down and presses a light kiss to the base of your neck. Your choked whimper travels into the air, and you flush as he steps away.

“We will have fun tonight, won’t we, Y/N?” he teases. His eyes are dark as they briefly skitter across your figure. After a moment, Tom walks across the room and picks up a towel and a fresh set of clothes. Tom pauses in front of you, tilting his head as he looks at you. He has to know how frazzled he makes you feel. He’s got to.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice high. “A lot of fun.”

“Mmm. Hope so.” Tom steps forward and cups your cheek in his hot palm, kissing your forehead before stepping back. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself comfortable, yeah? What’s mine is yours.”

A full-body shiver travels down your spine, but luckily it isn’t until he’s turned on his heel and strode over to the door.

“Have fun,” you call out. Tom turns back to wink, then disappears in a flash.

As the door closes behind him, you wonder if you really lost your spark for Harrison, or if the feelings you had for him just paled in comparison to the ones you harbour for his best friend.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party picks up quickly. You split off from Tom a few hours in, being pulled away by one of your friends and staying with them for a while. You start to miss him, though, so you excuse yourself from a game of beer pong out on the patio and walk back into the large frat house, cringing slightly as you hear the loud music. You haven’t been drinking much tonight. Something tells you that you’ll need your sober brain.

It takes you a while to find Tom, the house busy and wild. He’s not in the kitchen, nor the hallway. Your adventures take you to the large living room, where they have the music and the drinks set up. As you wander inside, your eyes take a moment to acclimate to the dim lighting. When they settle, you see him, and the breath leaves your lungs.

Tom is standing in the middle of the dancefloor, talking with a girl. She’s draped in his arms, the tips of her fingers running through his hair as she chats to him. Tom is looking at her intently, paying rapt attention to what she’s saying, but the smile on his face doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes. When he spots you, his brows briefly raise, only for them to lower again as he smirks. He winks at you, then reaches for the girl, bringing her in closer and dropping his mouth so he can start to kiss her neck.

Jealousy consumes you. It burns through every other rational thought that you have. The sight of the girl wrapping herself around him as Tom kisses up her neck makes your fingers curl into fists at your sides, and you start to walk across the room before you can comprehend it. Tom sees you, continuing to make flirtatious eye contact with you as he deposits light, wet kisses to the girl’s shoulder. It feels targeted and provocative, and whatever game that he’s playing seems to work.

“Tom!” you call out when you’re just a few centimetres away. He leisurely pulls away from the girl, dark eyes twinkling mischievously as he looks up at you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

You grimace. Now you’re over here, on the receiving end of stares from Tom and his companion, you wonder why you’d responded so immediately and directly.

“You need to come with me. We have, uh… Things to do.”

Tom raises an eyebrow, stepping away from the girl as he crosses his biceps over his chest. He’s wearing his golden chain, the one that always drives you mad, and he looks so fucking handsome under the UV lights.

“And what would those things be, Y/N?” he asks. The girl at his side is looking between you both.

“You know,” you hiss.

The girl frowns, then huffs out a sigh and pushes at Tom’s arm. “Can we go upstairs?” she asks him. Tom glances at her, chewing his lower lip as he finds himself on the receiving end of her fluttering lashes.

“No, Jess,” he says, evening out the rejection with a soft smile. “I’m sorry. Have a good evening.” Before she can respond, Tom reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you with ease towards one of the corners of the room. You squeal as he tugs you, easily falling into his side and enjoying the press of his warm arm to yours. He drops his voice, pausing only when you’re on the edge of the dancefloor to spin you and press his hands to your waist. “Are you alright, darling?” he asks, smirking. “Looks to me like someone was a little jealous.”

Your body heats up, and you find yourself nibbling at your lower lip as you try to make sense of the situation. “Nope,” you lie. With ease, you reach up and rest your hands on Tom’s broad shoulders. “I was just… Thinking about the night we met. You said we could dance then, but we never did.” You tilt your head to the side, throwing out a convincing smile. “Do you want to change that?”

Tom growls, tugging you closer as he wraps his arms around you. The tips of his teeth brush up against the shell of your ear and you whimper as his hot breath fans out over the side of your face. “Fuck yeah, babe,” he murmurs.

You settle into it easily. Tom ends up pulling you so your back rests flush against his front, his arms skating around to hold your waist as you grind back against him. It’s close and hot, and it doesn’t take long for him to put his lips back where they belong—on your neck, kissing deeply. Everything that he does feels calculated and purposeful, but it’s only when he brings his kisses near your ear and whispers a low, “you’re so fucking hot, baby,” that you come back to earth.

“We… Shouldn’t,” you whimper. Tom kisses your lobe in response. “Harrison.”

“What about him?” he mutters. His voice is raspy and seductive, and the way he strokes his hands over your sides makes your eyes roll back. “He doesn’t care about you like I do, Y/N. You know he doesn’t.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the way Tom sucks deep bruises to the sensitive spot on your neck. Harrison had never been able to find it, had never even tried.

“He cares about me,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Yeah. But not enough.” Tom spins you in his arms, reaching up to cup your cheek in a hand. He peers at you, eyes wide and insistent. “He lies to you. Did he ever tell you about the night that you met?”

You quirk a brow. “No.”

A shadow of hesitation passes over Tom’s face, but he swallows it down. “He only came up to you as part of a… a fucking bet. That’s the only reason I didn’t come back to you that night.” He strokes his fingers over your cheekbone, soothing you when you frown. “You’re the prettiest fucking woman I’ve ever met in my life, and it’s been killing me to see you both together.”

You press your forehead to his, feeling his breath come out in hot pants over your face. “Do you like me, Tom?”

He chuckles. “You have no idea how much, babe.” Tom shifts his hands back to your hair and he cradles your face. “I’d be so good to you. I swear.” He’s speaking earnestly, his voice breaking softly as he looks at you. “I love Haz. He’s my best mate. But we all know that you’re not a good fit. He left you here tonight. He doesn’t satisfy you.” Tom drops his voice, tilting his head to the side as his voice drops lower. He brings his lips closer, kissing the side of your mouth as you shiver. “I could satisfy you properly.”

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. For a moment you stare at Tom, eyes swirling down to his lips, then, as if entranced, you reach down and pull your phone from your bra. Using one hand on the screen, you reach up to cup Tom’s face with the other, smiling softly when he instinctively tilts his lips and kisses the palm of your hand. You write out a short message, the guilt in your heart fading when you briefly check Harrison’s Instagram story and see him surrounded by a sea of girls at the party he hadn’t invited you to.

After sending the message, you tilt the screen towards Tom’s face, watching his skin glow white as he slowly reads the few words.

You: Haz, I’m sorry to do this over text, but it’s over. I think we both know that we’re better as friends.

Tom’s brows raise. “Did you..?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip and slowly tuck your phone back against your chest. “It’s over.”

Tom kisses you immediately, both of his hands anchoring your cheeks. You could almost cry with how good it feels to have his mouth touching yours again. He parts his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth, and you moan as you wrap your arms around his neck. As he holds you tightly, his hands slip down to hold your waist, and though your teeth and noses collide and clash, you don’t care. It’s beautifully imperfect, and it’s so hot that it makes your whole body throb. Tom’s curls give you the perfect leverage to jerk him closer, and as you make out mercilessly on the edge of the dance floor, you feel a piece of you slot into place.

“Come upstairs with me,” he groans, voice thick as he speaks against your lips. Your mouth is wet with spit, but you don’t bother to wipe it clean when you pull back. Tom’s eyes glint with hunger, and he grabs at your hand when you nod.

The journey upstairs is fast and easy, full of your giggles as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. The moment you’re in his room, Tom pushes you back against the door and flicks the lock, attaching his lips to your neck with ease.

“Tom,” you whine, running your hands all over his back as he sucks harshly against your skin.  

His hands skim lower and you curve your spine away from the door so he can grab handfuls of your ass, your moan mixing with his grunt when he pulls away from your neck to kiss your lips again. It’s as if he’s ravenous—unable to pick between your lips and your neck, your hips and your ass. Tom changes his position every few seconds, and the irregularity fills you with excitement.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans. Tom pulls back breathlessly, looking straight into your eyes. “Can I… Are you okay with this?” he clarifies, holding your gaze firmly until you nod.

“I’m more than okay with this,” you say.

“Good, good... Pretty baby.” Tom runs his index finger down your face, his knees bending as he slowly sinks down in front of you. He scatters two light kisses to each of your breasts before travelling down your navel, only stopping when he’s fully on his knees, gazing up at you from beneath his lashes. “Darling?”

“Hmm?” You’re light-headed but aroused, your dress feeling tight as you shuffle against the door.

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat, and the first time you try to speak, only a moan comes out. Tom smirks, fingers easily pushing up the hem of your dress. As his fingertips stroke up your thighs to rest on your waistband, he pauses, tilting his head to the side in question. “Yeah,” you manage, voice a whisper. “I want that so badly.”

“Mmm, should’ve just said, darling.” Tom’s head dips, disappearing between your legs. You whimper as he rubs the front of two fingers down the front of your panties, the material wet and warm. “God…” He unhooks them easily and tugs them down your legs, pausing to allow you to kick them off. When he repositions, he holds your thighs further apart and presses a kiss to your soft flesh. “You’re fucking soaked, lovie.” His hot breath fans across your centre. “Pretty cunt’s just waiting for me, isn’t it?”

His cockiness turns you on, and you’ve barely gotten out a garbled moan before he’s delving in. Tom’s skilful tongue runs up your slit, light at first, gradually leading you into it. You cry out as he finds your clit, sucking softly around the bud before lapping his tip across it gently. You have to reach out and grab ahold of the nearby bookshelf as arcs of pleasure spread out from your centre, small whimpers and moans being pulled from your mouth as Tom continues his assault.

“Tastes like paradise,” he whines, speaking against your cunt. “So sweet, baby. I understand why Haz likes being with you so much.” Tom pauses, drawing a few more strokes across your clit as you whimper. “Mine now,” he murmurs, deep voice vibrating across your centre. “My pussy.”

“Tom,” you moan, legs shaking. He responds by bringing his right hand up, slowly curving two of his digits into your heat. As he starts to thrust his fingers, the sounds of your wet arousal fill the air, making you moan louder. “Feels so good,” you encourage, realising he works harder when you speak to him. The top of his curls brushes against your legs as his tongue continues to glide over your clit, merciless and pleasurable.

“You sound so pretty, love,” Tom says, pulling away slightly. The vibrations from the noise make you moan louder, and you glance down to see him staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust and his chin covered in your juices. He looks back between your legs, readjusting his fingers and curving them at different angles before he strikes gold. When you call out his name, his other hand goes up to your hips, holding you back against the door as he smirks. “I want you to cum for me, darling,” he coos. “Let me make you feel good. I want to hear those pretty little moans. Be loud for me.”

You don’t take much convincing, as once Tom’s got his mouth back on your clit, you’re arching your back as you fall over the edge. He laps your bud with his hot, firm tongue, his fingers continuing to stroke at your walls until you spasm into climax, reaching out to grab his hair as you moan and writhe against the door. He holds you up, even when you feel like falling, and it has to be the most intensely pleasurable orgasm that you’ve ever experienced in your life.

“Fuck,” you pant, only able to calm down when Tom pulls back. He sits on his shins, smacking his lips as he looks up at you, smirking. You’ve still got a hand on his head, so you fiddle with his hair as you recover. “That was so good.” A breathless smile finds your face. “So good. Thank you.”

“No problem, darling.” Tom clambers to his feet, and your eyes find themselves drawn to the bulge in his jeans. “Knew I could make you cum,” he says, speaking almost to himself. “Looked like an angel. Taste like one too.”

You swallow a moan and step forward, hands twisting behind your back to release your zipper. Tom’s eyes widen as you push down your dress, stepping out of it with ease.

“We’re not done yet, are we?” you ask, biting your lip as you look over to the bed. Tom shakes his head and offers you a hand after you’ve pulled your phone from your bra and placed it down on his desk.

“No way,” he agrees. Tom pushes you down onto the mattress but stays standing at the edge, nimble hands quickly releasing his belt and pulling off his jeans, then his shirt. You admire his Calvin Klein boxers, black with a white band skimming across the top, and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Fuck,” he adds. His eyes skim your figure, appreciation held in his gaze. “I can’t believe I’ve got you here.” He gets on the bed, pushing you down and climbing on top of you as he kisses his way up to your mouth. When he’s hovering above your face, he cups your cheeks. “Most beautiful girl in the whole world, love. Girl of my dreams.”

You kiss him, your hands finally able to learn the curves of his muscular back. Tom grinds down into you, his covered crotch meeting your bare pussy, and the friction to your clit makes you moan into the kiss. As you admire his form, you settle into his lips, your heart beating faster and more persistently against your ribcage.

“Tom,” you say, speaking against his mouth. He pulls back, lips red and puffy. “You’re so handsome. Have I ever told you that?”

Tom bites his lip, continuing to roll his hips down against yours. When you start to grind up to meet him, an expression of enjoyment darkens his face. “Thanks, love.”

You lick your lips as you wrap your arms around him, holding him closer as he continues to grind into you. “Every time I’d see you out doing weights or walking around shirtless, it’d turn me on,” you admit. You snake a hand between your bodies, managing to press your palm up and against the outline of his cock. Tom groans loudly, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and whining as he ruts against the pressure. “I want to feel you,” you whimper. “Properly. I want to feel how good it is to have you inside me... I can feel you. I know you’re big.” You bite your lip. “I’ve thought about it for weeks.”

Tom forces his face away from your neck and meets your eyes, his pupils completely dilated. “You are going to be the death of me, lovie,” he says seriously, drawing a chuckle from your lips. Tom leans up and kisses you, softer, but only for a moment. He reaches across his bed and rummages through his bedside table, procuring a condom a second later.

“Let me do it,” you offer. Tom nods, and you swap positions with ease. Tom settles on the mattress, raising his hips and watching as you tug his boxers down his legs. You feel yourself salivate slightly as you take sight of his cock, erect and flushed, pressing up against his lower stomach. Holding the open condom in one hand, you run your thumb over his tip with the other, gathering beads of his silver precum on your fingertip. You meet Tom’s eyes and sit back on his thighs as you push your finger into your mouth, exaggerating your moan as you lick it clean.

Tom tosses his head back, his hair fluffing up against the pillows. His cock twitches against his stomach. “Fuck, baby… You’re driving me crazy.” When you reach back and roll the condom over his length, he can barely keep still, rutting up and filling your hand the moment you’re done. “You know… every time you stayed the night with Haz, I could hear you guys,” he says, looking at you through hooded eyes. You give him a few pumps, biting your lip as you admire his member and try to imagine how good it’ll feel filling you to the brim. “Used to get off listening to your moans. Imagining it was me fucking you. Thinking… Thinking about how good it’d be to- fuck- to open you up on my cock.”

His words make you feel hot, and you speed up the rhythm of your hand as you watch his face flush with heat. “I know,” you admit. “I could hear you sometimes.” You lean up and press a kiss to his chest, feeling his hot skin between your lips. “You make the hottest noises, Tom.”

“For you,” he groans, jaw tensing. “It’s all for you.” He continues to rut into your hand, and you smirk as you feel him throb. As Tom grows more erratic, you feel your slick between your legs thicken and your core begin to throb.

“Can I ride you?” you ask.

Tom immediately bounces his head, eyes lighting up like you’ve spoken the only thing he’s ever wanted to hear. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—”

You bend over to kiss him, sliding up his body with ease. Tom reaches up your back, eager hands falling to a stop at your bra. He manages to unclasp it after a few attempts, grinning victoriously against your lips as it falls slack. Once you’ve thrown it aside, you sit back, watching as Tom’s hand goes down to guide his cock through your slit. One of his hands rests on your hip, palm hot and heavy, and he gives you a short squeeze as he presses his tip against your entrance.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, moaning loudly as his girth stretches your cunt. Your eyes squeeze shut as you adjust, breath hitching when Tom adds his thumb to your clit, the pleasure easing the stretch. When you’re completely seated, you find yourself shifting, Tom groaning when you clench and slowly start to ride him.

“Oh my god,” he moans. “Feels like heaven, darling. Actual heaven.” His jaw is tense as he tosses his head back, prying open an eye to watch as you bounce over him, moving faster as you find your rhythm. “So wet, sweetheart. So tight… So much better than I’d ever imagined.” He’s looking at you with pleasure screwed across his face, and the sight of him so desperate makes you feel powerful.

“Tom,” you whimper. “I can feel you so deep.” You’re starting to unravel, feeling him everywhere. With the thumb still rolling over your clit, his hand weighing down your hip, and the tip of his cock brushing deeper each time you come together, you can feel yourself on the verge already. “Can you… I can’t…”

“Y’wanna flip?”

“Yeah. Please.”

It happens easily, without Tom falling from you. A moment later, you’re resting over the warm mattress, wrapping your legs around Tom’s back and pulling him closer as he rails you into the bed. He’s faster than you’d been, and the new angle opens you up deeper, allowing his tip to press more pronouncedly against your g-spot. His chain dangles against your neck, the cool metal scorching against your flushed skin.

“Oh god,” Tom groans. The sounds of your bodies meeting as he roughly thrusts into you, again and again, fill the air. “You’re so perfect. Feels so good.” His eyes are dark as they meet with yours, swirling with unrestrained lust. “So wet, lovie. D’you like it when I fuck you? Yeah? Pussy’s squeezing me so tight. My pussy, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, liking how it sounds.

Tom grunts and drills into you faster. With each rotation of his hips against yours, his thick head reaches further, dragging across your g-spot with ease and causing sparks to race up your spine. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and you clutch at his torso for purchase as you scramble to stay grounded. When you add a hand to your clit, you feel your cunt clench, squeezing his length and making him groan again.

‘I’m not gonna last, love. Shit. Feels too fucking good,” he whimpers.

You bring his lips back to yours, meeting them clumsily as you moan. Your skin is hot and sweaty, being smothered by the heat of his body bearing down on you. You wind your free hand into his hair. “It’s okay,” you get out, voice catching. “I’m so close, Tom. Fuck. Make me cum. Please.”

You ride the edge for a few moments more before Tom cries out, calling your name in a voice so exerted and broken that it pushes you over the edge too. As his cock pulses against your walls and his groans fall like music to your ears, you let everything go, basking in the pleasure that crashes over your figure in thick, consuming waves. Tom’s hands are slick as they grasp at your sides, but he’s holding you tightly in place and you like it.

When the air finally clears, Tom pulls out, collapsing onto the mattress beside you with a loud groan. You flip onto your side, quivering as your core pangs with pleasurable aftershocks, your tired eyes drifting up to meet his. He reaches out, sweaty palm drifting to your face as he cups your cheek and smiles at you.

“Well,” he starts, voice low. He pulls you closer, and you carefully curl yourself into his arms. Tom nuzzles his lips against your forehead and leaves three light kisses to your skin. “That was a heavenly experience.”

You snort, burying your face in his chest and feeling the cool metal of his chain press to your skin. “Heavenly?”

“Mhmm. Because you’re an angel. My angel.”

You smile into his front. “What a charmer,” you say.

Tom combs some fingers over your hair and softly coaxes you away from his chest. Both of you share a pillow, his deep brown eyes feel of inquisition as he looks at you.

“Darling,” he mumbles, speaking slowly, almost nervous. “I like you a lot. And… And I know the circumstances are messy and complicated, but… I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I want this to be an every time thing. I want you to be my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Yeah. My girlfriend.” Tom’s handsome eyes flutter over your face. “What do you say?”

You trace your index finger around the sculpted lines of his face, smiling softly as his lips pull into a grin. You think about how your life has changed since the first night you met him, and how your heart has slowly learnt to gravitate towards him. Tom’s right—it is messy, and maybe your union is complicated and a little wrong too, but it feels good. Him kissing your forehead and pulling you closer feels good. He feels good.

“Yeah,” you agree, speaking slowly. “I would really like that.”

Tom’s face splits into a smile, and he pushes in to kiss you. “Good,” he murmurs. “‘Cos I’m gonna woo you every single day of your life. I’ll bring you tea every morning, tuck you in at night. Make you moan louder than you’ve ever moaned in your life—”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already won me over, Tom, you can calm down—”

“Nope.” Tom’s grinning widely as he continues to peck your lips, unable to keep his hands off you. “I’ll keep charming you until I’ve won your heart, babe. This is just how it’s got to be.”

You kiss him, not knowing how to tell him that he’s already had your heart, firmly in the palm of his hand, since the very first night you met.

“Well,” you respond, voice quiet in the air. “I quite like the sound of that.”

Tom nuzzles his nose against you, lips brushing yours. “Yeah?”

You hum affirmatively and reach up to bury your hands back into his hair. “Yeah.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:D let me know what you think please !!! I would love to know if you have a favourite scene...?! I am torn between y/n putting tom to bed + the lecture theatre...lmk (if you want !!)

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3 

thank you for reading!! <3<3

[juniorgman187]

i ♡ u (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader and Spencer are trapped in the office during a storm. 

Category: Smut, Fluff Content Warning: cussing, unprotected sex/creampie, thunderstorm Word Count: 4.5k A/N: I don’t really like this imagine tbh so don’t be afraid to share your opinions

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“It was a dark and stormy night just like this one . . .” Reid said with a spooky voice. Thunder clapped in the distance and lightning flashed, adding to the mood of the room. Reid waited for your reaction, but you didn’t have it in you. You pressed your fingers to your temples, hoping that moving them in a circular motion would somehow stimulate your brain and magically generate logical thoughts that weren’t clouded by your weariness. 

“Sorry, Reid. I’m listening. Keep going.” You didn’t want to discourage him with your fatigue. You were the only one who would consistently give Reid the time of day, and you never faltered in that. At times, you were the only one who’d let him finish speaking.

“You usually love my campfire scary stories,” You knew without even looking at him that Reid was pouting out of disappointment. “I really think you should go home. I’ll call you if I find something or if I need you.”

“No, no you shouldn’t be working on this alone. I’ll be fine.” You slapped your cheeks gently to wake yourself up and forced yourself to refocus on the case. 

Hotch and JJ had to fulfill parenting duties, Prentiss was away doing a custodial interview for a couple days, Rossi and Morgan both went home a few hours ago because they could barely keep their eyes open, and Garcia was most likely knocked out in her bat cave. The team had been working on this case for 24+ hours straight and it was draining, but you weren’t about to leave Reid alone to work on it by himself. It wasn’t a contest or a way to prove that you were somehow a better agent if you stayed up working with him, but you genuinely didn’t feel right delegating all of the responsibility onto him. It happened too often where Reid’s good heart and great work ethic was taken advantage of. 

“Have you narrowed down the comfort zone?” You sipped at your lukewarm coffee, wincing at the unpleasant taste but grateful for any burst of energy you could get. 

Reid nodded, drawing a large red circle. He was in the middle of explaining when his words started sounding like complete nonsense. “Interstate 55 miles true North latitude triangulate.” 

You almost thought you were hallucinating or something to that effect, but Reid saw the genuine fear in your eyes and quit his prank. “No, you’re fine! You’re fine! I was just saying random words to play with you. I thought it’d scare you enough to realize you need to get some sleep.” 

“Reid!” You chucked a pen at him that he successfully dodged. This only made him laugh harder. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy.” You told him. 

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked seriously.

It was a huge red flag that it took you somewhere around a minute to come up with the answer since it had been so long that you couldn’t remember. You waved your hand in the air to rid him of his concerned expression. He had no reason to worry. “Really, I’ll be fine. It’s less dangerous to be running on less than 8 hours of sleep than it is to leave one person to solve an entire case by himself. I’m not going home, Reid. I’m here to stay.” 

He noticed your stubbornness and thought of a new approach to neutralize the situation. “What if you and I both call it a night right now and then wake up in a few hours?” 

Now, this sounded like a plan you could get behind. Without any resistance, you set an alarm for 5 a.m and flopped onto the couch just beside the round table. Reid joined you, slipping into his rightful spot behind you. You’d had plenty of platonic sleepovers that constituted sharing the same couch/bed with him, so this was nothing new. With your back barely touching Reid’s chest, you shut your eyes. It didn’t take more than ten minutes for both of you to drift off. 

BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP!

A loud blaring noise filled the room. It made you and Spencer wake up at the same time. 

“What is that?” His voice was all raspy from where he just woke up. 

The sound was weirdly familiar, but you didn’t know where you recognized it from. That’s when you looked out the nearest window and saw that it was still dark outside. 

“I don’t know, but it’s not our alarm.” You pointed out. That’s when Reid eyed the clock on the wall. 

3 a.m. 

You quickly felt around in the dark, reaching inside your purse for your phone. When you pulled it out, the ear-splitting noise got louder, making you realize it was your phone after all, but you were right. It wasn’t your alarm. 

“It’s just a flash flood warning.” You relayed to Reid, squinting at the brightness of your phone. No wonder Reid didn’t know what the sound was - his ancient phone didn’t have the feature. You grumbled, falling back onto the couch. 

“There’s no way I’m gonna fall back asleep after that.” He groaned. 

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I’m wide awake now.” Stupid flash flood warning. 

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes while Reid stretched and got up from the couch. Checking the notifications he’d gotten on his phone, he said, “Garcia left while we were asleep.” 

“And then there were two.” 

Everyone was probably catching z’s while you two were catching the killer - or trying to at least. 

So, if it was just going to be Reid’s brain and your brain functioning to work on the case, you needed some coffee. 

“I’ll be back.” You walked down to the kitchen with your mug in hand and just as you were about to grab the coffee pot, a huge flash of lightning struck outside and suddenly the office went dark. The lights went out and the gentle hum of the generator shut off.

“Spencer!” You screamed out of fear. You heard the pitter-patter of his footsteps rushing to you. That’s when you saw Spencer using his archaic phone’s flashlight to find his way to you. He pulled you into a quick hug asking if you were okay, and you answered you were fine, just spooked. When you came down to pour coffee, you didn’t remember seeing anyone else, but now your stomach turned thinking about how someone might be in here with you - listening to you.

“Take out your gun,” He whispered. You did as he ordered you to, pulling your gun out of the holster. “Turn on the flashlight.” You clicked it on and handed it over to him, remembering that he didn’t have a flashlight on his gun because he had a revolver. 

“Stay behind me.” He commanded. You moved back, basically hugging him from behind. You thought you were actually going to pass out from fear if you didn’t hold onto him for dear life. He did a quick pass with the flashlight, revealing no one else was in the bullpen unless they were hiding. 

BANG! BANG!

You yelped in fear. “It’s just the thunder, Y/N,” He reasoned, reminding you of the ongoing storm. Oh right, there was a thunderstorm happening, too. Great. “Here take this and go back to the conference room.” He gave you his revolver and kept your gun, ushering you to walk back to the round table. 

“What? Why? Where are you going?” Your small voice had never sounded so shaky. 

“I’m gonna check the power box and see if I can fix it.” 

Your first instinct was to shake your head disapprovingly, but then you remembered that he couldn’t see you in the dark. “No way! You’re not leaving me alone in a dark room. I’m coming with you.” 

He didn’t argue against it probably because he was just as scared as you were. Reid did another quick survey of the room, using the beam of your flashlight to double check that there was no one else around. 

As you clung to Reid, you made yourself sick just by thinking of all the horrifying possibilities that could happen. For all you knew, a whole group of unsubs was waiting for you at the power box, knowing you and Reid would check there as soon as the electricity went out. Would whatever happened to you two tonight become a campfire scary story that other FBI agents would talk about just like how you and Reid talk about them? The odds were not in your favor. No lights. Storm outside. 3 a.m. Just the two of you, and no offense to Reid, but if this were a horror movie, he was probably the last person you wanted to be with. Top of the list was easily Morgan, because at least if Morgan was scared shitless by the predicament, he wouldn’t show it.

While Reid led the two of you through the pitch black darkness, both of your hands were holding onto his upper arm. You’d taken cover behind him, poking your head past his shoulder just far enough to see what he was seeing but only so far that you could duck quickly if you needed to. Frankly, Spencer didn’t even seem to mind that you were clinging onto him for protection. It kind of made him feel good actually. 

When you reached the power box, you released your grip on him, only realizing just how tight you’d been clutching him when you saw imprints left on his shirt from where you’d been holding on. 

“Take this.” He handed you the flashlight while he used both of his hands to pry open the box. 

You watched as his fingers grazed over the wires and fiddled with the buttons. Would it be weird to admit that his hands were kind of attractive? You’d never realized the largeness of them or how veiny they were, but there was something about them that made them so sexy to you.

He made a disapproving sound after further inspection.

“What’s wrong?” You weren’t actually wondering, but if you asked him, it would seem like you were actually paying attention to the situation at hand and not his hands. 

“It looks like the power shut off from a larger source, meaning there could be a blackout citywide. That also means I can’t fix it.” 

Hearing you’d be in the dark with no heat source was enough to snap you out of your trance. 

“I have an idea.” You led Reid to Garcia’s bat cave, after a memory of Garcia showing you her collection of glow in the dark figurines replayed in your mind. 

When you opened the cabinet, you smiled instantly at the sight of all the toys brightly lighting up the inside of the drawer. You knew that spending hours with Garcia listening about her toy collection would pay off eventually. Both of you carried all the toys you could and headed right back into the conference room. You placed them sporadically so that the entire room was dimly lit. Had these been candles instead of luminescent toys, it would’ve been ambient and romantic, but again - they weren’t candles. 

Unintentionally, you shivered audibly when a loud wind crashed just outside. The generator went out along with the lights, so it was awfully cold in the room.

Reid was about to give you his sweater when you stopped him by walking right up to him and stealing his body heat in a hug. Rather than embracing him around his sweater, you snaked your arms under the cardigan to really feel his warmth. And as if Reid was trying to kill you with kindness, he pulled the sides of his sweater to stretch around your back and swaddled you into his sweater with him. You smiled against his chest. Not much could make this moment sweeter.

“Better now?” He asked, peering down at your face.

You silently nodded, closing your eyes as if removing your sense of sight would heighten your sense of touch. You wanted to feel his affection as deeply as you could. 

“Tell me when you want me to let go.” 

“Not yet.” 

He laughed at your childish desire to be swaddled like this, but he was enjoying the warmth just as much as you were. 

“We can’t do much work with the power out so let’s just try to get some more sleep.” He walked with you to the couch, keeping his promise of not letting go until you told him to. 

With the storm outside and the flash flood warning, you two would just have to stay in the conference room until you had the all clear. You weren’t opposed to this entirely, though. There were much worse things you could do than listen to the rain in the arms of Spencer Reid.

“Okay, you can let go now but just for a second.” Your baby voice made him chuckle. He loved how you unabashed you were when asking for his attention. Reid laid down just as he did before, with his back on the backrest of the couch, and instead of having your back to him, you cuddled right up to him. While still wearing his sweater, he covered you in it again, drawing you even closer. 

For some reason, even though you were beat and you knew you needed the sleep, you couldn’t seem to shut your mind off and rest. You were awake for what felt like hours. You would’ve tossed and turned all night, but instead, you kept very still so Reid wouldn’t wake up. 

You’d be so focused on trying to fall asleep yourself that you didn’t even notice when Reid did. When you looked up, you saw his mouth was slightly agape, his eyes were shut and would occasionally flutter, and when you pressed your ear to his chest, he was breathing much slower than he was earlier. 

“If you stay still for 15 minutes, you’ll fall asleep. Just lay in the same position and don’t move.” He mumbled. So he wasn’t asleep? And he knew you weren’t either?

“I have been staying still, but it’s not working.” You whined. 

“Just try.” Reid murmured again.

You shut up and sighed, closing your eyes. This time, you made a conscious effort not to move a muscle. You even counted to 60 in your head 15 times, but after those 15 minutes, you were still awake. You weren’t even sure what was causing your insomnia. It was really peaceful to have the sound of the rain cascading down the window and the occasional boom of thunder outside. Being in Spencer’s arms was cozy, too, but there was still something keeping you up. 

“Spencer? Are you awake?” You scooted up so you could see his face. 

The only thing the moon was illuminating clearly was his lips. There was a distinct beam of silver light casting on his mouth, almost like it was lighting them up specifically. Like some sort of sign. A sudden urge possessed you, so without reason, you brought your hand up to his face and grazed your thumb over his bottom lip. Even with the gentle touch you were using, you were still able to feel how soft it was. You slowly dragged your thumb in a downwards motion, watching the elasticity of his lips cause it to bounce back up into its place. You nearly giggled at the sight. You moved your thumb to the corner of his mouth and followed it upwards to the natural curve of his upper lip. If you weren’t so observant before, you wouldn’t have noticed how Spencer very subtly parted his lips wider for you. Curiosity overcame you and you slowly inched closer to his mouth with your own.

“I think I want to kiss you . . . Can I kiss you?” You spoke in a soft voice, with each of your lips ghosting over his. 

A moment of stillness. Maybe he was asleep. Then, a small, very small nod of Reid’s head. You smiled as he let you take control. With your hand already along his jaw, you lifted his face slightly so you could feel the full force of your kiss. You pulled him in closer to relish the soft feeling of his puckered lips. He released his grip on the sweater that was still swaddling you so he could press the small of your back, forcing your hips to drive into his. The need to be even closer was translating into the kiss. It grew hungrier - more passionate and needy. Spencer raised up from the couch, propping himself up on his forearm so he could hover over you. You followed his lead and shifted to be underneath him. With his body over you, he was able to push off his forearms and onto his hands. They were on either side of your head, forcing you to sit up with him so your lips wouldn’t leave his. 

“Wait, wait,” He muttered, pulling away. You followed him with your mouth is desperation, until you couldn’t anymore, making you sit up entirely while Spencer backed away. 

“What’s wrong?”

“If we don’t stop now, I don’t know if I can stop later . . . I won’t be able to control myself.” 

It was in this moment you realize why you were often the only member on the team who’d actually listen to Reid. Nothing he could say would ever turn you off. Any word that escaped his lips was something you wanted to hear. His confession of being uncontrollable was no exception. 

“Do you know what I want to do?” There was a newfound confidence in your tone that shocked the both of you. 

“What do you want to do, Y/N?” Apparently, Spencer’s tone was just the opposite. He sounded like he was trembling with fear with anticipation. 

“Guess.” You flirted. 

Even in the dark, you could see Reid’s gears turning as he tried to find the right answer. He read your expression for a hint and made his guess by planting a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You’re cold.” 

He quickly caught on. You were making a game out of this. 

Hot and cold.

Reid made his next move with uncertainty. He slowly started moving forward to resume the position he had before he pulled away. As he came closer, you followed his lead and leisurely fell back. Every inch he would advance closer to you was an inch that you’d move back further until finally your back was pressed against the couch again and Spencer was hanging over you once more. With each of his hands beside your head, you smirked. “Getting warmer.”

This boosted his confidence. He was heading the right direction, and there was nothing Spencer loved more than to get things right. 

The same moonlight that was streaming onto his lips earlier was dancing on his eyes. The hazel color glimmered in the silver light. You could see they were asking, ‘Can I?’ You answered his look with a silent nod. 

Spencer reached behind him, following his hand with his eyes as he watched his fingers brush along your thigh. Looking back up at you for permission, which you granted, he peered back down, watching his fingers slip underneath the hem of your skirt. You lifted your hips up so he could raise the skirt all the way up. As if he was uncovering lost treasure, his eyes lit up when you were finally uncovered. 

“Fuck me.” He cursed under his breath. This made you ooze with confidence. 

You sat up to align your lips right beside his ear. With a breathy voice, you whispered, 

“Hot.”

He’d finally figured out what you wanted. 

The satisfaction he had in winning your little game gave him the confidence he needed to finally make a move. 

Hurriedly, he dragged your panties off, leaving prominent scratches from his nails on your thighs. He threw them somewhere behind him, while you frantically unbuttoned his dress pants. You almost giggled with glee when you saw just how hard he was. You barely did anything to provoke him, but he clearly enjoyed what little you did do. 

“I don’t have a -” You cut him off with a hasty kiss. 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You needn’t explain more. He got the message when you reached down and gave his shaft a few shallow strokes.

“Oh-” He was immediately caught off guard by your forwardness. “Wait, wait shouldn’t I . . . um, help you first-”

You smiled at his stutter. “Spencer, please. I need you now.” 

There was that unabashed ask for Spencer’s attention that he loved so much. He made small movements until he was properly aligned with your entrance. 

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.” He breathlessly uttered, while gradually pushing in.

You thought you would’ve regretted not letting him finger you before in preparation but the bliss was far greater for some reason. 

The sensation was definitely new to Spencer when his eyes widened. “Oh fuck. You’re so tight.” 

Meanwhile, your face contorted at the feeling of him stretching you out. It was actually more painful than pleasurable. 

“Wait, Spencer - I need to change positions.” You panted. 

He instantly retracted, looking incredibly sorry. “Here,” He helped you up to your feet while taking a seat on the couch. You didn’t need an IQ of 187 to figure out how to position yourself, so you straddled Spencer, hovering over his erection. Taking charge now that you knew you’d feel more comfortable like this, you reached below you to align his length. Instantly, euphoria washed over you when you lowered yourself all the way until you were practically sitting on his lap. Spencer let out a heavy exhale now that you were able to take all of him in this new position. You moved your hands out from under you and put them on Spencer’s shoulders as a way to stabilize you each time you’d come up. After a few cursory movements, you found a comfortable pace. Spencer couldn’t contain himself, he had to grab your hips in his hands and buck up before, his pelvis meeting your ass before you could even fully lower yourself again. With the tempo of motion increasing drastically because of Spencer’s participation, you couldn’t even adjust to his length anymore. Every time he’d pull out was temporary relief for the ever-growing knot forming in your stomach. You bit back a moan when Spencer curled his hips to thrust into you at a different angle. This stroke mercilessly hit that knot in your stomach, forcing a strangled noise out. 

“Don’t stop, Spencer!” You were surprised at how you were even able to put together a cohesive sentence since your brain felt like it was short circuiting. 

With Spencer’s curved thrusts, the knot in your stomach grew bigger and bigger. You even felt yourself clench around Spencer. He felt it, too and his head instantly lolled back in pleasure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head with him. Your skin felt prickly as sweat started dripping from your forehead. If you didn’t know any better, the generator was working again because the heat in the room was thick. Spencer’s strokes were growing slower in anticipation. You picked up the pace for him and made a conscious clench around him to help him reach his peak. 

“I can’t control myself, Y/N. I need to pull out now.” He sputtered.

You made an indistinct noise that communicated your disapproval. It was the only thing Spencer needed to hear to know that it was okay if he came. 

“Cum for me, baby.” You moaned, knowing you were going to follow close behind. 

He dug his nails into your hips, bringing you back to reality as if it was his way of pinching you to tell you it was real. From the pain of his hands clawing into you, you almost couldn’t feel him coming, until you felt it dribble down your inner thigh. Suddenly, it felt like his warm essence made electricity surge through your body and course through your veins. With a speed faster than light itself, the knot in your stomach released. You cried out as his seed mixed with your own and cascaded down like the relentless rain outside cascaded down the window. The euphoria of your orgasm brought you to a complete stop. 

“Holy fuck.” You swallowed hard. The inside of your mouth was dry from where it hung open for so long. 

Spencer was at a loss for words. His silence was so unfamiliar you had to giggle. 

“You okay?” You lifted yourself off of his lap to gain some clarity. He gulped hard. 

“Am I dreaming?” He sounded genuinely dazed and confused, it was adorable. 

Garcia’s glow in the dark toys helped you to find a box of tissues. You took one from the box and wiped yourself before pulling your skirt back down. Meanwhile, Spencer zipped up his pants and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Spencer,” You laughed a little. “You’re scaring me. Are you okay?”

He hadn’t changed his spot on the couch so you straddled his lap again, this time with more pure intentions.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck, while his hands rested on your hips again and his lips were pressing on your shoulder, leaving quick pecks. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confessed against your skin. You leaned back so you could see his face and kept your hands behind his head to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. Enjoying your soothing touch, he closed his eyes and tilted his head to lay against your wrist. He was so precious like this. With Spencer’s head cocked to the side, a distinct beam of light was revealed. This time it was shining onto your face, almost like what it feels like when you accidentally walk past a projector screen and look at the projector light. In this instance though, the light wasn’t nearly as blinding. It was soft and ethereal. It lit up the rain falling on the other side of the window. It even displayed signs of steam coming from the inside. You could see condensation running down the pane. It had gotten so hot in here because of you two that steam was produced. That felt like some sort of accomplishment. You mirthlessly chuckled and leaned forward. With this sudden movement, your chest was pressing against Spencer’s. He was forced to lift his head back up from your wrist when he wanted to examine what you were doing. You leaned past the backrest of the couch and exhaled a hot breath onto the window to make it fog up. Spencer watched you do this over his shoulder, trying to figure out what you were doing. With the glass fogged up, you started drawing a heart with your index finger. You lazily shaded in the heart and looked back at Spencer to show off your creation. It wasn’t pretty by any means, but it meant something. 

Spencer pulled a hand away from your hip to use his fingers to add to the drawing. To the left of the heart, Spencer drew a vertical line with a dot above it, and then to the right of it he drew a small horseshoe shape. You pouted your lips when you finally got the message. 

i ♡ u

You looked at him before blowing another hot breath onto the already existing fog to extend it. You drew a number right beside it. 

i ♡ u 2

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Yandere! Hawks/Keigo Takami X Reader: Caged Songbird~

(Description: Ooo, y’all are in for a treat today~! Hey, my first Gender Neutral AND Yandere fic on this account! And no less, it’s our favorite manwhore, Hawks! I sincerely hope you enjoy reading my story and if you like this fic, don’t worry, I have more yandere fic on the way~! Thank you for your time, consideration, and all the love you royals have shown a simple jester like me!)

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Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(N/N) - Nickname

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“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

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Requester: No One!

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Oneshot (Possible Part 2?) // Manipulative, obsessive, and controlling behavior; hints of stalking; kidnapping

Word Count: 1.7K Words

WARNING(s): Yandere themes, so if you aren’t okay with obsessive/possessive/psychotic natures then please don’t read!

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[P.S: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse me writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference from reading/writing yandere stories V.S real life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like the character in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware and stay safe.]

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~

“Baby bird, wait up!” the last person you wanted to talk to right now, Hawks, giggled as he drifted down to glide next to your frantic self. Even though you were already speed walking down the sidewalk away from his apartment where the two of you had previously been 20 minutes ago, you tugged your jacket closer to your frame and scurried faster through the drafty night in a desperate attempt to make him leave.

“Go away, Hawks. I’m done talking with you tonight.” you mumbled as he continued to spin around you in an almost teasing way that further pissed you off.

“Ouch, (N/N)~,” Keigo grabbed his chest where his heart is while floating directly in front of you to block your path with his massive scarlet wings, “Not even calling me by my first name anymore? C’mon, what happened to ‘my hero~’ or ‘Mr. Stud~’? Not even ‘bird brain’?” he mocked in fake shock.

You scoffed and stepped past his fiery feathers, marching down your path while shouting back, “You don’t get that lovey-dovey crap from me tonight!”

Though the rest of the world was dark in the wee hours of the night, the flickering street lamps guided you to the train station that would take you back home to your apartment that you thankfully hadn’t moved out of yet, even though Hawks constantly  whined about you ditching the “dingy” place in favor of the two of you living together in his over-the-top penthouse. You had no roommates to notify that you were heading back after a few days with Keigo and you had long ago left your parents’ house to live on your own so you pressed on, blocking out his pouty, annoyed huffs of air in favor of dreaming about your cozy bed waiting to coddle you in its embrace with no fear of sharing the space with anyone.

“(Y/N), slow down for a second! Why are you acting so weird?” you heard Keigo’s voice and jogging footsteps sound from behind you. You recognized the feeling of his hand trying to circle around your wrist but before he got too comfortable, you snatched it away from him and swiveled your body back to meet his teasing hooded eyes.

“I’M acting weird? What about you! You brought this onto yourself, stupid!” you hissed while stepping a foot back.

Though that action didn’t make him falter, instead he stepped with you and stared you dead in the eye, “What did I do, hummingbird?” he asked with another sly cock of his head.

“Really? Me yelling at you in the penthouse wasn’t enough,” you growled, “You were checking through my phone while I was in the shower like a total CREEP, Keigo! What were you thinking, that I was just gonna come out of the shower, see you looking through my private messages with friends and family without you previously asking for permission to do, and I would say “Oh, no worries, love!” Are you nuts or something?!” you hollered at the hero whose smirk made you want to gift him a punch straight in the face for his cocky attitude.

“It’s fine, baby bird, I’m just checking to make sure everything was okay! You’ve been distant with me lately~,” his eyebrows twitched up and he gave a small pout as his wings slightly drooped to the pavement.

“Wait, hold on, we’ve been on a few dates for the past two months, no where near officially dating yet, and you think stuff like that is okay? You trust me so little that you have to go behind my back and search through my private things, to what? Prove a point to yourself or something? How did you even get my password?!” you barked in his stupidly attractive face.

“Love, you’re overreaching,” Hawks strode over to you and quickly locked you in his strong arms, though you tried to squirm away in disgust, “There are things in this world that a civilian like you wouldn’t understand. Heroes have to make so many hard decisions and as your hero, I have to make sure to be just that, save you from everything and everyone, even yourself sometimes.”

He leaned his head on yours and you heard him take a deep breath in only to let it out with an almost loving sigh while he continued, “There are bad people in this world that I encounter every day and I don’t want you accidentally stumbling on them through the internet. You know, it’s really rude of you to have kept Tinder on your phone even though we’re already in a committed relationship. Good thing you have me here to help!” he chuckled, his hold on your body tightening with each passing second.

Thoroughly creeped the hell out and not one to look past such obvious red flags though his looks tried to deceive you, you finally broke free of his tight grasp and shoved him back a few feet with shaky hands. You kept your hands outstretched in front of you, though you trembled in fear, and spoke in a fake strong voice, “That’s it, Hawks, we’re done, even though there’s nothing really to be done with in the first place. No more dates, no more hanging out, just flat out don’t talk to me ever again, okay? You see me on the street, walk the other way. I sincerely wish you the best with your dating life, but here’s a tip for the next person you seek out, don’t go poking your head into their personal life until you two are more than close. Goodbye, Keigo.” you finished, breaking out into a sprint towards the train station, leaving a flabbergasted Hawks in the dust.

Keigo stood where you had just been and simply stared at your retreating form as you sped off into the night. His eyes glazed over in pure jealousy and rage as his wings poofed up behind him to physically show his anguish. He stood under the buzzing streetlamp for a couple minutes more, processing the information, until he let out a small snicker. His snickering turned into giggling, escalating to laughter, and finally into an uncontrollable hollering. He bent over himself in the fit of insanity and after gulping down the lost air in his lungs as he looked back up to the place where you had previously stood with a menacing glint sparking in his honey-colored eyes.

“(Y/N)’s just...confused...yeah. Yeah! My god, how didn’t I see it before?! I’m such a bad boyfriend! But I can fix this,” Hawks shakily straightened back up and pulled his jacket tighter to himself, smoothing down his ruffled hair and wings, “Yeah, I can fix this.” He concluded to the empty air with a satisfied hum.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), Keigo’s here to save you yet again~,” Hawks’ crazed smile flashed in the night as he flipped down his wind-resistant glasses.

~

~ Timeskip to 10 minutes later and we’re with you! ~

~

You panted for air as your run slowed into a brisk walk yet again. Now about a half a mile away from the complete psycho you had been with, you felt much safer now than any time you’d ever been around him, pro hero or not. You swiveled around on your feet and looked behind you as you walked down the street backwards, taking careful steps and surveying the area to make sure that weirdo hadn’t followed you. No one behind you on the lonely road, no one hiding in the allies or on the rooftops you could see, and no bird brain flying behind you in the air. It was almost eerie how alone you were but you still smiled, finally free.

“Thank goodness, that was getting awkward. I’ve really gotta stop letting guys with pretty faces fool me into a date.” you huffed to yourself as you remained walking backwards. Pulling out your smartphone from your jacket pocket, you swiped through your device and pushed on the phone app to call your mom to let her know that instead of heading back to your apartment you’d like to spend the night with them, no doubt in your mind that if Hawks was determined enough he probably would have scoped out your place already since ‘heroes have connections’ and all.

As you tried to press the ‘call’ button, you heard the sound of something swiftly cutting through the air behind you but before you had time to react your phone was launched out of your loose grip. You watched as the fast moving object shot and stuck into the ground, having entirely pierced through your phone and the solid cement, rendering the device useless. Nothing but fear raced through your veins as you recognized the weapon as one of Hawks’ scarlet feathers you had happily stroked not so long ago.

Before you could book it once more down the empty street, you felt two strong arms wrap around your arms and torso. You yelped as they constricted around you like a snake wrapping around its prey and began wildly thrashing your legs, trying to wiggle your way out of your captor’s hold. You heard the “hero” sweetly coo in your ear, almost like he was trying to calm a restless baby, and you suddenly felt big gusts of wind push around your body and through your desperate squirming you realized that you were no longer on the ground.

“Relax, baby bird,” Keigo sighed in content as he swung your body up and into his arms, pinning your arms to your side and carrying you like a royal being saved by their knight, “We’re just going back home so you can...calm down a little! You’ve been under such stress lately, haven’t you? That’s probably why you lashed out! I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner, love.” Tears of frustration blurred your vision as your legs thrashed as hard as they could, but nothing could loosen the man’s tense grip.

“Let me go, you...you psychopath!” you screamed out, fast wind whipping past your face as Keigo sped back to your prison.

“Awe~, (Y/N), don’t cry,” Hawks nuzzled your head, a purr rumbling in the back of his throat as one of his feathers brushed away the tears dripping past your cheeks, “Your hero will take care of everything now~!”

~

~ The End ~

~

[stillebesat]

Scales (2/7)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Deceit, Virgil, Roman, Patton Blurb: Deceit hadn’t expected his absence from the Mindscape to be noticed by the others…until Logic knocked on his door. Fic Type: General Warnings: Shedding (snake style), Minor Injuries, Minor Pain, Touch Starvation Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Prologue 

“Lyal?”

It was the muffled sound of the name he’d given to the others that jerked Deceit awake more than the knock on his door.

He gave a soft groan, letting his head rest back on his sodden pillow as he closed his human eye. Who in the world would want to come disturb him? His nostrils flared, gathering in the visitor’s scent as the person on the other side knocked again. Deceit shifted his head so his inhuman eye could look at the door and to the faint heat signature standing just beyond it. 

Straight backed and Cool Yellow in shade. Smelling of Old Books and Blackberries no-it was sweeter. So...Jam… That could only mean it was--

“Lyal? It’s Logan. I have Pizza.” 

Pizza? Deceit frowned, pushing himself up on a shaky elbow, disturbing the mist drifting through his humid room. Pizza night wasn’t until Friday. Why were they having it early?

“Lyal. Please. We’re worried. Open the door.”

Worried? Why in the world were they worried? Usually his absences from the Mindscape were celebrated by the others. 

Deceit took a breath, steeling himself before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He swayed as the vision in his good eye tunneled, but forced himself to move towards the door only to have his uncoordinated feet tangle in his cape he’d left on the floor. 

He bit back a yelp, barely managing to avoid banging his head on his desk as he fell, catching himself with his good hand as the other curled up tight against his chest to avoid antagonizing it further. 

He groaned, cursing under his breath as he pushed shakily back to his feet. Ugh. It was bad this time. Deceit brushed at his sweating forehead, the fingers of his good hand delicately touching the left side of his face and the leathery texture covering his scales. Stiff. He was only halfway through the shedding process, which meant--he glowered at the door. Were the other Sides really so worried about him to come bribing him with pizza after being absent for twenty-four hours? It’d only been one day for crying out loud! They could leave him in peace that long. What had happened to not caring about when he was there or not?

The doorknob jiggled. “Lyal?”  

Deceit closed his human eye. Right. The name. How could he have forgotten? Things were different now that he’d given the Light Sides a name to refer to him by after they’d nearly tricked him into revealing his real one four months ago. 

Four months ago when he’d just come out of the last shed. When he was more vulnerable to…trickery. Not that the others had known. They’d just lucked out in timing. 

He hadn’t thought a name would have such an effect on them though, not even after their invitation a couple of days after the event to come join them for their ‘family’ dinners. 

Ha. Inviting the bad guy to ‘family’ dinner. He’d laughed. Accepted. Come…and kept coming because he...he liked the change in tone towards him. Liked the homemade food. Liked the banter he could participate in without worrying about it coming back to bite him. 

But after all that…Deceit hadn’t thought disappearing for a couple of days would result in the Light Sides worrying for him. He edged his way carefully to the door, shuffling his feet so he wouldn’t trip over anything else. 

If he had known how...sensitive the others would be to him vanishing, he would have made better preparations for his disappearance. But how could he have known? Creativity vanished all the time into the Imagination with barely a reaction and the others actually liked him. 

Deceit ran a hand through his hair, fingers jerking away from the waxy substance coating the strands on the left side. A newer addition to the shedding process thanks to when Thomas made the decision to dye his hair a couple years ago.

Another knock. Another jiggle of the door knob. “Deceit. I can hear you in there. Please. Are you alright?” 

A please? From Logic? What was wrong with the Side to use that around him? Deceit glowered at the heat signature as he fumbled his way to the door, unscaled hand held out in front of him. He didn’t like moving when his depth perception was skewed like this, it made him feel vulnerable, not being able to tell when objects were getting too--he slipped on his gloves he’d also left scattered on the floor, hitting the door with a loud thud.

Ow.

“Lyal!” 

Deceit groaned, wincing as he pushed himself upright, the left side of his body screaming at him with large red flashes of agony. Too sensitive. Too much---He growled mentally pinching himself. Suck it up. He’d had worse pain during his sheds. 

He couldn’t think of any instances at this particular moment, but he was sure he’d had worse.

Deceit fumbled with the series of locks keeping Logic out, his right hand less skilled with the mechanisms than his left would be if it were functional at the moment.

A final click.

There.

Deceit exhaled, gathering his flagging energy. Just a brief interaction. He could do this. Reassure Logic. Then he could go back to bed. He pulled open the door a crack, peering at the Side with his human eye, careful to keep his left side out of sight.

Logic stood there, a paper plate with four slices of pizza on it held in his hands. Relief flashed across his face as he leaned forward, his amber eyes sharpening like a snake about to strike as he held out the plate to the small gap. “Here.” 

Deceit swallowed, his nostrils once again flaring as the scent drifted to him. This was so unfair to have his mouth watering even as his stomach twisted in knots. “I’m not hungry.” He said, keeping his voice low. He tightened his grip on the handle. He never was during this time.

Logic frowned, adjusting his glasses with one hand. “Not hun--” He shook his head, holding the pizza up higher. 

As if that would change his mind.

“How can that be a truth, Lyal?” He demanded, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “It’s been far too long--”

Twenty-four hours wasn’t that long. “I’ll be down in a couple of days, Logic. Don’t worry.” He said, trying to reassure the Side, though Deceit couldn’t quite hide the weariness in his tone as he edged the door shut. The process only ever took three days max, even if this time around had left him feeling weaker than normal.

The others could survive without his presence that long. They had before.

He jumped, an involuntary hiss escaping his lips as Logic slapped his hand on the door, keeping it open before Deceit could fully close it.

Logic shook his head, arm stiff. “It’s been six days, D--Lyal.” He said, meeting his eye. “As much as a nuisance as partaking of substance is, we do need to eat too in order to fully function for Thomas. You have to eat something.” He tilted his head to the top slice that had pepperoni on it. “At least take a bite from one of them.” 

His heart skipped a beat. “Si-Six…Days?” Deceit repeated, numbly. The fingers of his left hand twitched, their movements stiff under the leathery texture. No. That couldn’t be--the shed would have finished in six days. He wouldn’t be---

The pizza.

They were going to have pizza on Friday.

Logic had pizza in his hands.

It was Pizza night!

He inhaled sharply, swaying as his vision tunneled. No. NO. He couldn’t have lost six days! It felt only like ONE.

But the weakness to his limbs, the dizziness when he stood---

“Lyal?” Logic asked, concern strong in his tone as he leaned forward trying to peer through the crack to see him better. “You...didn’t know?”

“I...I….No---” Deceit shook his head, careful to keep Logic from seeing the shed. “I’m...I’ll be fine. It’s nothing to worry about.” He lied as his mind raced. Six Days?! He hadn’t struggled with a shed for that long since Thomas had decided to come out of the closet! 

What had gone wrong? He had the humidity and the heat in his room set up like he always did at this time. The process should have gone on without issue. Even the newer addition of his waxy hair hadn’t caused major problems before now. What had he done wrong?!

“I...can believe you hadn’t noticed the passage of time, but that last part is a lie.” Logic said in an undertone, drawing Deceit’s attention back to him. “What has you worried? Why are you avoiding us?” “I’m not avoi--” He grimaced, drawing back so that Logic could no longer see him. He needed the other Side to leave so he could work on fixing this! Sheds should never last this long. The left side of him shouldn’t feel so constricted still. Not after six days! If he didn’t fix it soon there could be so many issues, deformities. He already was a freak among the others, he didn’t want to make it even more obvious.

“You are. Is it because--”

“My reason isn’t what you think it is.” Deceit interrupted, hand trembling on the knob as he stared at Logic’s cool yellow heat signature through the door. “And I don’t want to talk about--” Deceit cut off again, inhaling shakily, hearing the lie in his words. How...Why would he want to talk about it?! He never talked about this. He always dealt with this alone. It’s not like the others could help him in this even if they wanted to. They didn’t have scales.

Logic tilted his head, finally dropping his hand away from the door to fidget with the paper plate. “The others, despite what they might say otherwise, are worried for you, Deceit--ah Lyal.” He said. “I am worried about you. Extremely worried. I-” He shrugged. “I wish I came up sooner, but you never miss pizza night, yet you did tonight and that’s--I wouldn’t have brought some up to you otherwise.”

Deceit snorted, hoping it didn’t sound as hysterical as he was feeling. If Logic hadn’t knocked on his door...how much longer would it have been before he realized his shed wasn’t going well? A freaking week had passed by and he hadn’t noticed!

He closed his human eye, the film covered snake one continuing to stare at Logic’s heat signature. The fact that he came at all was...gratifying in a way. He would never have realized something was wrong otherwise.

He edged forward so he could see Logi---Logan with his human eye. “Yah...that’s usually Morality’s thing is it not?” He whispered. Not that Morality had ever brought him food when he’d been consistent in coming to the family dinners, but Deceit had seen the father figure do it multiple times for Anxiety.

“Correct.” Logan gestured, the paper plate of pizza vanishing from his hands. “But the fact is, whatever you wish to tell us, we can handle it.” He leaned forward again, eyes earnest. “At this point the others and I would prefer to know why you are hiding out in your room so that we can take measures to prevent this series of events from occurring again.” He gestured to Anxiety’s door. “We did the same thing for Virgil, we can do it for you. We can help you, Lyal.”

Deceit sighed, letting his head fall against the door with a dull thunk. “Cute speech, Logic” He mumbled. “But it’s not that simple.” Deceit grimaced. It wasn’t! Yet he wanted it to be. Could Logan help? Could Logic tell him that his shed was something the others could help him with? He couldn’t see how. “This isn’t something that will go away. It’s--It’s--” His breath hitched as tears welled up in his good eye. 

Gah. Stupid. So stupid. He shouldn’t be crying about this! Stupid shed. He shook his head. “It’s a part of me. This won’t change.” He accepted it long ago, but he doubted the others would.

Logan’s heat signature pressed a hand against the door, right where Deceit’s head rested. “Then shouldn’t we know?” He asked. “Virgil struggles with anxiety, Roman with his self-esteem. When they have bad days we do what we can to help them. We support each other. It’s what family does. Through thick and thin. We’re there.”

Deceit grimaced. Family? Ha. It was a nice thought. But that was them. The Light Sides. Not him. Not a Dark Side. “That’s not--that’s different...than this.”

“Lyal.” Logan exhaled. “You know as Logic I’m not as prone to emotional outbursts like the others.”

Yah right. “Crofters.” 

He huffed, adjusting his glasses. “Granted there are exceptions. But I could, if you are willing, give my opinion on whether or not this issue of yours is something we should continue to remain uninvolved with.”

Deceit closed his eye, pressing his lips together, his shoulders slumping.

“Lyal please.” Logan said, dropping his hand to the doorknob. “Let me help.” 

Deceit drew in a shaky breath. Logic wasn't going to let this go. The others wouldn't either. Not now that they’d noticed something was off. It was how they worked, unfortunately. 

Anxiety hadn’t been left to his own devices once he was accepted. He should have realized sooner that the others were doing the same to him. Especially when he made the choice to give them a name to call him by. Gave them a reason to think of him as something more than his job. He should have realized when they invited him to the dinners. When Morality had referred to him as part of the...family.

“You don’t have to struggle alone, Lyal.” Logan continued in a soothing tone. “We’re family. We can help you. If you let us.” 

Family.

Deceit exhaled.

Logic--Logan just had to use that word.

He lifted his head. “Alright.” He said, flicking on the light before he moved back away from the door. He couldn't hide this. Not for much longer at any rate. Deceit cleared his throat, stomach writhing as he crossed his good arm over his bare chest, turning the scaled side away from the door as it swung open.

To Be Continued Chapter 2

[winchester-purgatory]

Fake marriage, snobby mother and booty calls | Dean Winchester x OC

Summary: Awsten’ sister tells their parents she’s married - she isn’t. Dean accepts to play along when her parents comes to visit for dinner

Word count: 1670

Notes: I wrote this for the Christmas bingo I participated back in December but only now got to finish it

-

Dean Winchester wasn't husband material. He liked old cars, 80s rock music, had a bit of a drinking problem and had been in jail. He hated to wear ties, being more of a flannel kind of guy, and always had oil or grease stained hands from fixing cars.

Her mom was going to hate him.

He was also a bit of a ladies man, but that part didn't need to be mentioned at the Christmas gathering.

''Are you sure this is a good idea?’’

''You gotta be there,'' Awsten insisted, looking at Dean over the island countertop where they were having breakfast. ''My sister already told everyone I was married. I would be the family’s laughingstock if I they show up for dinner and there is no man in my apartment after such a big news.''

''I still don't get why you couldn't tell them it was a misunderstanding. Why make things complicated when they were initially simple?''

''Because they're from another generation and won't understand. They won't find it funny that we played the 'just married' card to get free alcohol. Or that we only hook up on the daily.'' The redhead sighed, taking a sip of her hot coffee. ''If Charlie hadn't tagged us on social media, my sister would've never seen the picture and caption...''

Dean reached out, squeezing Awsten’s bare thigh on the bar stool, and looked at her with apologetic eyes. ''Charlie’s really sorry. She didn’t think the picture would get to your family.''

''I know. It’s okay. I made my peace with it. Now, we just have to play pretend.'' She stood, taking her empty plate and putting it in the sink to wash later.

Today was going to be a long day and Awsten was dreading all of it. Having her parents and sister over for Christmas wasn’t part of her December plans. For the last two years, she had escaped the family reunions and had intended to do it again this year. She didn't hate her family, they were just so strict, judgemental and draining to be around.

She'd rather rent a cabin in the mountains with a couple friends - Charlie and Dean included. At least, that promised a lot of fun.

Dean joined her by the sink, doing the same with his dishes.

''Thank you for doing this, Dean.''

As insane as the situation was, Awsten was glad to have someone like Dean. Not everyone would have agreed to partake in her crazy plan and play married couple for the holidays, even for one night. And, he will definitely add some spice to her family's Christmas dinner.

''It was my idea in the first place to get the alcohol. And, I wasn’t going to say no to free turkey.''

Awsten scoffed. ''The turkey might be free, but you are helping me. I’m not gonna do all the hard work by myself, Winchester.''

''I would try to eclipse myself, but since you did most of the work last night, I guess I could help you for today,'' he said as he slid a hand under Awsten's tee shirt to cup one of her cheeks and gave it a small squeeze.

.

After six hours of chopping, whisking and seasoning, the faux-married couple were finally ready to receive Awsten’s family.

The redhead has put a red tablecloth to mask the chips on the wooden table, something that would've definitely not gone unnoticed by her mother, and pulled out the pretty candle set she had received three Christmases ago to decorate the center.

Dean lit up the Christmas tree filled with miscandellous, non-traditional ornaments and hoped no one would point out the missing Christmas crib under the tree. It was somewhere in the storage closet and Awsten didn't feel like fetching it.

As they were setting the table, Dean caught the silver ring on the redhead’s finger. ''Just so you know, I would've never offered you this cheap ass looking ring. My wife deserves something better than a plastic rock.''

Awsten narrowed her eyes. ''I did with what I had and with the time I had, Dean! I couldn't get myself a real wedding ring. Diamonds are hella expensive.''

''You didn’t even get me one.''

''I forgot. But, knowing my family, they won't even notice. They'll be too occupied looking elsewhere,'' she promised.

''You mean my charming smile?''

She glanced at his flannel and stubbles, both red flags in her mother's book. ''Among others.''

It was around six o’clock when the doorbell rang. Awsten smoothed her velvet dress and checked her lipstick in the hallway mirror before opening the door.

''How can you get married and not tell us? I didn't raise you like this,'' her mom asked, skipping the greetings and walking in like it was her own place.

Awsten contained herself, forcing a smile. ''Hello to you too, Mom…''

Richard and Emilie, Awsten’s dad and sister, followed inside, shutting the door behind. They shed peeled off their winter layers and hung them on the overflowing coat hanger.

The elder woman peered into the apartment, looking for the handsome man her daughter had married. ''Now, where is that husband of yours? We didn't make all that travel for nothing.''

''I’m right here, Mrs. Torres,'' Dean replied, coming to the entrance to greet the guests. He kissed both her mom and sister’s cheeks and shook hands with Richard, his politeness surprising the Torres.

Although he had succeeded to impress her with his politeness, Dean didn't earn Cecelia's approval. She gave him an up and down look, disapproval casting itself on her face almost immediately.

''Shall we move to the kitchen? Dinner is ready.''

.

''What's your career, Dean?'' Cecelia asked, attacking him with questions as soon as they sat down around the table.

The redhead gave her mother a dirty look, knowing exactly what she was doing. To most, it looked like Cecelia was being nice and trying to get to know Dean, but she was being a snake and trying to find valid reasons to not like Dean to back herself with when she’ll later confront Awsten.

Dean swallowed his bite before responding. ‘’I'm a mecanicien, ma'am. I work at my uncle's auto-shop.''

''Ah.'' She glanced at her cadet daughter and back to Dean, disapproval in her eyes. ''Are you planning on taking over the business?''

''I love cars, but owning an auto-shop isn’t in my plans for the future.''

''What is, then?''

''Owning a bar. Commercializing my own beer...or whiskey, perhaps. Something along those lines.''

''I assume you are studying business?'' Mr. Torres asked, suddenly taking interest in the conversation, owning himself a business.

Dean shook his head. ''No. I’m not in college, Sir. College isn’t for me.''

''How did you meet?''

''Was it like the movies? Your car broke and he repaired it?'' Emilie asked with a snicker, making fun of her sister.

Awsten glared at her. ''No. We met through Charlie, my roommate. You remember her? She and Dean are long date friends.''

As the dinner progressed, Cecelia’s disdain toward Dean was getting more and more apparent - and she made little efforts to hide her feelings.

''If you'll excuse us, I need a drink. Awsten, darling, will you come help me in the kitchen?'' She flashed Dean a forced, bitter smile and stood, heading to the kitchen for some privacy.

.

''You don't like him.'' taking a glass out of the cabinet to

''With reasons! Have you seen this guy? I don't know what you find in him. He looks like...a lumberjack. You are worth so much more than him, Awsten. Guys like him don't go far in life,'' she said in true Cecelia Torres fashion, always quick to judge others.

''Well, we're already married, Mom. What can you do?''

''Is this why you got married in secret? Because you knew we wouldn't approve.''

An unsurprised laugh left the redhead's lips. ''Of course you would think that… Yes, Mom, I married a guy solely to spite you.'' Awsten poured the strong alcohol in the glass, the amber liquid gliding over the baby Yoda shaped ice cubes. ''Is it so difficult for you to believe that I love Dean? Just because I was raised in high society doesn't mean I wish to follow that kind of life.''

Cecelia huffed. ''You say that now, but you'll change your mind.''

''I doubt it.''

''Did he...force you into this? Marrying him.''

Awsten's eyes widened. She couldn't believe the words that left her mother's mouth. ''I'm leaving. You're being crazy.'' She took the drink she had prepared for her mother and left the kitchen, needing it.

''What about my drink?''

.

''Congratulation, Mom hates you. You’re everything she didn’t want for me.''

''Aw, damn,'' Dean said with sarcasm, helping Awsten clean up. ''I thought I had made a good impression.''

The redhead bit back a smile. ''I’m sorry for how she behaved toward you. For the way she talked about you. She’s insufferable sometimes.''

Dean shook his head. ''Don't apologize for her. I don't care what she says about me.'' He brought the leftovers to the fridge, trying to control his grin at the thought of stealing a tupperware of turkey for his lunch tomorrow. ''And it's not like we really are married - not that I'd care more then.''

''Now you get why I never visit my family. They're all similar variants of my mother.''

''They say family wants the best for you, but it's not always the case. I've stopped caring about others' opinion of me long ago. I can take a snobby mother who believes I forced her daughter into marrying me.''

Awsten stopped washing the plate, her stomach dropping. ''Oh no... You heard that?''

Out of all the disgusting things her mother had said tonight, this took the crown. Awsten had hoped Dean hadn't heard, but the kitchen wasn't very soundproof.

She opened her mouth to apologize once again, but Dean beat her.

''Don't say it.'' He turned around to face the redhead, eyes soft on her. ''She can assume whatever she want of me, but I'm still your main booty call,'' Dean added with a smirk.

''Dean!'' She hit his shoulder at his crude words, holding back a smile.

He shrugged and continued what he was doing.

[ererokii]

What Goes Around Comes Around

T. Shouto x Fem! Reader (inspired song fic)

Song: What Goes Around by Justin Timberlake

Warnings: angst, cheating, like one scene of sex (very small scene), characters are 18+

Italics mean flashback

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is my first fic and my first attempt at writing angst so I’m sorry if this is quite shit and of course it had to be my boy (pls forgive if there are typos). Also big shoutout to @shoutodoki and @shoutosplaything (also thank u for beta reading gabbi) for letting me tag them!

Don’t wanna think about it

Don't wanna talk about it

I’m just so sick about it

I can’t believe it's ending this way

Just so confused about it

Feeling the blues about it

I just can’t do it without ya

Can you tell me is this fair?

14 days

It’s been 14 days since the last time you saw Shouto Todoroki. You refused to acknowledge him as the man that you once loved but deep down inside you knew that you still love him. Everyday your thoughts kept haunting you as if it was a song that kept repeating itself without your permission.

Was I good enough?

Did he not love me anymore?

Could I have known before it happened?

Could it have been fixed?

Maybe I wasn’t putting enough effort?

You thought that your relationship was perfect. Like every other couple, you had your ups and downs. To something as silly as leaving the dirty dishes there or something as serious as miscommunication. Regardless, that was the best relationship you’ve been in for a while. Thought Shouto was the one to be. The one you would spend the rest of your life with. You guys were the It Couple. All your friends would always compliment on your relationship. Soulmates. That’s how everyone described your relationship with Shouto. A bond that could never be broken. The universe bringing two people together to forge the most perfect relationship. That’s what everyone used to say.

Tonight, just like every night you stared up at the ceiling refusing to let sleep take over your body as all you saw was Shouto when you closed your eyes. Laying on the couch, you stared up at the ceiling like you were in a trance, unmoving. The blanket lazily hangs off of the couch as you refused to shield your body from the cold. The unfinished dinner stayed on the granite counter in your kitchen, the half-empty wine bottle laid untouched on your low table. How pathetic you thought to yourself as you let out a weak chuckle and sat up slowly, running a hand through your messy hair. A bang like knock to your door startled you, making you turn your head quickly and could have sworn you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Who in the hell..” you mumbled and stood up, wiping your sweaty palms against your shorts as you made your way to the door, stopping in front of it. You let out a deep sigh and fixed your hair quickly to the best of your ability.

“Who is it?”

“Y/N.”

You let out an indescribable noise as you quickly covered your mouth. Why was he here? What does he need? Is he drunk? Millions of questions raced through your mind. Even with the door separating you two, you could still feel his intense gaze burning holes right through it.

“Y/N please open the door. I just want to talk to you and explain things.”

“There is nothing to talk about Todoroki” you snapped and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. He internally cringed whenever you used his last name. It sounded so foreign to him whenever the word escaped your mouth that he honestly forgot what it sounded like.

“Please all I ask of you is to let me explain”

You let out a low groan and unlocked the door quickly, opening it with force that even Shouto was surprised you would agree to face him.

“Explain?! You’re gonna explain how you oh so magically or you tripped and stuck your dick in another girl’s vagina?! Cause if you have an amazing explanation please be my guess and enlighten me.”

“Y/N come on don’t act like that..”

“No! You have no right to tell me how I should be acting! And don’t you fucking dare call me by my name. We aren’t formal anymore” You snapped and felt tears starting to form. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see you cry. Not again.

~~~~

The thought of marrying Shouto has been on your mind for the longest. Being in a relationship for 3 almost 4 years with him was amazing, you were deeply in love with him and you wanted to take the next step.

Recently you noticed a difference in Shouto’s behavior. He lost his loving touch. As time went on you noticed the bridge separating both of you as if it forbade you to meet in the middle once again. It started off small. He would come home later than usual. Yes being a Pro-Hero called for him to be out at unusual times of the night but this didn’t feel right. It wasn’t right.

“Shouto!” You called out from the front of your apartment, slipping on your shoes. “I’m going to be out for a while with Ochako! I shouldn’t be gone too long!”

Silence.

You were met with silence.

A frown formed on your face as you glanced at the man sitting down on the couch, staring down at his phone. ”Shouto?” This time you were met with a grunt. Least it was better than silence. “Did you even listen to what I said?”

“No. What did you say”

Ouch. That hurt.

“I said I was going out. With Ochako” you announced slowly, expecting that he would take notice this time. ”Uh-huh. That's cool.” he mumbled, not looking up from his phone once as a small smile formed on his face. ”Well..okay then I'll see you later then. I love you.”

Once again you were met with silence but this time he lifted his head up to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes looked unrecognized, something you haven't seen since the beginning of your friendship. ”Ok. Stay as long as you want.”

That was some of the red flags you should have taken notice of, but you were so blinded by your love for him that you didn't bring it up.

You told your best friend, Ochako Uraraka about the situation and she simply told you that you were probably overreacting and just needed to speak with the man himself. “Ochako you know he doesn't even acknowledge me anymore. He doesn't say ’I love you’, he's not affectionate anymore and always pushes me away whenever I try to have sex with him. Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?”

The brunette girl sitting beside you swirled the red wine in her glass as she stared down at it. ”I really wish I knew the answer for you Y/N-chan. From what it sounds like you just need to sit down and talk with him. It could possibly just be miscommunication.”

”What if he's cheating on me?”

”I'm going to have to stop you right there. Todoroki may be a bit dense at times but he isn't an idiot. If that were the case I would personally go down there and show him that he doesn't mess with the best girl around. In case you didn't notice, you're the best girl.

A weak chuckle escaped your lips as you took the final sip of your wine, relishing the way it went down your throat and left a tangy aftertaste. “Maybe I’ll buy a little something on the way back. Maybe some strawberry milk and soba noodles from his favorite place.”

“I mean you can do or you could just go straight home and talk to him without any bribery.”

A sigh exited your mouth as you placed your now empty glass on her white table. ”I really appreciate that you let me come over”

A smile tugged on her lips as she wrapped her arms around you, hugging you tightly against her smaller frame. “Of course Y/N-Chan! Let me know how it goes after!”

Then that’s how you found yourself in front of your door, reciting a small monologue on how you would approach the man. You opened the door quietly, staying put when you heard the soft creak of the door. “He should be home..” you whispered to yourself as you shut the door behind you once you entered your shared apartment. “All I have to do is approach and speak my mi-“ Black heels? When did you leave black heels here?

You didn’t. The only pair of shoes that were beside the black heels were your white slippers. You felt as if your heart dropped down in the depths of your body. It was a misunderstanding. It had to be.

You began walking towards your room, taking quiet steps despite feeling that your feet were dragging across the floor. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t capable of doing that. Right?

Turning the corner to enter the hallway you stopped your motion and stared. Across the hallway was your closed bedroom door. It felt like a journey that hasn’t even begun. Before taking a single step towards your destination, you heard it.

“S-Shouto!”

That was it. The moan. The noise of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of your once shared bed where it was him making you feel that good. Him touching you in a way that no one else could feel his touch. It used to be you. Only you.

“No no no” you repeated like a mantra and walked over quickly only to stop in front of the door, hand resting about the door knob. You were hesitating, but why? You already had your answer. Was it because you were in denial? You thought this was a dream?

Taking a deep breath you grasped the knob and turned it, pushing the door open quietly.

There it was. The scene you always hoped you would never see. Your now ex-boyfriend, drilling some woman into your mattress. Your presence seemed to be ignored by them.

“Fuck baby you fuck me so good!”

“You’re so fucking tight” Shouto grunted and threw his head back and closed his eyes before opening them again, tensing up on once he spotted you standing right behind him. His hips stilled as his hands let go of the woman’s ass.

You couldn’t believe it and started shaking your head in denial

“Y/N this isn’t what it looks like”

“Oh? What is it then huh? I know I’m not fucking blind. I can see what is going on with my own two eyes.”

He got off the bed quickly and grabbed a spare sheet, placing it on top to cover himself up. “Please Y/N” he whispered. He sounded desperate as he reached to grab your hand while taking a step towards you.

“How long has this been going on.”

“What?”

“How long have you been doing this behind my back.”

“...6 months.”

The past 6 months seemed like a lie now. Every kiss. Every touch. Every ‘I love you’ was nothing but a lie. Now, you remembered all the red flags that were thrown your way but your denial got the best of you. The constant fighting, blowing you off on dates to go hang out at ‘Midoriya’s place’ or even ‘Bakugo’s place’. Coming home late even when he wasn't called for work. It all made sense now.

”Baby we can talk about this”

“No!” You snapped and pointed a shaky finger at him. “Do not beg me. I gave you everything I possibly could. I put in all my time and my energy for this relationship and for you to just..” you trailed off and covered your mouth with your hand, suppressing a sob from fleeing. ”You know...instead for future purposes. If you want out of a relationship j-just tell them. Don't cheat on them from behind. And don’t you dare call me that fucking name again.” You said as confident as you could but in reality it was the opposite of confident. Your voice was wavering, your once perfect mascara was running down your face mixed with your tears.

Shouto gulped and clenched the sheet in his hand. “I still love you Y/N.. we can talk this out please. Just give me a chance.” He whispered and looked directly into your eyes. Broken. Torn. Guilty. The look in his eyes seemed to stare right through your soul.

“If you really loved me, you would have never cheated on me in the first place. You would have come up to me and spoken to me how you felt instead of doing this behind my back… I’m going to leave. When I come back, I want you out of my apartment. Take everything you own and leave.”

Is this the way it’s really going down?

Is this how we say goodbye?

Shoulda known better when you came around

That you were gonna make me cry

Now it’s breaking my heart to watch you run around

Cause I know that you’re living a lie

But that’s ok baby cause in time you will find

What goes around, comes around

~~~~

You shut your eyes tightly as the memory and clenched your fists right by your side.

“I was drunk. I went to a bar right when you left to go visit Uraraka.” Shouto said as he took a small step towards you. It felt like the world was suffocating you.

“A bar? That’s your excuse for cheating on me? Drunk for 6 months? Please. I’m not stupid. I know plenty of men that get ‘drunk’ and they don’t cheat on their significant other. I didn’t expect that coming from your mouth. You disappointed me. You let me down. You made me feel like it was my fault.”

“That’s because it’s not!” He suddenly yelled and you flinched slightly at the sudden change of his tone. He let out a deep sigh and kept going forward till he had you caged between him and the wall inside your apartment. “It was all me. I was stupid. I’m sorry for hurting you..I should have just came up to you and spoke to you how I was feeling. I’m sorry.” He whispered and placed his finger underneath your chin to make you look up at him.

You gulped and felt his intense gaze stare through you. His bi-colored hair tickling the top of your forehead. His face was close to yours, you could feel his hot breath hitting your face as he cupped your cheek.

“I’m afraid of losing you..I don’t want to lose you Y/LN” he whispered into your ear, smiling faintly when he saw you shiver. Even like this, he still had the same effect on you and you loathed it. “We can just forgive and forget.. I’ll make it up to you I promise just please forgive me”

You wanted to. You wanted time to go back and give you what you wanted. A meaningful relationship. Being with Shouto was on your mind everyday as if it was mocking you. You desperately wanted to be in his loving arms again, feeling his body on yours. Now that you were caged behind him, a low level panic started to arise in your body. Could you ever forgive him? How could you forget? What makes this different? What if he does it again?

“She cheated on you didn’t she”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, she cheated on you. Didn’t she?”

His quietness was all you needed as your answer. You shook your head and looked up at him, stroking his scar gently with your thumb.

“And you felt if you came back to me thinking I’ll let you back huh? You think that because she cheated on you it’ll make us relate on a different level and make everything better right? How’d it feel? It felt horrible huh? Like your heart was being ripped into two then stomped on.”

Shouto growled faintly and gripped your shoulders a bit tighter, opening his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“No. I’m not done fucking talking. I cried. I cried and cried for your sorry ass. You and I are not feeling the same type of pain. I loved you. She didn’t. I..I still love you” you whispered the last part under your breath

Shouto sucked in air as he tensed up. Time seemed to stop as the earth stilled. No one said anything. You missed the silence with him. Under different circumstances you would have enjoyed it. “You..you still love me?”

“Course I still love you!” You cried out and pushed him off of you, walking towards him as he kept backing up with each step you took. “But I can’t be with you. Part of me wants to forgive you and throw myself at you but the other half is telling me you’ll just do it again.”

“You think I would do it again?”

“I mean you did it the first time. So what would make it different from the next? Todoroki you just.. you need to leave.”

He quickly reached for your hands and cupped them, holding them to his chest. “I can’t lose you Y/N..” he whispered

“You already did.” You said coldly and pulled your hands out of his grasp. “What goes around comes around huh? That’s your karma now. Get out. I never want to see you again. I want the guilt to swallow you alive.”

He stood there unmoving, hands grasping around nothing as he looked up at you. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m sorry. I hope we can start over again soon. I hope you can forgive me.”

You watched as Todoroki walked down the steps and into the dark night. It felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders but the hole in your heart was still wide and open. Closing the door till he was no longer in sight, you let your head fall against the wood, letting out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Goodbye Todoroki Shouto.”

Is this the way it’s really going down?

Is this how we say goodbye?

Shoulda known better when you came around

That you were gonna make me cry

Now it’s breaking my heart to watch you run around

Cause I know that you’re living a lie

But that’s ok baby cause in time you will find

What Goes Around, Comes Around

[alirhi]

jfc FINALLY

Ugh. I have been fighting with my muse to get this done for two months. And I was actually going to stretch it to line up more or less with the movie's timeline, but honestly... I'm just so burnt 😂 So this is what you get.

Title: Monday Chapter: Oneshot Fandom: Monday Rating: R/NC17 (I mean, have you seenthe movie?) Pairing: Mickey/OC Summary: What if, instead of Chloe, Mickey met a woman that night who was actually good for him and whom he was compatible with? WARNINGS: swearing, sex (not explicit; I rarely if ever write smut, but still) Notes: I hate Chloe. Omfg I hate her so much. So I fixed it XD Yes, I literally rewrote the entire movie with a different love interest. Well... most of it lol. I get bored, okay? Lol. Oh, and the girl is actually a character I yanked from one of my original stories lol. I didn't make her up on the spot for this (I'm too lazy for that XD). Tweaking her to fit the setting was kind of a bitch, as she's from a fantasy series, so if she seems kind of Mary Sue-ish...sorry.

“You have a nose for American cheese!”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Come on, that girl looks insane!”

“What?” Looking surprised, Argyris turned and looked where his friend was pointing, and then laughed. “Not her, you idiot! The ginger-snap over there!”

The girl in question, a lithe, pretty thing with a wild mass of red hair that she constantly shoved impatiently out of her face was dancing alone a few feet away from the angry-looking blonde Mickey had thought he'd been talking about. She was gorgeous, he had to admit.

“Go and talk to her, man!”

He pointed to the turntables in front of him, impatiently reminding Argyris, “No, I'm working!”

“Come on,” the other man taunted, “I know your playlist inside-out! It's the same R&B shit, and then a little bit of disco!”

“It's not R&B, and it's not disco!”

“This song is twenty fuckin' minutes long! Come on!”

“Hey!” Mickey grimaced, hastily yanking his headphones off and setting them down as he was dragged off toward the redhead. “Fuck!”

All puffed up with pride – and way too much to drink – Argyris pushed Mickey when they drew close to the girl, so that he slammed right into her. Laughing, he patted her shoulder, but his mirth was short-lived. She grabbed his hand and twisted his arm up behind his back.

“Put your hands on a girl you don't know again. I dare you.”

Mickey covered his mouth with one hand to hide his laughter as his friend writhed in the deceptively delicate-looking girl's grip.

“Alright, alright! I'm sorry!” Laughing as he was released, Argyris went to put a hand on each of their shoulders, took one look at the girl, and just hung off of Mickey's shoulder, instead. “You're an American... You're an American! You're a man, you're a woman! There you go!”

“Yeah, crazy kismet,” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “Two Americans out of their natural deep-fried, flag-waving habitat at the same time! Imagine!”

Undaunted, the drunk Greek simply shrugged and flounced off with a flippant, “Whatever. Have fun!”

“Sorry about him,” Mickey said immediately, smiling when she turned and smiled at him. At least she didn't seem to be judging him by the company he kept.

“Friend of yours?”

“Argyris? Yeah.” He grinned. “He's kind of an idiot, but he's a good guy.”

She laughed. “I'll take your word for it. Aren't you the DJ? Should you be over here?”

“No,” he admitted with a laugh, “but I'm fine for a few minutes. You wanna dance?”

“I'd love to.”

She was tall, he realized as he spun her around; in the little barely-there heels she was wearing, they stood eye to eye. Clearly drunk, though, she lost her balance every few seconds and crashed into him with a laugh, occasionally giving up on righting herself and just resting her head on his shoulder.

Mickey grimaced as he heard the song beginning to wind down, but the girl hanging off of him only smiled and patted his chest. “Go on! Get back to work. I'll be here when you're done.”

“Any chance I could convince you to come around the other side?” He gave her his most charming grin, and felt a little warm inside when she laughed.

“Why, so you can stare down my top the whole time?”

With a shrug, he admitted, “I've been doing that anyway, so why not?”

“Honesty!” She grinned and kissed his cheek. “I like it. Alright, you gorgeous lech! Get back up there. We'll see what I can do about your view.”

He only made it another hour or so, with the girl coming up to him every few minutes with another drink, and occasionally flashing him from the spot she'd found in front of him. Queuing up enough songs to play through the end of the party, he hopped down off the podium and ran over to her, tugging her close for the kiss he'd been dying for since Argyris had first pulled him over to her. “You wanna get out of here?”

“You sure? What about-”

Mickey shook his head, smiling. “It'll run til they all pass out. No one'll touch my stuff, not here. Come on!”

“Okay, yeah.” She shrugged and laughed, allowing him to pull her through the throng of dancing people and away from the party. “Fuck it. Let's go!”

The next morning, naked, hungover, and covered in sand, they were nudged awake by a police officer while an angry lady yelled about their indecency. The officer waited for them to scramble back into their clothes and then cuffed them both, ushering them into the back of a cruiser.

Despite the situation, Mickey couldn't keep the silly smile off of his face. At least the cops had been kind enough to cuff their hands in front of them, allowing him to hold his out to the girl beside him. “Hi. I'm Mickey.”

She laughed, the realization that they'd never introduced themselves clearly dawning in her bright green eyes. “Beck.”

“Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, but couldn't hide his slight confusion. “That a first name or a last name?”

“It's short for my first name.” She was still smiling, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes as she added, “Call me 'Becky' once and I'll be facing real prison time at the end of this ride, and you'll be missing body parts.”

With a slightly nervous laugh, he nodded. “Alright, noted. Beck it is!”

“And, nice to meet you, too.”

There was the briefest of conversations at the police station, the sandy couple signed themselves out, and then Mickey persuaded one of the officers to give them a lift back to the beach.

“You want a ride?”

Beck grinned, one ruddy eyebrow arching up. “I still need to clean up from the 'ride' last night.”

Laughing, Mickey shook his head. “I'll never say 'no' to more of that, but that's not what I meant.”

“I know.” She shrugged, snarky grin turning into an almost bashful smile. “And yeah, I'd love a ride. Thanks.”

He loaned her his helmet and, after getting directions from her, drove her to her hotel. It seemed like that would be the end of it... and he hated that thought. “So, what're you doing tonight?”

“Packing and sleeping,” she told him with a laugh, leaning against the building. “I gotta be on a plane Monday morning, and I hate leaving things to the last minute.”

“You're leaving?”

With a grin and a snarky air kiss, she teased, “Missing me already, lover boy?”

Mickey shrugged, grinning. “Maybe I am. I like you, is that so bad?” He beckoned, and was somewhat surprised when she walked right over to him. Still smiling like a fool, he grabbed her by the waistband of her shorts and pulled her close for a kiss. “Come with me tonight, for a proper sendoff.”

“Come with you where?”

“I'm DJing on an island.” Thumb sliding under her clothes to slide over her hip, he wheedled, “Come on. Come with me.”

“I need to shower. I'm all sandy and sticky from last night.” Beck gave him just long enough to deflate, and then she smirked and nipped his jaw. “Care to join me?”

“Fuck yes!” He was off his moped in a flash, following the laughing redhead as she took his hand and tugged him into the hotel. Giggling like hyenas, the pair made their way up to Beck's room, stopping every few steps for one to yank the other close for another kiss. Mickey was on cloud nine. This girl was fun, she was sassy and wild, and he couldn't get enough.

It seemed she couldn't get enough, either. They'd barely stepped into the shower before Beck was on her knees in front of him, her hand on his ass and his hand tangled in her hair as she sucked him off. He leaned back against the wall, tugging lightly on her hair and shuddering as he felt her moan around him.

“Fuck... oh, fuck, you're good at that! Holy shit... Stop. Stopstopstop!” With a little half-smile at her look of confusion, he tugged her back to her feet and kissed her. “You're fucking amazing. God damn, you are good with that mouth! But that's not what I want.”

Beck grinned, a playful glint in her bright green eyes that made him weak in the knees. “That's not a good idea.”

“Oh, no?” He backed her up against the wall, nuzzling her neck as his hand drifted down between her legs. “Funny... You don't seem to really believe that.”

“I definitely want you to fuck me til I can't move,” she assured him, shaking as she tried desperately not to laugh. “But it's not a good idea-” Her words turned into a startled whimper as Mickey hoisted her up by her thighs and slid into her to the hilt.

“I think it's a great idea,” he purred, biting her shoulder. Then he almost dropped her, and they both cracked up.

“The wall's slippery! This isn't smart.”

“No, it's definitely not smart,” he agreed, turning so that he was holding her up in mid-air instead of bracing her against the wall. “But that doesn't make it not a good idea.”

Beck laughed, clinging to him for dear life. “You're just gonna hold me up?”

“Yep.”

“The whole time?”

“You don't think I can do it?” Mickey grinned, bouncing her a few times just to prove her wrong. “You weight nothing, baby girl. I got this.” She was surprisingly light... but she was also a grown woman almost the same height as him. His pride would never let him admit it aloud, but there was no way he was going to be able to fuck her like this for long.

Just as he was wracking his somewhat foggy brain for a solution, he saw light dawning in Beck's eyes and waited. “Counter!” She nodded toward the sink, and only then did he realize they hadn't even closed the shower curtain, and the bathroom floor was getting soaked. “Put me on the counter.”

“I thought we were supposed to be getting cleaned up.” Even as he teased her, he was carefully stepping out of the tub, blessing her foresight when she grabbed a towel and threw it down just before he set his foot down, and carrying her across the bathroom.

Beck snickered and kissed him. “No point getting clean until we're done getting dirty. Shut up and fuck me.”

“Yes, ma'am!”

A little while later, they stumbled across another logistical issue Mickey hadn't considered.

“You are not putting dirty clothes on a clean body!” Beck insisted, prying his – pretty nasty at this point, he had to admit – clothes from his hands. “That's disgusting!”

“Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to wear? Clearly, I can't just run around naked. We got arrested for that this morning!”

“Pity,” she teased, eyeing him in a way that made him wonder if they were ever actually going to leave her hotel room. “You're the best view in Athens.”

“Maybe they arrested us out of jealousy, then.” Mickey shook his head, though he couldn't help chuckling a little, despite his frustration. “Either way, I'm kinda stuck. It's either be gross, or don't go anywhere.”

“As much as the thought of keeping you trapped here as my sex slave appeals to me...” With another mocking grin, Beck turned and started going through her dresser drawers. “I think I can help you out.”

“I'm not wearing your clothes.”

“They're less flamboyant than what you do wear.”

“They won't fit!”

She tossed him a tee shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that proved him very wrong. They were huge. At his questioning stare, she shrugged.

“I always pack a couple of cute outfits when I travel, and the rest is super baggy; at least three sizes too big. I like to be comfortable.”

“Convenient.” He stared at the shorts in his hands, and then at the belt she handed him a few seconds later. “Am I supposed to wear your underwear, too?”

Beck snorted and walked away, patting his shoulder as she passed him. “I don't wear underwear.”

“Then I guess I kind of am wearing yours.” Even as the joke was tumbling out of his mouth, he knew it was lame, but they still both laughed. Then he glanced at his watch and winced. “Shit, we gotta go.”

“What?”

He waited for the dress she was pulling on to settle into place and then wrapped his arms around her, tugging her back against his chest. “We gotta go. If we don't catch the next ferry, we're gonna be late.”

She flinched. “Okay, two seconds.” The girl moved like lightning. Mystified, Mickey watched as she yanked on a pair of canvas sneakers, grabbed her wallet and cell phone – which she then stuffed in the pockets of the shorts he was wearing – grabbed a hair tie, and ran for the door. In no time, she'd strangled her wild red curls into submission in a low ponytail. They hadn't even reached the elevator yet.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

Handing her his helmet, Mickey shook his head. “I think you got dressed faster than I did! I thought girls always take forever to get ready.”

Laughing, Beck rolled her eyes. As she settled on the back of the moped and tucked her skirt around her legs for decency, she told him, “I spent two years in the jungle with nothing but what I could fit in a backpack. Low maintenance is kinda my thing. The fewer steps to getting ready, the less time it takes.”

“That explains so much.” He stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head and grumbled as he slid into place in front of her and started the moped, “And raises so many more questions!”

“Full disclosure: I will probably answer none of them, as I'm very likely never going to see you again after tonight.”

Well, that was a depressing dose of reality he wasn't ready for. Not one to dwell on things, though, Mickey simply decided to have as much fun as he could with this girl while she was around, and treasure the steamy memories.

They made it to the ferry just in time. Making sure there was no one else around, Mickey smirked and tugged Beck into his lap, one hand sliding up her thigh. He moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to push him away if she wanted; she simply arched an eyebrow at his questioning look and grabbed his wrist, tugging his hand closer.

“Why do you think I'm wearing a dress?”

Fuck, he loved this girl!

They were pretty much attached at the hip the whole day – literally, when they could steal a few minutes alone. While he was DJing, she was dancing like a lunatic, front and center. Those piercing green eyes never strayed from him; he knew, because he couldn't look away from her, either. Once he was free, they danced together for a little while, but it didn't take long for Beck to grow bored and yank him down the beach, away from the party. They found a dark, hidden nook to be alone, spent the night hopelessly wrapped up in each other, and then cuddled as they watched the sun come up.

“Gods, this place is so beautiful!”

Mickey chuckled at the plural, but didn't ask about it. He had a more important question for her: “You really gonna leave all this behind?”

“I have to.” She didn't sound any happier about leaving than he was about letting her leave. “I gotta get home.”

“Where's home?”

“Boston. You?”

He grinned and nudged her. “Athens, baby. Been here seven years!”

“Okay, but where before here?” she prodded with a laugh. “You're obviously not Greek; you don't even speak it!”

“Do you?”

Beck sat up a little straighter, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Nai.”

“Showoff.”

“One word is being a showoff?” Beck laughed, shaking her head. “You've been here seven years, and you don't know a single word of the language?”

Mickey scowled, feeling defensive. “Everybody speaks English!”

“Wow.” She wasn't smiling anymore. She actually looked and sounded pretty pissed off. “That is astoundingly arrogant. And completely American, so clearly your obnoxious friend with no boundaries was right; it's not just a funny accent, you actually are American.”

“You're an American, too!”

“By birth,” she snapped, “not by choice. And I fucking hope not by attitude. I don't go stomping around foreign countries with absolutely no respect for their language or customs, expecting everyone around me to cater to my laziness.”

He rolled his eyes, scooting away from her. “Give me a break! Learning another language is hard!”

“Impossible, if you don't even try.”

“Yeah? How many languages do you speak?”

“Fluently?” She held up her hands, ticking each one off on her fingers as she listed them. “English, obviously. Korean, Irish Gaelic, Italian, and German. Passably? Japanese – I can speak it fluently, but I have trouble reading it; the kanji is a nightmare – Greek, Spanish, Portuguese, and Swedish. I can read Latin and Old Norse, and I'm learning Mandarin, but I admit I'm struggling with that one. Mostly for the same reason I can't read Japanese; the writing system.”

Gaping at her, Mickey couldn't formulate a response for a long moment. When his brain finally started working again, all he could think to say was, “Jesus, what the fuck are you, a robot?!”

“I'm an archaeologist,” she told him flatly, still looking irritated. “And I've been traveling since I was seventeen. Been studying at least one language other than English since I was ten. I definitely had an advantage, starting when I still had a little kid's spongy brain, but it's not impossible to learn at any age, if you actually care enough to try.”

“You sound like my ex.” Hoping to distract her from that comment he hadn't meant to make, he hastily asked, “If you love to travel so much, why're you in such a rush to get home?”

Beck sighed, turning to stare out over the water. “I promised my daughter I'd be home in time for her birthday.”

Huh. They had more in common that he'd thought. “You have a kid?”

She nodded. “Two. Two girls.”

“How old?”

“Alice is five,” she murmured, pulling her knees up to her chest and crossing her arms over them. Head pillowed on her arms, she added, “And Madeline's about to turn fourteen.”

“How the hell old are you?!” He hadn't meant to ask so bluntly, but he was so stunned by her daughters' ages that the question just kind of blurted itself out.

Mercifully, Beck laughed a little. “I'm thirty-three. I'll spare you some math – I was nineteen when I had Maddie.”

Mickey shook his head, not sure how to react. In all honesty, she didn't look much older than that now. There was a shadow behind her eyes that he was dying to ask about, but even as thoughtless as he could be, he knew when to just not go there. Instead, he told her softly, “My son is six.”

“What's his name?”

He smiled. As much as the situation with his ex sucked, he loved his son, and thinking about him always brought a little smile to Mickey's face. “Hector.”

The look on Beck's pretty face as she watched him like a hawk made him blush, though he wasn't sure why. There was just something about that direct green gaze that made him feel like she could read his mind. “He's the real reason you don't want to leave Greece, isn't he?” A spot-on guess like that certainly did nothing to dispel the notion.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yep. His mom hates my guts, but I don't care. There's nothing I wouldn't do to stay in his life. I actually, um... I have a room for him, at my place. If she'll ever let me take him, you know, just for a weekend or whatever... His room is ready and waiting for him.”

“All you can do is keep trying. Put in the work, be the best dad you can be, and hope for the best.”

Unsure what to say to that, Mickey changed the subject with an awkward smile. “So... Alice? She blonde, like Alice in Wonderland?”

Beck snorted, shaking her head. “No, she has black hair, like her dad.” She paused and then shook her head again with a bemused smirk on her face. “Actually, both of my girls look like their dads – dark hair, big blue eyes.” Smirk turning into a grin, she nudged him. “Guess I've got a type.”

“'Dads,' huh?” He grinned, too, and nudged her right back. “Plural?”

“You gonna get all judgy on me, now?” Her tone was light and teasing, but her eyes promised a whole lot of pain if he answered wrong.

Mickey just laughed. “Nope, no judgment. I think you've seen enough of what I'm like this weekend to know I wouldn't have the right.”

“Good answer.”

“I don't want you to leave.” He watched her go rigid and sighed, shaking his head. “I'm not gonna try to stop you. If you were leaving for literally any other reason, I might, but I'd never dream of trying to keep a mom away from her kid. I just... I really like you, and I wish you didn't have to go.”

She shrugged a little, staring out over the water again. “To be honest, I don't wanna go, either. I mean, I'm dying to see my girls again, being away from them is always painful, but... This place is so beautiful. I would love to stay a little longer.”

Not a single word about whether or not she liked him. That stung, but he did his best to ignore it. “Why don't you bring them with you when you travel?”

“I used to,” she admitted. “When it was just Maddie, I brought her everywhere with me and tutored her myself. I tried to keep it going after Alice was born, but it was rough. They got tired of always being on the road and not having kids their age to play with, so now I leave them with my sister when I'm away.”

“Wait, you taught her yourself?” He laughed, shaking his head in dismay. “Are you sure you're not a robot?”

Beck laughed, too, rolling her eyes. “I'm sure. There's more down time than you think in archaeology; plenty of time to keep an already smart girl from falling behind in her schooling.”

“They must take after their mom. I mean, you speak a zillion languages, so you gotta be pretty damn smart.” She was so reckless and carefree, it was hard to picture this woman digging in the dirt for broken clay pots, or wrangling two children to teach them math. From what he'd seen, it felt like Beck was describing a completely different person. He didn't want to offend her, so he refrained from pointing out that she came across less brilliant, multilingual career woman in her thirties and more Girls Gone Wild: Athens.

“Cheapann tú gur leathcheann mé.” He had no idea what the hell she'd just said, but he could tell from the look on her face that he hadn't been as good at keeping his thoughts to himself as he'd hoped. She looked both offended and darkly amused. “Pensi che una ragazza non possa essere intelligente e libera? Eísai vlákas, Mickey.”

He didn't bother asking for a translation; her tone told him he didn't want to know. “How many languages was that?”

Beck grinned. “Three. Gaelic, Italian, and Greek. I sometimes mix a few in the same sentence – I constantly mix Japanese and Korean at home; it makes my girls laugh – but I figured I'd be nice.”

Mickey opened his mouth to say he wouldn't have noticed the difference, and then stopped. He had noticed the difference; the lilt of her voice changed dramatically with each language. That was how he'd realized that she'd been speaking more than one in the first place. “I kinda wanna hear that mix, now. Are the languages that similar?”

“No.” She laughed. “Not at all. They share some slang thanks to pop culture, and both borrowed a lot from China, but they're structured differently, and the way they're spoken is different.”

“Then how do you mix them?”

“I speak them both,” she said with a shrug and another laugh. “If you speak more than one language well enough, they don't have to be similar to still flow. Like...” She smirked, leaning against him and batting her eyes. “Kimi wa baboya, demo... mada jowayo.”

“Showoff.”

“Yes.” Cracking up, she pulled him back to lie on the warm sand with her and cuddled close. “That time, absolutely.”

“Do you think you'll ever come back?” He'd been trying so hard to avoid the subject, but he just couldn't get his mind to budge from the fact that he didn't want her to leave.

With a fond smile, she kissed him before teasing lightly, “You gonna miss me, honey?”

Mickey grinned, hoping she couldn't see that he was feeling more melancholy than amused. “I think mostly I'll miss the sex. It's hard to find a woman who can keep up with me.”

“Oh, is that so?” She laughed and tickled him, making him squirm. Then she stopped, a warm, almost wistful smile on her face. “I'm gonna miss you, too, you know.”

Forced playful grin turning into a soft, genuine smile, he pulled her closer and kissed her. “I was beginning to worry you didn't like me.”

Beck grinned and nuzzled his neck. “The past twenty-four hours wouldn't have happened if I didn't like you.”

Feigning shock, Mickey gasped. “You mean you don't fuck strange men all over Greece indiscriminately?”

“No, that I do all the time,” she joked, hand sliding up one leg of his borrowed shorts. “But I only let the really special ones wear my clothes.”

He laughed, glancing down at himself; he'd forgotten for a second that they were hers. “Right. We should stop at my place so I can change and give these back before I take you back to your hotel.”

Beck sighed, snatching her hand back as if he'd burned her. “Right. Yeah, we should get going.”

Though he still hated that she had to leave, he kept his word and didn't try to stop her. Argyris tried to convince him to make some grand gesture at the airport, but Mickey shut him down with a grumpy, “It's her kid's birthday. I'm not that much of a selfish asshole.”

“I can't believe you're in love with this girl!” Hooting with laughter, Argyris slapped his back. “I'm a fuckin' matchmaker! Who knew?”

“Fuck off, Cupid!” Mickey grinned and shoved him away, hoping the other man couldn't see how shitty he really felt. He moped for a couple of days, barely paying attention to the world around him, just missing the crazy girl with the temper as fiery as her hair.

Then he answered an unexpected knock at his door and was baffled by the sight of a cute, petite brunette with huge blue eyes staring up at him. “Um... Can I help you?”

“Huh.” One dark eyebrow arching up, she called back over her shoulder, “You really do have a type.”

A familiar laugh made Mickey freeze in shock as Beck stepped into view behind the girl, another one in her arms. “I made the mistake of telling Maddie that I met this awesome DJ in Greece-”

“And since I have no friends anyway,” the girl, who he finally realized was Beck's older daughter, Madeline, cut in, “I figured there'd be no problem moving my 'party' somewhere more fun than my aunt's house. For the third year in a row.”

“Jesus, you might look like your dad, but you sound just like your mom!” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. While Madeline rolled her eyes, the little girl in her mother's arms – Alice, he figured – giggled.

“Yeah,” Beck agreed with a grin, moving closer and leaning past her daughters to kiss him. “She's got my snarky attitude. Gods help me. Thankfully, this one's still innocent.” She squeezed Alice tighter against her side, making her giggle again.

“Mommy! You're squishing me!”

“Her? Innocent? Did auntie tell you what she did to my stereo?!”

“It was an accident!”

“My butt it was!”

Wincing, Beck glanced at Mickey and mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' “Girls, enough. What have I told you about bickering in front of strangers?”

“I mean, you also tell us not to spread our legs for strangers, and yet...”

“Madeline Fiona O'Brien!”

“What?!” Eyes wide and looking frustrated, Madeline gestured to Mickey. “I'm kinda right!”

He couldn't hold it in anymore. Leaning on the door frame to stay upright, Mickey burst out laughing. God help this woman, he thought as he struggled to get his breath back. Her daughter's exactly like her!

Face even redder than her hair, Beck grumbled, “I did not tell her we slept together.”

“You couldn't shut up about him and your clothes smelled like dude. Doesn't take a genius.”

“Maddie, couldja stop? I kinda wanna see more of Greece than two buildings. If mom drags us home early cuz you're being a jerk, I will kick your seat the whole way back to Boston!”

“I'll let her.”

Mickey had just about gotten his laughter under control. Still chuckling, he yanked Beck into his arms and gave her a long, slow kiss. “You are dreaming if you think I'm letting you leave again.”

“That doesn't sound kidnappy at all!”

Laughing again, he released the blushing redhead only to trap Madeline in his arms and tickle her until she squeaked. “And you, little miss Queen of Sarcasm!” With a grin, he kissed the top of her head and released her, pleased to see that she was smiling. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

As he stepped aside to let them in, it finally dawned on him that he'd never actually worked a child's party before. He was used to crowds of rowdy drunk Greeks, not two innocent little girls. He didn't even know any kids, besides his own! He glanced helplessly at Beck, who snickered and kissed his jaw.

“Just do whatever; I can keep an eye on them. Maddie was more interested in the change of scenery than an actual party.”

“Does she really have no friends?”

She shrugged, turning to watch her daughters awkwardly settle on the couch and begin nudging and poking each other repeatedly. “She's never been the most social kid in the world. Around their own age groups, Liss is the bubbly extrovert and Maddie can't be bothered; she wanted to hang with kids her own age until she realized they annoy the hell out of her.”

“Argyris might know some people with kids...” He rolled his eyes. “He'll think I'm nuts, trying to hunt down teenagers, though.”

Beck laughed and shook her head. “No, really, don't worry about it. We don't even have to actually throw a party-”

Cutting her off with a kiss, Mickey insisted, “Oh, she's getting a party. When is her birthday, anyway?”

“Today, actually.”

He flinched, glancing at the clock, and then relaxed. It was still pretty early. “She's getting a party,” he repeated firmly. “She's fourteen! That... has no special significance in any culture I've heard of, but the kid still deserves some fun on her damn birthday. Especially if the last few have been disappointing.”

“The day after is pretty significant in our culture,” she murmured, so softly he almost didn't catch it.

“Is it?” Wasn't she American? He seemed to recall a whole conversation that almost turned into an argument about it. “Since when?”

Beck blushed again, looking uncomfortable. “Never mind.”

“...Girls, make yourselves at home. I need to talk to your mom for a minute.”

“You're talking now.”

He almost wrote that off as another snarky response, until he realized it had come from Alice. Looking innocently confused, she stared at him with almost comically large blue eyes, and he smiled. “In private,” he clarified as gently as he could as he grabbed Beck's wrist and tugged her down the hall toward his bedroom.

“Door open at all times!”

With a huff, Beck dug her heels in and spun around to glare at Madeline. “Who's the mom, here?”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“Madeline.” Wrenching free of Mickey's grasp, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared her defiant offspring down. “Who's the mom?”

Glowering right back, Madeline mirrored her pose and grudgingly admitted, “You are.”

“Good. Now that we've got that cleared up, how about you show our host a little respect?”

Madeline's face was red as a tomato, but she still looked more angry and resentful than contrite, until she took a deep breath and turned to Mickey. With a surprising note of sincerity, she grumbled, “Sorry, Mickey.”

“Jet lag gets the best of all of us. Maybe you two should take a nap while your mom and I talk.” He didn't know what the hell else to say. He couldn't say 'it's okay' and undermine her mother, and 'you're forgiven' sounded kind of dickish. With an awkward smile, he waved and resumed dragging Beck down the hall.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed behind them, Beck sighed and leaned against it, looking worn out. “I'm so sorry about her. She's been so bitchy lately; my sister said she was even copping an attitude with her, which she almost never does.”

“She's probably just tired and been missing her mom.” In truth, he thought Madeline's sass was funny as hell, but he wasn't about to step into the middle of a mother-daughter war. Instead, he focused on his own curiosity. “What 'culture' celebrates the day after a birthday?”

She winced. “It's nothing, Mickey. Forget it.”

Weird. “What's the big deal? I'm just curious.”

“Alright, fine.” Looking and sounding resigned, she muttered, “If you're gonna judge or laugh, might as well get it out of the way – I'm a witch.”

Mickey stared at her. Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it wasn't that. “...A witch?”

“I don't ride a broomstick and I can't turn you into a toad.” Oof. Defensive. Judging by her tone, she'd had this conversation before, and it hadn't gone well. “My sister's a witch, too, and so are my girls. There's an old tradition in the craft; at thirteen we find our deity, if we're meant to serve one, and a year and a day later, we pledge to their service.”

Light dawned. “Oh, that's why you always say 'Gods' instead of 'God'! That makes sense.” Who was he to judge? He wasn't particularly religious, but was any one religion really any weirder than the next? Curiosity abated, he brushed it off and tugged her into his arms. “My very own Sabrina.”

Beck snorted and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “Sometimes I feel more like Sarah Sanderson.”

“You really want me to throw a rager for your fourteen-year-old?” He didn't know what to say about her Hocus Pocus reference – 'horny and ditzy? Sounds about right' was...probably not the right thing – so he decided to just jump back to the original topic.

She shrugged. “I honestly don't know what to do for her. Coming back here was her idea, but I kinda doubt it had much to do with her birthday. She wasn't kidding about wondering which one of us is the parent; that kid's been trying to take care of me since she was little.”

“Why?”

Sighing, she stepped back out of his arms. She looked so sad and broken suddenly that he wished he'd never asked. “I would love to say that it's just who she is – and it is, to a point. Some people are just natural caregivers, and Maddie's definitely one of them. But I was a mess before Liss was born. Maddie's had to deal with a lot of bullshit, and it made her grow up too fast.”

That settled it in Mickey's mind. As he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with one hand and opened the bedroom door with the other, he told her again, “She's getting a fucking party.”

Three hours and a lot of yelling at Agryris to get him to stop laughing later, he was setting up speakers in front of his apartment building, surrounded by what looked like every kid in Athens between twelve and sixteen, along with their parents. It definitely wasn't his usual crowd, to say the least, but they were friendly enough. Most importantly, Madeline was already smiling and laughing.

Remembering the posters he'd seen around town, he pulled his phone out again and called a number he hadn't used in quite a while. “Well, well. So you're in Athens. What do you know? I have a favor to ask you...”

“OHMYGOD! BASTIAN!”

Mickey grinned. Clearly, he'd made the right call, and it was earning him hugs galore. For the first time all day, Madeline was acting like a teenage girl, bouncing up and down and screeching with joy as Bastian made her way through the party. With a bright smile, she hugged the birthday girl and smoothed her dark curls back off of her face before approaching Mickey and hugging him. The second she moved back, Madeline launched herself at him, squeezing so tightly he thought she might crack a few ribs. And then her laughing mother replaced her, and he'd never felt so popular.

“Hell of a dad move,” Beck teased, grinning at him as she stepped aside and Maddie barreled into him again.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Laughing, Mickey lifted her up and kissed the top of her head. “Happy birthday.” She was too light; idly, he made a mental note to ask what the hell Beck and her sister were feeding these kids, or failing to feed them. Then he realized he sort of was acting like Maddie's dad and he blushed, setting her down.

As she ran off to dance with her little sister, he pulled Bastian up onto the platform and picked up the mic. “First of all – let's hear it for the birthday girl!” He pointed, and grinned when the revelers around him cheered, making the brunette blush. “Maddie O'Brien! You said you have no friends back in the States-” Boos echoed around them, and her color deepened. “-So I thought, what could make a better birthday present than a couple hundred Greek friends?”

The crowd cheered again, and a few “YEAH, MADDIE” shouts made the girl in question laugh, covering her face with the hand not holding tight to Alice's little wrist. Mickey noticed that she did that a lot; whenever the younger girl wasn't in her mother's arms, she was in her sister's tight, protective grip.

“What do you guys think?” He shouted into the mic. “This girl's really cool, right? You wanna be Maddie's friends, and show her how much better everything is here in Greece?”

The cheers were deafening. Mickey was grinning like a fool, and was pleased to see that so was Madeline. Big blue eyes shining, she stared up at him like he was her hero, and for a minute, life was pretty damn good. He'd die before admitting it aloud, at least so soon, but he could easily see a bright, happy future where he was stepdad to these two beautiful little girls, and they doted over their step-brother Hector, the way Maddie doted over Alice. He glanced at their mother, and couldn't help getting just a little choked up when he saw an identical look of joy and appreciation on her beautiful face. Man, it was nice to be the hero.

Before he could get too emotional and ruin the party, he pointed to Bastian. “You guys know who this is, right?” Another enthusiastic roar; he was a little jealous this time, but shoved it down and smiled. “Well, she's gonna take over for a little while, so make sure you give her some love, alright?”

Yanking her into one more tight hug, he handed the reins over to Bastian and hopped down. Beck immediately threw her arms around him and kissed him. “You are amazing, you know that? I descend on you unannounced with a grouchy teenager in tow, and you give her the best fucking night of her life!”

“All in a day's work,” he joked, squeezing her. “She seems like a great kid; they both do. I couldn't just do nothing and let her be miserable.”

“Hector is lucky.” She was grinning so wide, her face hurt; Mickey only knew because he was doing the same. “He's got a really great dad. If you'd do something like this for a kid you've never even met before, I can only imagine the lengths you'd go to for your own.”

“Think you can pass that praise on to my ex? Maybe she'll actually let me see him.”

Smile fading, she gripped his head with both hands and pulled him down to press their foreheads together. “If you want me to, I'll help you fight for him. You deserve to see your son, and he deserves to know his dad.”

“How long are you staying this time?” He didn't want to talk about Hector suddenly; not at a party surrounded by strangers and their children.

Seeming to sense his mood, Beck smiled and glanced at her giggling daughters. They were hopping around like lunatics to the music, surrounded by kids Maddie's age. She looked like she was having the time of her life. “From the looks of things now? Forever.” Mickey thought she was joking, but the look on her face stopped him from laughing it off. “I've never seen her so happy. Athens might just become home.”

“I hope so.” He shrugged, forcing a chipper smile to hide the desperately hopeful one he couldn't quite keep in. “It did for me!”

“We'll see.”

Unlike most of the parties he'd worked, this one started winding down fairly early as kids hugged Maddie, wished her a happy birthday, and were ushered home by their tired parents. Alice was asleep in Mickey's arms, her tiny body limp as a rag doll and her silky black curls tickling his nose. As the last of her party guests wished her well and left, Madeline hurried over to him and cuddled up to the side not currently occupied by the dead weight of her sister.

“Thank you, Mickey.”

“Did you have fun?” She nodded, and he smiled softly, stroking her dark hair. “Good. Let's get inside and get the little one into bed, shall we?”

She glanced around, frowning a little. “Where's mom?”

“Already upstairs.” Grinning, he watched her for a reaction and added casually, “With Bastian.”

Bright blue eyes widening, she gaped at him. “She's staying?”

Mickey laughed. “For tonight, at least, yeah. Come on.”

As they trudged through the door of his apartment a few minutes later, Mickey found himself wishing he'd stayed outside.

“No way!” Beck whipped around to gape at him while Bastian laughed. “You didn't tell me you were in a band!”

“Oh lord,” Madeline grumbled under her breath. “Get something pierced and she'll propose to you by midnight, I swear.”

Choking on a startled laugh, he lowered Alice into her sister's waiting arms. “Put her in Hector's bed. You and your mom can take mine tonight.” As she obediently wandered down the hall to tuck the younger girl in, Mickey flopped down on the couch beside Beck and tugged her into his arms. “That was a long time ago. Then she got her big break and got all famous, and she didn't need losers like me anymore.”

“Oh, that is such bullshit!” Laughing, Bastian stretched out to kick him. “We got a break. We got a deal. You were every bit a part of all that!”

“Oh, please!” Mickey rolled his eyes. “You never needed me. It was the Bastian Show, and we were just-”

“No! No, what happened was...”

They bickered for a while, going back and forth over who was to blame for Saint Claude's ultimate demise. After a few minutes, Beck excused herself and left the room, leaving the two old friends to catch up. When the argument showed no signs of ending, Mickey huffed and stood up, muttering something about getting a drink as he walked away. He loved Bastian, but damn she could be stubborn!

“What the fuck are you doing?” A glass in each hand, he stared at her as she laid out lines of cocaine on her phone's screen.

“What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?”

“Oh, god.” He grimaced, glancing toward the bedrooms. All quiet, but he didn't know if Beck and Maddie were asleep, or just hiding from the debate. “Come on, let's go in the bathroom.”

“The Brat Pack's asleep. Don't worry about it!”

“You don't know that,” he hissed. “Come on.”

Bastian rolled her eyes, but she allowed him to usher her into the bathroom. “You're paranoid. You barely even know these people! What do you care what they think?”

“I care,” he snapped, though he didn't refuse when she offered him a line. He'd just finished, was still hunched over the phone, when the door opened and he was faced with, basically, his worst nightmare: Madeline was standing in the doorway, hand on the knob.

They both froze, staring at her like deer in headlights. Face completely expressionless, Maddie looked at each of them, then at the line of cocaine still on the phone, and then straight at Mickey. "I just wanted to thank you again for today." Without another word, she calmly turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Shit." Ignoring Bastian's drug-fueled giggle fit, Mickey was on his feet and chasing after the teen in a flash. "Maddie!"

Though her face was still a stony mask, there were tears in her eyes when she whirled around to face him. "I need to talk to you. Now."

"Okay." He gestured to the couch, but she shook her head.

"Outside. I don't wanna wake up mom or Alice."

Nodding, he followed her without another word. At first he'd thought she meant out in the hall, but she didn't stop until they were outside the building. "Maddie, listen-"

"Let her go." Mickey's heart broke when she turned to face him again. Tears running down her cheeks and lower lip trembling, she stared up at him with those huge blue eyes and he almost started crying with her. "You have to let her go. Mom's loyal even when she shouldn't be. She'll never break it off."

"Maddie, I don't want-"

"I only exist because my dad drugged and raped her!" Wiping furiously at her face while he shrank back in horror, she continued more calmly, "She doesn't know I know that, or that he tried to kidnap me a bunch of times when I was little. Auntie told me. She still stayed with him for almost a year. Will hit her, Owen was a toxic psycho, Alex was a racist jerk... Alice's dad was always really nice to us all when he came around, but he almost never did. And I don't know what he did, but he's in jail for life now." With a bitter grimace, she spat, "And you're a druggie."

Maddie's had to deal with a lot of bullshit, and it made her grow up too fast.

Beck's soft voice, so full of pain and regret, echoed in his head as Mickey sank down to sit on the steps and tugged Madeline into his arms. "I'm not a druggie," he assured her as she clung to him and broke down sobbing. "One time thing, kiddo, I promise."

"Like you'd say anything else!"

The little whimper that escaped her as she scooted up his leg to get closer and dropped her head onto his shoulder very nearly made him start crying with her. For all that she insisted he get the hell out of her life, he could tell that she was desperate for someone decent to stay. This poor kid was fourteen going on forty after watching her mom date a string of losers; no wonder she had no faith in men, or in her mother's ability to make sound decisions. He squeezed her a little tighter, not sure what to do or say.

"Mickey, I'm tired," she croaked, making his heart ache for her even more. He knew she didn't mean sleepy; she was tired of being the mature one, and he couldn't say he blamed her. "I'm so tired..."

"Shhh, it's okay, baby," he whispered, rubbing her back. "You can rest now. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You're my little girl now, okay? And I won't let anything happen to you, or your sister, or your mom. You don't have to take care of her anymore, honey. I will. You just take a breath and be a kid while you can."

"How can I trust you?"

Well, that hurt, but he got where she was coming from. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, he murmured, "I gotta earn that." He pried her loose and pushed her back a little, just enough to be able to look her in the eye. "Do you think you can give me a chance to?"

After a pause that felt like an eternity, Maddie sniffled and nodded. "Okay. But if you hurt her, I'll kick your nuts back up inside."

Laughing, Mickey nodded and smoothed her hair back. "Noted.” A thought occurred to him and he frowned. “Why did you aunt tell you all that? Putting that weight on a kid... That's cruel.”

“I asked,” she admitted with a shrug. “I asked why mom was such a mess, and why I didn't have a dad. So she told me.”

I'd have made some shit up, damn. Even high, he was smart enough not to say that. He chose not to say anything at all, and just held her for a while as the cool night air soothed their frayed nerves and her breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Mickey?”

“Hm?”

Voice a small, timid whisper, she asked, “Do you really wanna be my dad?”

Smiling softly, he kissed her head again and hugged her just a bit tighter. “I am your dad.” When she tensed and let out a frustrated huff, he explained, “I'm in love with your mom, kiddo. And I already love you and your sister. We're family now, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

“You're weird.” He could hear her teasing smile in her voice, and he smiled, too, relieved. “You don't even know us.”

“I know enough. Come on.” Though all he wanted was to sit there and cuddle with her all night, he gently pushed her off his lap and stood. “It's getting late. You should get to bed.”

Sending her off down the hall to his bedroom when they got back upstairs, he collapsed on the couch and sighed. He'd known when he met her that Beck would make his life more interesting... he just had no idea how interesting.

A laugh beside him reminded him of his other guest and he reluctantly opened his eyes. Judging from the way she was twitching and snickering, Bastian had finished the rest of the coke. “That was intense!”

Mickey closed his eyes again. “If it's not already gone, get that shit out of my house.”

“Oh, come on!” She shoved him, grinning impishly. “Don't try to act all virtuous now! You were right there with me, until that kid walked in.”

“'That kid'?” Annoyed now, he sat up and glared at her. “My kid.”

“Not really, though.” Confused, she twisted to glance down the hall, and then back to stare at him. “...Right? I mean, shit, she does kinda look like you...”

He shook his head. “No. Biologically, no, but I don't care. I'm not gonna add my name to the list of guys who've hurt her.”

Bastian snorted, rolling her eyes. “Mickey, you can't just decide to play daddy to this random kid on a whim just because your ex won't let you see your own. She's not yours, and changing your whole life and personality isn't going to change that.”

“I haven't touched that shit in years. I'm not changing on a whim; you just don't know me anymore.”

“Enough,” she challenged, settling back in her seat and staring down her nose at him. “I know you well enough to know this is never gonna work.”

“What isn't?”

“This!” Bastian gestured vaguely around them. “This whole self-domestication shit. You're not some house husband and stepdad – you're a musician. You belong on the road, Mickey! Not shut up in some old lady's apartment playing House with some crazy chick and her walking, talking reminders of past mistakes.”

“Beck,” he snapped, glaring at her. “'That chick's' name is Beck, and her gorgeous daughters are Maddie and Alice. They're not mistakes. Alice is adorable and so smart, and Maddie is fucking awesome and she's been through Hell. I haven't seen you in years and you think you're gonna sit here in my house and tell me who I am and what I want? I don't fucking think so, Bastian.”

“Alright, alright!” She held up her hands in surrender, eyes wide. “Chill. I just miss you, okay? I want you to come on tour with me, like the old days, not sit here and rot away in some mediocre domestic life. You could have so much more!”

Mickey sighed, staring off into space for a moment. Some part of him was drawn to her offer, but that wasn't him anymore. He didn't actually want to tour with her, he just hated feeling settled; at some point in his wild youth, stability had begun to feel like stagnation, and now he found himself often desperate to avoid it, even if it came with everything he truly wanted.

He thought about Beck, and her bright smile and her two beautiful, lonely daughters, and he thought about Hector. Beck had been spot-on; as much as he did love Greece, Mickey had really only stayed this long because of his son. He wanted to be in Hector's life. Now he wanted to be in Maddie and Alice's lives, too. He wanted a family.

And for the first time, he was willing to fight for that family.

“You're right,” he admitted slowly. “You're right, I've been hiding here, just floating around aimlessly.” Before she could get all triumphant, he stood and growled, “But that's not what I'm doing now. Now, I'm finally seeing a life that I want, and I'll be damned if I'll let anyone take it away from me.”

That said, he walked away without giving Bastian a chance to argue. He peeked into his son's room to check on Alice, smiled when he saw the way she was sprawled, half hanging off the bed, and he quietly closed the door and headed to his own room. Hopefully Maddie wouldn't mind; he'd originally intended to crash on the couch, but he couldn't stand to be in the same room as Bastian, and couldn't quite bring himself to kick her out, either. Moving slowly, so as to avoid waking either of the bed's other two occupants, he slid in next to Beck.

She immediately rolled over and cuddled close to him. At first he thought she was just fidgeting in her sleep, but then she whispered, “Don't let anyone change you or tell you who you are. Not even me.”

“I won't.” He tried to smile, couldn't quite manage it, and kissed her, instead. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

It wasn't quite a seamless transition. Mickey's place was too small for a family of four, and he didn't exactly love the idea of moving a bunch of heavy audio equipment down those winding stairs. Though he wanted to jump right into living together, he didn't put up much of a fight when Beck started looking for her own place.

It helped that she didn't spend a lot of time at home. Once the girls were enrolled in school, their mother started dropping them off and then going straight to Mickey's place. She helped Argyris translate for Mickey and his clients, which both men had thought was a terrible idea... until they saw her in action. The short fuse he'd become so familiar with in their first couple of days together was nowhere to be found. Around even his most difficult clients, Beck was the embodiment of charm and professional courtesy. Mickey quickly found that while Argyris was better for direct translation, he was no match for Beck when it came to diplomacy and deescalating a heated argument.

“You haven't seen 'difficult',” she teased, “until you've been a woman in a male-dominated field arguing for funding. This is nothing.”

Mickey laughed, yanking her into his arms. “Where have you been all my life?”

She flinched, closing her eyes and pressing her fingertips to her mouth for a second. It was the briefest of moments, and then she was smiling again and joking, “On my knees in the dirt, mostly,” but he refused to ignore it.

“You okay?”

With a little shrug and a nod, she admitted, “Been a little queasy and lightheaded lately, but I'm fine. It never lasts long.”

“You are so American.” She glared at him and he grinned, pleased that he knew how to get her attention. “You're not in Dystopia anymore – go to a doctor.”

“Did you not hear me? I'm fi-”

“I heard 'lately,'” he countered, poking her side and immediately regretting it when she cringed. Right; queasy. Maybe don't mess with her stomach, Mickey. “'Lately' means this is not normal. It means you're sick, so go to a doctor.”

She shook her head, winced, and dropped it onto his shoulder. “I don't need a doctor.”

“You can't even move without turning green.”

“I'm fine. I don't need a doctor.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You're supposed to help me with stubborn people, not be the Queen of them!”

“Am I your girlfriend or your lawyer?”

“That's not what I meant and you know it. Don't change the subject.” Rubbing her back, he insisted as gently as he could, “Please just go get checked out.”

“I don't need to. I'm fine.”

“Look, even if it's minor, do you wanna suffer or find out what's wrong and get better?”

“I don't need a doctor to tell me what I already know!”

What she already knew? He frowned, more confused than ever. “Is it some kind of chronic-”

“Mickey, I'm not sick – I'm pregnant!”

He froze, gaping at her in shock. She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her waist before she could stand up. “You're what?”

Looking nervous and uncomfortable, she mumbled, “I was trying to find the right time to tell you; we've just been so busy with that 'make it more Greek' asshat...”

“You're really pregnant?” When she slowly and carefully nodded, Mickey grinned and hugged her as tight as he dared. “That's fantastic!” He finally let her up, only to stand with her and frame her face with both hands. Between frantic kisses all over her face, he gushed, “That's incredible! Have you told the girls yet? Oh, Alice is gonna be so excited to be a big sister! And Hector! I can't wait for Hector to meet his little brother or sister!”

“Mickey...”

He glanced around, smile dimming just a bit. “Damn, we gotta get a bigger place.”

“Mickey.”

“I wonder if Agryris' grandmother had-”

“Mickey!” Shoving his hands away, Beck got a tight grip on his hair and forced him to turn back to face her. “Do you really think we can do this?”

He blinked, taken aback by that. “Don't you?”

“Three kids, and fighting for joint custody of a fourth?” She shook her head, looking at him like he was an idiot. “The thought that we might be in over our heads crossed my mind, yeah. I was struggling with just two!”

“Well, now you have me.” His cheeky grin didn't seem to comfort her as much as he'd hoped it would. “You were struggling 'cause you were alone; now you're not.”

“A single mom with two kids really isn't all that different from two parents with four,” she pointed out, releasing his hair and crossing her arms over her chest. Seeing the hurt he tried to mask, she sighed. “Look, I'm glad you're excited, I am. And whether we're ready or not, the kid's on the way, I just... I just wish I shared your optimism. I'm not excited, Mickey; I'm scared to death.”

“Well, get excited,” he jokingly commanded, pulling her close for another hug. “We'll be fine. Besides, it's not like Aspa's ever gonna give me full custody, so it's not really two to four. Maddie's old enough that she doesn't need constant hyper-vigilance from us, so it's really just two to two-and-a-half.”

Finally, finally, Beck laughed. It was quiet and weak, but a laugh nonetheless. “Jesus, you're like sunshine in human form. Does anything ever get you down?”

He shrugged. “Sure, but I try not to let it for long. And I see a new baby as something to celebrate, not freak the hell out over.”

“See, you get to see it that way because you don't have to push it out,” she teased. “It's not so perfectly sunny from where I'm standing.”

“No one said life is perfect.” Still smiling like a fool, he kissed her. “Whatever you need, I'm here. You're not doing everything alone anymore. We got this.”

“I love you.”

It didn't seem possible, but somehow his smile got even wider. “I love you, too.”

“Speaking of Aspa, though...”

“Oh, god, what?”

With a laugh and an apologetic smile, Beck ventured, “I don't think you should come today.”

“What?”

Her smile immediately faded; apparently, he was really bad at hiding it when he was confused and offended. “Baby, you're chaos incarnate. It's one of the things I love about you, but it's not exactly conducive to a civilized conversation with a woman who probably kind of hates you.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I just think I might have better luck getting through to her, single mom to single mom.” She looked like she was waiting for him to hit her, which only made him feel worse. “I know how hard it is, and how, whether we mean to or not, we tend to villainize our exes-”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, with the stellar guys you've dated, it makes sense. It's not really villainizing if he's already a villain.”

“Exactly how much did Madeline tell you?”

Uh-oh. She was mad. Knowing he was in trouble no matter what and refusing to drag his stepdaughter down with him, Mickey hastily changed the subject. “Do you really think I'll fuck things up that badly if I go?” Why was he even asking? Offended or not, he knew she was right; Aspa hated his guts.

Thankfully, Beck let the dig about her exes drop and her steely expression melted back into one of gentle sympathy. “I just want you to have the best chance possible of getting to be an active part of Hector's life. I want him to know you, to sleep in that bed you bought him before he outgrows it, to meet his new sisters. And I think your feelings towards Aspa, and hers toward you, are probably too raw and volatile right now for a face-to-face meeting to be a good idea.”

“Alright.” Forcing a faint smile, he nodded. “Alright, go. You've got a point.”

“I'll tell you all about it when I get back, okay?” She promised with an equally strained smile, kissing his cheek.

“Can't wait.”

When she came back a little while later, she was laughing. Mickey's hopes that it meant things had gone better than expected were dashed, though, when she managed to gasp out, “She really hates you!”

“Yeah, thanks.” He shook his head. “I knew that much.”

“I'm sorry.” Still giggling, Beck wound her arms around his waist. “She was just such a bitch. I kinda respect the hell out of her.”

“What did she say?”

“That you're a baby,” she dutifully recited, “and you're irresponsible, unreliable...”

“Why is this funny?!”

“Because, Mickey... Mickey, honey...” Framing his face like he had to her earlier, she told him, “It's nothing I didn't already know. You're flighty and you're a big kid; this isn't news. She was floored that I love you anyway, and my god, the look on her face when I went off about how that childishness is what makes you such a good dad, and you're great with the girls... I haven't been able to stop laughing since! Pretty sure she hates me now, too.”

“Great!” Failing to see the humor, Mickey jerked free of her light grasp and moved away, beginning to pace the room. “So instead of helping, you just alienated her from us both!”

“We're going to see him on Saturday.”

“What?” He spun to stare at her; she wasn't laughing anymore. “Are you serious?”

Looking rather proud of herself, she nodded. “Supervised by Aspa, of course, but yep. You get to spend time with your son, and I finally get to meet him. It doesn't matter what she thinks of either of us, as long as she can see that you give a shit; that we're safe to be around Hector, and can be trusted to think of him first. Show her how much you love him, that even childish and flaky you can be reliable, that you want to be reliable, and a supervised visit might turn into father-son weekends, without your ex underfoot.”

“I... wha... how...?”

She shrugged, smiling faintly. “Mother to mother. We came to an understanding.”

Overwhelmed by emotions he couldn't even identify, Mickey closed the distance between them and lifted her up. “I fucking love you, you know that?”

Beaming as he set her down, Beck leaned in for a kiss. “I love you, too, baby.”

“That's not cute anymore.” Despite his protests, he was grinning as he backed her toward the bedroom. “Now I just feel like you're calling me a baby. That sucks. Don't do that.”

“I'll call you what I want,” she teased, pulling him down for another kiss. “And you can't stop me!”

With a hand on her belly, he joked, “How about you call me 'daddy'?”

“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “I physically cannot do that. I'll puke.”

“Well, morning sickness is pretty common.”

“No, this is pure disgust.”

They were both laughing now as they reached the bed; he almost playfully shoved her back, but then remembered the baby and thought better of it. Instead, he flopped across it himself and beckoned for her to join him. “We're gonna be okay, you know.”

Beck winced as she settled gingerly on the edge of the bed. “It's just such bad timing. I don't...”

“Hey.” He tugged at her arm until she stretched out beside him, and wound his arms around her. “It's all gonna be okay. No matter what life throws at us, we'll deal with it together, okay? I want this baby. I know you want this baby. The rest is just details.”

“Pretty big fucking details. I was supposed to go to Mongolia next month.”

“Then go.” God, he didn't want her to, but he was determined to show her that they could be together, be a family, without completely derailing her life. When she looked at him like he'd lost it, he gave her a bland 'are you kidding' look right back. “You're not really gonna try to convince me that you weren't still going on digs when you were pregnant with Alice, are you?”

She blushed. “My team didn't know...”

“So don't tell them this time, either.”

“Mickey...” Pushing his arms away, she sat up. “You really have no idea how physically demanding my work is, do you? I almost lost Alice.”

For a second, he floundered, wondering what the hell to do or say. Then he brightened and sat up, as well. “You speak a million languages; just work as a translator until you're safe to go back out into the field.”

“...I do love it,” she conceded, making him perk up. “And maybe I can finally teach you some Greek so you can talk to your son more easily.”

Mickey chuckled. “I'm not getting out of that, am I?”

“Nope.” She grinned and settled back against his chest as he leaned against the headboard. “Not until we're both fluent.”

“Alright, I'm in.” He smiled, kissing her jaw and lacing their fingers together. “New home for us, new job for you, learning a new language...”

“New baby on the way.”

“New baby on the way,” he parroted, pressing their linked hands to her belly. “New chapter.”

“Here's to a new life.”

Mickey nodded and leaned down for a proper kiss, murmuring against her lips, “Together.”

[peterspideyy]

chapter 15 | never look back

series masterlist 

previous chapter ~ next chapter  

————

“no. there’s gotta be another way.” thomas urged, walking to you all.

“like what? you’ve seen the building. she is our only way in.” gally replied.

she. teresa. when gally took peter, newt and thomas to the last city, he told them how the only way into wckd’s building, is her. sighing heavily, you don’t understand why your brother is getting upset with using teresa as our way in. she’s betrayed us.

“you really think she’s gonna help us?” thomas spat back.

“i don’t plan on asking for her permission-“

“am i missing something here,” brenda laughed, “this is the same girl who betrayed us, correct? same dick?”

gally chuckled, “i like her.”

“what’s going on?” brenda asked thomas. you looked down, unaware of the person sitting next to you, was about to erupt, any second.

“what you afraid your little girlfriend’s going to get hurt, hmm? this is obviously never been about rescuing minho.” peter shouted, looking at your brother. your eyes went wide at his sudden outburst, placing your hand on his, but he pushed it away.

“peter, what are you talking about?” thomas mumbled.

“peter.” you whispered, but he ignored you.

“teresa,” he stood up, “she’s the only reason, minho’s even missing in the first place, and now we finally have an opportunity to get him back, and you don’t want to because of, her?”

he walked forward, causing thomas to walk back.

“cause deep down inside you still care about her don’t you,” he whispered, hatred laced in his voice, “just admit it.”

“peter i-“

“don’t lie to me!” he screamed, shoving him against the wall roughly, making you jump at the sudden action, “don’t. lie. to. me!”

you rushed to your feet, placing your hands on his shoulder to calm him down. instantly, he dropped his arms to his side, his shoulders untensing, looking at your brother, “sorry.”

he turned around looking at everyone, before his eyes landed on you, “i’m sorry.”

before you could even reply, he walked away, gripping onto his arm, as he did so. your eyes watered, as you took in what happened. something has been off with him. the way he clings onto his right arm, all the time. the way he’s been getting…agitated. guilt started to overcome you, as you realised you should of been paying more attention, to the clear red flags.

thomas looked at you, “i’ll go and see him.”

“no,” you shook your head, whispering, “i’ll go.”

he nodded, as you followed where peter went, until you came to a roof. he was sat down on the edge, looking down as he fiddled with something. walking up to him, you sat down next to him.

“sorry about that. back there.” he mumbled.

“love, what’s going on?” you questioned.

he looked at you, “guess i can’t hide this anymore.”

you furrowed your brows, in confusion as he rolled his sleeve up to reveal, dark black veins, starting to pop up out of his skin. your face fell, and your throat started to close up, as you realised the one thing you wouldn’t have expected. he’s infected.

“no, no, no,” you shook your head, as your stomach started to do flips, “why didn’t you tell me?”

he smiled, “didn’t think it would make any difference. and i didn’t want you to worry. which is what you’re doing now.”

“peter, i only worry cause i love you. w-we can still fix this, though. we can get you the serum i-“

“we worry about minho first. not me.” he interrupted.

“no. peter-“

“y/n, he needs us. so if there is even a slightest chance that we can save him, we can get him out of there, then we have to take that. no matter what the cost.” he replied, before bringing his hand up to wipe away a tear which was falling down your cheek, which you didn’t even realise until the soft action.

“i will get you the serum, you hear me?”

he nodded, “okay. come ‘ere.”

he opened his arms up, making you shuffle closer to him. leaning your head on his chest, he rubbed your back, as you looked up at the last city, while you listened to his calm beating heart.

————

newt took the bag off teresa’s head, making her breath out heavily, as he walked back, sitting down next to thomas. she looked at everyone before freezing, eyes wide at the person who was supposed to be dead, all those years ago, “gally?”

“here’s how this is gonna go,” gally started, “we’re gonna ask you some questions, and you’re gonna tell us exactly what we need to know.”

she looked around, before landing on you, making you glance down.

“we’ll start of simple,” gally carried on, standing up and moving a chair in-front of her, “where’s minho?”

she shook her head, looking at thomas, “you guys don’t seriously think-“

“don’t look at him,” gally interrupted, “why are you looking at him? look at me. he’s not gonna help you.”

you scoffed, glancing at peter who was starring at teresa, harshly.

“now, we know you have minho in the building. where?” gally urged.

she looked down, “he’s with the other’s in holding. sub level three.”

“how many others?” newt inquired.

“28.”

you all looked at brenda.

“i can make that work.” she smiled, looking at jorge, who nodded.

“no,” teresa spoke, “you guys don’t understand, the whole levels restricted. you can’t get in without a thumb print id.”

“that’s why, you’re gonna come with us.” thomas mumbled.

“well, i don’t know,” gally titled his head, “we don’t necessarily need her.”

he stood up abruptly, walking over to a table, “not all of her.” he picked up a scalpel, walking back over to her, “we just need her finger.”

“gally, back off.” thomas warned.

“are you squeamish? i guarantee you she’s done a lot worse to minho.” gally said, pointing at her, making you roll your eyes. he’s right. she probably has done worse to minho. but, despite everything she’s done, she doesn’t deserve it.

“that’s not the plan,” thomas spoke, standing up; taking the scalpel out of his hands, “back off.”

“it won’t make a difference. do whatever you want to me. you still won’t get through the front door. the sensors will pick you up-“

“we know,” thomas interrupted, “we’re tagged. property wckd.”

he crouched down by her, looking up, “you’re gonna help us with that too.”

he gave her the scalpel, making her look at him, before she nodded.

————

you sat on the edge of the couch, your hand on the back on your neck, as you pressed a tissue to where your tracker was, but it was removed by teresa, just a couple of minutes ago. you were starring at nothing in particular on the concrete. you were just, thinking.

tonight, you were hopefully going to free minho. finally, see him, properly, after six months of not being with him, since you were taken. you couldn’t bare to think, of what wckd has done to him. all the pain. suffering. he’s had to deal with, is probably horrifying. so, the fact, your going to save him, from that devilish place made you glad, beyond words could explain.

your mind then progressed to peter. you have the get the serum. you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he get’s worse. or turns into one of those, monsters. you hate. despise that the world has done this to him. he doesn’t deserve to be infected. he deserves to be immune. he deserves the world, but instead the world repays him like this.

“hey,” peter’s voice interrupted your thoughts, “this is for tonight.”

he placed a wckd’s guard uniform on the couch by you, before sitting next to you on the other side, placing his left hand on your thigh, stroking it gently. you looked at him, catching a glimpse of his arm, before freezing under his touch. it was getting worse, and bigger each second. he noticed this, frowning slightly.

“y/n-“

you cut him off, by placing your lips on his. you felt him stop at the sudden action, before relaxing. you deepend it, silently telling him, how you were going to get him the serum. as well as freeing minho. you started to cry slighty, as you poured numerous of emotions and feelings into the kiss. pulling back, you breathed out heavily, as you leant your forehead against his.

“what was that for?” he mumbled.

“can i not kiss my boyfriend?” you giggled.

“of course you can. but, it was just out of the blue.”

you sighed heavily, opening your eyes to see him already deeply looking at you, “i need you to understand, that i will get you that serum.”

“minho first, then serum.” he replied.

you nodded, “i know minho is our priority, but i-i…you will get that serum. no matter what. j-just seeing your arm, made me remember the maze. when i was trapped in there for the night. in that moment, all i could think about was you. i don’t want to loose you. i never want to loose you.”

he nodded, taking in your words, “you won’t loose me, okay? promise.”

unbenknowest to you, peter didn’t agree with risking the chance of not saving minho, over saving himself. he thinks minho is way more important, than him. and he knows if he says this to you, you won’t agree. so, he keeps you happy, by kissing you passionately, ignoring the pain soaring through his body, as he allowed himself to feel every bit of love he has towards you.

“i love you, peter.” you whispered.

“i love you too, y/n.”

————

a/n- so, are you all okay? ahah! i think a few of you guessed it, but i didn’t want to spoil anything, but yeah. do you think peter will get the serum as well as saving minho? we’ll find out soon :)

————

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[imaginingsoftly]

For the Love of the Game - Jake DeBrusk

Type: first meetings, mini-rants about hockey culture thinly veiled as plot

Requested: No

Warnings: lots of swearing

A/N: An ending miraculously made an appearance, so the Jake thing is actually a one-shot and not a series. 

Night shifts were the time to work. Y/N sighed as she finally sat on a stool halfway through her shift, the first chance she’d had to sit since the night began. Weekend night shifts, while her favorite, could be demanding. Everyone was out, it seemed like, and they were all drunkenly breaking bones. Not that she’d ever complain about the volume of work. It was lucky, really, that she’d managed to get a radiology tech job in Boston at all. Mass. General was an enormous hospital with some of the best staff in the country, and it wasn’t often they hired new grads without prior work experience. 

Mary, one of her favorite coworkers, slumped onto the chair next to Y/N with a groan. “I just had a 220-pound drunk guy fall on me. I’m gonna feel that for weeks.” Mary rubbed at her back as Y/N laughed. Mary was small, barely five feet tall, and maybe 100 pounds. Her size had been an advantage in college, when she was a flier for one of the cheer teams at a university in Texas, but was a disadvantage now when she had to manhandle people over twice her size. “How many X-rays are you up to tonight?” Mary asked. “I’ve seen you running around non-stop since our shifts started.”

“I lost count about an hour ago,” Y/N chuckled. “I can tell you that it’ll be a new personal record though. I’ve never seen so many random injuries before. Most of the time my people are coming from car accidents this time of night, but now it just seems like a ton of drunken reverie.” Mary made a face in agreement, and they watched in amusement as one of the orderlies hauled another drunken patient back into his room. It was madness in the halls, and Y/N shook her head. “Am I missing something? Is there a holiday I don’t know about?”

Ben, one of the doctors, appeared at Y/N’s side suddenly. “The Bruins played tonight. They won, but it was a really rough game. There were a couple of brawls in the stands, and some in the streets. That’s probably where most of these people are coming from.” Now that he mentioned it, there were a lot of people wearing sports gear. Y/N recognized the black and gold as belonging to the home team, but she didn’t recognize the blue and white the others were wearing. “The Toronto Maple Leafs,” Ben said, before she could ask. “They’ve got a bit of an intense rivalry going the last few years. A lot of tension, on and off the ice. Doesn’t help that Boston tends to come out the victors in playoff games.” 

Sports. Y/N’s mom was never a sports fan, minus Premier League, and even then she was just a casual observer. There had never been any intense feelings about sports in their house, and Y/N would never understand the hatred people felt for each other over teams. Ben squeezed Y/N’s shoulder gently, drawing her back to the present. “You guys need any coffee? Kevin’s making a run for me before he gets in for his shift.” Mary shook her head with a smile, but Y/N nodded. She would never turn down a good cup of coffee. Anything was better than what they’d get in the cafeteria. 

“Black, please. With a shot or two of espresso.” Ben shook his head disapprovingly at her, and Y/N shrugged with a smile. “I know, I know, caffeine is bad. I promise I’ve only had 3 other cups today. I’ve been good.” The coffee addiction was real. Honestly, it wasn’t so much the caffeine most of the time so much as it was the taste, but Y/N knew she shouldn’t be drinking this much of it. A voice sounded over the earpiece Y/N was wearing before Ben or Mary could say any more, and Y/N stood again with a sigh. “Duty calls. We’ve got a transfer from a Pete Asnis?”

“That means it’s an athlete,” Ben said, beginning to walk with Y/N. “I’m going to guess Bruins, since the Red Sox didn’t play tonight.” A nurse handed Y/N a clipboard with the information on her patient as they rounded the corner to the room Y/N was bound for, and Ben stopped. “I hope nothing is broken. They can’t afford another injury.” Seriously? That’s what he was worried about? Not that the guys might have a broken bone? Y/N rolled her eyes, though she slapped on a smile as she slid into the room. 

Said Bruins player was sitting on the hospital bed clearly unhappy to be there, a scowl painting the face she was sure smiled more often than not. He was arguing with an older bald man when Y/N entered, and she knocked on the door once to gain their attention. “Hi there; I was told a,” she stopped to look at the name on the clipboard, “Jake Debrusk needed some x-rays done?” The man on the bed managed to scowl even deeper somehow, and the bald guy sighed heavily. He was clearly a trainer of some sort, dressed in his joggers and team pullover, but he also looked like this routine was far too familiar to him. “He needs a scan on his right clavicle. Took a nasty hit and heard a crack. He can’t lift his right arm past about 45°, and I’m already seeing some swelling.” 

Good. At least the trainer could tell her everything she needed. “Alrighty, let me just check out that swelling and we’ll decide if we can take that picture yet, yes?” Jake softened slightly at her smile and nodded. He had a nice face, though there was a nasty bruise forming over his eye. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, one of the X-Ray techs here. Hopefully we can get a scan of your shoulder and get you home ASAP.” The trainer reached out a hand, introducing himself as Don Delnegro, the head trainer for the team. Jake barely acknowledged her words, and looked absolutely miserable from his seat on the bed. He began to slide his shirt off so she could get a look at his shoulder, but stopped when he jolted it. “Can I help you?” Y/N reached out her hands slowly, and when Jake nodded began to help him slide the shirt over his head without jostling his arm too much. 

The bruising on his shoulder and torso was spectacular. Of course, they were nothing compared to the muscle they were coloring, and her mouth dried a little at the beauty sitting on the hospital bed. Y/N tried to keep her reaction to a minimum, but Jake clearly caught the slight widening of her eyes. “Toronto always plays us rough. We’ve got a little bit of history.” He grinned at Y/N. “We always come out on top though.” Delnegro scoffed from behind Y/N, and she reached out a hand to feel for swelling before she lost her mind. It was definitely swollen, a bit too much to get a clear scan. 

“I have some okay news, and some bad news.” Jake groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Please don’t tell me you can’t do the x-ray,” he begged, “I don’t want to stay.” If it weren’t for how childish and dramatic he sounded, Y/N probably would have been a little offended. Hospitals weren’t for everyone, but she liked it here. “So bad news, you’re too swollen for a scan. Okay news, it should only be a few hours before we can scan you. You might be able to go home before morning.” Delnegro sighed and settled in. 

“You don’t have to stay, you can go home.” Jake looked at the older man almost apologetically, like he felt bad about an injury outside his control.

“I don’t trust you to take care of yourself. I’m staying until they discharge you.” Delnegro fixed Jake with a stare that would have had even Ben cringing, and Y/N smirked at the stubbornness of the trainer.

“You’re going to want the company, trust me. It may be a couple of hours before we can get the scan.” Y/N spoke before she could stop herself. It really wasn’t any of her business if he was alone or not. Jake took his turn to glare at someone, though Y/N was completely unimpressed. No matter how threatening he tried to look, the guy just didn’t look mean. Her pager signaled a new patient that needed scanning, and Y/N sighed. No more time for conversation. “A nurse will be in to check on you every hour or so, and when they let me know the swelling is down I’ll come back.” She smiled at the two men one more time and slipped out the door once they nodded. 

Now to find someone to check in on him. If he was a professional athlete, the hospital big-wigs were probably expecting her to give him preferential treatment. They had when one of the Patriots players had hurt himself during a workout. Dealing with the business side of hospitals, the one that didn’t put patients first, was her least favorite part of the job. Mary was power-walking down the hallway when Y/N walked out of the room, and she flagged her down. “I’ve got a possible broken clavicle with a good amount of swelling in this room,” she said when they met halfway, “do you know who’s got him?” Mary looked down at her clipboard and then at the door Y/N came from. 

“I do. You want me to let you know when the swelling is good for a scan?” Y/N smiled. Mary could read her mind. “If you wouldn’t mind,” Y/N said gratefully. Mary nodded her confirmation, and Y/N headed towards her next patient. Broken wrist and a possible concussion. Jesus. The game must have been pretty wild. 

It was yet another hockey fan, this one in blue and white, Toronto’s colors. He was so drunk Y/N could smell the alcohol as he entered the room, and she tried not to gag as she positioned him to get scans of his wrist. “Those motherfuckers think they own us just because they win more often than we do. News flash, we have more cups than they do.” Y/N nodded silently as the man ranted, though she almost wanted to ask him what the hell he was talking about. Cups? Own who? Rivalries made no sense. “And do you know that a whole bunch of those assholes decided it’d be a good idea to start a fight in the middle of the goddamn game? My team was winning and they decide they’re gonna start making jokes about choking? Not on my watch.” These people are crazy, Y/N decided. No sport was worth a broken bone and a concussion. Alcohol and sports don’t mix. 

She finally got the scan, after telling the man several times to stop moving while the machine was working, and it was indeed broken. She gave the scans over to the nurse with the instruction that it was a clean break and then slumped at her desk for a breather. Ben stopped into her space with the coffee she’d ordered, and Y/N jumped up to hug him. He laughed as she sighed heavily into his shoulder. “That guy you just scanned was something else. I could hear him yelling from down the hall.” Y/N sighed again and then stepped back. 

“I appreciate this coffee more than you and Kevin could ever understand.” It was scalding, clearly fresh from the coffee shop across the street, and Y/N drank as much of it as she could. Yes, she needed this. Ben raised his eyebrows. “You know,” he said teasingly, “I’m not going to take it away if you don’t suck it all down right away.” Y/N shoved his shoulder, and they walked together back into the hallway. “How’s our Bruin? Mary said it was too swollen to do anything with so far.” Y/N nodded. She had forgotten Ben was a fan and would want to know how he was holding up. “I’m not asking just as a fan,” he said, almost like he knew what she was thinking. “He’s my patient. Just wanted to see what I was going to be working with.” He bumped Y/N’s shoulder and smiled when she glared up at him. 

Ben was like the big brother she’d never had, and she would never admit how much stupid things like that meant to her. He cared enough to jostle her around or make sure she ate dinner when the shifts got crazy. “The team trainer was with him, and he said that arm movement was limited to lifting below 45°, and he was having a lot of trouble moving. I had to help him take his shirt off.” Ben smirked, and Y/N groaned. He was not about to make a pervy joke. “No, Benjamin, I did not just want his clothes off. It was just as much a test of his range of motion as it was to check on the swelling.” She punched his shoulder. “Get your head out of the damn gutter.” Ben’s laughter followed her all the way down the hall as he left, and Y/N had to bite her lip to keep from laughing too. She may not have wanted his shirt off for that reason, but the muscles underneath definitely hadn’t been a sacrifice to look at.

It took almost 3 hours before the swelling went down enough for Y/N to get a scan of Jake’s shoulder. It was indeed broken, and some muscle was torn. Y/N bit her lip as she scanned the x-ray alongside Ben. It looked bad. He would be out a few weeks at least, more if the tearing didn’t heal properly. Ben sighed heavily. “He’s done for the rest of the season. No way he plays with this.” Y/N felt a sudden rush of sadness for the athlete in the room behind them. She may not have been a sports fan, but this was his livelihood. It would be like telling her she couldn’t come to the hospital for a month. 

Y/N let Ben go so he could break the news to Delnegro and Jake, and she went looking for Mary at the nurse’s station. “A clean break, and some muscle damage.” Mary looked up from the salad she was devouring, her fork freezing halfway up to her mouth. “Ben said he’d be out the rest of the season. Poor guy.” Mary frowned. “Hopefully they don’t let him come back in a week or two,” she said heavily, “it is the playoffs. Sometimes they do that.” There was no way that guy would be skating in a week, let alone playing in a game. Mary took a bite of her salad, chewing thoughtfully.

Ben appeared at Y/N’s side, apparently done giving the diagnosis to Jake. “I know it seems crazy, but he’s actually played through a pretty serious concussion before. And one of his teammates played through a couple of broken ribs and a punctured lung. The lung actually collapsed during a game, and he spent 3 days here.” Y/N stared up at Ben horrified, and she knew Mary was making the same face. “It’s the culture of the game. You pretend you’re not injured until you drop.” What a horrible game. 

Y/N shook her head in disgust. “Thank you for reminding me why I’m not a sports fan. That’s absolutely disgusting. How irresponsible could those doctors be that they let them play like that?” Ben shrugged like he had no idea, and Y/N scoffed. Sports were ridiculous. 

She ran into Jake and Delnegro again as they were discharging, running into one another at the doors. “Thanks for all your help, Ms. Y/L/N,” Jake said sincerely. He held out his left hand for a fist bump, and Y/N chuckled. Delnegro held out a hand for a handshake, and Y/N smiled at him as well.

“It was nice to meet you both,” she said. “Please heal up and don’t do anything stupid.” Delnegro laughed as Jake looked at her in shock. “One of my coworkers mentioned you boys like to pretend you’re not injured. Broken clavicles aren’t anything to mess with.” She nodded at them both with another smile, walking off in the direction of her car while Jake stood there flustered. A wild end to a wild night. 

_______________________________________________________________

Jake did indeed go back early, a little over two-and-a-half weeks later, and Y/N had the game on in the break room just to keep an eye on him. She could only check in for a minute at a time, but those minutes pieced together gave her a new appreciation for the game. The game was so fast, and she had to admit watching them hit each other was a rush. It was all fine until the third period, when he took a hit and went down hard. Ben happened to be in the room with Y/N when it happened and he swore viciously, something about a cheap shot and a dirty player. “That was the bad side,” Y/N said anxiously. Jake stayed down on the ice, and the pain was evident on his face. “Why isn’t he getting up?” Ben swore, shaking his head. 

“You’d better get ready, shorty. Your favorite patient is coming back.” Ben laughed when Y/N punched his shoulder in response. Ben used humor to cope, and he was clearly upset to see a patient and a player on the team he loves injured again. Or still injured. There was no way that clavicle and muscle damage was already healed completely. Y/N sighed heavily and trudged out of the break room. A call for the transfer and scans would be coming any second. 

Sure enough it did, less than ten minutes later, and Y/N was accepting a coffee from Kevin as he came in for his shift. “Heard you got the Bruins player again. Good luck. They lost tonight. He won’t be happy.” Y/N groaned. Not only did she get an idiot that didn’t know how to let himself heal, but she was getting an idiot that was going to be an asshole too. Kevin patted Y/N’s shoulder as the man himself strode past the pair at the nurse’s station, Delnegro by his side again. “Whelp duty calls, shorty. Good luck.” Y/N took off after the pair, intercepting them before they reached a room. 

Y/N touched Jake’s left arm gently, though she stepped back when she saw the intensity and anger in his eyes. He hadn’t looked this threatening a couple of weeks ago. “Why don’t we go ahead and get you scanned real quick, if there isn’t too much swelling.” She shook the anger off. Being intimidated wouldn’t help anyone. Jake’s eyes softened slightly as he took Y/N in, and he reached out his hand awkwardly for a shake. “Welcome back,” she said with a small grin, “I was hoping I wouldn’t see you back here. I told you not to do anything stupid.” Jake barked out a laugh, and Y/N thought she saw a small smile on Delnegro’s face.

“Sorry, Ms. Y/L/N,” Jake said sheepishly, “it’s the playoffs.” Yeah, she’d heard all about it. He remembered where her machines were, and Y/N was kind of unsettled at how normal it was for him to be back in the room getting scanned again. Hopefully he wouldn’t make this a regular occurrence. “So,” Jake began as she moved him into position for the scan, “the doc from a couple of weeks ago said you weren’t a sports fan.” Damn him.

Y/N ignored Jake’s eyes as she finished arranging his arm, though she answered him as she walked across the room for the kevlar apron. “I’m not. My mom wasn’t and it was just her when I was a kid. I never got the appeal.”

Jake groaned. “How can you live in Boston and not like sports? All the teams are good!” He looked so sincere, and for the first time Y/N felt a pang of loneliness for not being a sports fan. It was rare to find someone in the city that didn’t care about at least one of the teams, she knew that. “So look: our season is over after our loss tonight, but the playoffs are still going on. If I promise to be good and not injure my shoulder more, will you watch a game with me? I’ll explain the sport and maybe we can make you into a hockey fan.” Y/N opened her mouth to refuse, probably make some sort of excuse about him being a patient, but Jake hurriedly continued. “I was planning on coming back here once the season was over and asking you out. Since the season is over and I’m already here, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be, but I’d love for you to see how beautiful the game really is.” 

Well, when he put it that way. “Sure,” Y/N said, surprising herself. “I’d like that.” The smile that lit up Jake’s face made one night of sports well-worth it. Maybe she would become a hockey fan after all. 

[rainbowglittr]

Love and Marriage - Chapter 9 (Mature- Minors DNI)

Description:

After a loss in the family uncovers a family secret, Jaleia and her husband Jesse are forced to balance one family crisis after another along with their budding careers and their plans to expand their family. Will the pressure to keep everyone else together ruin their own relationship? Can ruined relationships be fixed before it’s too late?

Chapter 9:

"Jessekins!" I called out as I walked thorugh the front door. It had been a long and busy day at work and I was tired. I put my keys down in the key rack.

"Do you have to call me that?" Jesse called out from the kitchen.

"Yes I do, my love!" I walked into the kitchen. Jesse was assembling tacos he leaned over so I could give him a peck on the lips.

"I hate this kitchen, it's too damn small. How was your day, Love?"

"Too long. Some dumbass mislabeled one of our test runs so we had to do the three hour test all over again. And guess who the dumbass was? Me! I was the dumbass who wasn't paying attention and had to stay an extra two hours to rerun the test. I could've slapped myself. I'm tired. How was your day babe?" I leaned against the counter, facing Jesse.

"You're not a dumbass. I got some interesting news today from the studio. I don't think you're going to like it though."

"Okay, great start. What's up?" Jesse snuck a glance at me and then started to talk.

"So the studio is sending me to L.A for a couple weeks to work with some new artists they signed." He started.

"That's great isn't it?" I asked as I washed my hands.

"Yeah except one of the artists I'll be working with is my ex, Imani."

"Imani is a singer."

"You've heard of Imani Redd?"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold the phone, stop the presses, rewind the tape. Imani Redd is your ex? The ex that cheated on you and then dumped you? Imani Redd is that ex?" Imani Redd was a rising R&B singer. She was always in and out of the gossip blogs and always in some social media beef.

"Thanks for that and yeah, Imani Redd is my ex. I never told you? My mom never told you?"

"No, negro! No, you never told me that Imani Redd was your ex! You guys always went by her first name so I just assumed it was some girl named Imani, I didn't think it was the singer! How could you not tell me?" I said as I slapped his arm.

"I thought you knew. She's one of the artists I have to work with while I'm there."

"You're right, I don't like that. Why do you have to work with her?" I asked as I stole a piece of meat from one of the tacos he was making .

"Because if I don't, I won't be working with anyone good anytime soon. They'll stick me with crap projects." He said finally turning around to face me.

"How do you feel about it?" I asked.

"I'm not thrilled but I gotta do what I gotta do." I rolled my eyes at him.

"Don't be like that. I don't want to work with her, it's strictly professional."

"It always is until you get to talking and working together and then all of a sudden you're reminiscing, and old feelings start to reappear, and then someone catches feelings and I end up going to jail because I stabbed you after catching you with your ex."

"Why do you jump to violence so quickly?"

"Don't push me and you'll never have to find out."

"Baby I promise, nothing's going to happen. We'll work on a few songs and that's it. No catching feelings, and more importantly no stabbing."

"The most important part is the catching feelings part because if that doesn't happen I don't have to stab you."

Jesse held my waist. "Seriously Jay, nothing's going to happen. You trust me, right?"

"I do trust you, but realize that nine times out of ten, when a guys says do you trust me and the girl says yes, that guy does something completely untrustworthy, right? " Jesse looked me straight in my eyes.

"I promise you nothing is going to happen between us. I love you. You know I know what it's like to be cheated on, I would never do that to you. You know that. "

"I know. It's just hard. It's going to drive me crazy though, you almost married that girl, Jess. You guys have history. You guys have a lot of things in common. Does this not seem like a giant red flag to you?"

"I love you, I only have eyes for you. I'm not going to do you dirty. If you trust me, you won't have to worry about a thing. If you don't you're going to be worried for nothing cause I ain't sleeping with her, I don't want her in any way. It's just work and strictly professional." He said.

"Look I trust you, you've never given me a reason not to. But, there are two conditions, one, You better answer ALL my calls. I don't care if you're in the middle of writing or recording the best song you ever wrote, you better answer. I don't care if you're in the middle of dying, you better pick up. And two, you should NEVER ever be alone with her at any time in any place no matter what. Understand?" I said, looking into his eyes.

"Yes, love. I promise." He said pulling me close and kissing me. I unraveled myself from Jesse.

"I'm also taking Di with me, I think she deserves a little vacation, she's made a huge turn around. "

"I agree. Wait, you're leaving me alone? No fair."

"I'm sorry. But unless you can take off..."

"Which you know I can't."

"Then you have the whole house to yourself and my mom."

"Screw you." I said, pouting. I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"I thought we agreed you're too old to pout." I stopped pouting and continued glaring at him. He was now getting a salad out the fridge.

"I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"One, I don't want your sex. Two, you're making a lot of promises tonight. "

"One, Ouch, my ego. And two, I keep my word."

"Don't spoil her while you're there. I know how you are."

"I'm her big brother, that's my job. You're spoiled too."

"Yeah, but my dad did that, not my older sisters." I scoffed.

"That makes a lot of sense. I'm going to call Di down. She's probably talking to that boy." He said. Diana was still interested in the intern she was caught making out with and was alway texting him.

"I thought you said 'that boy' was nice?" I said raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not nice enough."

>>>>>>>>>>

"So I have good news for you Di." Jesse said as we ate dinner.

"Yeah?"

"I'll be going to L.A for three weeks and you're going to come with me."

"I get to go to Cali?" She yelled.

"Yeah, you gotta hang with me the whole time though but yeah."

"Yeeessss!!!" She screamed. She practically jumped into to his arms to give him a hug, almost knocking him out of his chair.

"Okay, okay, okay. Chill. You gotta hang with me the whole time. Mom said not to take my eyes off of you for a second, so well be in the studio for most of our time there, but we can still do cool stuff, like go to the beach, and I know you'll want to go shopping." He said. I groaned.

"Why rub it in?" I said. I let my head smack the table.

"I'm sorry baby, we'll talk about later Di."

"I'm so excited!" She said as she sat down.

"I hope you guys have a good time. When do you leave? You never told me." I said. I was already dreading it.

"Sunday night. Well get into L.A in the middle of the night our time but over there it'll still be evenings since they're behind us and well still be able to sleep." He said.

"Send me pictures, you know I love pictures."

"We will!" Di said.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

I thought really hard about Jesse going to write with his ex. I know he had no feelings for her. I know he loves me, and I completely trusted him, but I couldn't help but to feel uneasy about it. That's his ex. But at the end of the day I trusted him and I knew he would do right by me, so I had to stop stressing about it. Plus, would he really fall in love with another woman and cheat on me with his sister there? No. That would set a terrible example.

I sat on the couch and watched Jesse bring his and Di's bags down the stairs. They were just about to leave for the airport. I waited until Jesse got to the bottom stair to say "Do you need help?" He gave me a sarcastic laugh look and put the bags by the door. I was scrolling through Instagram when all of a sudden I felt a giant weight land on my lap. Jesse adjusted himself on my lap.

"So I told you I would make it up to you. So I hid somewhere in the house two presents for you. Good luck." He smiled.

"What if I don't find them?" I asked.

"Oh, I know you, you'll find them. And if you don't there's some diamond jewelry that's just gonna collect dust somewhere in the house. "

"You got me diamonds?"

"I told you I'd get you something sparkly. " he said. I pulled him on top of me, our lips naturally moving together. I put my hand on the side of his face as our tongues danced around each other. He shifted on top of me so he could grind our crotches together. My hands moved to his shoulders. He started leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, sucking extra hard where it was sensitive.

"You're going to leave a mark." I breathed out.

"I know." He said. After giving my neck one last kiss, he returned to my lips, moving his hips against mine at the same time, the friction of our jeans rubbing against each other turning me on more.

"Didn't you get enough last night? Don't start something we can't finish." I said into Jesse's ear.

"We better stop before-"

"Jesse, I'm ready- Ew! There's no door, how am I supposed to knock? And unsee that?" Diana's voice rang out from the stairs.

Jesse gave me one last kiss, whispering in my ear "we were about 4 seconds away from me having a big problem."

"Just get up." I laughed. We sat up and faced Di.

"Sorry, we'll be away from each other for a few weeks so we won't be having our usual nightly hot and nasty, banging against the wall sex-" Jesse started to say.

"Shut up!" Me and Diana said. Diana was covering her ears. He laughed as I slapped his arm.

"Don't torture her, behave." I said.

"I will. Di," he said, throwing her the car keys from his pocket. "While we make sure I have everything and say goodbye, you can sit in the car, get the air started and play the trash music you like."

She caught the keys. "Yess! We have to get to the airport in like thirty minutes. " she said as she walked out the door.

"Just enough time." He said, climbing on top of me.

>>>>>>>>>>>

We got to the airport in just enough time. I spent the ride to the airport using foundation to cover the marks he left on my neck. Diana laughed when she saw us all disheveled and marked up. (It got a little competitive between us and considering our skin was brown I didn't think love bites would show up as vividly as they did.)

When it was time to board the plane, I gave Diana a hug.

"Be good, and watch out for your brother."

"I will, I'll miss you." She said.

"I'll miss you too. Love you." I said, waving to her as she walked to the boarding door. Jesse hugged me tight amd kissed the side of my head.

"I'll miss you, Lovebug." He said, smirking. I hate that stupid pet name.

"I'll miss you too, Jessekins." I said matching his smirk.

"I love you, Jay."

"I love you too." I said, kissing him slowly.

"Make sure you call as soon as you land so I don't freak out, take pictures, ANSWER ALL my calls, and don't fuck up with your ex." I reminded him. He picked me up, my arms went around his neck and my legs automatically wrapped around him.

"You got it, my Queen. If you need help adjusting let me know." With one last kiss, he put me down and boarded the plane with Diana. I sighed and started walking back to the car.

I hope they have fun in L.A.

Cause I sure as hell missed them already.

[plutodexay]

For the first time in years (10) movie night

Ao3 link will be added later cause this app hates me and I’m too tired to fight with it

Having flowers shoved into my face as soon as I opened the door wasn’t what I expected, but it's exactly what happened.

As soon as the door opened all I saw was a flash of red and green, granted, the color combination is not my favorite, I wasn’t scared. As quickly as they showed up, they disappeared.

And there he was, at first I just saw his hair.

“You got a haircut” What used to be long and flowing hair was now cut short, almost resembling what he wore the last year at Hogwarts. Only it was still different, then it was flat and styled so not a single strand was out of place. Now it looked sorta, well, messy. It was obvious he had run his hand through it countless times, yet it still looked intact. Standing up looking like it had, what was it? Volume! It had volume, so it doesn’t look flat against his head now.

“Um-I well,” His hand reached up to comb through it for probably the millionth time tonight. “Yes, I did.” Looking away from his hair I noticed he wasn’t looking at me, rather he was looking at the ground, cheeks flushed.

His hands had a tight hold on the flowers previously shoved into my face, fingers rhythmically tapping against the tightly packed stems. Looking at them closer I could see they were roses, some in the bold red you normally see on the muggle romance holiday, while others held the green that Draco himself dawned every day back at school. They were seemingly placed together carefully, almost showing a pattern within the petals.

Realizing I was lost in thought I look back up at him, his head still looking at the concrete. Nervousness obvious on his face as his hand not gripping the flowers reaches up to his hair once again.

“Oh!” I say quickly as I remembered I didn’t respond. “It looks nice!” I could feel my face heating up as he glances up at me, the nervous smile changing to something more genuine, those little wrinkles around the eyes showing through. His cheeks gaining more color as his fingers grip on the stems even harder than before.

“Thank you” Draco mumbled before quickly pushing the flowers out towards me, his arms straight out and slightly shaking. Almost pushing the bouquet straight into my nose. “I got these for you.” His voice cracked towards the end of the sentence, using a very fake cough to cover it up as he held the flowers there, waiting for me to take them.

Very slowly I reached out to grab them, our hands just slightly brushing beside one another before he quickly pulled his hands away. Running them through his hair once again before putting them by his sides. The rings on his right shining bright as my porch light reflect off of them just right.

“Would you like to come in?” I finally spit out as I remember how to talk, moving to the side as to leave the entry open. He nods before walking past me rather quickly, the flowers blowing slightly in the wind his movement caused.

Following behind him I close the door with my free hand. Without looking I almost run into him, seeing as he is just awkwardly standing just in front of the doorway. His hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, shoes close together as he just looks at me.

I back away from him to go head over to the kitchen in an attempt to get something to put the flowers into. His eyes following me as he stands there.

“You can sit down wherever you want.” I yell to him as I start opening cupboards looking for a vase or something. “I’m just trying to find something for these and I’ll be right there.” As no response came I looked back towards the living room to find him sitting down, finally. His choice being on the far end of the couch.

After a few moments, I realize I don’t own anything to put these in. So I head over to the parchment I have waiting by the window to write a letter to Neville, asking if I can borrow one of his pots whenever he gets it.

“Who are you writing to?” Draco finally speaks up, his voice soft and faint.

“Oh, I-um, Neville” I stutter out, speaking and writing at the same time not a talent of mine.

“Why?”

“I need something to put the flowers in seeing as I don’t own one of those glass things.” I hear him chuckle as I say that, not much, but it is something. “Thank you for them, by the way.” Looking back at him I see the light pink from earlier returning to his face, along with those slight wrinkles around his eyes.

“Figured it was only right to bring something since it is your home after all Potter.” Now was my turn to laugh, enunciating ‘Potter’ to replicate how he used to say it back at school. His laugh echoing mine for a sheer moment. “Besides, the shop was on the way. Was far too nice to pass up.”

“So let me guess, marble floors and chandeliers?” The sarcasm evident in my voice, finishing up the letter as I whistle to Hedwig to come down from her perch.

“Quite the opposite actually.” He chuckled out. “Small and rustic, exposed brick in random places. Definitely not up to Malfoy standards.” I watch as he unfolds his legs, putting both feet on the ground as he slightly lays back onto the couch. Almost like he was becoming comfortable. “So of course I had to stop in.”

“Well obviously.” Hedwig landing by me, nipping me in the finger. Draco suppresses a laugh as I retract my hand and shake it as if it would get the bite off.

“You would have liked it, or rather the person running it says she just opened last week.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Reminded me of Lovegood, only she made more sense, most of the time.” Tying the paper to Hedwig I nod at him to continue. “She also had a small muggle flag in the shop, one of those Pride things I believe they’re called? It read very open-mindedly, you’d be comfortable there I feel.”

“Seems like you were too,” I respond as Hedwig flies off.

“Well, there weren’t too many people there. Just me, a lone girl, and this couple off to the corner, who seemed to be playfully arguing about whether or not the shorter really needed this big bouquet of yellow daisies.” Stretching his arms rather quickly he continues. “The lone girl had been constantly picking up different sets of flowers. Going between these colorful lilies and sunflowers the size of her head. Believe she left with both if I’m not mistaken." He stops talking abruptly as I head back to the kitchen, not without running into a chair in the process.

“Ignore me, continue” His laugh rings out as I roughly push the chair out of my way without remembering he was watching.

“Easy.” The words were barely audible through his laugh. I shoot him a glare and he sarcastically throws his hands in the air. “Basically the smaller one didn’t think she needed flowers, while the taller one disagreed, obviously wanting to buy her the flowers. Went on practically the entire time I was there, swear the shorter of the two was planning on hexing her partner by the end of it. The shopkeep told me they were friends of hers, so the flowers were being bought regardless.”

He tails off as he sees me walking towards the couch, sitting on the opposite end as him. Quickly fixing his posture he looks at me, his hand impulsively going to fix his hair again. Silence filled the room as we just sat looking at one another.

“So I figured we could watch a movie?” Shock went over his face for a moment before he nodded, quickly looking at the muggle television as my eyes locked onto his.

“I told you to plan this so that would be fine.” Draco spits out, rather fast. Hands clenched at his sides once again. The loose shirt he was wearing showed his breathing had quickened.

“Did you want to do something else?” He shook his head no as he looked back at me. As he did his chest began to rise slower, hands unclenching, muttering something as he crossed his legs. “Sorry I didn’t hear that.”

"I don’t know what a ‘movie’ is, so I don’t know what to expect” Oh, I guessed I had figured he had gone into the muggle world when he left. Pink turned red as he looked back to the television. Remembering how I explained it to Neville when he’d first been asked to go to one by that girl. Now that I think of it, he had been quite scared too, maybe it wasn’t because it was his first date since the yule ball.

“Well they're basically just moving pictures but with noise and anywhere from an hour to 3 hours long, not much.” He seemed to let out a breath of relief at that, a smile creeping onto his face. Almost as if he was nodding to himself, he let himself relax into the couch before looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

Swiftly I went over to start the movie, having already put it in earlier to make sure it worked. Pressing play I heard the ads start playing on the speakings, startling Draco as he jumped, making sure I kept my mouth shut.

Walking back to the kitchen I grabbed the snacks I had gotten, along with the tea kettle and every type of tea I could find at the muggle shop. Laying it all down on the coffee table, Draco looked up at me bewildered before looking back at all of it. Running back over to the bar, I grabbed a mug for him to use and placed it in front of him, nodding at the kettle.

He seemed to pick up what I was saying as he started looking through the assortment of teas. After a few moments picking one up and putting it into the kettle. Finally calm, I decide to start watching the television ads just about to end.

As Draco pours himself a cup of the tea I spell the lights to dim so there's no glare on the screen, he only jumps for a moment this time. Most of his focus on the movie, wonder spread across his face as he tries to focus on every little detail that passes by.

--------

“Can we watch another?” Draco said, the first thing he's spoke the entire film. His eyes wide and a small smile stretched across his face. Both hands wrapped around the mug I had given him the hour before. Rubbing my eyes I notice that the sun had completely gone down outside, the stars shining clear and bright.

Not unlike how Draco's eyes had looked staring into mine. Filled with something I’d never quite seen before. Yet, something I never wanted to stop seeing.

“If you’re okay with staying late then sure” I speak up, still staring into his eyes. They fill with more wonder as he starts to get excited before quickie catching himself and just smiling. His eyes though, they show the sheer happiness he feels at that news. Nodding to me he resumes his spot, only this time I notice, is a bit closer to me than last.

As not to ruin this closeness, I spell the movie out and replace it with a random one Neville had lent me when I flooed him in a panic the night before. He’d laughed at me while handing me a box of the things and saying “Any of them will be fine, nothing too over the top”

Pressing play on the remote I was luckily able to skip through the ads on this one. This particular movie played quite loud so I turned the volume down as I sunk into the couch. Spelling the lights even darker as to match the time, I decided to close my eyes, not expecting to be as tired as I was.

Dracos laughter at some joke on the screen was the last thing I heard before I let sleep overcome me.

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

“Mate for the last time you're going to be late” Came shouted from outside the front door, followed by constant pounding. Reaching my hand up to rub my eyes, I felt them brush against something soft. Looking down I instantly noticed

Draco Malfoy was asleep. On my chest. In my living room.

“Honestly Harry we need to get going if we plan on making it to the game at all.” Rang Hermione's voice as what I’m now guessing was Ron's first upon my door.

I felt Draco stir as they kept banging on the door, quickly I reached for my wand and cast a silencing charm on the door. Their voices fell quiet as I saw the magic work, Draco's head lying still again upon my shoulder, his hand reaching to my other one as his breathing slowed.

Deciding instantly that while I don’t know how this happened, I couldn’t stop it. I cast a Patronus telling Ron and ‘Mione I was feeling ill and couldn't make it.

Throwing my wand onto the ground I lay my head back down, slowly wrapping my hands around Draco. As I do so, he burrows his head further into my chest.

This is going to be one hell of a conversation when he wakes up.

[emma-nation]

Within You - Bloodbound AU - Chapter 6

Summary: One year after defeating Gaius, the gang has finally found peace… Until a tragic incident awakens the ultimate and most dangerous threat they ever faced.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Notes:

- Sequel to the fics For You, In The Daylight and Without You. You can read all of them here.

- Sorry, I couldn't resist using the garden plot 😍

- In case anyone is wondering this is the song I picked for their wedding dance. I just thought it fits them really well.

Tag List: @supersphynxsworld​​​, @lightning-fury​​​, @spacecarrousel​​​, @tigerbryn11, @gavryllo​​​, @annabellewerecorgi​​​, @whoinvitedalx​​​, @sheyah​​​, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists​​​, @scaryqueenbee, @bigmemesplz, @la-guerra-69, @kamilahsayeed-owns-me​​​, @morvengarde​​​, @tephy24​​​, @iam-the-fuckin-queen​​​​​, @voltos9, @scorpistraub​​​​​, @leavemeandmyshipsalone​​​​​, @jen825​​​​​, @andreear17​​​​​, @justejuste727​​​​​, @aureliaxj, @graceschoices​​​​​, @mrskamilxh​​​​, @msuhailey, @zoe6111​​​​, @noodledragon22​​​​​, @tigerbryn11, @shanuuh​​​​, @ilovetaylor13m​​​​, @ilovekamilahsayeed​​​​, @allaboutchoices​​​​, @fal-carrington​​​​, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @trouble-with-the-curve

Kamilah

A couple of days had passed since the failure of the debut party. Amy couldn't be more distant and hurt, even if all the misfortunes of that night weren't Kamilah's fault directly.

When she arrived home from work that night, the girl was still on the couch wearing an oversized t-shirt and watching a TV show. Empty ice cream containers and Cheetos packages were lying on the coffee table. An antique and rare coffee table Kamilah bought decades ago in an auction. That was a major red flag that she needed to do something urgently to fix the situation her wife.

After a quick shower, Kamilah went to the kitchen and prepared dinner. Mac n' Cheese. With all the food in the world, Amy seemed to enjoy that above anything. Not even the fanciest restaurants she visited could change her mind. Respecting that, Kamilah prepared a more refined version of that dish.

Amy was quite surprised to see her in the kitchen.

"You're cooking," she pointed. "Aren't we ordering?"

"Not tonight," Kamilah told.

The girl sat at one of the counters to watch her add the final touches to the dish.

"Mac n' Cheese?! You find it distasteful."

"But you love it, don't you? I'm learning from your tastes I guess."

Amy silenced and look at her in disbelief.

"Wow, we have been ordering for weeks. We never have time to cook something nice. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Absolutely, Amy. I was just thinking, we have all the time in the world. We should make the best of it. That's why we need to start changing some habits."

"Like what?" Amy asked.

"Let me see," Kamilah took her cell phone from her pocket and handed to her wife. "This is my schedule from now. I'm not working over 8 hours a day or traveling so often. I need to spend more time with you."

A smile finally lighted up Amy's pretty face. Her green eyes sparkled with joy.

"I... I'd like that."

"And so do I," Kamilah placed a kiss on her lips. "There's something else."

"What is it?"

"I'll show you tomorrow."

As she predicted, Amy was curious for the rest of the night, trying to guess what other change Kamilah could be planning for their lives. 

"Are we... buying a boat?" She attempted a guess.

"No," Kamilah furrowed her brows confused. "Why? Would you like that?"

"I don't know, I'm just guessing."

She turned off the lamps, but she still could sense her wife awake and intrigued, even in the dark.

"Are you finally letting me adopt a cat?" Amy grinned. She had been begging for that in months. Kamilah always postponed with the excuse they spent too much time away from home.

"Uh... no," Kamilah sighed. "But I'll think about that too. I promise."

She kept it a surprise until lunch time, when she texted Amy requesting her presence at their house in Hamptons.

"Meet you there," she added.

----------

Amy

Everything about Amy's debut party had gone terribly wrong. Especially the hangover, that felt way worse now she was a vampire, when she woke up in the morning. And also the flashbacks of her arguments with Kamilah.

"God, I should've waited until the Awakening Ball just like everyone else."

She still couldn't sit down and talk things out with her wife for the following couple days. Not until she was able to fully calm down and process her feelings. Maybe she acted too harsh. Kamilah always hated being away from home for too long. She made sure of calling all the time to check how she was doing. She'd also surprise her with gifts from all her trips. That realization made Amy suddenly feel extremely guilty.

"I'm a horrible wife," Amy lamented drowning herself in ice cream.

Kamilah was the one to raise the peace flag. She cooked them dinner. Her favorite meal. Her own version of it, at least. She always wondered how Mac n' Cheese could be Amy's all-time favorite dish. In the end, she apologized and promised she'd be spend less time working and traveling, dedicating herself more to their marriage. That was enough to soften Amy's heart, but Kamilah still had another surprise.

It was about lunch time when she texted her asking her to go to their Hamptons' house. Amy quickly grabbed her car and started driving, wondering what she could be planning.

"Okay," Amy said when she arrived, "I'm here but... what's the matter?"

"Follow me," Kamilah ordered. She walked to a green area they had outside the house, surrounded by trees but rather empty. "Isn't it a perfect place for a garden?"

Amy opened a huge grin. Kamilah always dreamed of having a garden on her own and now she was able to walk in the sun, she finally could.

"That's right! It has always been your dream."

"I was thinking we should dedicate more time doing things we love."

For a few minutes, she heard as her wife gladly explained her plans for the space. Then, she had something else to show her inside the house.

"Kamilah," Amy's eyes went wide in surprise. "You really bought... a piano?!"

"You said you've always wanted to learn," Kamilah sat down at the piano by her side. "I'd be more than glad to teach you."

"You never told me you could play!"

"Well, it has been a few centuries."

She started playing the first notes of the song they picked for the first dance as a married couple. The way her fingers moved graciously, hitting every note with perfection and her sweet  low voice, singing along with the melody, made Amy's eyes fill with tears.

"That was not supposed to make you cry," Kamilah stopped.

"I know," Amy smiled and wiped off the tears from her face. "But it was just... wonderful."

"Enough for you to forgive me for the last few days?"

"Kamilah, I... I should be the one to apologize for the way I acted. It wasn't your fault."

“Amy, I’m truly sorry,” Kamilah sighed. “You died in my arms, I can't bear the thought of losing you again. This is why I want to protect you and make sure you’re safe all the time.”

“I understand,” Amy spoke. “But I’m no longer frail and vulnerable as before, you know. I need to learn from my new powers and instincts.”

“I won’t lie to you, Amy. Being a vampire can be amazing, but it also can be a disgrace. It can change and destroy you. It can turn you into your worst self. I don’t want you to go through the same experiences I did.”

“I won’t, trust me. Now regarding the darkness…”

Amy finally revealed the two occasions where she saw a dark version of herself, capable of killing her own wife.

“I told Lysimachus and we both believe they’re unreal and could be produced by…”

“The First Vampire,” Kamilah completed.

Amy had tears in her eyes again when she finished her story.

“I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, right?”

"Of course," Kamilah pulled her closer to her body, embracing her tightly. "Whatever that bitch is up to, we'll fight together."

With her face buried on Kamilah's shoulder, Amy let out a muffled laugh.

"What?"

"You said 'bitch'."

"Yes," Kamilah laughed too, caressing her hair, "I did."

----------

Lysimachus

After waking up in the morning after the party, Lysimachus locked himself alone inside his apartment, ashamed of his own actions. Not only he got very drunk, but he ended up in bed with two women, one of them being Priya.

He'd check his answering machine and his messages at every thirty minutes, waiting for an answer from Ivy. Or a text from Katherine. But there was nothing. 

Loneliness had never been a problem for him, but he truly desired to have someone who he could share his theories and suspicions.

"Hey," Adrian said as he entered the office. "I was starting to wonder what the hell you were. I barely saw you at the party."

"Oh well," Lysimachus sighed, "let's not talk about the party."

"So why are you here for?"

"I've been training with Amy and she has shared some of her latest visions with me. Together with the stuff I heard from Balthazar... I think the First may be back."

"What?" Adrian sat in front of him, reading carefully all his notes. "When the sap of the tree rests in the blessed chalice... the First shall walk again... Oh my god."

"I tried to make sense of these words but..." Lysimachus told, "nothing comes to my mind."

"What if the 'blessed chalice' is actually Amy, this generation's Bloodkeeper, and the 'sap of the tree' is any vampire's blood? Kamilah's blood when she Turned her?"

"Makes sense. But did we ever find her tomb?"

"I had some clues," Adrian told. "With the help of Serafine, I came to the conclusion she was there all along, inside the tree."

"And assuming she's free, where she could be right now?" Lysimachus wondered. "I mean, she spent over two millennia inside that damn tree. It's not like she'd know how to catch a plane or even speak our language!"

"We need to pay attention to all vampires, all over the world."

"How do we do that?"

They called the most appropriate person who could help them with that task, Lily Spencer. Most of the vampires from all over the world were part of the Fangbook, her social network. Including from Europe and the Five from Japan.

"Lily, send them a warning," Adrian ordered. "Any unknown vampires sightings must be reported to us. We need to be aware."

Then, he went to his desk to make a call.

"According to my friend Elias, no one has been seen around Mydea since we destroyed the Order's compound. Only my researchers when they extracted those samples."

"Guys..." Lily was pensive for a second. "If she has this connection with Amy, her first impulse would be to come to find her, right? What if she's already headed here somehow?"

"We have to pay attention. Any new vampires in New York must be carefully studied by The Council."

Lysimachus quickly had two people in mind. Rheya, Kamilah's new employee, and Nadine, the female vampire he slept with. He'd be investigating them by himself before taking extreme measures.

He set a dinner with Rheya first, with the excuse he'd like to interview her before the voting process with The Council. She showed up just in time, wearing a business suit. That woman was extremely gorgeous. She radiated confidence and kindness. He wasn't able to notice that so well at the party.

"How were you Turned?" Was his first question.

"I lived with my husband and daughter at a small village in Greece," she told. "A king was willing to take possession of our lands. Most of our people got slaughtered, including my family. Gaius Augustine found me and Turned me."

Rheya wouldn't break eye contact for a single moment, or exhibit any signs that suggested she could be lying.

"Gaius... what did you think of him?"

"A real maniac. I deeply despise that man for not letting me join my family in death. Only to use my pain to turn me into my worst self, but... when I noticed what I was getting into, I resisted. I escaped."

She couldn't help letting her emotions show telling this last part of her story.

"And then you spent centuries in Europe, until the Order caught you?"

"Exactly. I was tortured, humiliated and..." she broke down in tears. Lysimachus sighed, feeling bad for submitting that poor woman to those questions. 

He apologized and offered her a tour around New York. She was mesmerized by the buildings and attractions the city had to offer. 

"The Phantom Of The Opera," Rheya said, reading a flyer about the current attractions playing at Broadway. 

"Are you a fan?" Lysimachus asked.

"I find it amusing and strangely familiar. A mysterious creature, living in the shadows, who mentors a young artist he becomes fascinated with."

"Fascinated? The man develops an obsession."

"That's a way to see it. Maybe he believed they could've accomplish something greater together. A real masterpiece."

"A real tragedy, you mean."

Rheya stared at him serious for a second. That very same look that brought him chills at the party. Then, she grinned playfully.

"Hey," she patted him on the shoulder. "I was just toying with you, you're always so tense. He sorta reminds me of Gaius himself, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Lysimachus relaxed and smiled too, "the obsession he had with my sister. It was very similar."

They spent the next hour joking and chatting about their favorite books and movies. Nothing about Rheya indicated danger.

There was only one option. Priya's friend.

----------

Kamilah

They had barely started to enjoy their timing together when Kamilah had to stop and answer her cell phone that was ringing insistently, even thought she told at the company she didn't want to be contacted. For her surprise, it was Amy's mother. She was headed to New York to meet them.

With everything that was happening recently, Kamilah had forgotten about that one detail. The detail Mrs. Parker was familiar with her nature.

"What?!" Amy asked when she told. "How does she know?! I mean, I never told her anything!"

"I don't know," Kamilah was focused on the road back home. "Didn't you let any details slip?"

"No, I'm pretty sure. She'd be deadly worried if I told. You know how paranoid and overprotective my parents can be."

Kamilah was pensive for a moment. She remembered the papers Serafine gave her. The Bloodkeeper abilities could be passed from mothers to their daughters. Now it all started to make sense. Now she knew why Mrs. Parker hated her from the beginning.

"It explains a lot of things," Amy said. "When I was a child she had those moments were she'd become distant. Sometimes she'd spend hours locked in the bedroom."

"I'm surprised how she allowed this marriage to happen. I mean, she probably saw... things about me. Things I've done in the past."

Amy cracked into laughs.

"Hey, this isn't funny!" Kamilah frowned, quickly blushing and trying to hide an embarrassed smile. "Okay, maybe it is. But not in a good way."

They arrived shortly after Mrs. Parker. Kamilah invited her to the penthouse and prepared some tea. That conversation promised to be intense. In the living room, Amy was sitting on the couch in front of her mother, showing some discomfort.

"So Mrs. Parker," Kamilah decided to break the tension, "what brings you here?"

"Amy hasn't been really answering my calls or properly replying my texts," the woman accepted the cup of tea Kamilah offered. "I came here to check how she's doing."

"I'm sorry," Amy said. "I just have a lot going on right now. There's my job at the company and I've been focused on... my training."

"You're a vampire now."

"Y-Yes. How do you feel about it?"

Kamilah decided to leave mother and daughter alone. That conversation should be private between them. She locked herself in her home office, remembering her own mother. She wondered how she'd feel about the path both of her children followed in life. Would she ever forgive them for everything they had done? For what they had became?

One thing she was sure, her mother would have loved Amy. No one could dislike that girl. She had something magical in her personality and in that bright smile. She was able to gain the affection of everyone she met.

"Kamilah?" Mrs. Parker knocked at her door some time later. Her eyes suggested the conversation with Amy was full of emotions. "Can we talk for a moment?"

"Sure," Kamilah pointed at the chair in front of her desk. The woman sat down and sighed, thinking of her words.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you for saving my daughter's life. Even though you had to Turn her."

"I... I would give my life to protect her. I apologize for not noticing earlier she was in trouble. Trust me, Turning her was the last of my options."

"I know."

There was an awkward moment of silence. Looking into Amy's mother eyes, Kamilah wasn't sure of her perceptions about her anymore. The fact she had access to her entire past made her feel very vulnerable.

"So, you're a Bloodkeeper," she spoke. "Like Amy."

"I wasn't familiar with the term until now," Mrs. Parker told. "But yes, I've had these visions since early and so did my daughter. This is why I was concerned for her safety."

"Especially when she got involved with me."

"Exactly."

Kamilah closed her eyes, remembering Amy's mother reaction since the very first moment they met. She had all the reasons in the world to fear her, to feel disgusted and wish for a different future for her daughter.

"I'm not proud of who I used to be, or the things I've done in the past. However, I can't change it. Everyday I have to face the guilt. I hope you know, Mrs. Parker, I'm an entirely different person now. And Amy did help me. She makes me want to be better everyday."

The corners of the woman's mouth curled up in a small smile. She placed her hand on Kamilah's in reassurance.

"I can't say I accept it, but I'm not judging you. Not anymore. I can see that. I can see how Amy has grown with you, Kamilah. I can see how happy you make her. This is why I'm willing to give you a chance."

"I appreciate that."

----------

Amy

"How do you feel about it?" 

That was probably the hardest question Amy had to ask her mom. She never had a good relationship with her. Since she was little, Mrs. Parker was a distant and closed parent. Sometimes she felt unloved, rejected by the woman who brought her to life.

The conflicts between them intensified when Amy became a teenager. Her mother was excessively protective and mistrusted her actions. One of the reasons why she wanted to leave their small town and explore the world. She wanted to escape the suffocating environment of her home. And she wanted to prove her wrong. She wanted Mrs. Parker to know she was capable of living on her own, doing what she loved.

"I can't say I'm happy," her mother said. "But otherwise, you'd be dead. I couldn't lose you, Amy. You're the most important thing in my life."

A small spark of anger appeared in Amy's heart. Somehow she felt betrayed. If she had been told about the visions, about what they were since early, she'd be prepared. She'd be stronger.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, grinding her teeth. "Y-You always knew it! You had visions and you hid it from me. Instead, you... you pushed me away. You made me feel unloved. How could you???"

At this point, she was already standing up with tears in her eyes and clenched fists.

"Amy..." her mother grabbed her shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes. "I wanted to protect you. When I noticed you were faded to experience those visions too, I... I was scared for you."

"What about dad? Does he know?"

"Yes, he does. For years he supported me, helping me to find all kinds of treatments, medication, therapy... Needless to say it was useless."

Amy stopped for a moment, trying to process what she was hearing. Most of her life, her father was all she had. During her mother's crisis moments he'd do his best to comfort her and keep her distracted. He'd assure her that her mom was experiencing a strong headache or stress due to work. He was also a liar.

She let out a small ironic laugh.

"Great," Amy shook her head in denial. "My whole life is a lie."

"It doesn't have to be," Mrs. Parker grabbed both of her hands, "not anymore."

In silence, she heard her mother's stories about her dreams and visions. It all started with a cave and a tree, the mysterious woman and her two soldiers. Long before Amy moved to New York, Mrs. Parker already knew Adrian Raines and Kamilah Sayeed, without even knowing her daughter would accidentally become so close to them.

"Sometimes I wonder if it's fate," she finished. "If all of this has a bigger purpose. For me and especially for you."

"I wonder about that too," Amy agreed. "Especially now my abilities have... expanded."

After telling her about The First Vampire, she closed her eyes and she could hear her mother's thoughts. She was hurt, traumatized by those visions. She carried an immense guilty and regret for keeping them a secret, wondering how different Amy's life could have been. There was only one thing she desired in that moment... forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, Amy. For all I've done. I love you more than anything in this world and I only intended to keep you safe. And I'm sorry for being so intolerant about your relationship with Kamilah in the beginning. Once I got to know her, I figured out she's not the monster from my visions."

"That's okay, mom. I'd have probably done the same in your place. Most of the time I kept my visions a secret too. I understand why you did it."

Amy embraced her mother tightly, catching a glimpse of a memory from when she was pregnant with her. How she chose her name, meaning 'beloved' and how she'd sing for her. A tear ran down across her cheek. For the first time, she felt so connected to her mom as most of the daughters were.

"Is it..." her mother started sobbing too, "is too late to make it up for our lost time?"

"Not at all, mom," Amy smiled.

"Good, I'm going home and I'll be sending you some journals and drawings I kept from my visions."

"Thank you so much, it'll be a great help."

After Mrs. Parker left, all Amy wished for was to cuddle with her wife in bed. Kamilah patiently listened while she told her everything about her conversation with her mom.

"I feel better know, you know?" She said. "All my life I felt so unloved and rejected, but now I know I was wrong. She loves me, Kamilah. And I guess she's starting to like you too."

"Really?" Kamilah sighed. "Yet, I don't feel any less embarrassed to know your mother can look at me and access my memories. It's still intimidating."

She couldn't help but laughing again. Her wife eventually stop fighting against her own smile too.

"I feel like a weight has been removed from my chest now I've forgiven her and I was thinking..." she paused, raising her head and facing Kamilah. "I'd like to start a family on my own someday."

"Oh. Someday?"

"Soon?"

"Soon as...?"

"As in the next couple years? Like when we solve things regarding the First Vampire or when I'm completely adjusted to my powers?"

Kamilah took a moment to respond. Then, she kissed her forehead and pulled her closer to her chest again.

"It think I'd love that," she finally said.

----------

Lysimachus

After solving things with her wife, Kamilah had finally decided to make it up to her brother too. Amy had told her about the visions and hearing his version of the facts, she agreed with his suspicions.

"How do we find her?" She asked. "She could be anywhere."

"This is what I'm trying to figure out," he answered.

The meeting with Nadine was nothing but a disaster. She was just a young foreign vampire, lost and confused, who was being quite mentored by Priya, what wouldn't probably go well. There wasn't a single part of her that indicated she could be a vampire goddess. Lysimachus took her to the Shadow Den, Jax would probably provide her the guidance she needed.

Kamilah followed him to the warehouse he turned into a personal training center. It was time for another combat lesson with Amy.

"Kamilah," the girl smiled in excitement to see her, "you decided to join us?"

"Yes," she cracked her knuckles, "my twin brother's technique has some weak spots. You don't want to get them for yourself."

"Teach me your ways," Lysimachus mocked her, master."

They had just started training with daggers. He taught Amy some basic moves, but she would easily become bored and beg for more complex stunts.

"Okay then, Kamilah and I will be doing a little demonstration for you. Then, we can discuss together the moves you should learn."

"Hell yeah, that will be awesome!"

Amy pulled a chair and sat down to watch as Lysimachus and Kamilah positioned themselves for a small, harmless combat. 

Lysimachus waited. He wouldn't strike first. He knew how Kamilah would easily deflect that blow and counter-attack. 

"Well, brother," she teased, "afraid much?"

"No, just being honorable. Ladies first."

They continued to move in circle, facing each other. His sister's gaze was deep and intimidating. Though he was a psychic and a skilled fighter, he could never predict what she was up to.

Lysimachus made the mention of a move, what triggered a reaction from Kamilah. As she placed herself in a defense position, he drew his daggers and attempted to strike.

"Too close," she smirked, ducking and sweeping his legs out from under him.

As he fell on his back, Kamilah's daggers were already pointed to his neck.

"Witchcraft," Lysimachus complained. "It's the only explanation for this abnormal speed of yours."

"Don't be a cry baby," Kamilah continued to brag. "It's called practice and discipline."

None of them saw Amy coming from behind, locking her arm around Kamilah's neck. Though she was caught by surprise, she had no difficult to free herself.

"Nice one, Amy," she complimented. "You must analyze and take advantage of the situation. I'm proud, but now... disarm me."

Amy tried all the techniques she learned from both Kamilah and Lysimachus, but her wife wasn't make it easy for her. 

"Get creative," Kamilah suggested. "Just like you've done. Sometimes technique isn't enough."

The girl was focused on Kamilah's hands. On her daggers. Dodging her attacks but with no clue how to disarm her. 

Kamilah moved forward to strike one more time, but this time her daggers flew away from her hands, hitting the nearest wall.

"W-What... How did you..."

"I didn't do anything," Amy said. 

"Of course you..."

Lysimachus entered the fight, lunging forward for a surprise attack at his sister in law and test her reflexes. He couldn't get any close. Intense balls of energy that came out from her hands, sent him and Kamilah flying across the warehouse.

"Oh my god," Amy covered her mouth in shock. "Are you guys okay? What have I done?!'

Stunned, Lysimachus and his sister exchanged a concerned look. Never in his 2065 years of life he had seen a vampire with those powers. Especially a newly-Turned.

[kenzieam]

Not Happening, Doll - Chapter Four (Bucky X Lev)

Rating: M (language, violence, eventual smut, angst, slow burn)

Genre: Drama/Angst

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Levi and Bucky cannot stand each other (or rather, the former Winter Soldier cannot stand to be around the Avenger’s newest member and, like the ass he is, he won’t divulge why) and of course, they get teamed up for a new mission. It’s deep cover this time and not only do they have to work together, they have to pretend they’re MARRIED.

Heaven help them….

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Things finally come to a head, but do Bucky and Levi finally have a breakthrough, or a breakdown??

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The next weeks were tense and silent. Both Levi and Bucky deserved Academy Awards for their performances; when they were forced to appear as a couple anywhere, they acted just like they were in love, casual little touches and glances, pecks on the cheek or full-on kisses, and nobody except the two main players themselves ever saw the deception; the hardening in their gazes, the set to their jaws, the increase in their heartbeats that had nothing to do with excitement. Once alone in their home it was like two completely different people inhabited their skins; they were silent around each other unless absolutely necessary and when they did interact, it was tense and biting, to-the-point and little more.

Levi was miserable and what was worse, she couldn’t seem to put a finger on what exactly was bothering her. She didn’t want attention from Bucky, right? She didn’t want to associate with such a complete asshole, someone who’d gone out of his way to make her feel like an unwelcome outsider from the very first moment she joined the team. He hated this assignment, that was perfectly obvious; and she did too, so why did she feel so rotten sometimes? Why did there seem to be something missing inside her? She was homesick, that had to be it. She wanted the team; she pined for their friendship, the sense of family and belonging they gave her. Bucky had never been a source of that, and she yearned for it; yes, that was it.

Soon, she told herself, every day it seemed; soon we’ll be done. We’ll find that smoking gun or Tony will pull us because we’re not needed here anymore, and we can go back to hating each other privately, ignoring and avoiding because Jesus, the Compound was big enough for that, big enough that, if she was careful, Levi could go whole days without even a glimpse of the Winter Soldier.

Levi glanced up under her eyelashes at Bucky, seated across the table from her. They’d agreed, somewhat stiffly, to continue to dine together at the table like a real couple, because it seemed like their Stepford neighbors had no sense of schedules and would come knocking at the door even during meal times, and it was infinitely more convincing that they were a couple if there was dishes scattered on the table, signs that they surely tolerated each other enough to share supper together.

He was silent, picking at his stir-fry, broad shoulders slumped, and Levi took a moment to study him unobserved. Damn, too bad he was such a dick, because he sure was easy on the eyes; and when he was performing for the neighbors, acting like a charming and carefree husband, he was downright irresistible. So why did he always seem so trounced around Levi, so defensive and annoyed and why, for that matter, did she with him? She was capable of charisma, she caught the Stepford husbands eyeing her appreciatively all the time, sensed their interest in their bright gazes, their cocky grins and wandering hands (hands she tolerated with gritted teeth because she had to play the part); so why did Bucky seem so put-off by her? It was a mystery; one Levi didn’t have the energy to either examine further or attempt to solve right now. Her mind seized on something concrete, something immediately fixable, something she could pick apart about Bucky, although the prospect of that no longer interested her the way it used to.

“Your roots are showing.”

Bucky glanced up, a flicker of irritation in his hypnotically blue eyes before he dropped his gaze again. “So?” He replied petulantly.

“So, we can’t have you looking so obviously like you’re in disguise.”

“So, Jackson dyes his hair, he’s choosing to let it grow out now.”

“Don’t be a dick. I’ve got another box of dye, let’s fix it.”

“No.”

“What are you scared of?” Levi challenged. “Think I’ll suffocate you with the plastic gloves? Turn your hair green? Burn it right off your pointed head?”

Bucky raised his eyes without raising his head, glaring at Levi from under his heavy brow and she felt both a chill and a thrill at the mix of emotions that swirled there. He reminded her of a bull, pawing the ground, warning her to be careful while another part of him seemed to be pleading for mercy, for this game to end, a truce to be called. Some other shadow in his gaze was too dark and deep to contemplate, looked too much like attraction and unfulfilled desire but it surely couldn’t be that; just like it wasn’t a simple longing to touch him, to run her hands through his baby-soft stands as she stood in front of him, feeling the warmth and strength of his massive body that compelled her to pursue this, even with Bucky acting so recalcitrant about it.

“Fine.” He growled, dropping his fork with a clatter and standing; he stormed down the hallway, yanking his shirt off with harsh, jerky movements.

Swallowing hard, what had she just unleashed? Levi followed, plucking the box of dye from the shelf as she entered the bathroom. Bucky perched on the closed toilet seat, ridiculously large and bull-like in the room; although the bathroom was wide and spacious, he dwarfed it all the same, his muscular ass barely balancing on the precarious porcelain. He glowered at her under his brow, jaw clenched and set like a five-year-old pouting; his fists, one metal and one flesh, curled into the tight denim of his jean-clad thighs.

Levi busied herself with the dye; she’d not helped before; she and Bucky had been even more hostile following a fresh spat and he’d locked himself in the bathroom and done it himself the last time. Bucky watched her silently, like a toad on a rock and Levi became awkwardly aware of his proximity, the raw heat his body seemed to be giving off.

“Okay,” Levi began, scouring the instructions. “We have to wet your hair first; do you have any product in it?”

Bucky shook his head and moved silently to the tub, dropping to his knees and leaning his head forward over the basin, his hands grabbing the edge of the tub for balance. Levi hesitated before moving to his side, reaching forwards for the detachable showerhead and turning on the water; she tested it for temperature then began wetting Bucky’s hair, tentatively poking at it like it was going to leap off and bite her at some point. Bucky remained quiet; eyes focused on the bottom of the basin.

Levi’s hand slipped on the edge of the tub as she reached to turn the water off and she jolted, bumping heavily against Bucky, knocking him down onto the rim. The water splashed, hitting her in the chest and face, making her squawk in surprise and Bucky grumble under his breath. Levi scrambled back upright, face going red, her skin goose bumping from the shock of the water and her sudden contact with Bucky.

“Smooth,” Bucky grunted, sitting up and ignoring the water that streamed down his back. Standing and launching himself away from Levi like she smelled rotten he snagged a towel to wrap around his head, scrubbing irritably at his wet locks, eyes fixed on the floor.

Levi stood awkwardly, contemplating her next move; did she go change or just leave Bucky to finish dyeing his hair by himself? Did she double-down and continue with a wet shirt? Challenge and taunt him by not leaving him alone when he obviously wanted her to?

Whatever.

Let him squirm. Twisting her hem, Levi squeezed out the majority of the water in her tank top, wishing that she’d worn any other color today than white. Bucky had moved back to the toilet, resuming his glower as Levi prepared the dye, pulled on the plastic gloves and stepped in front of him, between his knees further than either one of them probably wanted and began.

As she worked, arms raised and forced to lean forwards to see what she was doing, Levi became painfully aware of the fact that her shirt, her white shirt, was now see-through and what’s more, her favorite fuchsia colored bra was easily visible to anyone, not only a man with enhanced eye sight. Levi’s cheeks began to heat, feeling Bucky’s proximity to her; unless he was keeping his eyes closed, her breasts were right in his face to stare at and Levi realized she’d pushed this too far. Whatever she’d been trying to prove tonight, and she wasn’t even sure what that was, she was now waving a red flag at a bull.

Even though Bucky didn’t like her, he was nonetheless a red-blooded male and unless he was fucking Stepford wives while Levi was at work, he probably hadn’t had an outlet for any sexual tension or frustration since they’d started this job. Levi certainly hadn’t invited him to her bed and, now that it was literally right in front of her, she remembered on more than one occasion hearing Bucky while he showered. Without her enhanced senses, she probably would have had no idea, but with them she caught the sporadic faint grunt or low groan, sometimes on the nights they’d had some sort of blow-out, some kind of angry, harsh words for each other, but also when they’d completely ignored each other, going so far as to not even exchange the simplest words or conversation. Levi hadn’t thought much about it before but when she glanced down and saw her nemesis eying her assets with something other than his usual scorn, it suddenly became front and center; when he was in the shower and she could hear him, he was rubbing one out.

Was he thinking of her while he did?

Clenching her jaw, Levi rushed through the dye job, focusing solely on finishing it as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Once he realized she’d spotted him, Bucky dropped his gaze crossly, glaring smoking holes into his knees, where his fists still clenched the denim. Tension and something else more raw, much deeper, crackled in the air between them, thick as smoke.

Relief that felt strangely like disappointment hit Levi as she finished, rubbing the towel through Bucky’s freshly redyed hair; as she was about to pull away, step out from between Bucky’s spread thighs she suddenly jolted in surprise as Bucky’s flesh hand almost convulsively unclenched from his knee and reached up, brushing all too briefly at her hip before he dropped it again.

“Levi,” he murmured and there was something in his voice that made her instantly afraid.

“What?” She hardly could breathe the sound.

“I’m tired.”

“Okay, I’ll get out of your way-“ Levi, feeling a strange pang of disappointment, moved to take a step back, freezing when Bucky’s hand came up again, clamping on her hip this time. His thumb stroked cautiously at the small sliver of exposed skin between her leggings and tank top, as if he thought she was going to slap his hand away but just couldn’t help himself.

“No,” he whispered, and for the briefest instant, the obstinance in his voice dropped and Levi heard abject despair in its wake. “No, I’m tired of this… this non-stop fight we have going on.” His eyes flicked up to hers for the briefest instant and she was shocked to see wetness there, the beginning of miserable tears. “I don’t want to do it anymore, I don’t-“ he broke off, looking to the side, his thumb still caressing her.

“You never really gave me a chance,” Levi whispered cautiously. “As soon as I joined the team, you- “

Bucky nodded, looking back up at her again. “I know, I’ve been a complete asshole and I’m sorry, but…” he stopped, rubbing his metal hand roughly across his face. Without rancor he pushed suddenly at Levi’s hip, moving her out of his way and stood, rushing from the room.

Levi watched him go, puzzled. Usually, when he stomped away from her, she sensed anger, or irritation, rage even; but not now, now all she picked up was misery, sorrow, frustration and even shame.

What the hell?

“Bucky,” Levi called, trailing after him, his wide back going rigid as he continued into the living room. He turned to face her, scrubbing a hand over his face again before putting his hands on his hips and dropping his head, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here in this room at this moment.

Cautiously, Levi stood at the edge of the living room, eyeing Bucky as he started to pace. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, raking his metal hand through his hair, clenching and unclenching his jaw. His other hand was white knuckled in a fist, his strides almost violent. Levi just stared at him, shocked; she’d not expected such a reaction, such an explosive response. He was acting like Levi was deep under his skin, like he’d been fighting himself over his feelings for her for some time now and was losing the battle.

“Bucky?” She tried again, because his struggling was starting to drag her under too; his visceral and violent emotions were opening up a Pandora’s Box deep inside her, letting out feelings she’d tried with all her strength this last year, shit, since the day she’d joined the team, to repress and bury.

He stopped, chest heaving and lips parted. A wild look was flooding his eyes, a devil-may-care, fuck-the-consequences, I-can’t-fight-this-anymore kind of expression. “Levi,” he whispered and there was such suffering in his voice it broke her heart; his calling of her name a desperate plea to deliver him from his pain, a benediction to his savior.

“Buck…” Levi trailed off, not sure what to say. Her body was awakening to his, new sensations flooding her limbs; it was like he’d opened a dam inside her and she was being helplessly swept along in the rapids. Bucky strode towards her, like a bull charging. Levi took an instinctive step back, felt the wall press into her shoulder blades. She wasn’t scared of Bucky; well, not physically scared, but internally, emotionally… she was terrified. A tsunami was rising in her, an answer to the tempest roiling in him and she wondered dimly how they’d managed to fight this off for so long.

Bucky stopped in front of her, his heaving chest almost touching hers with each gasping breath and his eyes dropped to her soaked shirt, to her fuchsia-clad breasts rising and falling with each pant. He raised his gaze, the raw hunger in his eyes making heat pool low in her belly. He looked ready to devour her and Levi could see in his eyes, feel in the tension in his limbs that this wasn’t a generic hunger for a woman’s body, but a desperate craving for her and her alone. A starving man set before the banquet he’d been drooling over for far too long and his eyes bored into hers, searching for permission to finally partake.

He saw what he needed to see in her eyes and attacked.

His lips crashed to hers, hungry and hot and demanding, stealing her breath in a heated rush. His hand came up, cupping her jaw as he kissed her, angled her head to deepen it as he slicked his tongue inside her mouth. A low groan rumbled in his chest as Levi all but sagged in his arms, giving into him with a moan of pure want. He pressed his body to hers, caging her in his arms, trapping her between him and the wall and Levi surged forwards, reaching up and clasping his face in her hands, rasping against his stubble, fingers digging into his skin. His low growl in answer flared the heat in her belly and he pressed harder into her, his cock a hard ridge against her thigh.

He broke the kiss, panting harshly, tipping her head back so he could look deep into her eyes. “I want-” He growled, low and deep. “Fuck, I need you.”

“Yes…” Levi breathed. She barely able to form the words, desire swimming so thickly in her veins she could feel nothing else. “Yes, Bucky.”

He groaned, a deep and visceral sound of relief and release. His thumb traced a gentle circle on her cheek in a brief moment of tenderness, but his desire for Levi was too strong to be placid and mellow right now. Holding her gaze he dropped suddenly to his knees, teeth bared in a predator smile, hands raking down her body. Her sleep pants ripped in his desperate hands and he groaned when he saw the thin scrap of lace that lay beneath, now soaked with arousal. He looked back up at Levi, eyes begging permission and she curled her fingers in his wet locks as she nodded, nearly sobbing with relief when he lunged forwards hungrily, pressing his mouth to her. His tongue lapped at the fabric and Levi’s hips bucked involuntarily, pressing his tongue deeper.

Bucky pulled back with a snarl of lust and Levi’s panties tore easily away; he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her to him and dove in, attacking her like ravenous beast. His tongue and teeth were everywhere at once, licking and sucking and laving at her and he ate her out like it was the only thing he’d been thinking about for months, like the fantasy had consumed him body and soul and he was finally, finally able to experience it.

Levi felt her orgasm rising hot and fast, spurred on by the fever of Bucky’s attack and devastating skill. His finger stroked her, pushed inside as he sucked at her and she barely held back a scream, fingers clawing through his hair, yanking harshly and making him growl in answering need. A second finger pushed inside, spreading her and curling against her walls, right at the sweet spot.

“Fuck,” Bucky growled against her, face buried deep. “I fucking dreamed about this, eating this fucking beautiful pussy ‘till you screamed for me-“ a third finger, and he started to fuck them inside her, his dirty words pushing her over the edge as Levi climaxed hard, screaming incoherently as wave after wave of incandescent pleasure crashed over her.

Bucky groaned, burrowing his face into her, reveling and glorying in her orgasm, lapping and drinking her in like he was starving, his fingers still working inside her. His teeth clamped lightly on her clit and fresh waves of ecstasy pulled her under as Bucky had to grip under her ass to hold her up now, for her knees had completely given out under his onslaught.

As the pulses of her violent climax began to wane, Bucky’s fevered motions slowed and he guided her gently through the rest of her ecstasy, his tongue laving and capturing every drop of her essence.

Levi panted harshly, spots dancing in her eyes. She’d never been eaten out with this level of skill or enthusiasm before and her head spun, hardly able to wrap itself around what had just happened. Bucky pressed heated, hungry little kisses to the insides of her quivering thighs before gently slinging her thigh off his shoulder and standing, capturing Levi’s mouth in a passionate kiss. She tasted herself on his lips and tongue and her pussy clenched again, fresh arousal coating her thighs.

Not wasting any more time, Bucky clawed at his jeans, his belt clanking and zipper rasping. He managed to push his jeans down his hips enough to free his throbbing cock with one hand and pull Levi’s shirt up and off with the other at the same time. His shaft pressed against her folds and he grabbed her ass, lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist and pressing her hard against the wall behind them. Her fuchsia bra protested with the faint sound of tortured stitching as Bucky yanked the cups down, his mouth latching on her peaked nipple.

Gripping himself, Bucky lined up and drove inside Levi in one relentless thrust, filling her completely, stretching her deliciously and then he began to thrust, groaning against her breast. He switched sides, moving his mouth to her other nipple while his hand cupped her breast, thumb caressing the delicate skin. The sweet drag and friction of his cock spiraled Levi rapidly higher and higher and she grabbed at his ass, desperately pulling him closer and deeper, her legs wrapped tightly around him, heels digging into the back of thighs.

“Fuck!” He growled, an animal mimicking speech as he slammed into her harder, his heavy balls slapping against her with each thrust and Levi let go a second time, arching against his chest and crying out. Bucky groaned as her walls fluttered around him and his thrusts grew sloppy and frantic as he chased his own release and then he was there, roaring as he came; his cock throbbing deep inside, spilling his seed in thick ropes against her womb until it filled her and seeped back out, coating their joined bodies.

Bucky shuddered violently, hips slamming into her once more before holding steady, pressed hard against her as the pulses of his orgasm finally began to fade, his muscles trembling with aftershocks. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, panting harshly. Still holding her up with one arm, he reached up with the other and cupped her face, turning it and guiding her mouth to his. His kiss was hot and desperate, panting against her mouth with a hunger that had been temporarily sated but by no means satisfied.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned hoarsely, sounding like he’d just sprinted a marathon. Still inside her, Bucky rolled his hips again, driving into her and Levi gasped as she felt him hard and throbbing again, reminding her of his enhanced stamina.

Fortunately for Levi, she too was enhanced, and her blood flared, a delicious shiver shooting through her limbs. She rolled her hips in answer and Bucky groaned again, a wrecked sound.

“More,” Levi breathed, trailing sucking kisses along his pulse point and the tender skin beneath his ear.

Bucky growled, a rough, animal sound of pure want. Grabbing her ass with both hands he stepped back from the wall and whirled, stumbling as he hurried to the master bedroom. Dropping her down onto the king-sized mattress, Bucky dropped down with her, stretching above her, still viscerally connected. His kisses became ravenous again, claiming marks as his hands roamed and Levi clawed back, as desperate to brand him as he was with her. His hips rolled, driving balls-deep inside Levi and she whimpered in overwhelming bliss.

Bucky pressed his forehead to hers as he slammed inside her, curses and groans falling from his kiss-swollen lips, the adoration in his eyes making them blaze like bottled suns. Levi gripped his hips in sudden inspiration and hooked her leg around his hips, twisting her body sideways. Bucky moved with her as she rolled them, his hands dropping to her hips as Levi reared upright.

“Yeah,” his voice was guttural, thick with desire. “Fuck, yeah baby. Ride me, just like that-“

His filthy mouth only stoked her fire and Levi arched her spine sharply, rocking herself down, completely swallowing his cock within her body. Bucky’s fingers left bruises on her skin as he held her, rolling her body on his, helping her drive him deeper and deeper inside. Levi raked her nails down his chest and his pornographic moan made her clench around his cock and his eyes rolled back in his head as he gasped before he raised his head again, eyes locking on where their bodies joined, watching her body take him, consuming his shaft, wet with her arousal. He stared avidly, a man lost in the most beautiful vision he’d ever seen, biting his bottom lip until Levi cupped his cheek and tipped his head up, forcing his attention back on her face.

The hunger in his eyes took her breath away, the desire and…. worship. Shit, if that wasn’t love she saw blazing in his bottomless blues then it was damn close, and Levi felt a thrill dart up her spine. How had she missed this? How had Bucky hidden this abyss within himself?

By being an asshole, that’s how. By keeping her at arm’s length and constantly on guard. And she’d reciprocated, injured and defensive; burying her own attraction under a layer of indignance and wounded words, anger designed to protect her and bite back at the cause of her pain.

Bucky arched his hips up to meet her rocking, dragging her back to the present. His hand cupped her face and he pressed his thumb onto her bottom lip, hissing when she pulled it in and sucked hard. Fire blazed in his eyes as he pulled his thumb gently away, trailing his hand down to wrap around her throat. His grip tightened just enough and Levi, who’d never experienced such a primal and possessive act before, dropped her head back with a moan, reaching her hands up to grip his straining forearm.

“More,” she growled, looking back down at him, teeth bared.

“Baby- “ Bucky groaned brokenly, sounding wrecked. His hand tightened on her throat and he hissed as she tightened around his shaft.

“Yes, yes, yes, Bucky!” Levi chanted, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her spine arched, nails digging into Bucky’s chest and he watched her with wide, worshiping eyes before his face contorted in sweet pain and he followed her, his release nearly pulling him under, spots dancing in his eyes. His metal hand held Levi’s body down on his as he pulsed inside her, his cock throbbing almost painfully, milked by her spasming walls. Finally, his body no longer felt under his control, weakened and overwhelmed by the power of his orgasm and his arms dropped to the bed, his groan a long and low sound of pure ecstasy.

Levi bounced on him, still caught in her climax for a few more moments before she too was struck by lassitude, dropping beside him, her head landing on the pillow, her breath panting, tickling his skin.

For a long time, Bucky could only lay there, gasping, trying to recover from what could possibly be the most intense encounter of his long life. At the risk of sounding corny, he felt like a piece of his soul had just left him, joining with the woman who’d just given him such an experience. Never in his wildest dreams, and he’d had more that a few wild ones, laying on his bed or in the shower back at the Compound, hand fisted around his straining cock as he pictured Levi bouncing on it, had he ever imagined such paradise. He didn’t even think he’d be able to muster the energy to react if an enemy burst into the room, if HYDRA itself suddenly attacked. He’d just lay there like a lump, a completely sated and blissed-out lump.

Still breathing hard, he rallied his lethargic body and rolled to face Levi as she lay beside him, looking as exhausted as he felt, her eyes closed, hair spilled out across the pillow. A beautiful glow flushed her skin and she’d never looked more captivating to him.

His fingers shook slightly as he reached up and traced them gently along her cheek and she smiled, eyes still closed, humming in contentment. After a moment, she opened them, gazing at Bucky with her hypnotizing amethyst eyes, dark like bruises with utter satisfaction. He rested his palm on her cheek, thumb caressing her cheekbone, waiting for his heart to slow down, his body to recover enough that he could move more than just his hand.

“I wanted you,” he whispered, compelled by the allure of pillow talk to spill his heart. “I always have.”

“They why did you act like that?” There was only faint confusion in her voice, her brow furrowing. Her hand reached up to cover his.

Shame made his heart heavy and he worked hard to answer her. “Because I don’t deserve you.”