#but it’s the weasels of the world who really come out badly

[spectrum-color]

I feel like an idiot for not remembering this but who is weasel asoiaf

You are not an idiot; aSoIaF has so many characters I lose track too! She’s the little refugee girl Arya takes under her wing at Harrenhal

[eloves-writes]

feeling’s mutual

[max verstappen x reader]

desc: max overhears his teammate having some alone time in her driver’s room, and can’t help himself knocking on to see what she’s doing

warnings: swearing, masturbation (f+m), mutual masturbation, implied age gap, dom!max

a/n: this came to me like a prophetic vision. just kidding, except not really bc i wrote this so fast. it’s like 2am and i need to sleep, but i hope you enjoy, requests open as always (!!), comments and reblogs are so so loved and appreciated (just like you!). mwah mwah mwah ily

this work contains mature themes, minors do not interact

——————————————————

the first practice session had been rough; you were new to redbull after getting promoted from f2 mid-season, and you weren’t quite getting used to the car as quick as you’d hoped. pair that with some subpar upgrades and you’d been left in the middle of the time sheet, whilst your teammate had topped the board like always. to make matters worse, your boyfriend, a fellow f2 driver, had dumped you when you moved up and the sexual frustration was started to grate on you too.

luckily, you’d managed to weasel your way out of media commitments and strategy meetings between the two practice sessions and had some time to kill two birds with one stone and attempt to release some tension with your trusty vibrator. it came in a carry case that made it look completely unsuspicious in your handbag, and after a quick check outside your driver’s room to make sure nobody was lingering, you took it out and began to undress from the waist down.

for some reason, the image of your teammate came to mind as you turned the toy to its lowest setting and placed it against you. the way his hand would linger on your waist when he spoke to you, the feeling of him pressed up against your back as he tried to move past you in a crowded garage, your tits on his chest through the fabric of your suits on the rare occasion he hugged you. even his voice, that dutch accent, and the anger in it when he came back to the redbull suite after a bad session.

quickly, waves of pleasure were sent through your body and you turned up the vibrator to the next intensity. god, he could be so insufferable sometimes. complaining about podiums because he didn’t win, moaning about every interview he had to give as if he wasn’t the reigning world champion. and he was older than you, not by too much, but enough that the thought of him fucking you made you wet with a sort of dirty lust you didn’t feel with men your own age. as you started to really feel good, you let out a small, breathy whimper that wouldn’t have been heard by anybody, except that max himself was in his own driver’s room beside yours listening closely, practically with his ear against the wall.

he’d heard a quiet, mechanical whirring as he scrolled through his phone, and thought nothing of it- a common sound to hear at an f1 track. it wasn’t until he really listened, and noticed an accompaniment of heavy female breathing that he realised the direction the sound was coming from; your room. his younger, beautiful teammate who he could never touch, but could perversely rake his eyes over whenever you wore something tight, short, or low cut. admittedly, he felt like a bit of a creep thinking of you in such a way whilst you were doing nothing at all sexual, but this was different. he could listen. and it wasn’t his fault, really, that he could hear you. and it really wasn’t his fault that he could hear you moan his name, and that his legs seemed to be taking him out of his door and towards yours.

you didn’t mean to say it out loud, it had just slipped out, but the sound of it painfully turned you on so you tried it again and found yourself coming closer to the release you’d been craving so badly. you whispered it again, ready to bring yourself over the edge, before being so rudely interrupted by a knock on your door.

“shit,” you whispered, fumbling to turn the vibrator off and find some pants. you’d left some sweatpants on the floor and quickly pulled them up, hopping over to your door. you opened it to be met with the face of the man you’d been fantasising about. your cheeks involuntarily blushed a crimson, ferrari red.

“max!” you started, trying to act normal. how the fuck did you speak to him again? “what’s up?”

that definitely wasn’t it. max smirked, raising an eyebrow to look beyond you and to the sofa you’d been laying on moments before. “just checking you’re ok,” he spoke slowly.

“yeah?” you replied as fast as you could. “why wouldn’t i be ok?”

he chuckled softly. “i … heard something. thin walls.”

your face dropped again. you scrambled for something to say, an explanation, but max beat you to it.

“can i come in?”

you nodded slowly, letting him into your room and closing the door behind him. you felt sheepish, stupid for not keeping yourself quiet. you couldn’t look him in the eye, despite where your mind had been wandering previously.

“did you finish?” he asks, not struggling at all to make eye contact like you were.

you didn’t know what you expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. you stayed silent, trying and failing again to think of a response.

“i asked, y/n,” he repeated himself, “did you finish?”

his expression was not one that you’d seen on him before, and you found yourself shaking your head. “no.”

he took a seat in the chair opposite the sofa. “go on then,” he dared. you looked at him like he’d just asked you to rear end him on the track on sunday. “show me what you were doing. i want to watch.”

stunned into silence once again, your hands operated separately from your brain and pushed your sweatpants to the floor. you lay back down on the sofa, taking up the same position as earlier, and picked up your vibrator that you’d promptly shoved behind a cushion when he’d knocked. he didn’t look away once, his eyes darting from your face to your wet cunt between your open legs. you placed the toy against you once again and switched it back on. it felt so much more intense now, both from how close you’d been before and from max watching you. he didn’t say anything as you started to rhythmically move your hips in response to the vibrations, but slid a hand into his pants to stroke himself in time with your movements.

the orgasm came back to you quickly, and as you moved faster so did max’s hand on his cock.

“say my name, schat, like you did before.”

your eyes flickered over to him before you obliged without the confidence you’d said it with when you were alone.

“no, no. look at me,” he demanded. just the sight of him stroking himself, watching you get yourself off, made you moan his name again, properly.

“good girl, that’s better.”

that earned another moan from you, making you cum and release onto the sofa with a whine of pleasure. max finished himself almost instantly, spilling into his own hand. you passed him a tissue, but he shook his head.

“for your …” you said, confused.

he offered his palm out to you, covered in his release. “clean it up, schat.”

if he wanted to play it that way, you could play too. you held the bottom of his hand, and sat your still wet and naked cunt over his thigh before fixing your eyes on his and licking his cum from his hand.

“that’s cute,” he said sarcastically. “now there’s a wet spot on my jeans, looks like i’ve pissed myself.”

you shrugged your shoulders innocently and hopped off him, pulling your sweatpants on again.

he stood up and stepped towards you, towering over you. he tilted your face up to his, and leaned in. “we’ll see who’s laughing when i make you sit there again tonight. i’m not done with you yet.”

[the-everqueen]

Hi! So this first ask is about the concept you have for that X-men monster fic 👀

so ao3 user darthpumpkinspice dragged me down a Pierce/Logan hole and now i've read everything (in English) in the tags and am subscribed to a current fic-in-progress. i need to make clear: i have not seen Logan (2017). i've read the wiki summary and i know what hugh jackman and bhol look like. pero now i'm invested in smarmy Donald Pierce getting the shit beat out of him by a burned-out Wolverine and/or being a pretty princess/fucktoy for Wolverine.

(go read Twice Shy. and then, just because it's good Rose-as-Dream fic, Heavy Lies the Crown.)

anyways. given this context. i want a fic where Donnie gets revived/captured by A-T in the wake of film events and they test a new serum formula on him and it goes...wrong. cue Logan (also revived, and/or time loop shit, we know i love a time loop) breaking him out, thinking he's going to leverage this little shit for info to dismantle A-T, and instead he's got a handful of monster. two ways for this to go, imho: Pierce is turning into something wolverine-adjacent, with all the gross and delightful body horror and fear of losing humanity that comes with it. i find this fun because wolverines are related to martens and i DO think it's on the nose in a darkly funny way if the (metaphorical) weasel is becoming a (literal) weasel. also wolverines are solitary animals (ha) so putting two of those in close quarters and being like "work together!" has great potential. alternatively, Pierce's body is coping badly with a botched metamorphosis into bhol-as-Wolverine, with all the fun pain of "hey bone claws actually really fucking hurt and when not reinforced with adamantium they aren't a GREAT weapon, actually, because bones break," and "rapid healing factor doesn't stop things from hurting, esp. when 'things' are a pissed off adamantium-reinforced mutant who wants to use you as his personal punching bag." either way! i get Donald Pierce Coping Badly With A New Set Of Instincts, and the delicious playground of "what if we took someone who is definitely traumatized and has been masking that with violence and suddenly/horribly reoriented his whole sense of self while making him dependent on the person who wants him dead more than anyone else."

the first option has the potential for a...softer ending. not kinder, maybe, but it could result in some uneasy truce with elements of pleasure. second one is pure whump. for me, the attraction of this pairing is the flip of a hero into a small-scale villain for someone who absolutely deserves hurt. the reparative factor in non-whump versions is the classic "you have been seen at your absolute worst and someone still thinks maybe you could've had kindness, maybe there's something worthwhile at the bitter pit of you." but there's also the bit where it's like: you are Logan and you are tired. you have been saving the world since forever and it has not fucking gotten better and no matter what you won't die, you can't die, you wish you could die so at least you could stop. and the ghosts keep dragging you back against your will, and living so long makes for a LOT of ghosts. and then this bitch of a kid who tells you he's a fan is in your hands, and he's done a lot of bad and feels no guilt for it. and maybe you could make him sorry. at very least you can have this: you can prove to yourself you're a monster.

[moemoemammon]

yay! requests are open! y'know that thing where the s/o being so weak for their partner? I wanted to request the demon bros being weak for their s/o? does that make sense?

like, for example, MC would pout a little, and say 'pwease 🥺' and the demon bros would be like, 'yes, go on, what do you want from me? would you like my-' they'd just be so weak for mc.

I hope that makes sense! also, if it's too much characters, you can just do mammon and satan :) thank you ;3

Their One Weakness: MC!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

Lucifer is known as the cruel eldest of the brothers. A sadist whose word is law, whose will can only be bent by Lord Diavolo himself. And yet since you came to the Devildom, all you ever seemed to do was the opposite of what he asked. Yet he still came to love you. He wonders if he spoils you too much...

Especially when you always seem to get your way one way or another. When you proposed the chaotic idea of a massive get together between the House of Lamentation and Purgatory Hall, Lucifer immediately said no. It’d be way too noisy and he had things to do.

But THEN... You fixed him with those damn EYES of yours.... The big eyes filled with sparkles and hopes that pleaded to him.... stop staring at him with them big ol eyes-

Lucifer REFUSES to acknowledge how cute you are when you look at him like that. Well, verbally anyway. You look like a kicked puppy...and he loves puppies...

"............I suppose if we prepare right now and get a dinner menu ready, it could be possible. And if you pout any harder you might pull a muscle, and I doubt I could explain that to Lord Diavolo. Now, go tell the others what you have planned."

Mammon

Mammon is practically the biggest MC simp in the world. You always occupy his thoughts any time of the day. 'Oh, MC would probably like one of these'. 'MC's always eatin' this for lunch. I'll grab one.' 'This would be way less borin' if MC were around...'

But as the Tsundere 🤢 king of the Devildom, there's no way he'll admit to any of that! So what if he's head over heels for you?! That doesn't mean he's gonna be all weak in the knees the moment you-

Wait, you're saying that because he lost a bet yesterday and promised he'd take you out to Ristorante Six and pay for the whole thing, now he's gotta pay up?!?! No way! He doesn't remember what you're talking about, and that voice recording you've got on your phone is clearly fake!

Mammon's dead set on weaseling out of his promise, until you freeze him in place with your pouty face... then you hit him with a "please..?" and the Avatar of Greed swears he might die right then and there.

"Tch..! Damn it, I ain't got a choice when ya look at me like that!!! What're ya playin' at, pulling' my heartstrings like that?! Hurry up and get dressed so we can go! A-and ya better eat your fill, too!"

Levi

The founder of the top secret MC Cult Fanclub, there's not much that could keep Levi from becoming putty in your hands. He's used to idolizing the objects of his affection, and you're no exception!

So when it comes to bending to your will, he's definitely the easiest. Except when it comes to n-...normie stuff...

Seriously, do you think someone like HIM should be going to The Fall?!?! No way! Not in a million, billion, trillion years!!!! You shouldn't get him to go to that crowded club even if you dragged him there!!!

Then... you hit him with the cute act... You declare your loyalty to him as his beloved Henry, fixing him with a pleading look that shoots him straight through the heart, and... GAH, HE'S GOT NO CHOICE!!!!!

"At... at least help me choose something to wear..! I don't know how I'm supposed to dress for normie stuff like this!!! Aaah... I wanna stay home, b-but when you say something like that, I just can't win-!"

Satan

Satan openly admits to how he likes to spoil you. It's cute seeing how big your grin becomes when he gives you something you wanted, and how happy you are when he takes you out for the evening.

But there are some things even he doesn't want to do, like when you suggest going to a chess tournament with Lucifer. You've been pressured by Lucifer wanting to attend, but figured it'd be easier to sit through with someone else. So why not Satan, who'd mentioned liking chess?

Yeah... he'd go if Lucifer weren't involved. As much as he'd love to go and pull some strings to ruin the match for the dear eldest, he's got something else planned involving a well timed glue bomb and Lucifer's study. So he'll pass.

Or so he thought, until you started poking your fingers together and mentioned how you'd hoped you could both enjoy it together. Kind of like a date..? Gah, his heart and its weakness for unconventional dates-!!!!

"...I... suppose I could go. It’d be nice to study how Lucifer plays, so I can finally beat him. Don't you think the look on his face will be priceless? And if you're there as well, I'll be able to stomach watching his face for an hour."

Asmo

Asmo LOVES you more than aaanyone!! There's no one who loves you more, you know? Why, he wants to involve you in every aspect of his life, and actively tries to do just that! He's even tried dragging you into the tub with him a few times...

And when it comes to spoiling you, he loves it! He's always the one being spoiled, so it makes him giddy when he can give a little back. If there's anything you want from him, just tell him and he'll make it happen!

Eh? You want to play fangol? With HIM?? Um... pass. You know he just got his nails done, right? Asmo's not really a fan of running around with a ball and getting knocked to the ground, so... no thanks! ❤️

Wait, don't make that face! What're you looking so glum for?? He'll kiss your sadness away, and- Eh?! You don't want a kiss?? You really wanna play THAT badly?????

"....You really don't have me mistaken for Beel, right..? You really want to play with ME? ...Haaaah, fine! I'll play one game with you, and in exchange, you have to spend all of tomorrow with moi! Sounds good, right~? Now let me see if Satan will let me borrow some of his clothes...urgh..."

Beel

As a 'go with the flow' guy, there's not much Beel won't do with you, even if it's not really something he's interested in. As long as he has you around and a surplus of snacks, he's fine with anything.

Until you suggest going to Majolish to try on some stylish outfits. You mention how Beel wears variations of the same thing all the time, so it's time for an update! He thinks you're spending too much time with Asmo...

Beel isn't really into tight, itchy, stiff fabrics like the 'stylish' things they sell at Majolish, and decides he'd much rather go to Hell's Kitchen instead. He's hungry. Are you hungry?

'Stop changing the subject'? Ah.. damn it 😔 Wait, now you're saying you just wanted to buy fancy outfits because you were planning to take him to Ristorante Six?! You can't tell if he's blushing over your consideration or the idea of food, but now Beel's looking through the clothes with earnest.

"I didn't know you were the winner of that 'all you can eat' coupon lottery. When I didn't win I was pretty upset, but I'm glad to know it was you. Even if these clothes are weird, I'll wear them. Can you pick something good for me?"

Belphie

Belphie likes to spoil you in more subtle ways, instead of simping as hard as his brothers. He's still as much of a sucker for you as they are though, much to his dismay. All you have to do is smile and you've got him wrapped around your gross human finger.

But when you mention wanting to go biking with Lord Diavolo and wanting him to come along, Belphie suddenly discovers that his ears don't work anymore. Anyway, goodnight-

Hey, stop poking him like that. Can't you see an deaf man is trying to sleep here?? And what's with that face..? You're pouting so hard you look like you're going to explode. It's cute, but Belphie can close his eyes an not see it.

But then you scoot into bed with him and hold him from behind, and the sleepy demon starts feeling his resolve crumble. You have some dirty tactics, huh..? Getting all cozy with him just because he's got a soft spot for you...

"...............Why Diavolo of all people..? I'd prefer anyone over him. Ugh... Hey, they still rent out those two person bikes, don't they? I'll only go if I can ride on that with you. I'll sit right behind you and cheer you on, okay? ..What's with that look? I'm joking...maybe."

[rockingrobin69]

Shifting Gears

To my beloved @phoebe-delia​, for the prompt “shut up and kiss me”. Turned out to be roughly 1.6k, party games, oblivious pining Harry, and some car metaphors.

“Three!”

“No, no, it’s four, I’m telling you –”

“Three! Final answer, three!”

Harry bit his smile, but there was no way of keeping a straight face. Draco was halfway to standing up, flushed with excitement, so bright against the maroon fabric of the sofa. Radiant. On the other side of the room, Ron groaned into his hands, with Greg and Seamus giving him worried looks.

“Draco, you idiot, it’s four!”

Up by the fireplace, Hermione turned to the scoreboard. When she added another point to ‘team ferret’, the whole living room rang with noise; Pansy shrieked, Neville whistled, and Ginny’s howl was so loud Harry had to cover both ears with his hands. Draco sat back, smug and too gorgeous by half, while team weasel rolled their eyes and clucked their tongues – all but Luna, who seemed mildly amused.

“And Draco’s correct, it’s three pedals in a manual car. Well done, ferrets! And that brings us to… yes, we have a winner!”

“Noooooo,” Ron cried, Seamus and Greg muttering angrily at his elbows. “Hermione, come on, that’s bollocks! We totally would have won if you’d accepted the Ladybugs as an answer –”

“They’re called the Beatles, Ron! No ladybugs sing about submarines!”

“But that’s not even a question about Muggle transportation,” Seamus roared. “It was a trick question –”

“Trick question!” Ron hammered his fist on the coffee table in agreement.

“Malfoy still got the question about bicycles, though,” Ginny said loftily from the arm of the sofa, where she slung herself all over Luna. “He knew the Queen sang it. He didn’t say the Prince or anything. Stop whining already, just study better next time.”

Harry’s eyes ran across the room, his chest heavy with affection and warmth and this unbearable ache he kept denying. Game night was one of his favourite new traditions. Draco’s idea, like most of the things Harry enjoyed nowadays. It’s like Draco always knew what he needed before Harry even realised it; he planned the Quidditch tournament before Harry remembered how much he missed flying, and arranged the road trip up Scotland before Harry noticed how badly he craved the outdoors. He gathered all the people Harry loved most in the world and made them a tight pack, before Harry could grieve not having a family. If only there was a chance Harry could get…

He cut himself off before the thought became too painful. Draco was his friend – his really good friend – his maddeningly gorgeous, annoyingly perfect friend, and the most competitive bastard he knew, but that was it. Harry couldn’t ask for more. Even if that’s all he thought about before going to bed at night, even if this stupid ache would never go away. Harry has lost enough by now. Too much to risk this, as well.

“Well, we still won,” Neville said somewhere in the present, pulling Harry back along.

“Yeah, by cheating,” Ron grumbled.

“Cheating?” Ginny squealed. “Why, you sorry arse –“

“Oh, don’t take him too seriously. He thought being engaged to the quiz master would give him extra points,” Pansy drawled happily, leaning against Draco. Too close to him, actually. Harry’s smile turned into something a little less pleasant on his face. “You should know by now Granger’s not that kind of girl, Weasel.”

“Shut it,” Ron huffed into his beer, while Dean came over to mollify an angry Seamus. “Not like you were any better, Parkinson. Did you really not know Muggle cars can’t fly?”

Draco’s sparkling eyes were laughing, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little cheated when Pansy rested her head on his shoulder, basking in it, looking entirely too pleased.

“Not by any chance thinking of a wild Ford Anglia, are we?” Draco winked at Harry. Ron looked between them, confusion written all over his face.

“You haven’t… have you, mate?” he asked Harry, and Hermione rolled her eyes, coming to sit in his lap.

“You know Harry tells Draco everything.”

Harry spat his mouthful of butterbeer. “Not everything,” he groaned, horrified at the betrayal. “I don’t – not everything.”

“Oh yes, everything,” Draco smiled, a little wide-eyed. “Harry keeps no secrets from his best friend. Right, Harry, love?”

“Best – oi, watch it, ferret. Harry only has one best friend, and it’s not some blond poncy git. If we played who knows Harry best tonight, team weasel’d wipe the floor with you lot.”

Harry was beginning to feel a little sick. “Yeah, we’re not playing that. Both of you are idiots, by the way. Obviously Hermione’s my best friend.” Ron and Draco scowled, first at Harry, then at each other.

“Well, in any case, I demand a rematch. You sneaky little bastards won’t get away with it this time.”

Draco was smiling, the prat. “Anytime, anywhere. What game would you like to lose? I’ve already annihilated you in charades, Pictionary, cards…”

Harry tore his eyes away, decidedly not falling into the pit of despair in his abdomen, not torturing himself with impossibilities, not making a spectacle out of his misery –

“Harry? You all right?”

With a teeny gasp he realised half the room was staring at him. “Sorry? You asked something?”

Draco gave him a questioning look. It took a couple of seconds before he asked, “Say, you don’t still have that beverage I like?”

“Ginger beer?” Harry tried to keep his voice even. “Yeah, ‘course. It’s not chilled though.” He always kept a few bottles in the pantry, for mysterious and not at all obsessive reasons.

“That’s fine. Could you show me?”

They scuttled to the kitchen, or escaped, rather. Harry felt more than heard Draco at his heels, rattled by the proximity, by the breathlessness of the air. His mouth was so dry.

“Congrats on the victory, by the way,” he said, because he had to say something, and I think I’m desperately in love with you wasn’t really an option. “Well done with that airplane question. It was kind of tricky.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t seriously expect me to think it was magic holding them up in the air.” Harry kept his eyes solely on the cupboard, refusing the call of Draco’s smiling tone.

“Er, yeah, no, I guess not. Still, well done.” He fumbled for a bottle and handed it behind him blindly.

A warm hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Harry.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Is everything all right?”

Shit. Harry turned, more than a little panicked. Draco’s smile was devastating, soft and so sweet. “I just thought you needed to get away. You seemed… preoccupied.”

“I, er,” was the best Harry could do for a moment. “Yeah. Just some things on my mind.”

“Right.” The pantry was very small, and Draco was pressed tight against Harry, which only helped to increase the hysteria. “It’s been that way for some time now.”

Why did he have to do that? Be so preceptive, know him so well? It was just cruel. “It has, yeah.”

“Anything I could help with, maybe?”

Harry wanted to throttle him. And other things, softer things, reverent things. “I don’t think so, no. I’m fine. It’s not…”

“Oh my – for Merlin’s sake, Harry. Shut up.” Draco shook his head. “And they say I have no poker face.”

“What does that mean?”

He was still smiling, for some reason, and the sight – as always – pulled hard on Harry’s heartstrings. “It means that you’re a bloody idiot. And it means that I’m an even bigger one. Have you not noticed I’ve been trying to get you alone for weeks now?”

“I…” no, he really hasn’t. “Don’t think so?”

“Gods. All the plans I made. The lengths I went to, and you never even noticed.” His tone was reprimanding, gently though. “Come on, Harry. You’re not as stupid as I say you are.” His hand sent to cup Harry’s cheek, but Harry caught it at the wrist before it made contact. He was so confused, and unreasonably upset.

“I’m not a game,” he said, voice gruff. “You… don’t do this because you want to win me.”

“Merlin, but you really are an idiot,” Draco sighed, warm on Harry’s face. “Have you honestly not noticed how mad I am about you?”

“You what?” the whole world was spinning; bright, colourful, impossible. Harry’s knees went suddenly weak.

“Mad. About you.” Draco was somehow even closer. Harry couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

“Why – why didn’t you say anything?”

His eyes hung heavy on Harry’s, warm silver, intoxicating. “You’re supposed to be the brave one, you know.”

“I...”

“This isn’t a game.” Draco let out a shaky breath. “I’ve still got so much to learn, Harry. But I won’t sit in the passenger seat, waiting for you to notice me anymore. I… have to take the wheel now, right? You’ve hit the breaks for so long, you don’t even remember where the acceleration pedal is.”

A hysterical giggle tore out of him. “You really did study for this quiz, huh?”  

Draco looked away with something like pain, and Harry’s whole heart hurt with it. “Yes. I have flashcards.”

“Fuck.” How to say that he loved him, without breaking the whole thing before it even began? How to navigate through this delicate, wonderous magic without risking losing what’s become too important – “Draco, look, it’s not that I don’t want to. I –”

“No. Enough words.” Draco placed a hand on Harry’s chest, and this bubble of frightened joy expanded rapidly inside him, threatening to explode, “Enough thinking about it. Just… shut up and kiss me already, won’t you?”

So Harry did. The kiss was clumsy, and far too hot, very uncomfortable in the constricted space they had, and absolutely everything Harry could hope for. He shifted the gears in his heart, from fearful stalling to full speed ahead, ravenous and deliriously happy, all to the distant sounds of cheers from the living room.

Prompt me!

[docholligay]

For P/Valentines Day prompts: feeling their pulse + Winston and Lena

1800 words! Please enjoy some good 'I'm not leaving you and also I am fuck-stupid"

Tracer didn’t like to admit that she liked a bit of a scramble, but she really, really did. It would be better, of course, for there not to be such things in the world, but there were, for now, and so long as there were, Tracer was happy enough to be right in the middle of them. Everyone has a gift, her Aunt Lily had always said, and Lena’s seems to be a total lack of the kind of fear that occurs to sensible people.

She had been teasing, but she hadn’t been wrong, Tracer often thought. Part of the reason she had been such a good pilot was her willingness to take it to the exact razor’s edge before pulling back. Her ability to run through a hail of gunfire without pause made her a world-class flank. People sometimes said she had a death wish, but that was only people who didn’t know her very well. Tracer loved her life, took great pleasure in it, and wanted to keep it.

But there was something to be said for the thrill of knowing it could be lost. The risk is what makes it fun.

It might be that eventually, someday, she would make a mistake. She would make a mistake and then she’d hear a shot ring out of somewhere--she’d gotten up to this part before-- and then it’d be all choirs of angels or the flames of hell or utter dark and silence, and which it was really didn’t worry Tracer too much. Things were whatever they were, and she would simply have to make the best of it. Death would come for her someday, regardless, and there was no point in worrying about how and when. Even in the middle of a firefight, the trees in Paris had a lovely bloom, right?

Every once in a great while, however, something would happen that gave her pause to the whole idea that Death could be a casual sort of happening, or at the very least, reminded that Death could befriend everyone and not only her.

She backed against the wall in the side street, bullet holes from the last war making friends with the ones from this one. She shot back. Tracer wouldn’t destroy the city quite so badly, because she was a fair better shot. Shocking to know that something could be programmed that badly, really, but then again, technology wasn’t necessarily something she--

There was a roar that interrupted her constant internal patter. She turned fast enough to see Winston fall, just a ways from where she stood. There was a small pool starting at his side, staining the white of his uniform. She’d never much cared for the color red. Not a Manchester fan at all.

She blinked off nimbly, watching Winston as he crumbled in the middle of the greenway that passed for a park. Another bullet hit him in the shoulder. She ran faster. Something whizzed by her ear, nearly cuffing the small silver hoops at the top of it, but almost didn’t count. Nearly wasn’t there.

“Win?” Tracer crouched by him, ignoring the firefight behind her, “Win we ‘ave to get you out of ‘ere.”

He lay still, eyes closed, saying nothing. Tracer knew he wasn’t dead, for three reasons: One, she knew what a dead person looked like and he was still a bit pink for that, though maybe on a gorilla it was different, she thought unhelpfully. Two, she could see him breathing, a reason that was hard to weasel out of.

She put her fingers on his wrist anyway, and was reassured by the pulse.

Oh, and three, drifted through her mind: Winston is meant to outlive her. She knows this to be true, has known it down to the ground for as long as they have been friends. She has never prepared herself to lose him, because she’ll go first. That’s the way it’s meant to be, you see, and there’s no arguing with it.

An explosion to their left seemed to challenge this indelible fact.

There was a concrete barrier with backup, only a few yards away. May as well have been a football field. They were signaling her in with wide eyes.

“WIn?” she shook him, “Win you ‘ave to get up, big guy.”

“Lena…go..”

“Fuck off, Win, I’m not going nowhere without you.”

“I can’t..”

“Listen ‘ere, still owe me a pint, a supper maybe even,” she put her hands under his good shoulder, “as I’s able to put down the plane where you said it couldn’t be done. You bet me, remember?” She pushed him to sitting, “Think I’d let you get away with an unpaid debt?”

She looked over toward the barrier. It was so close. So close, and everyone pinned down by fire. Or at least, the fresher bits of Overwatch had not yet learned how to ignore fear.

They could make it. They would make it.

“Up, up,” she made her voice bounce brightly, “That’s it, head down, feet back up.”

Winston swooned, and leaned on her heavily, Tracer bearing it as best she could. They took slow, shuffling steps, even given Winston’s long stride, and Tracer saw the omnics, honing their aim on the slow pair.

“You know, love, not to be impatient about it, but I do lack focus, as Pharah’s so often said, and it’d be lovely if we could ‘urry on with this a bit.”

Winston opened his eyes, just enough to look at her, and mouthed something Tracer immediately ignored.

Fine then. She didn’t have to do things the easy way. If she had, she would have given up and died a long time ago.

“You can’t carry too much.” Mercy had been kind, but firm, giving her pills for a headache “Anything bigger than about half your size is a risk to you. It can hurt you. You have to be careful, Lena.”

She gently touched Tracer’s arm, making sure she was looking at her, and sat down on the bed next to her. “You never feel…delicate, I know. Your disability is a power, too. You have been doing a wonderful job. But it can--well, nothing bigger than half your size, Lena. Anything else is a risk.”

Tracer looked over at Winston, beginning to do the mental calculus and then tossing the paper away carelessly.

Well, the risk is what makes it fun, I suppose.

There was no world in which she was going to leave him. She could get to the barrier in about three blinks, with the both of them. She’d taken things bigger than a child before, whatever Mercy had to say about it. She sure hadn’t complained much when it had been Pharah, right? She’d get a headache. Maybe feel a bit strange and prickly. She could take that.

Losing Winston wasn’t an option, and he could lecture her later.

“‘Ang on, Win.” She pushed forward, hard as she could, and they moved 15 feet.

Stars blazed across the front of her vision, and a hot plume of volcanic pain erupted in her skull. She panted for breath, her hands shaking as she held tighter to Winston, tried to keep him upright.

“Fuck.” She summed up succinctly.

“Lena, don’t.”

“Shut up, Win.” She took another deep breath, calm as she could muster, as she tossed her guns aside, throwing off any extra weight, “We ‘ave to move, come on now. I’m all right. Take a big step, if you can, right? That’ll ‘elp me.”

He did, and Tracer pushed, the sounds of bullets whizzing past her, diving deep into the sea of time, overlapping memories and emotions and sights all in front of her for the brief moment she and Winston swam through it.

Back to Paris, present day. This time the pain exploded in her brain and went all the way down her spine, and she nearly fell over with a sudden shock through her body. Her vision began to shift and blur, the barrier so tantalizingly close now bending and warping. She felt her muscles twitch, quite without her consent.

This was, she admitted, probably not good. It might be that she’d need a bit of a lie-down after this.

“Tracer!” Mercy. Excellent. Mercy could help Winston.

She nearly ran out the fifty or so feet to where they stood, but was caught back by Genji, nearly missing a hit of her own. What the bloody hell was he doing behind a barrier? Wasn’t he meant to be a flank as well? Did he think flank was English for ‘living in perfect safety,’ or what? There was time to be angry about it later. Not now.

She heard Pharah’s voice, and gritted her teeth. Pharah was a lot of things, but she was loyal most of all, and there was no way she wasn’t going to assemble a group to save them. Blurry as her vision was, she could see the formation coming, hear Pharah barking orders and loading her launcher quickly.

She heard a loud stomp behind her, and knew what it was without looking. No time to wait.

It might be that eventually, someday she would make a mistake.

No, she thought, not a mistake.

She grabbed on to Winston, even tighter as she closed her eyes. The world was beginning to swirl in her mind, a bubble ready to pop, and she could feel a pressure inside of her. Something wet dripped onto her lip, tinny and metallic. She was leaning on it too heavily, whatever it was that let her blink as she did and be alive at the same time. She could feel it groaning under the strain. But it hadn’t yet buckled. She could make it go one more round.

“Push this time, Win. Push and we can make it.”

Pharah was coming. Backup was here, and they were pushing back the advance. They were going to make it. Tracer just had to dig down deep one more time. She flung aside everything else inside of her, just something else weighing her down, allowing determination to fill the space where anything else might have rested. Just one more. She could do just one more. They were almost there. She could get Winston to Mercy. She could do that.

Tracer blinked.

Not a mistake, she thought, as she slipped back through and fell to Pharah’s feet, the blackness coming over her. I didn’t make a mistake.

It was not so painful now, though she couldn’t see anymore, only hear Pharah saying something to her, but that was muddy and far-off, too. Her cheek scraped against the asphalt as her body clenched violently. She had one last thought before consciousness left her like a door slamming in her face.

I made a choice.

[asturlavi]

oh boy, do i have wonderful beast oda/odazai info for you all since this may just be my favorite chapter in all of beast. it clarified a lot about oda's state in this au, and how sad it truly is, especially with all that dazai has done to ensure that oda's safety is certain

before i start, this was initially intended to be a quirky little twitter thread that’s supposed to be kicked off with a badly drawn doodle of something meme. the thread was supposed to be about how wonderfully dumb odasaku can be and how annoyingly frustrating dazai is in the latest beast chapter... and then it slowly devolved into a crudely written essay about small discoveries i’ve made that most likely haven’t been pointed out before, so i recommend that anyone interested in either oda or odazai to check this out 

so i finally got around to reading the new beast chapter and seeing how odasaku constantly devalues himself and finds that he's lesser than the average person is… sad. its been said that him and ranpo are the stars of the ada, every mission trivial with their cooperation, and yet he doesn't see any of that. thinks he struck luck when it came to his entrance exam, which he specifies that it wasn't as a result of his own skills. his inferiority complex is embedded so deep that despite his achievements, he doesn't at all believe he has any worth as a human.

i'm just a tired, ordinary man like you could find anywhere. a third-rate detective, as unexceptional as a fallen cigarette butt on the road.

and his entrance exam was just like dazai's: the azure messenger case, which we all know wasn't at all a walk in the park. one mistake, and it would spell disaster for the city that the ada was trying to protect. no--not just the city, it would also mean the end of the ada as we know it. despite it all, he resolved it much to his own surprise, and it was all thanks to an "unexpected" gift. and that gift? who would it be other than from dazai himself? 

beast light novel ch. 3

(also, this is a shaky claim at best but I feel as if oda fully holds the capabilities to solve the case alone, but dazai knew that with odasaku's persistent feelings of self-doubt, along with his lack of some of the vivacity that dazai held to weasel his way through to information, the outcome of success wouldn’t be guaranteed. and so, dazai lent him something to ensure his success)

and yet, oda is blind to see truly how much intellect and skill he possesses. he doesn't realize how integral he was to the quest of the azure messenger, doesn't acknowledge that without him these orphans would have either slipped into a life of crime, gone to a downtrodden orphanage, or simply passed away, and he doesn't know that despite it all, he's one of the purest characters in the story, even with the darkness that will forever cling to him, a reminder of the violence that marred his past.

not to mention that oda, in one way or another, effectively analyzed the current situation that they're stuck in. he noted that if things currently go the way they're going, no matter what akutagawa achieves, him and his sister are doomed. so, oda brilliantly decided to go after the port mafia itself to prepare for this possibility, and it's nothing short of genius. and dazai plays along with this… because it is oda, after all. 

and everything dazai did, everything he sacrificed, it was all for oda.

now to the underlying tragedy of this chapter. take a look at this panel: 

ever since then, i've been making a living by solving requests that come to the detective agency.

i provide for the orphans

i drink coffee.

i gamble a bit on days off.

at night, i write a novel in the kitchen. 

that's my life.

nothing unusual, right? you'd think that odasaku was satisfied with life, since he has everything he had ever wished for. but in all actuality, he still lacks one important thing.

and that's friendship.

his words sounded so… empty. achieving ones dreams is but one aspect of life that brings one gratification, but doesn't necessarily mean it would guarantee lasting happiness. (think of famous actors or celebrities that spiral into depression even after they've achieved their dreams).

in that panel, he says he cares for the orphans, gambles, and writes alone in his spare time, but not a word of spending time with friends… something he had in the root universe, something that was lost to him in this one.

and he says this all with his face blacked out, as if he's somewhat implicitly dissatisfied (while the kid's faces are present, not at all concealed).

with dazai, he found peace in a place where peace is rare to find. They both completely put their guard down with each other around, and dazai can relax his overly speculative mind with oda. and they understood each other, a level of understanding rare to come by. dazai with his dark jokes easily flies past oda's ears because that's what they are, harmless jokes. and oda with his blunt honesty, which dazai cherishes and never prods him for it.

dazai also saw things in oda that oda was blind to. dazai saw a world of beauty in oda, the ray of light beneath a cloudy sky. he saw both intelligence and wisdom, kindness and generosity. and most of all, he trusted oda, despite dazai’s natural inclination to distrust.

and what oda saw in dazai was vulnerability. despite the front that dazai puts, he can be kind, even empathetic, when the situation calls for it. dazai once gave akutagawa a decision to turn his back against dazai’s offer to join the port mafia, when logic points to the fact that he didn't have to, but wanted to.

dazai also consistently gives atsushi words of advice and shows understanding when dazai was under no obligation to, such as atsushi facing the loss of his previous caretaker. dazai gave atsushi genuine advice, not laced with any malice or ill intent. dazai had even left atsushi to grieve alone, fully understanding that atsushi needed to pour his emotions out in private. there’s more than enough instances of dazai showing this side of himself in both the light novels and manga, but it seems to sometimes be brushed aside. even though the main cast of characters always dismissed this side of dazai, oda has always known that this side of dazai was his truest self.

oda and dazai also talked endlessly about trivial things, calling each other daily for two hours for no reason other than that they each enjoy one another's company. it's pure, wholesome love. they had a mutual trust and understanding between one another, which ango, another friend of theirs, severely lacked in his friendship with them.

oda's dream was to write, gone unfulfilled in the root universe, but he died happily knowing that the one he cares for is living in the path of light. dazai's was to find a reason to live, which he found in oda, and continues to use this as motivation long after oda passed.

in beast, dazai's dream was cut short, ultimately leading to his demise at the end. after all, his one reason to live is now robbed from him. however, oda's dreams have become a reality, but can one really say he achieved happiness? he has the orphans, his children, but they will never understand him like dazai had. he has peace, but is it the form of peace he wanted? spending time alone, on things like gambling, while endlessly mulling how he has no one to spend this time with?

and writing, his one true wish that dazai made absolutely sure to make a reality. but was it worth it, at the cost of a friend who brought happiness and reprieve when everyone else failed to?

i thought of this tale as a matter of equivalent exchange, you lose one life in exchange for another. the scales do remain somewhat balanced, but not over a matter of lives. it's over a matter of personal sacrifices, ones only known to us readers.

and i say "somewhat" because in the root universe, dazai remembered oda when he was alive, so well that dazai can recall memories to near perfection. but oda had completely forgotten dazai in beast, chasing after absent memories and deluding himself into thinking his life is perfect, while numbing himself from the aching hole of loneliness that consumes him inside.

also, oda is surely happy spending time with the children, but what about his lonesome hours? who is he going to spend that time with, in a world without dazai, the only person who understood him and his oddities?

ah, and remember this moment in the root universe? 

now, take a look at this again. no, look closer 

odasaku wasn’t merely gambling for the sake of it, he was gambling on a horse race. and before dazai was arrested in the root universe, he was seen doing just that. 

now, why would odasaku do this? he surely doesn’t seem the type to gamble away his money on something as silly as horse races, because what does someone gain while they pour their money into something so senseless? 

and the only reason i could arrive to is that dazai must have dragged him along to one. dazai is a port mafia executive, with more money than he knows what to do with and a boatload of depression. money probably disinterests him as much as life does, and he used gambling to kill two birds with one stone: ridding of money he doesn’t need, and distracting him from his boredom (and depression). 

and it doesn’t end there. remember when dazai in dead apple had visited bar lupin to pay his regards to odasaku, while reliving a pleasant memory dazai had with him? and he did this because he was preparing for a quest that may result in with the loss of his life, psyching himself up for what’s to come. this is probably bordering on speculation, but i believe that that’s precisely what he did once again in the horse races. dazai paid a visit to a place that oda and him had frequented, to prepare for another dangerous quest. 

also, note that immediately after exiting bar lupin in dead apple, dazai was confronted by ango, which kicked off the start of dazai’s plans. a similar thing happens in the manga, dazai spending time in a place that he and oda had gone to, this time the horse races, and his plan whirls into motion as jono arrests him. i think these similarities are deliberate, in order to establish their significance to dazai and oda. 

this long winded explanation’s purpose was only for me to go back to this panel once again, and say that everything oda spoke about doing, from spending time with his kids, to brewing coffee, to betting on horse races, and to writing in the kitchen, were all moments he had with dazai. 

and see that he has an extra chair that sits unused in the kitchen? at first, i thought it was there for the sake of being there. then, it slowly dawned on me that odasaku and dazai had noted in the dark era light novel that they made a habit of visiting each other, so it wouldn’t be illogical to conclude that it was a chair meant for dazai. a place where he can spend some private moments together with oda underneath the dimly lit kitchen, drinking in the scent of odasaku’s coffee and talking about things that distracts them from their troubles while odasaku whittles away at his manuscript. 

and one last thing before i end this out of sheer laziness, take a look at this photograph of oda from the final moments of the beast light novel.

as oda stated in the manga and light novel, he worked on his manuscript alone in the kitchen... but in the photograph, he wasn’t alone. he’s posing for a picture. relaxed, poised, as if entertaining the one taking the photo. and besides, wasn’t it dazai who insisted on taking photographs in bar lupin with ango and oda in dark era? he must have done the same in that very moment in the beast universe, but this time in anticipation of oda forgetting him. 

in the end, it seems oda and dazai left each other in similar ways, foolishly believing they've sacrificed their lives for each other to better the other's life, but all they did was create worlds where the feeling of happiness will be lost to both respective parties, while also resigning each other to a life of loneliness.

they've forgotten about their one happiness that stems from just being around one another, listening to the soothing tune of jazz playing softly as they talk into the night, the world lost to them as they're absorbed in one another's presence.

it seems like their story is a tragedy of what happens when you love someone too much, to the point that you delude yourself into thinking you're but a tool for their happiness, and with you gone, nothing will change.

but things did change, didn't they?

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hey! I hope I'm not bothering you, I just found your blog and I love it sm, and I saw you sometimes do cherik fic recs. Do you have any Canon divergence aus/fix it, preferably after Cuba, that are 30k or longer and have a happy ending? If not thats okay! You don't have to answer this. Have a wonderful day!

Hi anon, thank you so much. I’m happy you both like my blog and my recs. You are certainly not bothering me, and feel free to send me an ask any time. I have plenty of recommendations for you. Some of them diverge a bit from your request because I couldn’t help but recommend them as well. I will put a note on those who diverge from your request. As always, I only recommend fics I have personally read and enjoyed and I sincerely you love them too.

-Canon divergence aus/fix it, post Cuba, 30k or longer, with a happy ending cherik fic recs-

Not Half As Blinding- keire_ke

Summary: Cuban beach AU. Charles discovers that death does, in fact, solve everything.

Lay down beside me (so still and so soft) – C-Gracewood

Summary: A different take on the events of the film.

Rumor Has It – blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Forward Momentum – AsYouWish

Summary: Six months after Cuba, Charles and Erik find themselves thrown fifty years into the future, where they meet their older selves, the Avengers, and a world that's very different from their own. Faced with the pieces of their broken relationship, an unparalleled adversary, and dealing with Tony Stark on a daily basis, Charles and Erik do their best to adapt while trying to find a way back home -- and to each other.

When an Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Optimist – ToriTC198

Summary: "You are always trying to save me, Charles." Erik mused aloud. "Ever since you dove into the ocean and dragged me out. Did it ever occur to you that I might not be worth saving?"

A genuine smile broke out on Charles' face as he brightly answered, "No, my friend, not once. I have every confidence you are well worth saving. But, I never truly believed I could save you. You are not the sort of man who someone saves. The choice to be a better man has always been yours to make and I hold no illusions that I can make that decision for you. I simply have faith that one day you will save yourself. I only hope I am still at your side to witness it."

What if Erik and Charles had been able to find a middle ground in the end?

Take the First Option – ShowMeAHero

Summary: When Erik becomes unbalanced, Emma presents him with three options: go back to Charles for three months and learn to deal with whatever he has going have going on, lose his Brotherhood, or let Emma control his mind.

He really only has one choice.

Virtue to Which We Aspire – varlovian

Summary: Nine months after Cuba, Charles is found by Erik's Brotherhood in the smoldering ruins of an abandoned CIA base, exhausted but alive. As the only known survivor of the CIA's vendetta against mutants, recovering Charles' memory of the incident—which he admits to having forgotten—just became paramount.

But the harder they push, the closer Charles gets to breaking point. When he finally cracks, the X-Men and the Brotherhood will learn the truth, but it comes with a price...

Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed.

Some minds, once broken, will never be the same again.

The Waking of the Red King – rustingroses

Summary: When Charles' heavy injuries on the Cuban beach conspire to leave him in a coma and living in fantasy of his own making, Erik, the man who once threatened to divide the mutant cause, finds himself desperately trying to hold everything together. First of the Red King trilogy.

Wake Up and Smell the Pancakes –  Ayra Sei Ethari

Summary: In one universe, Erik left Charles. In another, he stayed. So what happens when the two Eriks get switched? "At first, Erik thinks he's dreaming. Then he realizes that this is Charles. Who is not paralyzed. And kissing him.

Rage and Serenity – MagickMaker, TheFangedGoblin

Summary: After Charles is shot on the beach, he is rushed to the hospital and paralysis is prevented. Ridden with guilt, Erik finds that he cannot leave him. He helps him heal, and eventually, Charles learns to trust him again. But when they set out to rescue Emma from the CIA and accept her onto their team, tensions rise. Will love keep Erik and Charles together despite their differences?

No Yesterdays on the Road – pocky_slash

Summary: It's been two months since Cuba and things are settling down for Charles, Erik, and the beginnings of their mutant school. Right up until Charles disappears, that is. Faced with the possibility that a bitter Emma Frost has kidnapped Charles, Erik is forced to team up with Moira to hunt down the remainder of the Hellfire Club. From there, they hope to locate Frost and retrieve Charles, without killing each other along the way.

(Or: Erik and Moira Drive Across the Country and Talk About Their Feelings.)

What Can We Do Without You? – SwoopSwoop

Summary: Charles and the boys were holding onto a secret more dear to them than their own lives when Charles disappears into the night; Erik is betrayed and finds himself returning to Westchester in the hopes that the government was just trying to trick him. All the while the boys are stuck in the middle, left guarding the secret from the man they are most afraid of finding out who is weaselling his way back into their lives alarmingly easily.

Note: Includes Mpreg, but don’t let that discourage you from reading it because it’s a really great fix-it.

Survival Instinct – Lindstorm

Summary: It’s been months since Charles pulled Erik out of the ocean, and Erik is beginning to wonder how many more times he can choose Charles, and still keep his vow to kill Shaw. Cooperating with the CIA is straining Erik’s patience. When a fact-gathering mission goes wrong and Charles is kidnapped, Erik is left trying to hold their mutant band together while Raven and the rest of them fall apart. No one can foresee how the mutant Charles meets in captivity will challenge all his assumptions about his own power, and twist Charles’ telepathy out of his control. In the race to stop Shaw's nuclear ambitions from coming to fruition, Charles makes a crucial misstep. Erik’s decision between Shaw and Charles takes on unexpected ramifications when [spoiler deleted].

Needles (Series) – Skull_Bearer

Summary: AU where everyone's born Dominant or Submissive

Once a Dominant and Submissive pair is born, they are linked to each other, no matter how far apart they are. This link doesn't actually tell the Dom or the Sub each other's thoughts, but it does allow them to know how the other's doing and serves as a reassurance that there's someone meant for them out there.

Another one of the reasons that Erik hates Shaw so badly is because Shaw managed to break Erik's link to his Sub. Now Erik doesn't even know if his Sub's alive because breaking a link like that can kill a Submissive.

Meanwhile, Charles hates himself for not yet having telepathy strong enough to contact and help his Dom, especially after feeling the pain his Dom was forced to go through. He truly believes that his Dominant is dead. Hopes it, some nights when he remembers how his Dom was forced to suffer. It's better than to think of his Dom still being forced to bear that pain.

And then Charles pulls Erik from the water

Time to Grow – zarah5

Summary: In which you'll find chess dates which aren't dates (or maybe Charles is wrong about that). -- Based on First Class, this turns (slightly) AU during the beach scene.

Note: This fic is less than 30k words but it’s such a fandom classic and just a great read if you love your fix-its.

Faults for Fixing – beren

Summary: Charles sees the events of the missile crisis and subsequent weeks when he uses Cerebro to touch the mind of a mutant with the power to see the near future. When he wakes up he is determined that he will not allow them to happen and he will not lose the people he loves.

Note: A bit less than 30k words long but another great read.

It’s like one of us woke up – kaydeefalls

Summary: "You came here for me," Charles said, meeting Shaw's gaze levelly. "So let's not waste any more time."

Canon!AU in which Charles and Erik do find Shaw in Russia.

Note: XMFC fix it, but the events in Cuba don’t happen. 

Afterlife – Anna (arctic_grey)

Summary: A year after Washington, Erik wakes up in excruciating pain as sudden awareness washes over him: Charles is dead. Erik has to adjust to yet another future: no extinction, just a world without Charles. But the death of his former friend leaves Erik weak and his powers drained. His quest for answers leads him back to Westchester, where Erik has to face his past with Charles and put together the puzzle pieces of what happened to the man he once cared for.

The Burdens We Long to Carry – arcapelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: When mutant-supporter and ally President Kennedy is assassinated and all pro-mutant progress is dismantled, Charles is no longer so confident that he's on the right side, and extends his hand to Erik after a year of animosity. They settle tentatively into their old partnership, but not everything is the same as it was--and not everything can be. When Hank develops a metal frame to move the lower half of Charles' body for him if he wants it, Erik offers the use of his mind and his ability in order to make it work. Both find out what they're willing to do for each other, and neither knows if it'll be enough to keep them together.

Other Futures Than These – midrashic

Summary: In which Cuba doesn't break them apart, but that doesn't mean that their futures are tied together. (Except that it does.)

A Days of Future Past AU where only one person can defeat the Sentinels and save the future: the man whose imprisonment and torture created them, and Charles Xavier's ex.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own --

Set after X-3 (with much desperate fix-it applied), during XMFC, and every time in between.

[honourablejester]

Shadow & Bone Reaction

Okay, so I watched Shadow & Bone last night. Stayed up until 5am to manage it, so this is going to be muddled, but howandever. Spoilery and involved first impressions from someone who has not read the books below:

Right, so the Ketterdam crew are my favourites. Obviously. This was guaranteed

All three of them, I cannot decide between them

Jesper is a gambling addict which does grind my miserly gears a bit, but he’s also lovely and adorable and quite possibly the most badass person on the show, which is an achievement, and his interactions with Inej are beyond adorable, so I love him with all my heart

That thing Inej said to Alina? Whenever you need it, my hand is yours? That is me for Inej. More on this later

Kaz is a vicious little gremlin of a man with a badly hidden streak of loyalty, and he’s exactly my stripe of guile antihero, so of course I adore him madly

The absolute chaos of them just … accidentally poking their oars into the entire rest of the plot is beautiful beyond belief. They’re just there and mucking things up for everybody like someone threw a bag of spanners into an engine, and it’s beautiful

I was surprisingly really on board for Mal and Alina. Particularly them as kids, this pair of tiny scrappers against the world

I also loved the whole First Army part at the beginning. Like, Mal’s pair of friends, Mikael and Dubrov, they’re adorable (and I fucking screamed later, with the machine gun, you bet), him and Alina in the camp, his friends teasing him about her, him stealing Grisha grapes for her. The show got right in on the friendship and the love there, and honestly I was there for it

The Darkling, on the other hand …

Right. So. I expected him to maybe be … more subtle than he was? I mean, I think everyone’s expecting him to go villain here, so it probably wasn’t supposed to be that subtle, but …

That moment where Alina decides to kiss him. After being separated from Mal, with no communication with her old life, and with Kirigan being all sad and incredibly intense at her at random moments. Like. Long, long before we get to his whole forcibly altering her body to control her moment, I was looking at her kissing this dude and going ‘Oookay, okay lady, that’s, that’s not a good plan. I get that it’s Ben Barnes, do not blame you there, but that’s so not a good plan’

He just kept coming on so fucking strong, you know? The whole intense ‘I’ve been waiting for you my whole life’. He was bleeding desperation and control from the get go. And like, lots of people have those in this show, but where someone like Kaz or Inej feel like ‘I will stab you in the face right fucking now to get out of this alive’, Kirigan is very much, yes, ‘I will swallow your entire city in darkness and give a nice little speech about it to captive dignitaries who I’ll then murder because they shouldn’t have opened their mouths’

There’s more power there than the others, I think, so it feels less like ‘I’ll do what I have to do’ and more ‘I’ll do what I want’

Which his backstory was an interesting show on, yes, how he started out just as desperate as any of them, and then vengeance and black magic ate him. As it does. But still. He comes on too strong

(And the collar. The collar. Not even the massacre later matched that one for me, though Genya’s casual mention of him ‘gifting’ her at 11 came close. But it didn’t match the collar for visceral no. He mutilated Alina to implant a control device within her body. He can die in a ditch with his head covered in pitch and set on fire now. I can’t with him. No)

So, yes. Excellent villain, definitely, I just expected him to maybe take a bit longer to show it?

His minions are adorable, though. The two married heartrenders, Genya and the Durast she has the biggest danged crush on (gotta say, when Kirigan said he needed him for later, I was honestly expecting him to kill him for something, to hurt Genya, did not expect David to be in on the whole mutilating control collar thing)

The show did a lot of work humanising the various factions, so when you get moments like Jesper vs Ivan, round 1, you don’t want either of them to lose, because Ivan has a husband to go back to, and Jesper is Jesper. And then Jesper can’t shoot a pretty man in the face, and we’re golden

(Sidenote one: that scene was badass, holy shit, Jesper was playing with him, it was incredible)

(Sidenote two: Jesper vs Ivan, round 2? Less sympathetic on Ivan’s part)

(Sidenote three: the Ketterdam three vs Kirigan’s everybody was just, god I love them, we’re going to be straight badass all down the line, can you beat a centuries-old shadow sorcerer with a flashbang? An inferni with a knife? A heartrender with a gun while playing with him the entire time? Come to Ketterdam and find out! I love them)

Now. Now. The main thing for me. Inej. Inej and Alina and Kaz

The scene in the Little Palace where Alina shows her power. Ignoring everything that promptly went tits up for everybody. The look on Inej’s face. The look on her face. Hope and faith. From Inej, who’s been so hurt and desperate so far. Oh, that killed me. So much. I was there like, Alina, Alina, it’s not your fault, but you better be worth it, I know you don’t need the pressure but if you have to let anyone down, let it not be Inej. Not her. And Kaz Brekker, you sociopathic mushroom, do not fuck this up for her. Okay? Not this

And then he doesn’t. He doesn’t. He gives up a million kruge and potentially everything he has so he doesn’t have to break Inej’s faith. I loved him there. Right there

And like, he was trying to weasel something out of it. He was still trying to bully Alina all the way to the end, even after she saved his life, because he didn’t want to lose everything, he wanted to have some way to be able to bring Jesper and Inej back with him, because otherwise he was walking back to a city that hated him with literally nothing, since he’d mortgaged the Crow Club on Inej’s debt, and she’d walked out on him anyway, and he’d let her. So he tried to bully Alina, tried to force some way to let Inej come back, without actually forcing Inej. Just, you know, the saint she loved instead, and a woman who’d also just lost everything, and maybe could have used those jewels to stay ahead of pursuit for a while, but that’s not his problem. That’s not his problem

Kaz Brekker is a vicious horrible gremlin of a man, but not to his own, mostly, as much as he can avoid it, and like … did they know in advance what I like? Because that was it

(Him entering the fight on the skiff solely to save the other two, everyone else can die, but he’s going to dive Jesper clear of the Cut and hammer a volcra’s head in to save an unarmed Inej, that was beautiful. Even if I was a tiny bit annoyed at Inej for panicking and throwing her weapons away while outnumbered by flying things. No. Keep them close to stab anything that comes near you, honey, don’t throw them into the darkness. But Kaz saving his Crows was beautiful)

Also, to go back to Inej and Alina, just a little. How much do I love that Inej’s knife saved them all? Inej kissed her knife and planted in the Darkling’s chest, and it did fuck all to him, but then it’s the knife Alina used to take her freedom back and save them all

Inej’s knife freed Alina. Gave a slave her freedom back. Gave her saint her power. Not by killing, but as a tool to break a chain. I can’t. I really, really can’t. Whoever wrote that episode, thank you a lot

You may have guessed, I have feelings about Inej, and Alina, and Kaz, and freedom, and faith, faith in another power and faith in yourself and those you trust, and it’s all tied up in a knife and a debt, and people offering freedom to each other against their own best interests, and I really can’t with them. I can’t. I’m inarticulate over here

Like, this beautiful man did this hideous thing, made this horrible vicious collar, and then all these scared, battered little outcasts and ex-slaves and current slaves gave each other tiny moment after tiny moment after tiny moment that allowed them all to free each other

I can’t

And then Alina gave Inej her knife. The little letter opener that she’d robbed from the Little Palace. The little symbol of two tiny orphans having each other’s backs against the world. Alina gave that back to Inej

Inej’s knives are a whole thing. Kaz gave Inej a job, a way out of slavery, and it’s both joy and horror to her, freedom and damnation, she doesn’t want to kill people but that’s what knives are for, and it’s a freedom she sometimes forces herself to surrender out of trust in Kaz, and then she does kill people, but it’s to save those she cares for, to save Kaz, and then her knife saves them all as a key, not a murder weapon, and Alina, for whom knives are also a symbol of protection, for herself and those she loves, and now freedom as well, gives Inej hers as this tiny gesture that means so much …

And earlier, Kaz stopping her from killing the Conductor, and it was for his own reasons, it was because he needed the man for a job, but the fact that he did that meant that Inej’s first kill wasn’t a murder, an assassination to save herself, but a clean kill in defense of someone else. A kill she could explain to her saints. Especially the one that showed up, because Alina knows all about that

(And when her knives run out, when she’s lost them all on the skiff and is facing death, it’s Kaz who saves her, who pays his debt and preserves her freedom, because he can be trusted with them, with the knives and all they mean …)

And the two things Alina gives them. The knife for Inej, and the jewels for Kaz. A gift for the woman who saved her, and a bribe for the man who threatened her. And it’s exactly what they need. Both of them. It’s freedom and forgiveness and hope for them both. And she had no idea, she just gave what she had at the time. A saint by pure accident, like she’s been all along, but it meant the world. Sometimes all a person needs is one thing. A knife, a chance. A hope

Whoever was writing the thing with the knives, and the saints, and faith in yourself and those around you, you are a genius and I love you

And, like, I should move on. There were other things in the show. Nina and Matthias, I’ve pretty much not mentioned them at all (they are adorable, even as they’re basically Stockholming each other, and then the last episode hit, and everything was good, more or less, for everyone else, so that last fucking punch was a lot, thank you so much), I just …

Knives and faith. Inej, Alina and Kaz. I love everybody, but that was so much the thing that caught me here. That’s what I’m mostly getting out of this show right now

[davidmann95]

Fandoms news?

Anonymous asked: Fandome news?

Black Adam: lol

Flash Season 8: YEAH BABY. Haven't watched this show in years and don't imagine I'll be returning now but this is nice.

Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom: Wait, ep. 1's already dropped? This looks amazing.

Milestone: That program sounds good, and hell yes Brandon Thomas get that $$$

Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League: Still no gameplay after all these years since their last thing, incredible. And I guess it makes sense the costumes would be that dumb coming from the Arkham Knight people, but jeez.

Peacemaker: This should be fun!

Superman stuff: Would have taken seeing a presumably new costume over a house tour, personally. And why do the stairs lead nowhere, why wouldn't you just build a house? The Supergirl farewell was sweet and I'd never heard the J'onn actor's real voice before, the My Adventures glimpse as miniscule as it was still got me even more excited, and the Smallville reunion was nice even if it pretty much shut down the prospect of an animated revival. As for the new motto, sure, fine, I won't complain if this sticks but also they keep flip-flopping and tinkering with this so I dunno that I really expect any permanence.

Doom Patrol: I'm the moron who's still only seen most of the first season - I'm not built for binging! - but overjoyed to hear it's continuing and that therefore I have more time to catch up.

The Flash: ...was that motherfucker wearing a choker as some kind of pun about how everyone associates him with choking a lady. Anyway this looks fine I guess, curious about the two Millers and the new suit is of course inevitably an improvement even if the helmet fits badly, but Jesus.

Injustice: I swear to god this took up 25% of the show

Blue Beetle/Batgirl: Curious about both of these

Monkey Prince: Hell yes, very glad to hear this is in fact panning out.

Batwoman: I watched the first 3 episodes of the show and even if it's improved in every other aspect I had to quit for my own health, every second Alice is onscreen I can feel my brain getting smoother, possibly the actual worst baddie in superhero mass-media

Catwoman: Hunted and other animated things next year: I suspect the actual story is gonna be kinda trash but visually this looks like a ton of fun. Dreading what a DTV CGI DC movie looks like.

Titans: Hilarious. I'm guessing they adapt the friggin' Tom King run next without Bruce ever suiting up, and in the background they'll do Judas Contract or some shit.

Batman: Caped Crusader: Oh no this sounds kind of awful now. It really is modern Bruce Timm running the show with nobody telling him no, and that's real bad everybody, that's real, real bad. I initially thought this would be the prestige thing while My Adventures was the all-ages but still thought of internally as kiddie show, and I guess that's still probably true in a sense, but now I'm really thinking these two might turn out to be a "All-Star Superman was announced as a footnote to All-Star Batman & Robin" situation. Also it's funny they have to call this GRITTY, HARDCORE show Caped Crusader because they ran out of other nicknames.

Young Justice: Phantoms: fuck you

Naomi: Of course they weaseled out of using Hoechlin or Routh; shame the leak about Superman being a fictional character in that world and her meeting him being her door to the multiverse was fake.

Shazam! Fury of the Gods: Fully expect this to be great but wanted to smack Zachary Levi across the mouth when he declared the costumes 'upgraded'. I don't care how much they're paying you dude.

Wonder Woman stuff: I guess we've got one more Jenkins/Gadot movie to (judging by the last one) endure, and Trial of the Amazons I guess would be tentatively neat if there was any creative team announced.

Pennyworth: hahaha what

The Batman: Oh I love this freak. Great across the board - it defamiliarizes Batman successfully, it looks slick as hell, and it balances the tone of utterly brutal and horrifying with Riddler leaving behind his logo in his coffee. My only complaints are:

* Sound mixing was a little rough with a couple lines.

* Not wild about Batman being to effortlessly tank infinite machinegun fire now.

* The unseen prisoner is clearly Riddler but a friend noted it kinda sounded like Kevin Conroy so if I was obsessed with Hurt turning out to be the big villain of this trilogy BEFORE

All in all, a couple obvious exceptions aside this was a huge letdown: tons of "Excited to get a glimpse of ______? Well, we'll have something to show you...someday!", bland retrospectives, and the smallest of announcements. This didn't even feel like a quantity over quality thing, just a shrug capped off by Batman.

[sfb123]

Stealing Moments

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: The Royal family spends the afternoon taking part in some pre-Easter (or preaster, if you will) activities.

Rating: G - I’m not going to sugar coat it (sugar is the last thing this story needs), this is some majorly fluffy stuff here. Even for me, and I’ve produced some pretty fluffy work.

Word Count: 1,947

A/N: So this story is a triple threat:

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt #88 “I meant every word.” Which will appear in bold.

I am also participating in the @choicesaprilchallenge2021, day 3 teal. That prompt will appear in italics.

I am also participating in @trraw, day 2 Liam. That prompt will appear in the form of a handsome and charming King.

A/N 2: This is an idea that I thought of while I was writing my upcoming Uncle Drake fic (you’ll see that one on Sunday), so I decided to write it up as a little prequel to that. Thank you to @jessiembruno for encouraging me to take my crazy throw away ideas and make them into something, and also by contributing this adorable moodboard. You are a Canva master. To think, not too long ago you hated it and cursed it out on the regs!

Tags: You know the drill, they’re down below. I hope you get it! If you want to be added or removed, let me know!

Liam sat in his study, wrapping up some paperwork before his next meeting when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Bastien entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Sir, Lord Neville is demanding an audience with you. Immediately.” 

“Of course he is. Tell him I am unavailable, and to make an appointment with my assistant before he leaves.” 

“I did. I explained to him that you have an important afternoon meeting that could not be rescheduled. He didn’t appear to care.” Bastien chuckled to himself. This wasn’t the first time Neville had tried to weasel his way into an urgent meeting with the King.

Liam let out a deep breath as he stood, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Of course he didn’t. That’s fine, I need to get to my meeting anyway. I will tell him myself.” 

Almost immediately upon exiting his study, Neville was in his face. “Your Majesty, I have an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention-”

Liam held up a hand, silencing him. “I’m sure you do, Lord Neville. Unfortunately, I am on my way to a very important meeting, so I am unable to sit with you right now. Please see my assistant on your way out, and she will be happy to book you for my next available appointment.” 

“With all due respect Your Majesty, that simply won’t do. It won’t take long, perhaps I could walk with you to your next meeting?”

Liam internally rolled his eyes at the suggestion. He knew just how to stroke his ego to get him to back down. “Lord Neville, as one of our most valued members of court, I couldn’t possibly do you the disservice of giving you anything but my full attention on what I’m sure is a crucial matter. That is all I would be doing if I allowed you to continue at this time. I will make sure that my staff adjust the schedule to provide us enough time to examine the issue thoroughly. Please send me any documentation as soon as possible so that I may review it before our meeting. That way, we can hit the ground running when we do meet.”

Neville stood tall, a smug expression quickly spreading across his face. “Very well, Your Majesty. I appreciate your assistance in the matter. I will leave the documentation with your assistant.” He bowed, and Liam nodded in response before exiting the area and moving on to his next meeting. 

“If I may say sir, the way you handled that situation was truly masterful.” Bastien commented as they walked through the palace. 

Liam chuckled and patted his security guard on the back. “All in a day's work, my friend. Everything is in place for this afternoon, I trust? I will have no disruptions for the remainder of the day?”

“Yes Your Majesty, the staff has been fully alerted that you will be unavailable. I will be at the door to ensure that you are not bothered.” Bastien replied. 

Once they arrived at their destination, Liam crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. He was the last to arrive, so the sound of the door caught the attention of those that had already gathered. 

“Daddy!” Eleanor jumped out of her chair and ran straight for Liam, leaping into his arms. 

“Hello Princess.” He chuckled as he held her close, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready to decorate some Easter eggs?” He carried her through the livingroom area of the royal quarters, returning her to her seat at the kitchen table.

“Yep! I helped mommy mix all the colors together. It was so fun!” She gestured to the cups of coloring spread out across the table. 

Liam couldn't help but laugh at his daughter’s enthusiasm as he approached his wife, who was standing at the table making the final preparations for their afternoon project. “Hello, beautiful.” He leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on Riley’s lips. 

“Hey handsome. You made it right on time. I’m impressed.” She teased. 

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world. No matter how hard Neville tried.” 

“Neville, yuck!” Eleanor chimed in, causing both of her parents to burst out laughing. 

Riley turned her attention back to her husband. “Alright, you go get changed. I don’t want you ruining your fancy king clothes with egg dye.”

Liam kissed his wife and daughter before going into the bedroom to put on some more casual clothes. He returned unnoticed as Riley explained the egg dying process to Eleanor. He stood for a moment and watched them, his girls, his world. He couldn’t help the smile that quickly spread across his face at the sight. 

“Daddy, come on, we can’t start without you!” Eleanor called out to him from the other side of the room, breaking him from his thoughts. 

He returned to the table and stood between his girls. “Alright, I’m here. Where do we begin?” 

Not only was this Eleanor’s first time decorating Easter eggs, but Liam’s too. He was told that as a Prince, there were more productive ways for him to spend his time. It was just one of the many childhood experiences being royalty simply didn’t allow for. He was so happy, not just to have this experience for himself, but to share it with his daughter. Another way to give her the childhood he never had, but always wanted.

Once Riley explained the process, they got to work; since she was the seasoned professional, she let Eleanor and Liam take the lead and do most of the work. She marveled in the similarities in their gestures, the concentration on their faces as they placed their white eggs in the dye, and the excitement when it would come out dyed a bright color. At one point, Riley couldn’t help but laugh when they pulled out their eggs at the same time, and looked up at her with identical expressions of joy, showing off their creations. 

They had gotten down to the last egg, Liam turned to Eleanor, “Ok Princess, we’ve got one left. You get to pick the color.”

A thoughtful expression overtook Eleanor’s face as she surveyed the colors that surrounded her before turning to her parents and confidently announcing her decision. “Teal.”

Riley and Liam locked eyes and shared a confused expression. There was no teal, they had only prepared basic colors, blue, green, yellow, pink, and purple. “Baby girl, we don’t have teal. These are the only colors we have.” Riley explained. 

Eleanor’s lip started to quiver as her arms went across her chest. “I want teal. Please.” Her parents had been teaching her the importance of manners, so she figured if she said please, they had to give her what she wanted. 

They both knew what that lip quiver meant, they were going to need to move quickly to avoid a total meltdown. Liam approached the princess and started rubbing her back to keep her calm. “It’s alright Eleanor. Why don’t you tell me why you want a teal egg so badly?”

“It’s my favorite color.” She looked up at her father, a pleading expression etched in her face. Her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

There was no question that Eleanor had the King wrapped around her finger, and when she looked at him like that, there was absolutely no way he could deny her. “Alright, let me go talk to mommy and see what we can do for you.” He kissed her on her cheek and returned to his wife. “Riley, there must be something we can do. I can send someone to get teal coloring. We have unlimited resources at our disposal, there must be some way we can make this happen for her.” 

Riley shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Man, you really are a sucker when it comes to her. Aren’t you.” 

“For both of my girls, actually.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them gently across her knuckles, while giving her a hopeful expression. 

She sighed deeply, as much as she tried to fight it, she was also a sucker for her family. “Alright, I guess I can try to mix the blue and green together. Maybe I can get the right ratio to make a teal dye.” 

Liam turned to Eleanor and gave her a thumbs up, she clapped her hands and cheered in response. Riley got to work carefully mixing the two dyes into a third cup, occasionally dipping a piece of paper in to test the color. She smiled to herself when the fourth test paper emerged from the cup. Mission accomplished. “Did somebody want to make a teal egg?”

“Me me me!” Eleanor raised her hand and jumped up and down in her seat. 

Riley placed the cup in front of Eleanor and handed her the egg. The pair worked together to color the final egg to the princess’s exact specifications. 

Liam watched as the two of them completed their family project. His heart was so full at that moment that he felt weak in the knees. He reached behind him and laid his palms against the kitchen island to steady himself. He stood there as his wife, the love of his life, sat with his daughter creating memories in their home. In that moment, he wasn’t a King, he was the luckiest man in the world. 

With the help of her mother, Eleanor pulled the egg from the dye, her smile growing exponentially as she proudly looked up at her father to show off her work. “Daddy, we did it! It’s teal!”

Liam chuckled at the sight in front of him. “I think it’s the most beautiful egg I have ever seen, Princess.”

Riley looked up and noticed Liam’s expression before leaning down to Eleanor. “Hey sweets, why don’t you go wash up for dinner while I put all of this away.” Her daughter looked up and nodded before rushing down the hall. Riley approached Liam and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Love, I can honestly tell you I have never been better.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “Do you remember our first date? During the social season?” She nodded. “You asked me what my dream was, and I told you I wanted a real family, one that was close and listened to each other.” He paused, staring deeply into her eyes. “I have that, because of you Riley. You’ve made my dream, my heart’s desire, come true. Going into my social season, I had all but given up on falling in love, and assumed I would simply marry for duty. Then you uprooted your whole life to give me a chance at happiness. I will never be able to tell you how truly grateful I am for all that you have given me.” He placed a lingering kiss on her lips.

“Liam, I did it for me too. That night in New York, I had never felt like that before. I was not that girl, the one that drops everything to fly around the world for a boy I just met, but I knew there was something there that was worth exploring.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Really?”

Riley laughed gently. “I meant every word.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he pulled her close. 

They pulled apart just as Eleanor bounded back into the room. She ran straight for her parents and jumped into Liam’s arms. He held her against one side, and pulled Riley into the other. He was sure that life couldn’t get better than that very moment. 

Tags:

Permatag- @anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

One Shots- @darley1101

Liam x Riley- @jared2612

@choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles @choicesaprilchallenge2021​ @trraw​

[guacameowle]

Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC - Notes / Opinion

Y’all know me. I have to take notes for everything I play or read or watch. I can’t help it. Here we have Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC. The infamous bad end. The red shoes bad end. The “kinky” bad end, to some. Not my favorite bad end, but a memorable one. With that said, let’s dive in! Spoilers ahead!

Episode 1

This DLC has multiple endings! Interesting. Depending on how I answer will determine which end I get. This has me thinking there may be a way to get Jumin back onto a healthier relationship track? I will eventually aim to achieve both endings, though.

Jumin’s hand is fucking HUGE. MASSIVE. WHAT ARE THEY FEEDING HIM? Please hold while I scream at Kristan (jalaqueeno) about this. Holy shit.

It’s been one month since Jumin went to work. One whole month! Mr. Jumin Workaholic Han hasn’t gone to work in ONE MONTH! This man has made it his sole mission to keep you locked up & stay with you. Dude, like… why are you so obsessed with me~?

MANSION? They’re not in the penthouse anymore? I mean… there are worse cages to be kept in.

I am absolutely playing the answers that subtly suggest I am not ok with this new forced live-in situation.

HE’S TRACKING HOW MANY STEPS I’VE TAKEN. Wait until this man finds out I hate walking the mile…

Jumin continues to call this a game. Says he has a therapist on standby. Does he know that HE can use the therapist? In fact, I highly recommend it.

He says you can leave at any time. Color me suspicious. I don’t believe him for one second. How far is this “game” going?

MY PRECIOUS BABY DARLING SWEETIE PIE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD WHOLESOME BEAUTY PERFECT CUPCAKE ELIZABETH 3RD HAS ARRIVED!

According to Jaehee, MC has been with Jumin for two months now.

Interesting how Jaehee makes a point to mention the mansion being untouched as this is where Jumin keeps his childhood toys. He brought you where he keeps his toys. Does he really see all of this as a game & you’re a toy? Can he snap out of it if you call for the game to end, or will there be backlash?

Some of these answer choices feel tricky. I’m trying to gently weasel my way out of this “game” without hurting anyone.

“Don’t say that to my master.” Listen, Jumin is my favorite man in this game, but that answer option physically made me cringe. Me? Call a man master? I could never. Not me. Not this bitch.

Wow. Ok. All this stuff with Jumin’s mom is moving fast. I can already see if he actually does lose her, it may make him hold onto MC that much more/harder. Maybe. 

Woah woah woah. I know Jumin is acting a little suspicious & out of sorts, BUT AIN’T NO ONE MARRYING HIM EXCEPT ME. ALL RIGHT? I’ll fight. I know where to get a bomb…

Excuse me? A fitness trainer? Yeah........ about that. I’m going to have to leave. Sorry this situation didn’t work out between us Juju. Best of luck, though!

Episode 2

My room is kind of cute! Wait, why the fuck aren’t Jumin & I sharing a room? If I’m locked up & tracked, you better believe I’m sleeping next to that dick.

Send a message to space? The fuck?

Oh. Duh.

“I heard that obsession comes from anxiety.” DING DING DING DING.

Omg Seven. You can’t just ask me to open my box. I’m seeing another man...

LONG HAIRED JUMIN?????

Jumin really didn’t have one woman in his life who wasn’t cold or weird to him. I know we already knew from his route he had a difficult upbringing. But I hadn’t expected them to dive into that aspect for this DLC but I can see how there’s the connection.

I told him I wanted to be alone to see if he’d respect boundaries.

OH SHIT THAT CHAPTER ENDED SO QUICK. DID I FUCK UP?!

Episode 3

So are we meant to see this adult Jumin, playing this “game” with MC, as him regressing within himself & falling back to enjoying fantasy? Avoiding reality? Something he didn’t allow himself to do as an actual child? He didn’t understand why people indulge in magic, fantasy, make-believe as a kid. Now he’s vastly overshot the mark to the point that this fantasy life with MC has become his “reality.”

DO NOT GIVE THIS BABY BOY WINE, I SWEAR TO GOD.

Omg. Little Jumin is so cute. I will fight everyone to protect him.

This woman done fucked up. Look at this child, you’ve given him anxiety. He doesn’t know if you want him to be mechanical or a normal kid. Jesus. All this Work Work Work No Emotion Work Only No Feelings bullshit is her fault. Jumin’s only doing what he was taught. He was told this is all he’s good for, all he was meant for.

“I feel like I am a tool. Sometimes I want to be treated like a son.” STOP. IF THIS GAME MAKES ME CRY. I’M GONNA FIGHT SOMEONE.

IF Y’ALL DON’T GIVE THIS LITTLE BOY THE LOVE & AFFECTION & CARE HE DESERVES

Jumin is obsessed with grape juice. Grows up to be obsessed with wine. Y’all made him an alcoholic.

“I am not like her. I will not be cold. I will be warm to my family…” JUMIIIIIN. THIS LITTLE BOY IS TRYING SO HARD! IT IS POSSIBLE JUMIN! AIM FOR YOUR GOOD & NORMAL ENDINGS!

SLEEPY JUMIN HAN CG

OH FUCK

OH FUCK ME

OH HELLO HUSBAND GODDAMN YOU LOOKIN’ CUTE AS FUCK

LET ME HOLD YOU JUMIN. YOU DESERVE TO BE LOVED & HELD & CARED FOR!

I think you have to choose the answers that gently pry you away from Jumin? He can’t force this relationship. It can’t be controlled by him. It isn’t a game. He needs to come to that realization, but he’s really not making that connection...

“I have never been involved in a deal outside a form of give-and-take.” Oh, that hurt. He doesn’t trust you to stay with him unless he can offer you something? His money/extravagance/keeping you in this “game” you started with him & him playing into it is what he has to do to keep you with him.

“Please show me that you love me. I want to know what love is.” Insert Explicit MC x Jumin Fanfic Here. I’ll show you, Jumin. I’ll show you all night long.

*Jumin snuggled closer* In my own personal canon, that means we FUCKED. SLOWLY. GENTLY. ROMANTICALLY.

Episode 4

The creepy lullaby music started up. Shit is about to go down.

Omg is this butler going to lock me in the basement?

Lmao did I fuck up with the “what’s a cage doing here?” reply? How was I supposed to know there wasn’t actually a cage there? No Jumin, I don’t want a cage. …. at least not for me, but we can discuss that later.

SHE WOULD LOCK HIM IN THE BASEMENT? That’s it. I’m fighting everyone. Stay behind me Jumin, I’ll protect you.

“Let me talk to her! I’d like a word with her!” LET ME AT HER, JUMIN. I HAVE SOME SHIT TO SAY. SHE’S DYING. I HAVE A SHORT WINDOW. LET ME AT HER.

Not little boy Jumin Shawshank Redemptioning his way out of the basement omggggg

JUMIN YOU WANNA FUCK? NOW? This man is sending me through whirlwind of emotions.

OH SHIT. I’m torn between the “whisper in his ear” option or the “let’s change our roles for just today” because as y’all may know, I enjoy being in charge.

Me: “Let’s change our roles…” Jumin: “Uhhh maybe we should leave.” Darling, you know you’re a submissive. It’s ok. No judgement.

FADE TO BLAAAAACK. THEY FUCKIN’.

I’M HOOTIN’ & HOLLERING. After the fade the black I said I would stay in my own clothes & Jumin says, “They’re dirtier than you would think.” DID THIS MAN JUST CUM EVERYWHERE? LMAAAOOOO

Happy End!

Ayyy we did it, lads! Unlocked the happy ending first. Even though we already gave Jumin a happy ending in that basement, you know what I’m sayin’~

LMFAOOOOO JUMIN STILL CAN’T DRIVE LMFAOOOO

Wait, turned our backs on everything? How the fuck is this the happy end? Happy for who? Jumin?

So… what the fuck was that?

The good ending just reenforces this “only us” narrative? The good ending is that this “game” Jumin & MC are playing doesn’t end? Nothing resolves. He doesn’t mend any relationships. There’s no healing or moving on. He exerts more of his control on MC & takes more drastic measures to ensure they’re together.

WAIT. DID WE JUST FUCKING ABANDON ELIZABETH 3RD TOO? ABSOLUTELY NOT. THIS ENDING SUCKS. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FUCK THAT. PISS OFF, JUMIN HAN. I WON’T HAVE THAT BULLSHIT. YOU DID NOT JUST TURN INTO A PET ABANDONER RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE. I HATE IT. NO. I’M OUT.

The CG was hot, though. Jumin in black on black on black? AND GLOVES?! Hell yeah. That’s a whole meal right there. Delicious. 

Episode 1 (Attempt 2)

Well, time to try to get the bad end (????) now I guess. Maybe the bad end is that this game of their’s actually does break. That’s what I’m hoping for at least.

Jumin already making jokes about switching roles. Jumin, my love. I am more than happy - extremely willing & eager actually - to be in charge here.

Pretending to want all of this ‘being a possession’ nonsense is making me uncomfyyyy.

Episode 2 (Attempt 2)

“Do something Jumin wouldn’t like” Lmaooo it calls Zen. HAHAHAHAHA

I think Zen’s voice acting is some of the most expressive, in this whole game.

Ah, so then I guess turning on the computer let’s you talk to Yoosung.

Not Jumin deliberately cutting my call. The audacity.

Jumin, possessiveness can sometimes be cute. But in this case, I’m not having it. Not interested.

All the toys in the world didn’t keep Jumin entertained. BUT THIS PUSSY DOES.

Episode 3 (Attempt 2)

Flew through that one just choosing the options I didn’t choose before. Didn’t seem to glean any new information except the fact that Jumin no longer has a desire to form a family, says it entirely depends on how badly MC wants a family. Continues that narrative of, if MC wants it, he will provide it... to keep her.

Episode 4 (Attempt 2)

So we’re just going to leave gold bars in that safe?

Happy End Again????

It says I got Happy End again, even though I chose entirely different answers & went along with being Jumin’s possession...

OH WAIT, IT IS DIFFERENT!

I can’t believe my first meeting with Jumin’s mother is after he rawed me in the basement & had me put on a fantasy fairy tale princess dress to make our escape. Omfg. Ma’am, your son’s cum is still dripping out of me, please give me a few minutes to freshen up first. Goddamn.

Jumin’s mom is named Carolyn!

I can’t believe I’m in the middle of a family argument while Jumin’s cum glues my thighs together.

She ain’t sick. She’s lying. I’m calling it.

“Simple - make him soft” Jumin: “Like mashed potato?” LIKE MASHED POTATO? FIRST OF ALL, JUMIN SAYING ‘MASHED POTATO’ IS SO FUCKING CUTE I WANNA SCREAM. Secondly I meant, make him soft as in help him let down some barriers & let people in.

“I heard sons are psychologically bound to be attracted to women reminiscent of their mothers.” Ok yes, that may be true but you don’t have to remind me. Bleh. Stop.

“If my consort is to leave me one day, I will be scarred for the rest of my life.” I am sad for him. So sad.

ONE BILLION, TO BREAK UP WITH JUMIN? WOMAN, YOU ARE SOMETHING ELSE.

The “mind if I touch it” option fucking sent me. I’m laughing so hard. It is 1am. I might wake up my neighbor! I chose the “…..” option though. I’m sticking with Jumin through this. Let’s see what happens.

… I’ll loop back & choose the money if I can though to see what chaos occurs.

“This is exactly what people mean when they say, ‘So not cool.’” JUMIN. NOW IS NOT THE TIME LMFAOOOO

Jumin went back to work. All right, that’s progress. He renovated the basement on a happier note. Ok ok, small progress. 

“Now I wish to paint this entire place with our love.” TIME TO CHRISTEN EVERY ROOM WITH SEEEEX

THAT CG!!!!! AAAHHHHHHH!!!! WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW!!!!!!

Looping back to choose more options for this episode...

CALLED JUMIN’S MOM AN OLD HAG & JUMIN LIKED WHEN I DID THAT LMAOOOO. I would like to call her a lot of things.

Final thoughts:

Long story short (too late), this DLC reenforces that this is a Bad Ending path, in which you won’t find a fix for Jumin, won’t find a way to get him back on track to his true good end. And that’s ok! This is a bad end after all! Though both endings are listed as “good” or “happy” endings, they’re still set in this twisted relationship, this weak form of love, Jumin believes is real. He calls it a game, says a therapist is on standby, says MC can leave any time she wants, yet when she chooses options that distances herself, suggests Jumin pay more attention to something other than her, or shows she’d like more freedom, he immediately blocks that path in some way. Even when choosing all the options that don’t give in to the plaything/being controlled role, the conclusion is Jumin reenforcing his control harder - you both escape together to be alone, neglecting everyone & everything in your life, & Jumin insists all he has to do is take care of you in various ways - to give you everything - to keep you with him. Even following the confrontation with Jumin’s mother & turning down the option to leave Jumin for money, it shows how far Jumin will go to keep MC. He truly believes he has to provide everything (money, security, possessions, etc.) in exchange for her love, her company, her willingness to be with him. This man has slowly been broken over & over again over the course of his life & he’s finally given in to these poor teachings & selfish encouragements, & has convinced himself what he’s found is full love where he provides anything & everything to keep MC’s interest in him. A clear give & take relationship. A contract. A game. And he’s not about to let that go.

Personally, while this path isn’t my favorite for Jumin, I was still absolutely impressed with the two different ways they had this particular Bad End play out. An emotional read from start to finish & back again.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Secret Santa

For @thatesqcrush​​​’s Holiday Bingo!

Warnings: MANY. NSFW. Sexual assault (explicit about the immediate aftermath), trauma, angst, insecurity, eventually fluff. 

Today my brain really wanted emotionally fragile traumatized Barba who has a crush on reader but doesn’t know if they’ll ever see him as anything but broken now. Also it’s Christmas. 

Follow-ups: Te Quiero, Just Hold Me

Rafael Barba x Reader

3,000 words

Your ideal boyfriend would feed you chocolate like grapes in one of those ancient Greek paintings.

It was just an offhand remark you’d made at the bar one night in response to Rollins’s tipsy line of questioning about the perfect man. ADA Barba didn’t usually go out to socialize with the SVU squad, but he knew you were going to be there, so he went, too.

And not just any chocolate—no. Real, seventy-percent dark chocolate, single-origin beans. You preferred the fruity undertones of Madagascar cocoa, but were interested in exploring.

That was why Barba was carrying a box of expensive chocolate under his arm that night as he walked toward the 16th Precinct. He only agreed to participate in the SVU’s Secret Santa hoping he might get you, and was thrilled when he did. After a little trading. He knew Sonny would want Rollins, so it was easy to shuffle a few names around without making his own intentions obvious.

He bought a sampler box of fair-trade cocoas from around the world. The tag included a joke about feeding them to you, if you wanted. This year, Barba promised himself, he was going to admit his feelings for you.

Maybe it was foolish. You could have anyone. Why would you choose the cranky old lawyer? But he saw the approving way your eyes caught on him sometimes, when you didn’t think he was looking. The eternal pessimist in him said you just enjoyed his colorful ties, but it was enough to give him hope. The starved optimist whispered promises in his ear that this Christmas, he wouldn’t have to be alone.

Maybe this was the year he would fall asleep with a warm body tangled pleasantly around his as snow fell over the city.

That was what he was thinking about when it happened. The theoretical conversation with you distracted him from his surroundings, turning his cheeks pink from more than the early December chill. He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until there was a sharp pain at the back of his head.

The box of chocolates slipped from his hands as he hit the ground, and rolled into the gutter. The flirtatious tag soaked with half-frozen slush until the ink blurred and ran.

***

When Barba didn’t make it to the Secret Santa exchange, you worried. But only a little. Olivia was sure he was just running late. Barba was always getting caught up with something or other, either being dragged into a meeting, or simply letting his social life slide in favor of working late.

When Liv’s call went to voicemail, you really started to worry. At least enough to call his office and find out he left for the night over an hour ago.

That nagging worry was confirmed the more you tried to find him, and turned into terror as it became an investigation. The ADA was missing. Security camera footage from a local bodega showed him being struck over the head with a bat and dragged into a van by three suspects.

One of them was identified as Jeremy Jones, a man whom Barba had tried to convict for a series of brutal rapes against closeted gay men. Ultimately, he was charged with manslaughter for the death of one of his victims. He served only half of a paltry six-year sentence and was released on good behavior that week. Apparently, Jones held a particular grudge against the openly bi prosecutor who tried to convict him of a hate crime. And he had made a few friends in prison.

The manhunt lasted three days, and the entire time you felt sick. Every hour—every minute—you didn’t find him was another minute god knows what was happening to Barba. If he was even still alive.

Only one of Jones’s victims had died, you tried to calm yourself. Of a heart attack. Barba was strong. But Jones wasn’t acting alone this time.

You felt sick.

After three days and a shootout with the NYPD, you found where Jones and his gang were hiding out.

You were the first one to discover the basement door, to kick it open.

You found Barba handcuffed to a bed, naked and beaten. His wrist was a horrible red-purple bruise where the metal dug in. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, though he seemed to be conscious. You radioed in for help and rushed to him, holding his head up, praying he was responsive. He yelped at the touch, recoiling from it. The cuffs rattled on the metal headboard.

“It’s OK. Shh. Rafael. It’s me,” you soothed, sitting at the corner of the bed beside him. “It’s the NYPD. We got them. You’re safe now. OK? They’re gone. The paramedics are already on the way.”

His eyes cleared, focused on you for just a moment. He seemed to recognize you—to understand what was happening. His mouth opened and almost made words, but only a dry rattle came out. His lips were swollen, and cracked with dehydration. Tears started rolling down his face, then. Dark, coppery dried blood covered the inside of his legs, pooled on the mattress, and bright red fresh blood streamed down over it.

He’d been missing for three days. Three whole days.

It was bad. He was in bad shape. You prayed the paramedics would get there soon. For the quick-witted prosecutor to be rendered unable to speak, his hair disheveled and plastered to his head with blood and fluids… For anyone to have done this to him… You tried to stay calm to help him be calm, but you were boiling over with rage and guilt.

It was your fault for not finding him sooner. For not being a better detective. For not worrying the second he was late.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the basement stairs and every muscle in his exhausted body went rigid. His free hand clung to you, nails digging into the skin of your palm.

“It’s just the paramedics.” You covered his hand with your own, squeezing. “They’re going to help you. I’ll be right here. You’re going to be OK, do you understand?”—his eyes were so blank and unfocused you weren’t sure that he did—“We found you, and… and you’re going to be OK now. We’re going to fix this.” Your voice was shaking.

It was a good thing the paramedics came in and took over before you started crying. The way his hand tightly held yours, not wanting to let go, wrenched your heart, and you needed to take a few minutes before you could be a detective again.

***

Barba was in the hospital for a week before being released. You went to see him, but were told he wasn’t taking visitors.

A week before Christmas, he reported to work.

A whole group from the 16th Precinct went down to 1 Hogan Place to welcome him back. He looked at home in his office, where he was supposed to be. His suit was as sharp (and loud) as ever. His hair was made without a strand out of place. You were relieved to see he was himself again. But his eyes were still haunted, and he flinched when Sonny knocked too loudly on the door frame.

He gave a weary smile, thanked everyone for their support, and sent everyone away except Liv.

Including you.

Your heart sank at the blow-off. You knew he’d weaseled half the precinct into trading Secret Santas until he got you. That had to mean you were special to him, the same way he was special to you.

Barba meant… more than you’d like to admit. It started so small you barely noticed it—that you were more inclined to go to events if Barba was also going. That you were always on his side during controversial cases, and even when you disagreed, you were more inclined to hear out his opinion than if he were anyone else. Then Rollins had a few tequila shots and started talking boys, and how the perfect man didn’t exist.

When you thought about the perfect man, only one person came to mind.

And you hadn’t had a chance to talk to him.

You knew he was going through something difficult, but that was why you wanted to be there for him. You wanted so badly to be part of his inner circle, like Liv—one of the people he leaned on instead of sending away.

You tried his office again the next day, by yourself. He avoided you, claiming he was busy with backlogged paperwork. The day after that, he legitimately wasn’t there—at the hospital for a follow-up—but never returned the message you left with Carmen.

On Christmas Eve, you tried again during lunch break. The lights were on in his office, but Carmen said he wasn’t there, sympathy in her eyes. He was there. You both knew it. He just didn’t want to see you. That night, you left him in peace. He would be spending Nochebuena with his mother, and you had plans of your own.

But on Christmas morning, you knew he wouldn’t be working all day. Neither were you.

You sent him a text and said you were coming over. He never responded, but an hour later, you knocked on his apartment door, anyway.

Footsteps slowly approached the door. A shadow fell over the peephole, and you grinned nervously, giving a little wave. The deadbolt slid open, then the door chain, and finally it opened to a tense lawyer, well dressed even on his day off in a cashmere sweater and chinos. Dark circles ringed his eyes from lack of sleep.

“Detective. H-hey. It’s not a good time. I’m… busy.” The flush in his cheeks rose, and he seemed eager to retreat back inside.

“You owe me a Christmas present!” you blurted out. It was juvenile. You knew the moment you opened your mouth it sounded like something a toddler would say, but at least it stopped him from closing the door on you.

He blinked. His chin tipped up just slightly in that haughty way that always preceded a cutting bit of sarcasm. “…Excuse me, I what?”

“It’s Christmas. You were my Secret Santa. So you owe me a gift.”

Realization dawned over him, along with the memory of everything that had happened the night he was meant to give you your present. His face fell.

“I… I’m sorry. I lost it.”

His eyes took on a dull, far away look, and you instantly regretted bringing it up. Of course that would be a painful memory. Fuck.

“It’s OK!” you took a step toward him, and he took one quickly back. Shit, you shouldn’t have done that, you scolded yourself. His face grew hotter, and he seemed humiliated with himself. “I-I mean… for the gift. All I want is to talk to you. For a minute. That would be plenty of a gift, if you could spare it. I just want to know how you’re doing.”

“I wish everyone would stop asking me that,” he snapped.

“Well, I haven’t had the chance yet. It feels like you’ve been avoiding me. I just wanted to know if… if we’re OK.”

He paused. He didn’t answer immediately, but his expression softened. “I… I haven’t been…” He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. His jaw kept working, lips reshaping themselves of the cusp of words, as if he were trying to continue, but couldn’t find the right ones. The words that would make sense, and explain everything—that would click together like a jigsaw puzzle and make everything better.

“I just thought that we were… friends. And… I was worried about you… And now I’m worried you’re pushing me away. I know we’re not as close as you and Olivia… but…” Your head hung low. “Did I do something wrong?”

Barba turned away. He wrapped a hand over his face, fingers shielding his eyes from you. “I know you were the one who found me,” he groaned miserably. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. You of all people… Because now you’ll never be able to look at me without part of you always seeing me… like that. Like a victim.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is, and you know it!” he snarled, surprising you with the sudden rise in volume.

He was seething, hurting, and you wanted to reassure him that you would never see him as less because of what was done to him. You laid a hand on his arm to comfort him, and he jerked away.

“Stop that! See? You’re doing it. Treating me like I’m… broken.” His whole body seemed to deflate, to shrink into itself. “It’s too late,” he croaked, a wistful smile cruelly turning the corner of his lip. “I’m never going to be whole in your eyes now.”

“Of course you are,” you said gently.

He gave a sharp, nasal huff. “Not like—ugh, never mind.”

“Not like what?”

His eyes met yours—green and turbulent as the ocean. There was a harrowed desperation in the creases of his forehead, the little wrinkles under his eyes deepening. “Like someone you could… Forget it!” He looked away, blinking rapidly.

“Barba… did you want to… Do you like…?”

You had a hopeful spark, an idea of what he was trying to say, what was bothering him, but you were afraid to say it and be proven wrong. You searched his face, inching closer. He looked horrified, like you were calling him out rather than hoping for it to be true—rifling through the sock drawer of his emotions.

No. You had to be the open one. He had too much to worry about already. You had to take the risk with your feelings.

“What I mean is… Please stop me if I’m out of line, but, Barba… no, Rafael… I like you. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I kept hoping you’d say it first, in case I was imagining things and you didn’t feel the same way. Then you disappeared, and…” Your breath caught in a tightening throat. “I thought I’d lost you forever. When we found you alive… Whatever you think changed with how I see you, all I was thinking was how happy I was you were alive. And that I’d get another chance to tell you how much I care about you.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks by the end, drying your eyes on your sleeves to no avail.

He had turned completely toward you at some point during your confession, no longer half-hiding his face. Some of the remaining distance between you had disappeared, too. His hands softly came up to press your upper arms. Even through your puffy winter coat, you could feel how big and strong they were. His haunted green eyes searched you closely, looking for any sign you weren’t serious. That this wasn’t real. That maybe it was just pity. But you could swear there was a hint in them, too, of a stunned, timid sort of hope. 

You swallowed, meeting his deep gaze. “And I really want to kiss you now… if that would be alright.”

“I… I’d like that.”

Though he trembled slightly, his breathing was soft and steady as you leaned toward him. The kiss was gentle and easy, starting with foreheads touching, noses brushing against each other. Then lips, delicately ghosting over each other. His were still healing, tender where they were split. You let him close the final micron of distance, pressing the warm fullness of his lips against yours. His hand caressed the side of your face, and his thumb delicately brushed the hair at your temple.

“Can we go slow?” he breathed as he pulled away, though not far. He kept his hand on your face, the other about your waist. “I know I just said I’m not broken…”

“But you need time. I understand. Trust me.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled in a melancholy smile as he stroked the side of your face longingly.

“I’m comfortable with whatever pace you want to set. Whether it’s holding hands, or… just talking. So long as I can keep spending time with you. I missed you. That’s all I need to be happy—just getting to be around my favorite counselor.”

He leaned in and kissed your forehead. “You know… you’re my favorite detective.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, grinning. “What about Liv?”

“She’s a lieutenant.”

“Ack! Got me on a technicality!”

“There’s no such thing as a technicality in law,” Barba smirked, playfully smug.

You snorted. Cheeky bastard.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Rafael, you can kiss me as many times as you like.”

His mouth melded against yours more confidently this time. More insistent, and yet more vulnerable, a soft groan reverberating in his throat. Just once, his lips parted yours, and his tongue darted out, tasting the opening of your lips before retreating shyly back. You let him lead, and didn’t push for more. You meant it when you said just being near him, part of his world, was enough.

He invited you inside.

If this was to make up for your gift, he owed you more than just a minute of conversation, he said, smiling. For the rest of the day, Barba turned his tidy, tiny Manhattan flat into a cozy winter refuge, complete with hot cocoa (spiked with spiced rum, of course), warm throw blankets, and an endless marathon of holiday movies to watch while snuggling on the couch.

It was the best Christmas you could remember, especially when, before the sun had even begun to set, Barba fell asleep holding you. The worry lines carved into his face smoothed out as he breathed steadily. He looked so peaceful, you didn’t mind being trapped on the couch until he woke up.

Maybe, you thought, those dark circles could start to fade.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Kismet {9}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, POV Changes

Words: 3.5k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 

The change within you was instantaneous, and your body fought it like a foreign virus. You’d barely slept a wink the night before. You tossed. You rolled. You took up your phone and hovered over Henry’s contact only to put it back down and toss and turn some more. Half of you wanted to talk to him so badly, but the other half wanted you to practice some restraint. There was no happy middle ground, and because there wasn’t, you struggled to find any peace in your mind. By the time you managed to fall asleep, it was one hour before you had to get up to prep for your day. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a message from the culprit to your sleeplessness himself.

 MSG Henry: Good morning, beautiful. I didn’t sleep a wink. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I must have picked up my phone ten times to text or call you. It’s torture not being able to hear the one voice you want to hear more than anything.

 As soon as you read the words, your heart literally melted, and butterflies filled your belly.

 “Christ almighty,” you whispered as your fingers itched to rapid-fire. Before you could catch yourself, you’d already typed out a reply and sent it.

 MSG: Good Morning to you too, handsome. I know what you mean. I didn’t sleep either. I almost called you so many times. I think you’re addicting.

 You reread the message then groaned at the last sentence.

 “Really, Aliya, addicting?” You rolled your eyes hard and pushed to get yourself ready for the day.

 By the time you’d left the hotel, he still hadn’t replied, and you regretted responding altogether.  So, here you were sitting in one of your four meetings for the day trying to keep your head in the game and your mind off of Henry’s lips, or his eyes, or the feel of his muscular arms around you. It was proving more complicated than it sounded. When you weren’t thinking of his lips, or his eyes, or his arms and kisses, you were overthinking your message and his lack of response.

 A little more than halfway in your first meeting, your phone went off, and you had to make yourself slow down and not leap for it. Nonchalantly, you glanced at the screen and saw Henry’s name.

 MSG Henry: Addicting, huh? I like that, but you should not be talking. I have been addicted to you since the day you bumped into me.

 Any worries you’d had the last few hours melted away, and a smile spread across your face.

 MSG: Do tell me more, Mr. Cavill.

 Barely a minute passed before another message came in.

 MSG Henry: I would rather tell you while looking in your eyes so you can see the depth of which I mean them in my eyes.

 You bit your bottom lip and closed your eyes. He was different alright, you thought.

 MSG Henry: I’m sorry it took me this long to reply. I’m trying to finish up all business between today and tomorrow. I had to hide my phone from myself, or else I would have been messaging you this entire time.

 You couldn’t lie. That felt good to know that he was having as much of a struggle going about his typical day to day tasks as you were. The knowledge of that comforted you, but it also worried you. This thing was still so new. For the duration of your meeting, you texted on and off. It continued as you moved to your second and third meetings, and by then, your focus was shot. The only thing you cared about was what he was saying.

 You loved how open he was. He always found a way to describe to you just what he was thinking or feeling while still remaining mysterious enough to have you wondering what he felt and thought. It was interesting. You’d always been able to predict every man that tried to enter your life. You could predict their motives, what tactics they’d use to try to weasel themselves in, and you often could predict how things would end. With Henry, you’d been having a difficult time with those predictions. It bothered you.

 By the time you got back to your hotel room, it was nearing seven o’clock. You wasted no time putting your phone on silent to concentrate on a little self-care beginning with a soak in the jetted tub. You did your best to keep your mind open to allow the meditation track you played to really work at loosening the knots in your shoulders and tension in your neck. The stress of your life, mainly from work, was really beginning to show. It had always shown, you just never listened to your body whenever it told you to slow down or take it easy.

 Many of your friends and family teased you that you lived to work instead of working to live. There were times you were inclined to agree with them because you didn’t need to work so much to maintain the lifestyle you were accustomed to. You had more money than you knew what to do with. You could afford to take time off to recharge but, you’d lived with the belief that the less time you had to be idle, the better it was for your mental and emotional health. Idle hands, after all, were the devil’s playground. You’d grown so accustomed to working nonstop that you didn’t know how to just do nothing.  

After almost two hours in the bath, as you walked into the bedroom, you saw your phone light up. It was an incoming call from Henry. Sighing, you plopped onto the bed, trying to fight back the smile that wanted freedom. The smile won the battle.

 “Hello?”

 “Did I wake you? I called earlier but--.”

 “No, I’m awake. I put my phone on silent and took a long bath,” you clarified.

 “Ah, that sounds relaxing. Maybe I should try that. I’m feeling this burnout more and more.”

 “Those who are serious about their craft work too much.”

 Henry sighed softly, and you wondered if there was a hint of mint and Guinness on his lips.

 “I don’t want to work tonight,” Henry declared. “Tonight, I want to be with you.”

 You dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, do you now?”

 “Yes,” Henry confirmed, his voice dropping in baritone. Your belly fluttered, making you press your palm against it.

 “Have you eaten?”

 “I haven’t,” you breathlessly replied.

 “Good. I’ll be around for you in forty-five minutes.”

 You sprang upward. “That’s not enough time.”

 “Oh no? High maintenance are you?”

 You snorted and shook your head, hearing the tease and challenge in his voice.

 “Forty-five minutes then, just don’t get mad when I don’t look like pictures in magazines,” you quipped.

 “Come as you are.”

 Your reflection caught your eye. Because you’d gotten your hair slightly wet in the tub, it was now in a half natural half blown out state, making you look crazy. You doubted forty-five would be enough to tame it.

 “See you soon,” you said before hanging up to focus on getting yourself together.

 Forty-nine minutes later, you were dressed and on your way down in the elevator. As it made its way down, you assessed your appearance, thankful you were able to straighten your hair again to add a few loose curls. Part of you hadn’t wanted to bother, but you knew the dress you were going to wear would be better complemented with a sleek look. Your eyes skimmed the half sheer and half bodycon black dress you wore, loving that it was the right mix between sexy and classic. You added another layer of your mauve tinted lip gloss and just in time for the doors to open.

 It didn’t take long for you to spot him sitting in the lobby where one of the big-screen TVs were placed. He was watching a rugby match. You crossed the black and white designed tiled floors and approached behind him. When you dipped to his ear, his scent almost had a moan escaping you—almost.

 “Either, no matter where you are, you gravitate to rugby, or I took too long,” you whispered.

Henry turned, and the moment his eyes landed on you, a dumbfounded look washed across his face. You tried not to bashfully look away as you watched his jaw drop when his eyes took in the full view.

 “Wow.”

 A giggle that would have been nauseating from someone else slipped from you, making you press your fingertips to your lips.

 “You’re breathtaking.”

 You smiled, then gently tapped his chest.

 “Stop.”

 “I’m being completely truthful.”

 Those damn butterflies made their presence known once again.

 “Thank you,” you whispered.

 Henry held out a single peony to you. “For you.”

 As you took it, your smile widened. “Wow, one of my favorite flowers.”

 “Is that so?”

 You nodded.

 “Hmm, happy coincidence,” Henry replied as he stood and buttoned his suit jacket. Once done, he held out his arm for you. “Shall we?”

 You nodded and looped yours with his, ready for whatever the night brought on.

  -Henry-

As you sat across from him under the hanging flowers and dim lighting of the restaurant perusing the menu, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. It could have been the way the golden light bathed your skin, giving it an almost glowing aura. Or it could have been the soft smile pasted to your subtle painted lips. It could have even been the spell of the restaurant, the classical music playing, and the sweet scent of flowers that surrounded the two of you. Whatever it was, he itched to touch you, itched to get closer, and itched to do nothing but find a way to keep a smile on your face.

 “What?”

 Realizing you were now looking at him, he smiled back at you.

 “Nothing.”

 “No, no. That’s a something look,” you said, still not able to not smile.

 “It’s nothing,” he repeated.

 “Henry, seriously. What is it?”

 You reached out and gently slapped his hand, then rested it on top of the table.

 “Nothing, really. It’s just—I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of you,” he admitted.

 Your smile slipped, revealing a serious expression for a few seconds before you smiled again and dipped your head in a bashful way. Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, he closed the gap between your hands and took yours.

 “Your parents must be proud to have raised such a charming son.”

 He smiled, then shrugged. “She has five of them.”

 “Bless her heart,” you added, making him chuckle.

 A comfortable silence drifted between you as he enjoyed the softness of your hand in his and the way your warmth mingled with his. He could get used to this, he thought to himself. When the waiter returned to the table to pour the chosen wine into your glasses, you pulled your hand away, but he didn’t take offense.

 “So, by this time next week, I will be off the grid,” he said after the waiter walked off again.

 A quizzical look swept across your face.

 “Off the grid? Are you a spy?”

 He smiled. “I promise I’m not.”

 Another waiter approached the table, this time carrying your selected third and final courses. He thanked the waiter as he laid the plates before you before he retreated.

 “You were saying,” you prompted, lifting your dinner fork from the selection of three different ones to your right.

 “I’ve earned some much needed R&R.”

 With your fork paused at your lips, you smiled. “Oh, that’s great. Congratulations. When was the last time you took a holiday?”

 He watched you chew and quickly got lost watching your mouth. It took him several seconds to regain his train of thought.

 “Eh-em, uh—perhaps a year and a half, if we are talking about a true holiday.”

 “Wow, that’s a long time.”

 “What about you?”

 You smirked, then scoffed. “Define holiday.”

 He returned your smirk then rested his knife and fork atop the braised beef on his plate before he replied. “Time off, no work, nothing that you have to worry about that can cause stress,  anxiety, or tension. Oh, and of course, sleeping late, drinking until three or four in the morning, fun every day, and feeling refreshed upon return.”

 You smiled as you finished chewing. He watched you take another sip from your glass and knew the wine was only making your lips even sweeter than they already were.

 “Ha! Jeez, when you define it like that, it’s been years upon years,” you replied.

 “Not good at all.”

 You nodded. “Tell me about it.” A soft smile was still on your lips as you placed another forkful of the pan-seared sea bass you were eating.

 With those words, a thought formulated in his mind, and it was a thought he wondered if he put words to would you be receptive. The remainder of dinner passed comfortably. Another reason why he couldn’t stop thinking about you and enjoyed being around you was because your conversation was always excellent. There was never any form of discomfort or awkwardness between you. You easily talked about so many things, and the things you said were always thought-provoking and intelligent. While everyone thought you were just a pretty face, you’d repeatedly allowed him to see that the world knew nothing.

 His hand was rarely without yours in it, and when he held your hand, you softly raked your fingernails against the palm and fingers. Every time you did it, the goosebumps that raced across his skin sparked a reaction that was visible much, much lower than his hand. Everyone else in the restaurant could have disappeared for all he knew because you’d captivated him and every single one of his senses.

 By the time you left the restaurant, it was close to midnight, but you didn’t seem to care what time it was. You held onto his hand as you walked along The River Thames. He often did this late at night when he couldn’t sleep. It was really the only time he could come and not be bothered or recognized because he was more than likely the only one there. Tonight your laughter danced through the air, and the gentle ebb and flow of the water only helped the glistening light from the bridge and neighboring buildings shimmer that much more. It was quite romantic.

You stopped and pressed your back to the iron gating that kept pedestrians out of the river. You stretched your arms out, leaning back as if to really enjoy the gentle breeze.

 “It’s a beautiful night,” you sighed out.

 Just like that, he drifted closer to you until there were only a few inches between your bodies. When you came upright again, your smile was still bright, even realizing he was so close.

 “Are you trying to push me in?”

 He smiled and shook his head. “Never.”

 “Oh no?”

 “No,” he repeated, taking another step to you.

 You bit your bottom lip then sucked it into your mouth, and he became even more painfully aware that he hadn’t sampled them since the night before.

 “Unacceptable,” he whispered.

 “What?”

 Reaching out, he cupped your jaw and slid his thumb across your cheekbone while he slowly traced every inch of your face to his memory. When his eyes met yours, he fell another foot or two deep into the quicksand-like pit of his growing feelings for you. He was so close to going under it was alarming.

 “It’s unacceptable that I haven’t tasted your lips in over twelve hours.”

 He heard a soft gasp escape your lips, and it was the only sound you made before his lips pressed to yours. The only move you made was to entangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The feel of your fingers against his skin brought those familiar goosebumps. He moaned, then pulled you flush against him. The feel of your body against his made his heart thump rapidly, and when you moaned against his lips, the need to consume you took precedence.

 When he delved his tongue into your mouth, he was shocked when you swirled yours around his, and the sensual move had him pressing you firmly against the iron behind you. It was out of character for him to do this so wide in the open, but he felt himself doing things that no one would ever guess he would do when he was with you. Your soft nibbled on his bottom lip brought his mind back to the rising dilemma, rising being the operative word.

 Pulling his lips from yours, he rested his forehead to yours. Both of you didn’t speak; instead, you were both lost in trying to catch your breath. Long moments passed, and in those moments, he fought to regain his composure. He’d never reacted to anyone the way he reacted to you.

 “Come with me,” he whispered, his voice shakier than he’d expected.

 Your eyes fluttered open, and he didn’t know if it was wishful thinking, but he swore he saw actual stars in them that put the night sky to shame.

 “Where?”

 “Away on holiday.”

 You pulled back a few centimeters and gazed into his eyes more intently. He watched them dart from his left eye, then to the right and back again. Slowly the stars vanished, and humor replaced them.

 “Good one,” you said before you laughed out loud, pulling your body from his.

 “Oh my god, you really had me going for a second,” you said through laughter.

 You took two steps as if to continue walking, but he laced his fingers with yours and pulled you back before him. You gasped, and the sound of it made him close the space between you again, pressing you onto the iron bars. With his body pressed to yours leaving no evidence of there being two bodies, you moaned, and the sound almost had him capturing your lips again. If he did though, he didn’t know if his hands would remain respectful.

 “I wasn’t kidding.”

 Your eyes were on his lips, and the desire for you to take control, almost overrode his desire to be in control—almost.

 “What?”

 “Come on holiday with me, just the two of us, a beach wine somewhere—anywhere.”

 He saw the moment you realized he was as serious as a heart attack.

 “You’re serious,” you reiterated.

 “More serious than I’ve been about anything.”

 You didn’t speak for the next minute, but you also didn’t move away. He decided he’d give you the time to consider it.

 You scoffed before you spoke. “What? Henry—we can’t.”

 “Why?”

 You gaped at him as if he were insane.

 “Why?” That was when you pulled away from him and took a few steps sideways while still leaning against the gate. “We—we don’t--.”

 You looked as if you were wracking your brain for a response, but you also looked like you were trying to catch your breath.

 “We don’t know anything about each other.”

 He took a step to you. You didn’t move.

 “Which is why a private holiday would aid in us getting to know each other—uninterrupted without the pretexts,” he replied.

 Your eyes widened before you shook your head then turned to face the water. You peered out silently, baffled. “Henry—we can’t.”

 He approached you, and as he leaned against the gate, you looked at him. “Tell me why,” he requested.

 “Why—because—I—I don’t do—that,” you stuttered.

 “What holidays?”

 He saw the exasperation wash across your face before it went blank. You stepped away again, then cleared your throat.

 “I have an early flight out tomorrow.”

 It was hard not to feel the rejection, but he hid it the best he could. Nodding, he held out his arm for you to take.

 “Then let’s get you back to your hotel.”

 The entire ten-minute walk, his mind went from one thing to the next. He worried he’d come on too strong, or that he’d said the wrong thing, or somehow offended you. Then he went back and forth with his decision to even ask you. Part of him felt like maybe he was jumping a little too far ahead, but the other part of him felt there was nothing wrong with inviting you especially based on how things had gone the entire night and the vibes he picked up. That made him wonder if he’d read the evening entirely wrong.

 When he stopped with you in your hotel's lobby, he was in no hurry to ask you again. He’d begun to feel quite stupid. His hurt feelings needed the night to recover. He took your arm from the crook of his elbow and held your hand. Again, you didn’t pull away. Deciding he couldn't afford to give you the time to, he lowered your hand and stepped away from you.

 “Thank you for dinner.”

 “T—thank you,” you said barely above a whisper.

 He nodded and debated his next move. He took a timid step forward and kissed your cheek.

 “Have a safe flight.”

 “Thank you.”

 This one was a whisper.

 “Good night, Aliya,” he breathed out before he quickly kissed your forehead then walked away out the door and down the street without looking back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[jarofstyles]

Dirty Business - Latte

A/N: This story. We are really proud of. It’s a spin on business man!harry x spoiled brat y/n. The character development and everything about it just made us so happy and we hope you enjoy :)

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: cheating, a hints of angst 

word count: 9.5k

It had been one year since Harry had moved to New York and he still couldn’t get over how dirty it could be. He groaned when he saw it begin to get sunny outside, not because he didn’t want sun— no. Because it would make the humidity terrible. A muggy New York wasn’t enjoyable to many. Though, above it all, he did like it. He had a comfortable apartment with tuning water and head and air conditioning. A cat. A toaster and working appliances. A nice bed and couch, even a tv. He had done well for himself and the pay upgrade at his new level had been immaculate. Hell, he had even gotten a girlfriend! But it just felt a bit... lacking. 

He was working hard to get closer and closer to head spots. Harry has been given a pretty good role now, going out to discuss and make deals with potential clients and brands to partner with their locations. He was a people person. His boss, he loved him. He wasn’t sure why, but his work effort and apparently his accent made people here take him more seriously than they had previously. He did well bringing in deals and sweet talking clients to better deals for their end. He saved and made them money. He sighed, resting his hand on his face as he looked over a proposal. Investments were good and always changing, which helped. Just like the city. He needed some sort of excitement. He just didn’t expect to get it so soon. The knock at his door had his sitting up, placing the paper down. His reading glasses were pulled off, making out his boss and seemingly someone behind him. 

“Styles! My boy... I want to introduce you to my little girl!”

Y/N had it all growing up. Clothes, makeup, electronics, events, trips, you name it. She did what she wanted when she wanted, always on top of the latest trends. She always had an interest in fashion which her mother was all for seeing as she herself was a designer. Some call her a spoiled brat, and maybe she was, but she was a business woman none the less. She always got what she wanted one way or another, weaseling her way into fashion week when she was 15 to befriend all the designers, so much so that they sent her free things to this day! Now at the ripe age of 22, Y/N had her own boutique showcasing her designs for special order. She did quite well for herself, seeing as she didn’t really need to worry about money. It was all sort of just finding outlets for her creativity so she wouldn’t lose her mind. 

Her father of course was disappointed that her mother couldn’t give him a son to take over the business, but pushed Y/N to take over the business once he retired. It really wasn’t happening though. It just wasn’t her thing, dealing with annoying workers who simply wouldn’t listen to her. Sounded like a nightmare, no wonder her dad was so grey. Since she didn’t want to take over the business her father had come up with another plan. Tried pairing her off with his loser interns, or potential replacements in hopes to keep his claws in the company.

She had heard so much about Harry Styles. God, her dad couldn’t be farther up his ass! Apparently he was English and smart, saved them lots of money, he was extremely well mannered. Things her dad said to butter her up usually. Of course, coming in to meet him, she wasn’t expected to see that. Her eyes instantly locked with his, only tearing away so she could scan up and down his body. She wanted him. He was perfect! Every single hair placed on his head, down to his ring clad hands, and to his work shoes. Y/N wasn’t expecting this, but god was she happy to see him. 

“Hi Harry, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” She hummed, turning up the charm.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you as well, Y/N.” Harry stood from his desk and rounded it to be polite, reaching his hand out. His smile was genuine, but his mind was nervous. His boss had often brought up Y/N in passing and said how he wanted her to marry someone from the company so he could know he was a good man, wanted him to meet her so badly, and now was that chance. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive— because fuck, that would be a lie. She was beautiful. Silky hair and glossy lips, chest on display and legs for days. Perfect hips and probably thighs, she was an absolute catch. But she was trouble. He could see it in her eyes and her cat like smile. She wanted something. He could see her mood shift from exasperated with her father for making her come, to interested. Which he wasn’t sure was dangerous or not. 

“Your father has told me a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” He murmured, trying to take his hand but failing when her grip tightened for a moment before actually letting go. He felt uneasy. She was looking at him like a cat that looked at a mouse— but he hid it easily.

“All good things I hope.” Y/N cooed, letting a little giggle as their hands separated. “I’ve heard lots about you as well, Daddy says you’re doing wonders for the company.” She smirked, knowing her father wouldn’t be too pleased with her letting Harry in on something but then again, she was playing the game. Y/N wanted Harry to know she had the power to make things happen for him but just as easily take them away. “I’m sure you’re very busy, but you should give me your number and we can do lunch sometime? I’d love to hear all about what your plans for the company are.” Y/N was kissing ass. God, she was practically oozing out desire. She was phrasing things so he couldn’t say no. She wanted to spend more time with him and she would, especially without her father so she could actually pull some moves. Her father had clearly gotten the hint that she liked Harry, smiling to himself. 

“Think that’s a wonderful idea sweetheart. It would be good for you, Harry could teach you a lot of things.” He nodded and Y/N’s smirk only deepened, “I’m sure he could...” She hummed, licking over her lips.

Harry could tell she was cornering him. Especially with the look she was giving him. She was quite a smooth talker and he could tell that just by looking at her that he was going to be in trouble. It made him feel a bit panicky inside. 

“Um... sure, yeah. I’d be happy to tell you about business.” He said clearly. Y/N looked like she didn’t care though, a laugh coming from her when he handed her his phone. The lock screen was his girlfriend, Caroline. She was a very sweet girl. Truthfully, she was a tiny bit too pushy when it comes to moving along. They’d been together for 6 months and she was trying to get them to move in together but he wasn’t ready yet. She was great but he still felt.. a bit flighty. She wasn’t exactly what he wanted but she was a lovely girl. He did like her quite a bit despite it all.

Y/N has typed in her number and the rest of her information onto his phone and texted herself his contact. She was going to make sure she had everything that she needed. She locked his phone and tapped the screen again seeing the photo of him and some girl. She was pretty, but she was alright. 

“Who’s this?” Y/N asked, looking over the photo for a minute before he answered. “Awe, isn’t that sweet.” She replied, her tone fake as all hell. She wanted him. That girl would be gone, she definitely wasn’t the type of girl who was going to give a man like Harry what he needed. Oh no. If he was the one inheriting her father’s company then he surely would be with someone just as driven, attractive, and interesting. Herself, she mostly meant herself and only herself. “I’ll see you soon then?” She raised a brow, already going to check her schedule. “I can do tomorrow at 12:30 if that’s good with you?” Y/N wasn’t asking, she was telling him the plan. “I’ll text you to address.” She smiled before he had the chance to answer. “It was lovely meeting you, Harry.” She smiled, going up to him and kissing his cheek. “Bye.” Y/N giggled and with that she made her way back to her father giving him a kiss on the cheek and a quick ‘bye daddy’ making eye contact with Harry and winking before leaving his office. 

Harry knew that women like Y/N wouldn’t let go easily. He knew that. It was just hard when he had the bit of internal want there too. He knew that he was bad for that, yes. He had a girlfriend. But the same way Y/N was drawn to him, he felt it. Which is exactly why he was going to push it all the way down. If it was at a bar and she was someone random? He would try it, but this was his boss's daughter. Every single red flag was there. Everyone. He worked so hard to get to where he was and he knew that this could single handedly destroy everything he worked for. If he was late for a date or got the wrong chocolates she could potentially kiss his career goodbye. He didn’t like this. His stomach hurt with nerves, feeling like he was going to be cornered into a wall and he hated it. He hated feeling nervous and worried because a woman like Y/N didn’t give up. She had the world handed to her and knew how to get what she wanted.

Y/N was excited though, finally one of her father’s prospects were actually promising! She couldn’t believe it, he’d actually chosen well not only for the job at hand but for her as well. 

“Daddy, I like him.” Y/N spoke on the phone to her father while she was getting her weekly mani pedi. “I need you to make sure you keep him around, okay? I’ll be in the office more... just— please make it happen?” She pleaded, knowing that as far as her father was in the loop she’d be okay. 

Later that day she had texted Harry the address to the restaurant that wasn’t too far from the building he worked at. It would be perfect for when they’d walk because together and Y/N would meet with her father to discuss what she could do for him. She wanted it to be perfect, wanted to get inside that beautiful head of his and hopefully get him to fall in love with her. She knew that she often came off as a crazy psycho bitch, but she could be nice and funny and sweet when she wanted. It just wasn’t something she wanted to do. People go nowhere being nice in her world, she learned that the hard way. 

----

There was no way he was going to ignore the brunch. Not after his boss had called him and said to take it easy today and take his time getting back to the office, wishing him well for the brunch. She had her father in the loop. She knew her power. He had put on normal work clothes, sunglasses on his head as he made his way in. Apparently she got a private table which made both fear and excitement rise in his head. He squashed the later down, making his way with square shoulders to her. He could be polite. Tell her business things. But he wasn’t going to develop into personal matters. He had a feeling that’s what she wanted but was hoping she may genuinely just be curious. 

“Hello, Y/N. I apologize I’m a minute late, the hostess wasn’t at the front and I couldn’t see you back here.” It was a back patio, beautifully decorated with vines and flowers and had a beautiful brick. It was great. Too bad he felt on edge. She looked gorgeous, but he had the feeling it was hard for her not to.

Y/N smiled when she saw him, admiring his choice of outfit. Did he always look this good? She hoped so. So clean and professional even when not wearing a single item of designer. That’s what Y/N called fashion, being able to pull off a look. They’d look great together. She could already see it all now, just how many events they’d go to. The dream. 

“No worries, Harry, I’m glad you could make it.” She cooed, “hope you don’t mind being out here... don’t really like being in there when it’s too crowded.” Y/N explained though it really was an attempt to just get him alone and really get to know him with ease, to not have to talk over anyone in a restaurant or have prying eyes. “Daddy said to put everything on his tab so, feel free to order as you please.” She told him, “he’s really excited to see me get out more, wants me to know more about the business... thinks you’ll be a good influence on me.” Y/N could tell he was nervous though, smirking to herself as she sipped on her mimosa. “Why are you nervous?”

“Hm? Oh, I have a big meeting with a client later.” He did, but he wasn’t nervous. She made him uncomfortable in the oddest way but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “The bigger accounts are a bit harder to navigate but it’ll be alright.” He paused when the waitress came over, seemingly pleased at Harry's presence. He knew he was decent looking. He was just polite, ordering water and a plate of French toast. He wasn’t drinking around her. No fucking way. “So what about the business were you interested in particularly?” He folded his hands in front of him. Was it an excuse to get him to come and see her? Most likely. Y/N was clever and quick and he knew that she thrives off of that and the fact that she thinks she’s going to get him. Her acrylic nails looked sharp.

Y/N smirked, knowing full well he was lying but she was going to let it go for his sake. He of course knew she was aware though, it made her feel a bit more smug. She was completely relaxed, just watching him as he spoke and sat all stiff in the chair. She wanted him to feel comfortable around her, but that would take a while. She needed to break him in. 

“You.” She flirted, taking a sip of her drink once again. Y/N wanted to know about the business if it involved him of course. He couldn’t exactly walk out either, her father would be very disappointed. “What? Does that come as a surprise to you?” She asked, genuinely amused. He was a good guy. He wasn’t even trying anything, he was pushing back even! Where on earth did her father find him? “Tell me about how you ended up over here in New York.” She started off small, deciding that she would ask the things she wanted to know that were less personal before she started convincing him about how he should break up with his girlfriend because he could do so much better.

God damn it. He truly was a cornered puppy. He couldn’t very well leave because he wasn’t going to let her father pay the tab. He was a gentleman in all aspects and even if he didn’t want to be here, he would stay and make it clear he couldn’t do anything with her. 

“That’s very nice of you.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t say I can get too personal however, I ended up here because I excelled in the London branch. Your father was impressed with my work and made it so I was transferred here.” He explained. “It was a nice change of scenery. New York is something else. Plus, I’d like to continue to grow in the company through the years and I’d have to be at the main branch to do so.” Y/N looked like she was eating every bit of information and that made him second guess what he was saying. Why was she so interested in him out of all people? He had nowhere near the money her father did. Wasn’t a big profile. He was a boring business guy with a fondness for cats, vintage things, and his guitar. Y/N furrowed her brows at his comment about how he couldn’t get too personal.

“Why not? I’m your boss's daughter, not your boss, Harry. There’s nothing wrong with making a friend, hmm?” She decided that that was the best way to get him to agree. Have him understand that though she was interested in him as far more than a friend, she wanted to get to know him. “Do you miss London?” She asked genuinely, “Feel like New York’s so different, doesn’t give you the same level of comfort.” Y/N shrugged, “sometimes wish we just moved over there instead but.. Daddy loves it here.” She sighed before asking her follow up question. “Do you travel a lot?” She wanted to make sure she covered all the bases, wanted to know what he was into and what he did in his free time. Y/N might seem like a bit of a snob but she could appreciate the little things. Maybe it was the perk of being raised by nannies? They gave that touch of humble that her parents never really handed down to her. 

“I think you’ll find a lot of success here though. Everyone loves you. Daddy’s always going on about how much you do for the company... don’t think you have much competition if you’re worried about not getting the promotion.” Y/N said honestly, “don’t think he trusts anyone else and to be honest, I wouldn’t either.”

“I do miss London, yes. Especially the food.” He was trying to keep the conversation in neutral territory. This was harder than he had originally thought, but thankfully she was talking about work and that he could talk about. “Thank you, I’m glad you both have confidence in me.” He let himself smile, happy to be in on that. “I want it but I do think I have a ways to go. I want to properly work for my promotions, learn the bases so that when I get there I can be the most knowledgeable.” That wasn’t a secret. Harry absorbed information like a sponge. “I do love working for this company. It’s where I’ve wanted to be for a long time and to see it shaping up is amazing. I wouldn’t risk it for anything.” A little comment he hoped she caught. “It’s nice to be able to get my mum a good Christmas gift too.” He said for a moment, forgetting she couldn’t relate to being broke.

Ah, he was one of those. She should have expected it, but something about him seemed too good to be true. He just kept getting better and better with every moment of speaking to him and she was growing more and more frustrated because well. One, he had a girlfriend who definitely didn’t realize the incredible man she had on her hands and two, that he wasn’t asking her anything about herself. Did he not want to know? Of course he did. Y/N caught his comment but chose to ignore it. She didn’t think of it as a risk, it was more of an investment. 

“That’s always a nice feeling.” Y/N smiled at his comment about his mom, thanking the waitress as she brought out some appetizers. “As far as that goes, I don’t really think you have /anything/ to worry about.” She made it sure he too would understand her point. “So New York’s been treating you well then... how long have you and....” She pointed to his phone waiting for him to give her a name. “Caroline— how long have you and Caroline been together?” Y/N wanted to dirt, if he wasn’t going to give it to her himself she’d have to pull it out of him herself.”

He took her words into consideration. The thing was— he didn’t know her. He was going to be as nice as he could be until she started pushing buttons but she had the self destruct right in the palm of her dainty hand. He was worried about that. 

“Oh— yes, Caroline.” He smiled. “She’s lovely. Met her through some friends. We’ve been together for about 6 months.” He did like her but there was no passion and excitement behind his words. Fondness, sure. But that was about it. “New York has been treating me well. I like it. I don’t love the smells but, such is life.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulder before taking a bite. “Have you lived here your entire life?” He didn’t know that. He knew that she had a pony that her dad bought her because he had told him the story before, so he wasn’t sure where she lived. Where the damn pony was, but it was a tame question. Safe.

Y/N could tell just from the way he talked about her that she wasn’t what he wanted long term. If he really liked this girl, he’d be on the edge of his seat with fire burning in his eyes as he told her about how amazing she was. Instead he was sitting there, looking at Y/N with pupils dilated. 

“So you like her, but she’s not what you really want huh?” She stated simply, chuckling at his stunned expression. “Sorry, am I wrong? Dunno, feel like after six months someone’s a bit more than lovely.” Y/N knew she was pressing a button but she wouldn’t be pushing it if she knew she was wrong. “Or, you’re just being choice with your words... cause it’s me, don’t want me knowing too much. I get it.” She was reading him like a book. “Don’t ever underestimate me, save yourself the effort and the nerves.” And just like that she was already on to answering his question. “In New York? Yes, in the city no. My childhood home is in the Hamptons, but we all moved into the city when I graduated highschool.” Y/N explained, “it’s... nice? I live on my own on the upper east side, run my own boutique and help my parents out where I can. I’ve got lots to do, but yeah... wish I had more fun things to do.”

He didn’t want to be a play toy for an heiress. Yes, maybe she was correct about Caroline but he wasn’t about to dump her because she thinks he should. At least, that’s what her talk sounded like. He hated that she could read him. 

“Oh. That sounds nice, having your own boutique. I’m sure there’s plenty of fun things to do if you look hard enough. I’ve been focusing on work lately but I know there’s plenty of things out there if you look elsewhere.” No. He wasn’t giving in to her even though he knew that’s what she wanted. Y/N was going to try and wear him down, but he was hoping he could start early with ignoring the obvious digs. “Is the boutique what you’d like to do? Or do you have other career options you’d want to look at?” He asked, trying to keep his actual curiosities at bay. There were lots he wanted to know but this was one of them. A safe one.

The fact that he even ignored her little dig said enough. The point of that was more for him to know that she could read him and that he shouldn’t try and hide from her because it only made things more obvious. Maybe it was her being hyper aware, having learnt all the tricks people used to get close to her or better yet fuck with her heart. 

“I mean it’s amazing, it really is. I love designing and getting actual pieces out for people to wear and buy... try to make sizing as inclusive as I possibly can because I know there is a market for high end plus size clothing.” Y/N explained, “I guess it’s more of myself wanting to branch out. I like doing lots of things, but can’t seem to separate my own work from my parents.” She chuckled, deciding to be a little vulnerable and she wasn’t that girl. “Maybe it’s a bit cheesy, but ultimately what I want is a family.” Y/N knew it might be a bit much but if she wanted him to understand her, if she wanted him to be a friend and not just some guy who works for her dad, she had to show him who she was. Not that she ever hid anything anyway. “Really just want to be a mom and spend all the time in the world I can with them... I have the privilege of not needing to worry about financial stability so.. yeah.”

He was surprised that she was being seemingly vulnerable with him. This... this type of Y/N? He could like. He could be friends with. When it didn’t seem like there was an ulterior motive, he could definitely be more comfortable. 

“That isn’t cheesy. It’s something that’s very nice, Y/N. I do want a family one day so I can understand it as well.” He didn’t want her to think wanting to be a mother was bad or cheesy. It was admirable. His mum worked hard and raised both himself and his sister while their father worked an office job. They’d never been rich or even super comfortable, but they’d made ends meet. “I think going in a fashion route is good. Especially expanding in sizes if you see a niche in the market for it.” He praised that decision. He was in an investment firm. “It will be difficult to do that with affluent parents however, your work will surely speak for itself in the fashion industry if you want to continue down that path.” He had faith this woman could get nearly everything she wanted, but he could understand being frustrated by her parents' influence.

“I’m glad you think so.” Y/N smiled, feeling herself get all warm and fuzzy inside because no only was he being extremely sweet and kind, but supportive? He had officially ticked every possible box Y/N had for someone she wanted to date and marry. The poor man didn’t realize that he had just signed himself off to being hers without knowing. She’d stop at nothing for him. “What do you do when you’re not investing then? Hmm?” She asked, taking a bite of her eggs Benedict. Y/N felt like since she was more vulnerable he could be too, maybe he’d show her a side to him she didn’t know about, a side that she could possibly relate to. It was so strange, having a man not giving into her despite her attempts. She’d never had this happen before but it made her want him more. Y/N could only hope that he could see past the exterior of her and realize that she was the perfect candidate. She was exciting, young, had money, offered him job security, and most importantly incredible sex. All with time though, she’d get him to crack.

“I play guitar. I have a kitten, he’s growing up fast. Um... I watch documentaries quite a bit.” He admitted. Harry wishes he didn’t have to be so careful but he could still see too much interest in her eyes and he was nervous about her wanting more than just a simple friendship or work relationship. One slip up with her could cost him his job and life here. He’d have to start from scratch at a new company. It wasn’t what the man wanted at all. “I collect records? So I listen to those. I do a lot of research on my own time. Uh, go to bars with friends though I’m not much of a bar hopper.” This wasn’t anything he didn’t want anyone to know, so why did he feel so odd telling her? He didn’t want to unfairly judge Y/N, because so far she had been nice. Pushy, but nice.

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes had properly lit up and she put her fork and knife down. “Do you have pictures? Can I see him? What’s his name?” Y/N was so excited, it would probably be embarrassing to most but she only ever was this soft with animals and babies. “Oh my goodness!” She cooed at the photo, “I have to meet him!” Again, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. “My mom never let me have pets growing up because of the furniture and now I travel too much... I would hate to leave a little angel all alone or even have them go elsewhere...” Y/N sighed, picking up her utensils again and felt herself get all giddy inside. Harry really was perfect. “That’s cool! So you’re like a proper vintage guy then?” She raised a brow, already thinking of all the cool things she could get her hands on for him. Even if they weren’t dating Y/N would probably do it anyway just because she was so damn fond of him. He was being so incredibly sweet, on a lunch date with her because he wanted to keep his job. It sort of made her sad, but she’d never admit it to him. Y/N wished he didn’t have a girlfriend and that she met him elsewhere so that there wouldn’t be this massive problem. Wished that it was different so that he’d want her and treat her nice. She was still very determined to get him. She knew she would.

He could see a bit of Y/N he was positive other people didn’t. Or, he thought so. There was a lot of softness in there that she definitely hid. He wondered why but had to remind himself that it wasn’t his problem. It hurt to think like that because Y/N was so sweet right now but he was protecting himself. Being kind was a given but he needed to set boundaries if she tried to push past them. He didn’t miss the fact she said she was definitely going to meet his kitten. When the brunch ended, Harry put his cash on the table. 

“I’m sorry, I’m going to be late. I will walk you to your car though?” He wasn’t sure if she had a car or if she walked, whatever it was. He wasn’t sure how to go about this. His head needed a break so he could refocus.

“Oh, that’s fine. Don’t worry about that though, I’m actually meant to be headed back to the office to meet my father anyway. He wants me to help with some things, but thank you for the offer that’s really sweet.” Y/N smiled softly at him, not forgetting to thank him for paying for the meal though he really, really didn’t have to at all. That just made it more of a date. As they walked out Y/N hummed, placing her sunglasses over her eyes as they began walking down the street towards the office. She stayed relatively quiet on their way there, just minding her own business. It wasn’t awkward silence though, perfectly comfortable even up to when they got to her father’s floor. “Thank you so much for coming, I had a really nice time.” Y/N smiled warmly at him, genuinely meaning it this time and he could definitely tell. “We’ll do this again.” She hummed, again kissing his cheek before bidding him a goodbye and heading towards her father's office. Y/N was persistent.

----

He couldn’t get her to back off. Every week, Harry has a new gift from her. A rare record. Gourmet cat treats for Oliver. A vintage Rolling Stones tee shirt. It was driving him crazy. He had told her over and over that it wasn’t appropriate to give him gifts and yet, every week he ended up with her placing one on his desk. Nearly every day though, she would be at the office and would spend an hour lounging in his office. When she would get too flirty Harry would shut it down with a simple reminder that she was being inappropriate. To which she would laugh and roll her eyes. 

Today though, he was probably going to lose it. Caroline and him had gotten in a fight the night prior because she was trying to slowly move into his place without him knowing— but he knew. And while she had originally come to apologize, it turned into a whining fest. 

“Haz, please? It’s been 6 months. It’s really time to take it to the next level.” He winced at the nickname. God, he hated that shit so much. The cringiest one. 

“Caro, love... no. I’m not ready to go further than what we are doing now. Sleepovers are what we’re doing. I can’t rush into such a decision.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not rushing! I barely get to see you as it is. It’s not fair.” And she had a point. Harry hadn’t been close lately. 

“I’m busy, I’m working. I’m sorry.”

Y/N had seen the tall blonde enter the office. She knew that she shouldn’t be nosy, shouldn’t interrupt and it probably took her about 10 times to convince herself that she needed a reason to go over there. So, she waited till her father had a paper or two that needed to be given to Harry and she strutted down with her plan set. She knocked on the door twice as usual and stepped inside with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey! I— oh.” Y/N paused and closed the door behind her. Showtime. “Didn’t realize you had company, my apologies.” Y/N spoke and walked over to hand him the papers, noticing he had been burning the candle she’d gotten him. Oh he made it so fucking easy. “I’m glad you like the candle though, they make one in those sent for the wax burner you have.” Y/N remembered he had mentioned that he couldn’t burn it in the house because Oliver was still quite curious and he was nervous about him knocking something over.

Harry closed his eyes. God damn it. Y/N was a pretty, rich girl. Young. Hot. And Caroline did have a bit of a jealous streak. She wouldn’t at all be okay with thinking Y/N was over at his place. She already was having her insecurities.

“Thank you, Y/N—“ 

“Wait— how do you know about the wax burner?” Caroline was making his blood pressure rise. God damn it. Why? He was just trying to get work done and two women were going to have a pissing contest over him— one who didn’t even have a right to? 

“Girls, that’s not important—“

“Yes it is? Is she why you’ve been busy?”

Y/N was smiling on the inside but part of her wanted to leave and let him explain. Of course, Y/N didn’t want to make it seem like she was doing it on purpose so she got a bit defensive. 

“It’s not that hard to find out, I gave him a candle and he told me why he couldn’t burn it in his house.” Y/N spoke calmly, watching the woman narrow her eyes at her. “What, you haven’t heard of being attentive?” Okay, maybe that was a bit much. “All the information is on the papers, H. Don’t have to brief you. See you later.” She said calmly, she knew it would get under the woman’s skin and made her way out of the office and back towards her fathers. Maybe she was evil, but she was a little pot stirrer. She wanted things to bubble over on their own, Y/N just had to be there to catch him. 

“Who is she? She seems awfully comfortable with you.” Caroline was getting antsy. She could tell how on edge Harry got when Y/N walked in the room, of course she would assume something was up. Even if she was assuming wrong. The thing was, he couldn’t technically be mad at Y/N because she hadn’t done anything inherently bad. Sure, she mentioned something no one would know unless they were close but it was a simple thing. 

“She’s Y/N, the boss's daughter. She’s been very welcoming.” He said simply, taking a swig of his coffee. For fucks sake. He was going to die if these women didn’t give him a break. 

“Why is she giving you candles? It’s weird. How much time do you spend with her?” She asked, obviously not happy. 

“I don’t know why she gave it to me, to be nice? Love, you’re completely overthinking this. She helps her dad out and runs papers. Sometimes she chats and asks me business questions. Nothing that you’re thinking about is happening.” He promised. It wasn’t. He hadn’t laid a hand on her. Y/N was touchy. Liked to fix his tie or his hair and multiple times he had said to not, it was appropriate. She didn’t seem to care— but he wasn’t going to tell Caroline that. 

The girl just nodded, leaving the office. Harry has told her not to come if it wasn’t urgent because he was usually busy. And now she wonders if he was busy with papers or in between the leggy girl’s thighs. Of course it was fate that had her almost crashing into her on the way out. Never in her life had she felt territorial over a man like this but Y/N was an obvious threat. 

“What is going on with you and my boyfriend?” She asked seriously.

Y/N was simply going to get her father and herself another coffee when Caroline nearly knocked her off her feet with how fast she was moving. If that wasn’t enough to piss Y/N off, the girl had the nerve to speak to her in a threatening tone in her father’s building? This girl didn’t know what she was doing clearly or how spiteful Y/N could be. She was trying to be nice originally, but she didn’t appreciate her tone or the look she had in her eyes. 

“Unfortunately nothing, yet.” Y/N responded in a snarky tone, “but you keep at the jealous girlfriend look, it’ll do you wonders.” She rolled her eyes and blocked her when she tried to storm out. “I better not see you in this building again? Got it?” Y/N raised her brow, “have a nice day.” She smiled at her, pushing past her to walk back towards her father’s office. Oh Y/N was livid. Livid. 

“That fucking bitch!” Y/N slammed the door with her foot behind her, moving the coffees on to her father’s desk. “Harry’s girlfriend was here and was chatting to him when I went to drop papers off.. I simply made a comment about the candle I gave Harry and she went off... stopped me in the hallway and questioned me all threateningly, like she had the fucking right.”

“Take what she wants.” Her father said easily. “You’re trying to. She thinks that. Take what she’s been trying to keep. I think you and Harry are a lovely couple. It’s a shame he doesn’t see the vision yet, however he will come around.” He was positive. He wanted the upper hand. Yes, he loved Y/N and wanted her happy, and Harry would promise that but he would ultimately have someone to give the company to, and still be involved. Keep it in his family. It was perfect. “I know my daughter, and I know you’re relentless enough that he should be cracking soon. Go talk to him. Comfort him. If his girlfriend was causing issues, being a source of comfort could help. Make a move.” He suggested. An evil man was always a business one.

So that’s what Y/N did. 

She took a second before making her way over to Harry’s office again. This time it wasn’t to give him papers or flirt or anything like that, it was to genuinely check up on him. Y/N knew she had been pretty forward and though he had told her to stop she was still being pretty relentless which, if the tables were turned, would be very problematic. It probably was now too. Y/N knocked twice on the door and stepped inside.

“Harry?” She asked in a soft and gentle tone, one she didn’t use with anyone. She closed the door behind herself and stood there, looking at him. “Are you alright?” She asked softly, “I didn’t mean to cause all that... I’m sorry if I did.” She really didn’t mean to make it that big of a mess. “Know you might not want to talk to me, but... I am here to listen if you need me to.” Y/N offered, hoping that he didn’t take it as some ploy to try and get to him. She really did just want to be there for him. She didn’t want to make it about her, which was rare, even though he could appreciate that.

“Yeah... m’okay, thanks. You didn’t say anything wrong. You just said an innocent comment but, she’s been a bit angry lately with me and thinkin’ I’m avoiding her so it made her upset.” He murmured. She wasn’t trying to get to him. She was genuinely asking and he could tell from the look on her face. It felt really nice, actually. Having someone ask him. He didn’t have his mum or dad or sister here so, seeing someone at least care a bit was nice. “It was... you just said wax melters? Am I crazy?” He rubbed his forehead. “Fuck. There’s nothin’ going on with us and still, she assumes. I’m good, Y/N. Thanks for checking on me.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, expecting her to let herself out.

“She asked me again when she was leaving... what was going on between us, and I told her nothing..” Y/N wanted to be honest with him too, wanted to let him know so he realized the level of jealousy his girlfriend was having. She didn’t want to leave him like this, she could understand the feeling to an extent but she would only leave if he asked her too. Y/N noticed he was too much in his head, clearly struggling to ground himself so she took the initiative. She moved to sit in his lap, her hand gently cupping the side of his neck and rubbing her thumb over the soft skin. She knew nothing technically was going on between them, but was there actually nothing there? Maybe now was the time to ask? “Know I’ve been really forward with you and I apologize if it’s been too much, because if that’s something that’s causing your stress I’ll back off— I will.” Y/N spoke gently, knowing he wouldn’t want her to, but she had to at least offer.

He hated how good her touch felt. How he wanted to melt into it and let her give him attention but every time he thought about giving in, he would remember his job. The years of being a stupid coffee boy. He couldn’t do that again. However right now, he felt vulnerable and upset at Caroline for doing that shit and especially confronting Y/N when realistically she hadn’t said anything wrong. 

“You’re not... fuck, Y/N.” He groaned. “I hate that I like when you tease me and touch me. I can’t like it, I can’t like you. It puts me in so much danger.” Plus, he was overcome with thoughts about her in his most intimate moments. The last two times he’s had sex with Caroline, he thought about Y/N instead. Took her from behind and imagined her unstead. It was so wrong. He knew that. “It’s okay. I just... you make it so hard for me.” He knew there she knew that. Especially when he felt her hand gently caress his cheek and her soft little pout. “It’s not fair that you’re everywhere and I can’t stop thinking about it when I get home... fuck. It’s so frustrating and I can’t even hate you for it.” He couldn’t never hate her. “Do you know how crazy it’s making me? When you come in here and make me want to cheat just by batting your lashes at me? It’s so fucked and unfair that all you have to do is giggle and I want to risk my fucking job— fuck.” He hissed. “And I can’t tell if you’re toying with me or like me for real. I can’t tell and It drives me mad.”

Y/N felt her heart swell up at his words. It felt tight in her chest, so many words buzzing through her mind as she tried to figure out what she could say first. God, she just. 

“I really like you Harry.” She said simply, forcing him to look in her eyes, her voice soft and quiet. “And I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold back because of who I am— I'd never do that to you, or to anyone for that matter.” She searched his eyes for a moment, feeling out the silence before speaking again. “And I’m not one to go after someone who is spoken for, but it’s you... you just have to be so damn perfect and I can’t help but feel like I can treat you better than she can... especially after what happened today I—” 

His silence was killing her. She was so thankful that he liked her, that he felt the same way she did but he didn’t want to risk his job and didn’t want to be a bad guy who cheats. Y/N wished he could understand she wasn’t asking for either of those things necessarily. It wasn’t even that he had doubts that she could treat him better. He quite liked the idea of her. He would need to open his heart to her but that wasn’t an option. Would it ever be? Maybe once he got the promotion but nothing could stop this growth he was wanting. However, she looked so soft. So so sweet and sincere as she told him that she thought he was perfect. Y/N being honest? It was something he liked. When she was like this and it dialed down her brat attitude, that’s what he enjoyed. 

He didn’t think before he did it and that was his fault, but he grabbed her face, and kissed her. He wasn’t able to stop himself. 

Just as she thought she’d fucked it up, his mouth was on hers. She wasn’t dreaming, this was really happening. She let one of her hands tangle in his hair, wanting to take advantage of what could be the only chance she had at this, a soft pleased moan muffled against his lips. Y/N let him have full control of this kiss, letting him take what he needed from her so that she could prove just how submissive she could be if he only let her be. She wanted him so bad and she felt like she’d finally gotten something from him, even if it was just a little kiss it was already a massive step in the right direction. When he tried to pull back she deepened the kiss, desperate to keep this moment going for as long as possible. She didn’t want it to end, didn’t want him to decide it was a mistake, Y/N just wanted to cherish it and remind herself that a nice man could like her and treat her well.

Harry knew that this kiss was going to place him in a lot of dangerous areas. Y/N would be relentless on getting more— which secretly thrilled and terrified him at the same time. Caroline, She couldn’t ever find out about this. But mostly? Her mouth was perfect. She tasted sweet and had a hint of coffee and some sort of sweet gloss, but he didn’t care. He loved it. He let himself lose, allowing the kiss to deepen. Her tongue running against his and the softest, most cock teasing noises coming from her as she clung to him. Submissive and soft and fuck, perfect. It pained him to pull away, Y/N chasing his mouth and pecking him as he tried to speak. Though, he wasn’t trying to truly stop her yet. 

“Baby— no...” He felt her bite on his bottom lip, his heart beating. “Shit— Y/N, we can't.” He finally pulled away, taking in deep breaths. Fuck. He had fucked up. So why didn’t it feel like it?

The pet name rolled so beautifully off of his tongue that her heart fluttered despite the fact that he was telling her to stop kissing him. It hurt her, of course, having to be the better choice but never being the priority. With soft pleading eyes, she sat with a pouty lip while her finger slowly twirled around a curl at the base of his neck. 

“Why is it so wrong?” She asked softly, “Yes, you’re with her but... if you want me, you can break things off.” Y/N knew it was easier said than done but she was giving him an option. “And I’m pretty sure my father cares more about you more than me...” She chuckled sadly. She wished she was joking too. Y/N was soft and vulnerable now, having gotten a taste of what she wanted most. She didn’t want to go back to her apartment and be all alone. She wanted warmth, wanted someone to love and someone to love her. “Why is it such a bad thing to want me?”

“That isn’t true. He loves you. I think he finds it easier to talk to me because I’m a male and in business. You’re his daughter.” He tried to soothe. God. He just made shit a million times more difficult. “It's wrong because... what if something happens? What if shit goes wrong and then you get angry or hurt and your father fires me? What if people start shit and think I’m sleeping with you or something to get a promotion?” He said. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It just... fuck, this is hard. Maybe later. But for the time being... we can’t do this. I have to figure things out on my own and get it together. Think hard about it because it isn’t just a fling for me. This is my life, my reputation, and my career on the line.” He whispered, standing up. He was gentle when he put her on the ground.

Y/N let out a sigh, did he not realize that she had just as much power as her father? She was just about to make a point but he made it clear that his career was more important than whatever they had. She could understand that, but she didn’t agree. She would have him, especially now that she knew he liked her in the same way. 

“What if later is too late? What if I told you being with me can insure you have a job for life? It’s not just a fling for me either. It’s my life too, you know?” Y/N spoke quietly, “wish you’d have a little faith in me.” She said, clearly frustrated with the situation. Y/N decided she’d give him his space, looking at the time and shaking her head. “I better get going.” She spoke after clearing her throat, collecting her things as if nothing had happened and walked towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Harry.” Y/N gave him a sweet smile and closed the door behind her on the way out. 

Another long and lonely night.

----

Harry wasn’t sure if the kiss was a mistake or not. He wasn’t one to believe in regret, he did something and he had to face the consequences— however this? This was a whole lot. If he had thought Y/N had been much before, it was nothing compared to now. She came in and blatantly flirted with him, leaning over his desk in her sexy as fuck tops or dresses and gave him views he had been thirsting after, knowing he couldn’t. That he needed this job and she was tempting him at every turn. Not only that, but she would bring him coffee every morning and had figured out what scone he liked, coming to sit on his desk and flirting until Harry basically demanded she relax and go help her father. 

Why would she stop? She wasn't alone in her want and she knew that now. It was his fault, because he had shown his hand and Y/N knew every small rejection wasn’t genuine. It was to save his job, but internally, he wanted to give in. Still, she would straighten his jacket or come behind him and fix his tie, talking into his ear. Enough to make him distracted half the day. When he was called into the big bosses office, and saw Y/N? He was fucking terrified. However, he was smiling wide and telling Harry to sit— so he did.

“As you know we’re looking to expand our branches across major cities in Europe. I just got off a call with Jean Pierre, he needs me in paris this weekend, but I’ve already booked mandatory meetings with the builders down in Philadelphia.” Her father explained, looking down at his paperwork and then up at Harry. “I need you to go and meet with him and handle business. You’re already briefed on everything you need to know, just need you over there.” He smiled, of course leaving out the most important part. “I’m having Y/N accompany you, seeing as there are a few events you’ll be attending. She’ll show you the ropes, show you around Paris as well, won’t you sweetheart?” Y/N smiled brightly, nodding her head. 

“It’ll be amazing, promise I’ll show you a good time.” She cooed, watching his reaction carefully because of course he’d think she planned this. 

“All expenses will be covered and you will be paid. This is a huge favor I’m asking of you, I know. Have your suit sizes and passport information sent to me.” Her father requested, knowing that Y/N would want to dress him up for the occasion.

Well fuck.

He was going to be alone with Y/N, in the fucking city of love, and he couldn’t say no. Not that he necessarily wanted to— but it was putting him in such a temptation spot that it made him nervous. The business, he could handle. That wasn’t what made him worried. It was Y/N and her ability to wear him down and be relentless even after he tries to show no reaction whatsoever. She just knew how he was feeling. And she had been sweeter than pie to him, working slowly on bringing him to the spot she wanted. He knew that. 

“Oh— of course. How long is this trip for?” He asked curiously, side eyeing Y/N for a moment. He was praying for a short one but by the look on her face, it was definitely a week or more.

“Well, you’d be leaving Friday and arriving Saturday, your first meeting is on Monday and your last event is Friday night so... let’s say a week including travel?” He explained, already booking a hotel for the two of them at Y/N’s favorite place to stay. “Do you need to make any arrangements?” He raised his brow at him. 

“He’ll need to make some for Oliver.” Y/N pointed out, her father looked at her with furrowed brows. “He has a kitty, daddy.” Y/N cooed with a smile, “I’m sure his girlfriend can take care of him.” She said with a small smirk, knowing full well the game that she was playing. He had yet to break up with her and she was hoping he’d do it soon so it wasn’t on his cautiousness. Y/N was already packing in her head, knowing exactly what she wanted to bring and needed to bring. 

“I’ve forwarded the itinerary to Y/N, she’ll act as your assistant for the weekend, utilize her in any way you will.” Her father explained and Y/N smirked at that. She sure hoped he did.

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

[part 2]

A/N: a bit of a cliffhanger there, but oof.. tell us what you think! - n + d

masterlist

[babbushka]

Hide Your Smile

Flip Zimmerman x Reader 

11.5k ; Warnings for: Dark!fic (graphic depictions of violence [drunken violent outbursts, domestic violence, domestic abuse {physical and verbal}], blood and gore, graphic brutal murder, mild stalking, possessive behavior), & NSFW content (Car sex/fingering)

Also available on AO3!

(this fic was written in collaboration with my amazing friends and followers here. Thank you all so much for voting in the polls to determine this oneshot, I hope you enjoy it!)

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

You don't own me I'm not just one of your many toys You don't own me Don't say I can't go with other boys

And don't tell me what to do Don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display 'cause

You don't own me...

Darkness, all around.

Nothing but hot wet earth, mud sinking under your feet, swallowing you whole.

Rain, thudding against the ground, against your back as you are chased by a monster in the night, bitter breath haunting the back of your neck, the hair rising on your arms only to be drenched down by the torrential downpour flooding your lungs.  

The world blurs around you, and you can’t tell, can’t tell which way is up, which way is forward. Things feel slow, thick, you blink but the spots only multiply. There’s a rush in your ears, a gruesome thud thud thudding – is that your pulse? You don’t know.

Blood stings your eyes, dirt caked into the backs of your molars. You can’t see, you can’t hear, you don’t know what’s going on, you see lights in the distance but when you run towards them they seem farther and farther away. Claws and teeth nip at your heels, you can’t stop running, can’t stop no matter how badly your legs ache, because if you stop even for just a moment, he’ll get you, and who knows what will become of you then.

Somewhere far away, a million miles away, Leslie Gore sings and your friends dance in a cookie cutter house in a cookie cutter town. But there in the woods, as something closes around your arm and drags you down to the ground,

you scream.

The party had been going well enough, hadn’t it? Josh hadn’t taken his hand off of you all evening, and wasn’t that something just dandy. Things had been getting tense between the two of you lately, you try not to think about all those heated arguments and cold shoulders that your boyfriend had dropped atop your head. You could ignore all of that now, he didn’t mean it, you knew that.

Maybe he did mean it, but he wasn’t meaning it now, as he dances with you in the dimly lit living room. You weren’t so sure what time it even was, gosh the rain was coming down so hard and making the skies nearly pitch black; why, it coulda been two in the morning for all you knew!

You give a strained smile to Josh for a brief moment, before laying your head back down on his chest. You think he looks relatively dashing tonight, dressed up for the party. New Year’s Eve 1962, could you believe it? Or well, it’d be 1962 in a couple minutes, but still.

You wore a mini-dress with the grooviest pattern you could find, some bright purple tights and white block heels, and you’d done your hair up so high you were sure you could feel it swaying on top of your head. It was very on trend these days, this sort of hairstyle. From what you could tell, anyway. You knew that this party was important for Josh, was important that he show up and make a good appearance with his football buddies, there were guys here that knew NFL draft scouts and he needed to impress them so he could get on their good side.

You wanted to look nice. He looked nice too, in his letterman jacket and jeans. Maybe he could have dressed up a little more, put a little more effort in. It was alright, it was fine. He gelled his hair down, that was more than you were expecting.

Thunder cracks across the sky and you involuntarily press yourself closer to him – he’ll hold you, won’t he? You wait for his arms to tighten around you, but they never do. Disappointed, but not surprised, you think.

“What’s your problem babe?” He asks, his voice slurred. You realize you’ve stopped dancing, stopped the short back and forth of your feet and he’d picked up on that.

“Nothing Josh. Just you know, the thunder and all.” You shrug, but he only scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“It’s not even real, it can’t hurt you, get a grip.” Josh steps away from you, away from the dance floor.

There are prying eyes there in the dark, and you’re embarrassed by the volume in his voice. He doesn’t realize how loud he can be sometimes, you know that, especially when he’s a little more buzzed than normal. He’s been getting more and more buzzed these days, you didn’t think it was good, was healthy. Just because he was of legal drinking age didn’t mean that you should dump alcohol into your body, not the way he did anyway.

“Right, of course Josh, sorry.” You grit your teeth, clench your jaw.

“Why don’t you go get me another beer, make yourself useful.” He dismisses you, turning towards his group of friends on the football team, towards bigger and stronger boys than he is, an attempt to weasel his way inside their group.

You’ve had quite enough of being dismissed, pushed aside. You’ve had enough. You’d been thinking of leaving him for a while, thinking about telling him what for, for once and for all. It never felt like the right time, something about him always made you feel like something bad would happen if you tried. But you’re at a point where you’re not being given any other choice.

You watch him laugh with his friends, with these college seniors, big boys on campus, and your heart races in your chest. A very small part of your brain fantasizes late at night about killing him, pushing him off some cliff or into traffic, an accident. Always an accident.

You’d never do it of course – of course not. Good girls didn’t kill their star athlete boyfriends.

But.

But maybe…maybe if something were to happen to him, you wouldn’t be so upset, would you?

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” The words tumble past your lips without much thought, and you don’t really even register it until the whole group of jocks go silent and Josh turns around slowly, menacingly, to stare you down.

“…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, angry.  

“You’re supposed to drive me back home after this, I just want to make sure you’ll be alright to drive.” You’re unrelenting, shoulders square and jaw tight. If he thought he was going to be a jackass to win brownie points, then he had another thing coming.

The jocks only sip their beers, carefully watching. You wonder if any of them would come to your defense, but their silence is telling. You decide you hate them.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, I asked you to get me a fucking beer.” Josh shoves his red cup into your hand and you decide you hate him too.

Without another word, you accept the cup and with a forced smile, make your way to the kitchen where people are crowded by kegs and bottles.

You give a small sigh while you pour a cup of whatever shitty draft they’d gotten for the party. Part of you wishes you hadn’t come at all, you knew it could have only ended like this, being ignored and belittled all evening.

You wish that Flip were there, and you sigh again.

Philip ‘Flip’ Zimmerman, your best friend. The handsome basketball player, the guy who’s got his life together. A good job at the lumbermill, probably going to be a manager or something, the CEO one day. Smart, so smart! You can’t help but think of how many nights he tutored you for math with gentle eyes. And funny, and kind, and nice to you. He’s a couple years older than you and probably doesn’t think of you as anything other than a friend, but…but for a moment, you imagine what it might be like to call Flip your man.

You wonder if Flip would hold you tight when the thunder cracks across the sky, and a small smile threatens to creep up on your face. He definitely would, he’s done it before, hasn’t he? Given you his jacket to keep you dry from the rain, strong arms around your shoulders. Your cheeks begin to warm at the thought, at the way you can practically smell the cologne he wears whenever you’d rest your head on his shoulder.

You wish Flip were here. Or maybe no, maybe you just wish you were with him alone, were with him anywhere that wasn’t here. You wish you were cozied up on the couch in his Ma’s house, watching some scary movie and tucking yourself under his chin while you share a bowl of stove-top popcorn.

Lightning splinters across the clouds through the window in the kitchen, and you sigh again.

You had asked him to come, you really did try. But he said he was busy with work stuff, and he couldn’t. You admired that about him, his work ethic. He was so dedicated to everything he did, and even though you wanted to be selfish and whine and complain about needing his attention, you respected when he put his foot down.

Watching the froth begin to fade from the top of the beer cup, you think to yourself that tonight’s it, the last night you’d deal with Josh. You decide that you’ll go over, give him his beer, and then as soon as he drops you home whenever this party is supposed to end, you’ll tell him not to bother calling you ever again.

Something inside of you lightens up at the thought, like a weight slowly slipping off your shoulders. You can’t help but smile a little bit, at the thought of no longer being with him. Maybe…maybe if Flip saw you were single, he’d make a move of his own. Your head is in the clouds thinking about Flip, when you accidentally bump into someone on your way back to the living room.

A little bit of beer sloshes onto a boy’s shirt, and you recognize him as one of Josh’s new pals.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologize for the mess, he grabs you by the arm. His grip is harsh, and he yanks you around for a second, the beer spilling everywhere, all over the floor, onto your new white shoes.

“Hey J, are you gonna control your woman or what?” The guy – was his name Tommy? – sneers down at you. He’s tall, and he’s strong, you can start to feel a dull ping of pain on your arm where his fingers are digging in deep.

“I’m not his to control.” You wrench yourself out of the guy’s hold, stumbling backwards a few feet from the force of it.

Josh is up off the couch in an instant, infuriated with you.

He’s drunk, eyes glassed over like some shark, dark and empty. He backhands you across the jaw, sends you falling to the floor despite your best efforts, the crack of your skull against the wooden panels calling spots to your vision.

“Don’t ever speak back to someone like that, are you out of your fucking mind?” He wrangles you back up off the floor, grabs you by the front of your dress and hauls you up roughly, unkindly.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, your nails scratching at his face, teeth bared in a rage of your own, pent-up anger that you’ve been swallowing for six months as you smack him across the face back in retaliation, angry and spitting, “Get off of me!”

Josh doesn’t let up, in fact he doubles down, kicks at your ankles so your knees cave in to try and support yourself as his hand shoots up from the collar of your blouse to wrapping around your throat. He drags you like that through the party, and you can’t help but wonder why no one is saying anything, doing anything? Do they not hear you? Do they not care?

“I’ll make you regret that – I’ll make you regret everything.” Josh hisses lowly in your ear as he forces you through the house by the scruff of your neck, sour breath of a drunken stupor stinging like a brand across your cheek.

“I already do.” You choke, struggling against his hold, against his hands.

You manage to elbow him in the stomach, hard, hard enough that he doubles over from the wind knocked out of his lungs, and you run.

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

Don't try to change me in any way You don't own me Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay

I don't tell you what to say I don't tell you what to do So just let me be myself That's all I ask of you

Shoving through the crowd of people, a hundred faces you don’t recognize, smiles fading into confused glares, you run. 

Thunder, rain, lightning, music deafens in your ears as you look for the door. Why is it so dark at this party? Where in the house are you? Hallways lead to doors that lead to nowhere, and you can hear his footsteps, can hear him running running running after you.

Didn’t you pass through this room before? Where was a telephone, surely whoever’s house this was, surely they had a telephone. But who would you call? You couldn’t call your parents, couldn’t let them know you snuck out of the house. You could call Flip, yes, that was it! You’d call Flip, if only you could find a phone.

They laugh at you, the people at the party. Laugh with their drug addled eyes, high off mushrooms and LSD, acid trips going wrong wrong wrong. They dance and laugh and laugh and dance, chugging spiked drinks with wild abandon, lights flashing red yellow purple green blue, a cacophony of psychedelics.

He’s there, somewhere among them, he’s there, you know he is. The smack of your footsteps sound like gunshots against the wood, your head throbs. You want to sob and scream and shout and cry cry cry but you can’t do that until you are safe, and if you stay in this house, there’s no telling where you’ll find safety again.

Or at all.

You try every door, locked ones, unlocked ones, looking for a way out. Eventually you lock yourself in a bathroom, lucky that there’s a window. It’s a single story house, the jump isn’t far.

You abandon your shoes, they don’t stay on your feet that well anyway, and you don’t have the time to groan about the frigid mud that squeaks between your toes as you splash down onto the ground from the window.

“Help!” You cup your mouth and shout, hearing something, a twig snapping not too far away. You see him, he’s coming after you through a side-door, and you have to run, you have to go. “Oh fuck – ”

You bolt, freezing rain soaking your clothes.

You don’t know where you are, don’t recognize this part of town.

Josh knew the area, not you, not you. These were his friends, not yours, not yours.

You just run, hoping your legs carry you to safety, carry you away. There’s woods, in the distance. You whip your head around, try looking for a road, any road. Where’s the driveway? It must be on the other side of the house, it must be –

Josh is gaining on you, athletic legs more powerful than your own.

“You can’t outrun me, don’t even try, don’t bother, get the fuck over here!” He hollers at you, voice guttural and deep, primal in a way that strikes fear into your heart.

You wish you had something, a weapon of some kind, any kind, to fight him with, but you don’t.

So you run.

“Shitshitshitshitshit – someone help!” You toss your voice to the wind, the howling wind which carries sheets of rain, pounds it down sideways against your back, your face, hair sopping wet and sticking to your eyes, nose, getting in your mouth as you pant pant pant, sobs of terror spiking through your chest, salty tears whisked away by the rain.

You don’t know how far you’ve gotten, you don’t know if anyone can hear you, don’t know if anyone would even come if they did. You need to form a plan, need to put enough distance between you and this monster of a man, need to catch your breath.

Your adrenaline pounds in your ear as the earth slips and slides underneath your feet, your nylon stockings not doing anything to help gain traction. You skid your knees on rocks and trip over gnarled roots, but every time you get up, each and every time you have to get up, otherwise he’ll get you.

You can feel how close he is, his hands reaching out to tear away at your clothes, can feel the ghost of his fingers trying to hook around your dress, and you can’t help but let out a high-pitched scream, something that pierces into the blackness of night, something that sends the birds from their branches.

“How dare you! How dare you embarrass me like that!” Josh manages to snatch you, the both of you tumbling down to the ground from the momentum, rolling in the mud. It’s in your eyes, mouth, a sharp hot pain at your temple makes you think you’ve hit your head, maybe on a rock? You don’t know, you taste copper in your mouth. You feel hands, no, fists, hard against your jaw. “I’ll kill you, you whore, I’ll fucking kill you for embarrassing me.”

“Don’t touch me – !” You scream, searching the ground for something, for anything, relief flooding through your body when your hand closes around a rock large enough to do some damage.

“Quiet, just be quiet!” He’s annoyed with you, annoyed with how loud you’re being, as if you’re inconveniencing him by not taking a beating politely. You take in a deep breath and muster all the strength you possibly can, to slam the rock against his face, making him knock backwards with a loud, “Fuck!”

“Someone – please!” You cough and sputter as blood streams down your face, washed away by the heavy rain which does not relent.

In an instant, the hands are yanked away from you, and you scramble to get away as fast as you can to catch your breath. You cough and hack up blood, dirt, mud which grinds between your teeth, the pounding against your temple making you dizzy, making you sick. You feel like you’re going to be sick, the adrenaline rising up up up your throat.

“Who the fuck are you – ” You hear Josh start, before the sound of punches and grunts cuts through the air again, and you squint in the dark to see who came to your rescue, who heard your calls.

“Flip?” You nearly can’t believe it, can’t believe your widened eyes, but there he is – you’d recognize those broad shoulders and the pattern of his breathing anywhere. Despite all better judgement, you rush back to his side, slipping and sliding on mud as rain beats down with such fury as your best friend’s fists, “Flip!”

“You don’t get to touch her, ever again.” Flip does not yell, he does not scream.

He does not raise his voice, he is calm, eerily calm, unnervingly calm.

You almost don’t hear him speaking at all, from how softly his voice comes out as he kicks the shit out of Josh, as he holds his head in place and knees him so hard in the face once, twice, three times, hard enough that the sick crunch of bone and cartilage echoes the thunder all around you, and he goes limp.

But Flip doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop beating Josh’s face in with his fist until the man is a mess of blood, teeth coming loose, broken nose and busted lip bubbling hot, steaming in the freezing cold air. He doesn’t stop still, and you watch in awe, in twisted admiration as Flip hauls the ragdoll of your former boyfriend up enough to get him in a chokehold and snap his neck.

Only then, does Flip drop him, face down into the mud.

You look at the lifeless body, and then up at Flip, who you find is already looking back at you. His chest is heaving, he’s panting, out of breath and exhausted. The rain has soaked him through too, but he’s not shivering, not the way you are. He must have ran too, had to have ran to catch up with you. You don’t know how deep in the woods you are, how deep he had to go to find you.

But he did, he did.

You’re numb, standing there. Numb from the cold, from the shock, you don’t know. You want to comfort Flip – and isn’t that fucked up? You wanting to comfort someone else right now? But you do.

Everything feels like it’s going to be okay now, now that Flip’s here.

“Oh my god.” You say, because you don’t really know what else to say, don’t really know what else to do other than stand there. You’re frightened, you can feel the fear bubbling up in your stomach, but there’s calm now too, a calm that’s got you more afraid than anything. You look at Josh, then back to Flip once again. “Do you think…”

“Are you okay?” Flip pushes the hair out of his face with a bloody hand and takes a cautious step towards you.

“Me? Yeah – yes I’m…Do you think you killed him?” You ask, holding a hand out to Flip.

You know he’s worried about scaring you, and warmth cuts through some of the chill in your bones at the thought. You extend a hand and encourage him to take it, smearing blood between your palms which the rain washes away, carries down into the wood in thick muddy rivers.

You’re not afraid of Flip, could never be afraid of Flip.

“Look at me,” He’s hung up on it, presses his forehead against yours and goes nearly cross-eyed in the dark to peer into your eyes, your soul, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” You finally answer truthfully, taking another step closer to him, trying to get as close to him as possible. You feel safe, your brain screams safety with this man, with your friend, your Flip. “But I’m better now that you’re here. What are you doing here? I thought you had work.”

Confusion dawns on you, and you frown a little bit, just because it doesn’t make sense for him to be here right now, it doesn’t make sense for him to be here at all. Flip’s eyes widen a little, and even in the scant moonlight you can tell he’s blushing. He tries pulling away, but you don’t release your grip on his hand, warm and solid and real against your own.

“I just – I’m sorry I – well I got off early and I wanted to make sure that you would be okay so I came over and just kind of watched from the car in case you needed me for anything.” He rushes out in one big breath, winces, waits for you to berate him.

“Do you do that? Watch me from a distance.” You ask him, the both of you standing there in the rain.

You know it’s absurd, somewhere in the back of your head a small voice tells you it’s absurd to have a conversation like this while standing over a body in the middle of the woods, but you push it away, push it away and step closer to Flip. You’re not accusatory when you ask, you’re not condemning him – you’re just curious.

“No – I – well yes, sometimes, but only when you’re out with him.” He admits, nudging Josh’s back with the toe of his boot. His voice is dark, low, gritty in the back of his throat but he doesn’t yell, you sigh against him, your heart breaks for the anger in his voice, the sadness. You wish you never started dating this schmuck, wish you never said yes to him, wished that it had been Flip who asked instead. “I don’t trust him, (Y/N), I don’t like how he treats you. I worry, and I know that it’s creepy I know, I’m sorry, I’m not a creep I swear, I just. I care about you.”

You’re quiet for a little while, and then you move away from him only far enough to plant your stocking-clad foot onto the back of Josh’s head, push him deeper into the earth, the mud. The body gives no resistance, and a sick satisfaction makes your vision go blurry.

“Have…have you done this before?” You ask, that numbness starting to fade, the tremble of shock at what you witnessed, experienced setting in.

Flip looks like he would fall to his knees before you in that moment, as he blinks water out of his eyes, as he trembles too.

“No, I swear. I don’t even know what came over me, but I heard you screaming and begging and I couldn’t stop, I had to help you somehow.” His voice breaks, and all you want is to be close to him, so you go, go rushing into his arms, and he holds you tight.

He holds you and you hold him back, two people under the moonlight as lightning illuminates the body with picture-perfect clarity for a split second. He’s face down in the earth but you can tell, you can just tell he’s brutally mangled by the damage Flip did to him, and as you shove your face into Flip’s chest, for the briefest of moments, you smile.

“We have to get rid of him.” You say softly, trying to think of a plan, trying to think of what to do.

Flip gently pushes on your shoulders to separate the two of you, and shakes his head with a frown.

“We? No (Y/N), you can’t be involved at all, you can’t, just please go to the car and get dry and warm, I can handle this.” He’s sweet, so sweet with the way there’s sincerity in his eyes, but you’re not having any of it.

“I’m already involved, Flip, I’m not going to let you do this alone. Whatever it is, we’re in this together now. We can’t go to the police, they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t believe us. I’m with you.” You squeeze his hand lovingly in your own, and you can’t help but think how good it feels, how right it feels, to hold his hand.

“I think I have an idea, but first, we need to get him to the car.” Flip chews the inside of his cheek, a nervous tick of his that you always scold him for.

You don’t scold him now, there’s no time, that’s not what’s important now.

What’s important is hauling dead weight down the woods without a trace, without any evidence other than what will be washed away.

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

I'm young and I love to be young I'm free and I love to be free To live my life the way I want To say and do whatever I please

And don't tell me what to do Oh, don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display

The body rolls around slightly, in the trunk. You’re in Flip’s dad’s '58 oldsmobile, the heat is blasting, and you hug your knees in the passenger seat, as Flip maneuvers through the winding Colorado roads. It had taken quite some time to get back through the car, out of the woods.

He had been parked out front, only a few feet from the driveway the whole time. All evening, sitting, watching, waiting. Hoping you wouldn’t need him, but prepared to do anything for you if you did. He’s silent on the drive to wherever it is you’re going, the radio is playing softly. The music helps calm your nerves, and you’re thankful for it, you try not to freak out.

The little clock on the dashboard says it’s only about midnight, but you feel like it’s way later than that. The rain fucks everything up, you think, the rain’s been pouring for hours and hours now, but it feels like days.

Every time the car makes a sharp turn, or goes up and down a hill, the body thuds against the walls of the trunk, and you just hug your knees tighter.

“Where are we going?” You ask eventually, voice soft. You’re afraid if you raise it, you’ll scream. Your throat hurts, you’ve done enough screaming already.

“Hospital.” Flip replies easily, not taking his eyes off the road, his hands at perfect ten-and-two. You wonder if he’s afraid of screaming too.

The thought of the hospital sends a spike of fear through your blood, makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What? Why?” You demand immediately, confused, scared.

“You still haven’t stopped bleeding and I need to make sure you’re okay.” Flip says evenly. You can tell he wants a cigarette, you can tell. But this is his dad’s car, and he can’t smoke in it. You wonder what his dad would say to knowing that there’s a dead body in it, wonder if smoke would be more of an issue.

“No!” You shake your head, turning yourself towards him fully, a hand on his arm. “No, Flip please, they’ll call my parents and they don’t know I’m out this late, please just – let’s just get rid of him, and then take me home, Flip I’m begging.”

“But what if you’re seriously hurt? What if he did something severe?” Flip’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, and your stomach flutters as the windshield wipers beat back and forth, whisking the rain away.

“I’m okay, I promise I’m okay, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know if that’s the truth, but you have to believe that it is, you have to. “Philip, please.”

The use of his full first name convinces him, you don’t think you’ve ever said it before, not out loud anyway, not like this. He chews on his lip and sighs, nods his head to your supreme relief.

“Thank you.” You want to kiss him, want to embrace him desperately, but now isn’t the time. He’s driving, there are more important things right now, more important things to deal with. “What are we going to do with him? We can’t bury him in the woods, the rain’s logged all the dirt.”

“Logged – we can go to the mill.” Flip snaps his fingers, and it’s like a light bulb has gone off inside his head.

You just sit back and press a bundled up wad of wet napkins against the wound on your temple, hugging your knees, knowing that you’ll be okay, as long as you’re with Flip.

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

The lumbermill is a family-owned and operated affair. Flip’s grandfather had founded it sixty-two years ago way back during the turn of the century in 1900, and it had remained in the Zimmerman hands ever since. Once a small business, now stood a proud industrial center for logging and clearing away trees to produce more logs and square away neat pockets of land. Where there used to be only hand-held tools and traditions, now there were the highest-end types of machinery.

You thought Flip was brilliant, absolutely brilliant – you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Just last month, Flip’s dad had been bragging about the new woodchipper that had finally been ordered. You remember sitting at Flip’s Ma’s shabbat table and listening to him go on and on about the new sharp blades, how much more efficient it would make everything, not to mention how little waste they would have, considering the wood chips could be sold for all kinds of uses.

At the time, you had thought it was a little annoying how he wouldn’t let anyone else at the table get in a word, but now you’re thanking your lucky stars that you had been paying attention.

It’s strange, being here this late, being here at all. You’ve visited before of course, Flip has always been eager to show you around. It never felt like you were sneaking about or anything, not considering his family owned it, considering he’d own it one day too.

But it’s strange, with the flood lights filling the night sky with a brilliant white, the usually bustling lumbermill quiet, nothing but the sound of harsh rain clanging on machinery and metal roofs. Flip parks the car in the lot, reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a key-ring. There must be a dozen keys on the little circle, but Flip seems to know exactly which ones are for what.

“Emergency backups of all the gates,” he explains, jingling it on his index finger for a second, “No one will suspect anything.”

You nod, chew on your cheeks. The thought of going back out into the rain is unpleasant, but you suck it up and open the car door, bracing yourself for a minute before the icy water plunges down the back of your dress once again, body already shivering.

He meets you at the trunk, pops it open. With the flood lights, you can see the extent of the damage to Josh’s face – if you could even call it a face anymore. It was nearly caved in completely, soaked with blood and mud, all the planes of a face that should push out were indented inwards. You manage a glance at Flip’s knuckles, and you see they’re busted wide open, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Follow me.” Flip says, hoisting the body over his shoulder like a fireman would rescue someone from a burning building, and his boots splash in the mud towards where he knows the woodchipper is set up.

You regret not going back for your shoes now, as more freezing mud stains your tights. You regret dressing up at all, dressing for fashion instead of comfort. Flip is in a flannel and jeans, and normally you tease him for being like a cartoon character always wearing the same thing, you wish that you weren’t in a fucking miniskirt and tights in the dead of winter.

Lightning backs the machine dramatically, after a few minutes of trudging. The ground here is much more substantial than the woods, and you push your legs across a developed terrain instead of through the wilderness of the mountains. It stands tall, proud, the woodchipper, and you swallow a lump around your throat.

“Is that it?” You ask, close enough to Flip that you only have to raise your voice a little bit to compete with the sound of the rain.

Flip dumps the body onto the ground, goes over to the woodchipper and turns it on. You can tell that using it in the rain is a poor decision, but it’s the only option you have. Flip adjusts some settings, and the thing roars to life, metal blades whirring whirring whirring.

“Yeah but it – he’s too fucking big he can’t go in all in one piece, it’ll get jammed.” Flip runs a hand through his hair as he comes half-jogging back over to you, and you just blink for a moment.

“Okay then we cut him up.” You say matter of factly, your heart pounding in your chest, aware that time is not on your side, that you have to get this done and get out, have to get this done and go as quickly as possible, in case someone comes, in case someone sees.

“(Y/N), are you sure you want to do this?” Flip asks you seriously, puts his hands gently on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” You whisper, eyes wide, feeling more liberated and free, feeling so light, determined. Maybe it’s the shock, maybe you’ve lost your fucking mind, you don’t know. But you can’t stop now, you’ve done this much, you can’t stop now. “It can’t be too hard, like breaking down a chicken, right? Split at the joints.”

The analogy is lost on Flip, because as much as you love your friend, he cannot cook to save his life. Flip isn’t one to smile, and he doesn’t smile then, but you know he’s agreed with you because he looks around, tries to find something.

“Hold on.” He runs across the yard, finds one of the sheds that’s tucked against the back wall of one of the main buildings.

You stand there and wait, arms crossed, staring down at Josh. While Flip searches for whatever it is he’s looking for, you just grow more and more angry, watching rain flood the spaces in the dips of his shoulders.

“Fuck you.” You say to his lifeless body, “You say I embarrassed you? You tormented me. I wish I could have killed you myself. You’re lucky Flip did it, I wouldn’t have been so merciful.”

You don’t know what’s come over you, but the words sound like the most truthful ones you’ve ever told this boy, this husk of a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You can’t help yourself, spitting onto the ground in his direction, sneering through the rain, blinking it and the shocked fury out of your eyes.

Flip returns with an axe, brand new from the looks of it. The blade glints in the floodlight, freshly polished metal dripping with silver rivers of water as Flip swings it lightly in his hand.

“This should work, fuck, okay. Okay. Okay alright okay, you come over here, stand over here I don’t want you getting hurt accidentally.” He’s steeling himself, psyching himself up for this, and you put a hand on his back to calm him.

“Want me to do it?” You offer, not knowing the first fucking things about even how to hold an axe, let alone swing one.

“No, no let me.” Flip huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. You can’t help but feel silly for asking, you know there’s no way you’d have the upper body strength to cut through a person. You’d never even chopped wood before, and well, Flip was an actual lumberjack.

“Okay, I can count to three?” You acquiesce with a tremor in your voice.

“Please.” Flip whispers, getting the body into position.

You stand where Flip tells you, a little ways away, as he raises the axe high above his head.

“One…”

There’s a ringing in your ears, a pounding in your chest. You’re doing this, you’re really doing this, you can’t help but think. Flip plants his feet firmly on the ground, takes in a deep breath. You can see his hands flex and grip the handle, as he liens himself up.

“Two…”

Your face shakes, teeth rattling in your skull from where your jaw chatters, shivers in the cold. It’s so bright, so bright with all the floodlights, you feel like you’re being watched, you feel like you can hear the whispers, the murmurs of ghosts all around you, the ghost of this monster you’ve killed.

“Three!”

Hot blood sprays from Josh’s shoulder as the axe swings down, cleaves into his shoulder. The blade is bran new, terribly sharp, and it nearly goes all the way through. The bone splinters, you can hear it, can hear it slicing into pieces. Flip pries the blade out and lines himself up again, does not wait this time for your count before taking aim and slamming it into the body again.

Blood hot and thick bubbles up, gurgles around the wound, and when Flip tosses a severed arm away from the rest of the body, despite yourself, you turn around, brace your hands on your knees and throw up. Everything you ate and drank at the party comes back up in an acrid stinging cough that has you nearly choking, but you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and get yourself together.

You don’t know how Flip has the stomach for this, for it, but he has a steady hand as he works on the other arm, separating it from the body.

The machine is still on, the machine is hungry.

You want to give it what it wants, you want to see the spray out the other end. Without waiting for his instruction, you pick up the arm, grab it by the wrist. You make sure there’s no jewelry, no watches or anything that could get jammed, and you rush it over to the woodchipper, drop it into the basin.

The sound it makes is horrific, the sick squelch and crunch of bone, the shredding shredding shredding of the blades. Mincemeat blasts out the other end, and even as some of it sprays back against the wind, even as some of it lands on your face, speckles of blood and guts and shards of crushed bone, you find that you’re grinning, because it worked.  

“Another one, give me another one.” You say eagerly, holding a hand out to Flip.

He smiles too, eyes too bright, as he gives you Josh’s other arm, hacked away in nice clean segments. He watches as you dump the second arm into the machine, gets to see as it eats up the flesh, grinds and slashes it into nothingness, watches as the bits of this man land in wet smacks on the dirt.

Piece by piece, you obliterate the monster that had tormented you for months.

Piece by piece, you free yourself of the hurt and pain, the lies and manipulation he shackled you with.

Piece by piece, you destroy the evidence, watch as it washes away, watch as the rain carries it down the drain, into the sewers where he’ll rot among the rats like he deserves.

The rain absolves you and Flip of the muck and grime of the deed, and now that it’s over, now that he’s gone, you close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the sky, letting the rain patter down onto your cheeks, your forehead. You feel clean, though you are cold, so so so cold, the only thing you can focus on is the cleanliness, the relief.

“You never should have fucked with her.” You hear Flip say, and that makes you open your eyes, makes your turn towards him.

Flip looks down to the drain, and you smile, because he looks lighter too.

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

You’re leaving the lumbermill, when it hits.

You’d been so caught up in the euphoria of getting rid of him, of this man who had made your life a living nightmare for far too long – that you hadn’t stopped once to think of the consequences of these actions.

“I – holy shit I can’t believe we did that.” It slams into your chest, the realization that you’re a murderer, you’re both murderers, you’re going to go to prison for this, they’ll send you to the chair for this, they’ll kill you for this the same way you killed Josh. Your heart races, pounds pounds pounds as dread and terror and fear all come rushing back, all come slamming down inside your brain. “What the fuck did we just do? Flip what did we do?”

Flip must have willpower of steel, because he doesn’t even blink when you whip around to face him, when you immediately freak the fuck out, when you start to hyperventilate, holding the sides of your head.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. Things like this happen. It was an accident that spiraled out of control, it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Flip is calm, so calm, and that almost freaks you out more, maybe you were going to scream, maybe you were already screaming, you don’t know, you don’t know anything except you just murdered a man.

“Oh my god what are they going to say when he doesn’t come back to the party? Or go home?” You panic, shifting around too much in your seat, legs bouncing, back aching from the way you keep twisting and turning, “What’ll they do if they find the pieces of him?”

“You have to breathe it’s going to be okay, we’ll be okay – fuck, what was that?” Flip is cut off by a loud thud, the car coming to a complete stop.

Your eyes begin to well up with tears as you hiccup out terror, hands shaking. You want to slam your fists against the window, want to throw yourself onto the street and beg for forgiveness, you want to be sick, you want to tell Flip to drive and never look back.

“Oh no, oh no no no this is it, this is the karma catching up to us already.” You can feel the tethers of reality start to slip, black splotches dancing in front of your vision – will you pass out? Are you at your limit? You don’t know, you don’t know but the car isn’t moving, it’s not going anywhere no matter how hard Flip pushes on the gas pedal.

“Stay here.” He says, and you’re in no mood, no state to defy the instructions now.

Flip puts the car in park, gets out and shuts the door so water doesn’t come pouring in. You watch him through the warped view of rain on the windows as he walks around the car, his hands on his hips, trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

It doesn’t take him too long to find the problem, and he comes back into the car with a sigh, soaking wet and unsure of what to do.

“We’re stuck.” He tells you, and that’s the last thing you want to hear. A flat tire you knew he could change, even in the rain like this, but being stuck left nothing to do except wait for someone to come un-stick you.

“So we’re stranded out here?” Your voice creeps up higher and higher in octave as the consequences of that stab you through the chest.

You never should have snuck out of home, you lament, hot tears finally stinging the rims of your eyes. You never should have left home through your window, never should have agreed to the party. You never should have agreed to date this fucking guy, you think, because if you hadn’t maybe you’d be safe and warm somewhere, maybe you’d be asleep soundly in your bed and not stranded in the pouring rain, in the middle of you don’t even know where.  

“Yes but – but this is good. This is good, this is our alibi. We don’t know anything, because we were stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere in a ditch.” Flip knows you’re freaking out, he knows, he can feel it, can see it, it’s happening right in front of him.

“Wh—what will we say that we were even doing out here? What if someone asks why we’re here in the first place?” Your whole body wracks through with terrified sobs. “They’re going to kill us for this, Flip if they catch us they’re going to kill us – I don’t want to die, I don’t --”

He collects you in his arms and holds you tightly against his chest, rocks you to soothe you, calms you. The rain is unrelenting, and you wonder how much water the sky can hold, how many clouds are up there to maintain such a downpour. Flip’s arms are so warm around your shoulders, and his neck is blazing hot where you tuck your face against it.

“You called me to pick you up from the party, I came, we got lost, wound up here. It’s dark and raining, that’s all the truth.” Flip whispers, “We don’t know anything, we’ve been here, waiting for someone to pass by.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do right now. You had almost forgotten how cold you were, the stark comparison of your own body temperature compared to Flip’s making you feel even colder.

“I’m f-f-freezing.” You say, because you don’t have anything else to say, and Flip hums in the back of his throat.

“I don’t have any spare clothes, I’m sorry.” He frowns, but then you pull away for a moment, begin stripping off your dress. You peel away the layers until you’re in your bra and underwear, just wanting the wet cold fabric off of your skin. Flip’s hands drop from your body, and he nervously looks away with a very gentlemanly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry – I just – I figured maybe if we use body heat – ” You explained, suddenly feeling stupid, feeling unwanted, feeling --

“Don’t stop, I’ll do it too, if you want. I’ll keep you warm.” Flip nods, understands what you’re doing now, what you mean. He looks at you cautiously, not ever wanting to be imposing, not wanting to make you comfortable. “Only if you want.”

You lick your lips and nod, and in mere moments, he’s shedding his clothes too, until he’s just in his underwear.

Flip climbs over the bench seat and lands in the back, laying down on his back and spreading out. There’s significantly more room in the back seat, and without another thought, you unclip the straps of your bra, letting your breasts breathe, before arranging all the clothes in the direct line of the heater so they might have a chance to dry, before climbing over too.

Flip welcomes you with open arms, and as you settle against him, body flush with his, your heart pounds. He rubs your back, warms you with his palms, palms which feel like the most comforting iron brand, heating you through.

“You know…” You whisper, listening to the sound of his breathing and the rain that pitter-patters onto the roof of the car, “I’ve been thinking about doing something like that to him for a long time.”

“Yeah?” Flip asks, voice thick.

You’re nuzzled against his chest, feeling the most safe that you ever have. The panic has subsided for now, for now at the very least.

“Yeah. It was never a real idea that I had, at least not in the beginning. But more and more lately, I’ve been thinking about how good it would feel if he were gone forever. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. I guess I just…I liked that someone liked me, wanted me. It felt good to be wanted, for a minute there.” You’re honest with Flip. Sometimes it feels like Flip is the only person you can ever be honest with.

“Just a minute?” He asks softly, teasing and playful in a way that makes you want to cry.

“Yeah, just a minute.” You whisper back, propping your head up onto your hands, looking at him.

“There are…other people, you know. Who are out there, who like you. Want you.” He looks back at you, eyes filled with apprehension, but hope.

“People like you?” You ask, hope in your own lungs, in your heart.

“Yeah, people like me.” Flip nods, caresses the back of your head with his strong, capable hand.

“You know, the entire time I’ve been with him, I wished I were with you.” You confess, because now feels like as good a time to confess something as any, doesn’t it? What’s this admittance, compared to the thing you have just done together?

“This isn’t the shock talking, is it?” Flip’s hand smooths around to hold your cheek, pinch at the apple of your smile, because you are smiling now, smiling how he hasn’t rejected you, how he never would have, now you know.

“No, no I promise. This is me talking.” You turn your face into his palm and press a light kiss to the creases in his hand, those hands, the hands which have only ever protected you, defended you, loved you.

“Why are you crying?” Flip frowns, confused, worried, but you shake your head, unable to stop, unable to quit the smile, the tears.

“Because I’ve dreamt about being in your arms like this for what feels like forever, and I – I kept thinking that there’s no way you could ever want me, I thought I was just delusional for thinking maybe we could be something. And here you are, coming to my rescue, the way you always do, and we’ve just killed a man but all I want to do is kiss you.” You huff out a laugh, a laugh that’s tinged with regret for the past, all the time that could have been.  

“Can I?” Flip asks suddenly then, innocent and gentle, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh Flip, yes, please.” You nod, pushing yourself up a few more inches so that your lips can meet.

They press together in the softest, sweetest of kisses, and all at once it feels like the gates of your heart have been unlocked, and all the love you feel flows out with wild abandon.

Flip deepens the kiss when your mouth opens in a small gasp, and you let yourself be rolled underneath him. The car rocks a little from the effort, but you don’t care. A kiss or two becomes making out, and you feel your head fill with the thick perfume of lust, your whole body warm now, on fire almost. His mouth is hot, tongue thick and heavy against yours, but he tastes delicious, tastes like home.

He kisses you until your breathing begins to quicken, until the smallest noises start to moan and hum in the back of your throat. Your nipples are stiff, so hard from where they’re brushing against his chest, your arms looping around his shoulders, legs parting so he can settle between them.

“Did…did you two ever…?” He pulls away, lips kiss-slick and flushed, and you blink, forgetting all about your boyfriend, or one you used to have.

“No, no I didn’t want to, it didn’t feel right. Not with him.” You tell him honestly, suddenly feeling inexperienced, feeling self-conscious, “Have you?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for the right person.” Flip shocks you by blushing out his own truth. Your eyebrows shoot up, you really would have pegged him for a womanizer type, he was certainly handsome enough for it. But thinking back, you realize in all the time you’ve known him, he’s never once mentioned a girlfriend or even a fling, nothing. It’s always just been you, and him. Flip blushes deeper when you don’t say anything right away, stammers out, “I know it’s cheesy.”

“It’s not cheesy.” You shake your head quickly, dismissing the idea that you’d make fun of him for something like that. You’re relived, it means you can be together for the first time truly together.

You kiss him, invigorated, no longer feeling shy or inadequate. He kisses you back, and when your eyes close there’s nothing but the welcoming embrace of his warmth and affection to pull you in. Your mouths and tongues slide against one another, and your hips raise up, your underwear rubbing against his, wishing there were no barrier between you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I don’t ever want to pressure you or – ” Flip shakes his head, so caring, worried, nipping at the corners of your mouth.

“Maybe, maybe you could just touch me? Just for now, touch me and then, then we can see where we go.” You’re desperate for him though, desperate for him in every way.

He smiles against your mouth, and you smile too, his hands sliding down your body. He shuffles back a little, straddling your hips, knees digging into the upholstery as his hands roam your body, touch where he didn’t have permission to touch before.

He’s drawn to your breasts immediately, kneads them. He licks his lips and rolls your nipples between his fingers, and your back only arches for him, pushes your chest up into his hands further. His breathing is heavy, and you decide that you’re tired of holding yourself back from the things that you want – after this, after tonight, you won’t deny yourself anything ever again, you’ve spent so much time bending to the will of other people, from now on you are going to ask for what you want.

You cup the back of Flip’s head and push him down, gently nudge him. He takes the hint, immediately nuzzles his face into your cleavage, rubs against your breasts. His mouth latches around one of your nipples and he kisses and licks and sucks, and you moan, the pleasure going straight to your pussy.

So does his hand, tentatively skimming over your panties until your legs spread enough to give him permission. He tugs the cotton aside and you hiccup out a little cry of pleasure when he reverently pushes his fingers through your folds, pushes his way through into the tight wet heat of your cunt.

“Oh, oh, that feels good.” Your eyes fly open, hand tangling in his hair where he makes out with your breasts, grunting and groaning with need that the praise spurs in him. His fingers are more insistent, more purposeful, and his thumb swirls over your clit making your hips lift up up up against his hand. “Yes, yes! Flip – do that again, please do that again.”

“Good?” Flip lifts his head from where he’s been smothering himself in your tits, eyes so big and brown, eager to please.

“So good! Phil, it’s so good, I’ve wanted this for so – ah!—long.” Your head tips back against the seat as your toes curl, his fingers moving faster, your stomach expanding with each deep breath you take, trying to suck down the air, trying to lose yourself in the bright white hot light of pleasure.

“This doesn’t count as our first time, okay?” Flip bites a mark around the bottom of your ribs.

“Okay.” You grin, elated that this means maybe maybe maybe he’ll want to have sex with you again, maybe he’ll fuck you with his cock. Maybe he’ll want you forever, maybe he’ll ask you out and take you on dates and do all the things that you’ve always hoped but never dared to dream for.

“I want our first time to be sweet and good and gentle, and not in the back-seat of this car.” He fingers you faster and faster, and you struggle to pay attention to his words because his fingers are so thick and so full and they know just where to touch you to get your feet searching for purchase as you moan and whine and gasp. “I’m going to take you out to dinner and then a movie, and then I’m going to make love to you on a big bed with rose petals like you deserve.”

“Oh fuck – I’m – I’m gonna – ” You gasp out, hips rolling, undulating against his palm, grinding your pussy against the warmth of his hand to chase your orgasm, your body thick with pleasure, sweet and sticky like molasses in your veins.

“Come on my fingers, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Flip encourages you, presses a little harder, moves a little faster, the car shaking shaking shaking from the way your body trembles, rain thudding against the roof as your orgasm crashes through you, a wave of nothing but good, nothing but love.

“Fl-Flip!” You shout, eyes shut tight, the first couple hints of tears clinging to your lashes.

“You’re so beautiful, holy shit.” Flip strokes your pussy through it, coaxes out come that shines on his palm, shimmers on your inner thighs. He kisses your neck, your chest, bites and sucks and marks you so thoroughly, marks you as his, you’re his you’re his and he’s yours and, “(Y/N) you’re – you’re so beautiful.”

“Can I, I want you to come too, I want you to feel good too.” You try, you offer, but he’s still sliding his fingers through your pussy, two – no, three? -- stretching you wide, stretching you for him, for his cock. You want it, you want it so badly, want to be filled, but an aftershock of pleasure builds builds builds and you’re not sure it’s just an aftershock anymore, as your toes curl again, knees shaking, bones aching to come again, “Flip I’m, I think I’m – oh!”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do anything for me, this is more than enough, you’re more than enough, thankyouthankyouthankyou.” He smudges the words into your chest, your throat, litters you with sweet nothings and gratitude, and you want to ask for his dick right then and there –

But there’s a sound, coming from the window.

A knock on the window.

Someone is there, knocking.

“Wait – what was that?” You freeze, the rose-tinted glasses ripped off.

Flip carefully pulls his hand away from your pulsing cunt, sucks your come off of his fingers until they’re clean. He reaches for something, anything, to cover you with, to cover himself with.  

“Cop.” Flip says quietly, and you want to panic but he shakes his head, “Don’t, it’s okay, follow my lead.”

You are suddenly very very aware, of what you both look like. Flip with his torn up fists, you with the split lip and wound on your temple. You’ve both finally stopped bleeding, but you know – you just know – that this officer is going to question you on it, normal people don’t go driving around in the rain with head wounds and split knuckles.

Fuck, you think, you haven’t even cleaned the car yet, there’s bound to be blood in the trunk from where the body had been stashed, what if the officer decided to search the car? There were no weapons in the car, but there didn’t need to be. Your stomach does little flutters of panic as the impending anxiety drips cold down your spine, and just hide yourself behind Flip’s denim jacket, cover up as much as you can, cover your face.

Flip rolls down the window, and a flashlight peers inside the car for a few moments, before you hear a resigned sigh.

“Alright you kids, come on, break it up.” The cop says, tapping his flashlight on the roof of the car. “The middle of the road isn’t the place for this kind of shit, let’s go.”

“Our car is stuck, we’ve been waiting for someone to drive past to ask for help. Could you help give us a push?” Flip asks, and the officer looks at him like he’s crazy.

“No.” The man scoffs, before sighing again, realizing that he can’t just leave the two of you out here. “But I’ll call someone. Then off you go, okay? It’s late.”

“Thank you.” Flip says, and then, like some miracle, the cop goes back to his car, radios for a tow, and leaves.

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

You both are dressed by the time the tow arrives and pulls you out of the mud. Leaving the clothes in front of the heater did wonders, and though your dress is still fucking filthy and caked in mud, it’s not freezing, or soaked. You feel awful, Flip’s dad is going to be pissed when he sees the car like this, but Flip assures you that he’ll have Jimmy help deep clean the whole thing before his parents come home after the weekend.

The tow truck driver doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t really talk to you at all. By the time he arrives, the rain has stopped, slowed enough as the storms moved across the mountains. You don’t say anything, just sit there and wait for the wheels to come free, holding your breath until the tow driver leaves too.

The radio is soft and gentle, the time on the little clock reads just past three. Flip drove all the way to your house with a hand on your knee, reassuring, comforting. You can’t help but think it feels so different from Josh’s hand, how gentle Flip’s hold is on you. You wonder if he’s trying to ground himself, or keep you calm. Maybe it’s both.

He shuts the lights off and the radio when he rounds the corner. Puts the car in park, and the two of you walk the last few yards to your house. It’s not raining anymore, not at all. That feels like a good sign, somehow.

“Will you come in?” You ask him softly, standing under the streetlamps, careful not to step on cracks in the sidewalk.

“If you want me.” Flip nods, and you smile, and he smiles, because you both know that you always will.

The climb up through the window is a little difficult because of how wet everything is from the rain, but you both manage easily. Your bedroom is warm, and you both shed your clothes in the tub of your private bathroom, knowing your parents wouldn’t ever look in there. You want to shower desperately, but doing so this late would raise suspicion, so you don’t, you’ll have to wait until morning.

But that’s alright, because for now it’s enough to be in clean clothes. Sheepishly, you offer Flip some of his own clothes, clothes that you’ve accumulated over all the time you’ve known him; jackets accidentally forgotten on your couch, sleep shirts and pajama pants he let you borrow that you never returned.

Flip doesn’t tease you for them, he only accepts them gratefully, and the two of you lay down on your bed in the dark. You face one another, so close that your noses almost touch. He’s so handsome, you think. You’ve always thought it, but up close, this close, it’s like the thought consumes your whole mind.

“We can’t ever tell anyone about this, ever. Not even when we’re old. This is something we take to the grave.” You whisper, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

“Agreed.” He breathes, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, lean into him.

“I don’t want to think what would have happened if you didn’t show up.” You confess, and in the silence of the room, the thought of what might have been is more terrifying than anything you two had done together. Flip is quiet, but his jaw clenches as he gently touches the closed wound on your temple. You don’t know what prompts it, but suddenly you’re asking, “Do you believe in alternate universes?”

“Hm?” Flip frowns, and you shrug in the dark.

“You know, like, a different version of our world, existing in some other dimension out in space.” You explain, shuffling close to him, tucking yourself under his chin.

“I never thought about it.” He admits with a shrug of his own and you close your eyes against his throat, warming yourself with his heat as his arms wrap around you.

“Maybe there’s a world where this never happened.” You whisper, “Maybe there’s a version of us out there that never had to do this. Maybe there’s a universe where we’ve always been together.”

“We can be together now, here in this one. If you want.” Flip whispers back, and you can feel the rabbit of his pulse jump jump jumping in his chest, and you smile.

“Phil?” You ask, not opening your eyes, not moving, barely breathing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He responds right away, with enough feeling behind the words to make you think that maybe he’s loved you just as long as you have loved him, maybe even longer.

A grin spreads across your face as you snuggle up closer to him, impossibly close, suppressing a thrilled little bubble of laughter as he cards his fingers through your hair.

“You’re stuck with me now, you know that? Forever.” You tease with a smile in your voice – but you both know there’s some truth to it. No matter what happens, you’re bonded by this, this nightmare of an evening.

“Happy New Year, (Y/N).” Flip teases right back, kissing the top of your head, before you reach up to kiss him properly.

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

When the sun rises the next morning and you find him gone from your bedroom, tub empty of soiled clothing and the car driven away to the cleaners, you aren’t afraid, because there’s a note on your nightstand written in the most incomprehensible handwriting that could only be Flip’s, asking you on a date, and a brand new pair of heels to wear for it.

And when they ask about Josh you’ll say you don’t know, and when they launch the investigation you’ll testify lies, and when you attend his funeral you might shed a tear, but only only only if Flip’s there by your side, so you can stand behind him, and hide your smile.

You don't own me

I'm not just one of your many toys

You don't own me

Don't say I can't go with other boys

You don't own me

You don’t own me

You don’t own me.

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

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