#but its not like its gonna make you walk into traffic unaware

[5a-alf]

Reading dear evan hensen fanfic is a game of guessing which author ever did drugs and which never came close to as much as weed.

[honorarysimp]

New York State of Mind

series masterlist

day 1

New York City.

The city that never sleeps is winding down for the night, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to a softer, quieter atmosphere. The reflection of the sunset on the glass windows of the buildings creates a mesmerizing display of light and color, dancing across the streets below. Here and there people still move about, making their way home from work or heading out for the evening.

The city seems to be taking a moment to breathe, enjoying this brief interlude of peace as lastcasting warm orange glows across the towering skyscrapers.

You’re exhausted. Dog tired. It took two days to get from California to New York, taking into account all the pit stops for varying reasons, both of you catching some sleep at the hotel stop half way through. But god, it’s good to be back home, and you realize this as you maneuver the car through traffic.

Tara is asleep in the passenger seat, one of your hoodies tucked underneath her head as a makeshift pillow, her knees pulled up to her chest as she remains blissfully unaware of reality.

You hate to wake her, because even though you’re use to the traveling and driving, Tara is not.

But she threatened your life prior to her falling asleep, insisting you do so she could take in the city for the first time.

You reach over and rest a hand on her arm, thumb gently trying to coax her awake, “hey, you’re gonna miss sunset” you says gently, which earns you a sleepy grumble as she swats your hand away blindly.

That makes you laugh, sitting back into your seat just as Tara sits up and stretches, running her fingers through her hair as she blinks the remnants of slumber from her dazed mind.

“What-“

Instantly she falls quiet, now fully awake as she peers through the window.

Tara takes in the sight of the bright orange disk of the sun is slowly making its descent from the sky, the light making a warm and bright atmosphere as it shone all throughout the city. It bounced off the reflective windows, casting streaks across the buildings. The light was getting dimmer by the minute, the clouds gaining a more pinkish hue as the sun got closer to disappearing behind the skyline.

Shadows were starting to fill the alleys and crevices as the sun continued its slow journey towards the horizon, the air turning increasingly colder with the dimming of its light.

“Holy shit”.

“Welcome to New York” you say quietly, not giving much attention to the buildings anymore as you instead, take in her awed expression.

The drive to your place is about as quick as you expected, the traffic is something you didn’t miss. But Tara seems happy, watching and soaking in everything. It is a lot, after all, so you don’t blame her.

You only relax once you get the car into the parking garage, the both of you in a daze as you head for the elevator.

“Fuck the bags, we’ll get them later” was all Tara had to say for you to agree without question. It’s a fairly safe area, you’d like to think, but then again you’ve learned nothing is ever as it seems.

But you’re far too tired to give a shit right now.

So when you make it to your apartment, you unlock the door and let Tara walk inside first. Instinctively you kick your shoes off and head down the little hall that leads to the rest of your apartment, only, Tara is paused at the opening.

The apartment is a nice size for New York standards, with bare white walls and open spaces, and a large window that extended from the ceiling to floor. The city skyline was visible from the window, the sun setting on the horizon to the west. The apartment was tastefully furnished, but there was not any personal touches anywhere in it. It was a nice, but slightly cold and sterile, living space.

“In my defense, I moved in here two months before I left for Woodsboro” you mumble sheepishly, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her waist. Tara hums, instantly sinking back into you, and when her head drops back to your shoulder you can’t help but rest your own against hers.

“It’s yours, so it’s perfect”.

You smile, taking a step forward while keeping her in your arms, Tara automatically follows as you guide her to the bedroom.

“Tour later. Sleep now.”

Tara yawns, but smiles softly after, “you better be showing me to the guest bedroom”.

“Unfortunately, there’s only my bed here, I hope that won’t inconvenience you.”

You don’t even bother turning on the light, the last streaks of orange and red giving you just enough visibility to make out the outline of the mattress. To which, Tara promptly drops down on to, pulling you with her. You hear two soft thumps before Tara curls herself against you, probably her shoes hitting the hardwood floor.

“Fuck, don’t wake me up for two days” Tara mumbles as her hand slips under your shirt, fingers curling around your side as she tugs you closer. You exhale and wrap your arms around her, sleep already pulling at your consciousness.

“Hibernation sounds nice” you reply quietly, falling asleep to the sound of her breaths evening out, and the warmth of her body against yours.

Not even the city that never sleeps could keep you awake, the final streams of light dissipating and leaving the room in a comforting darkness.

day 3

The city is vast, it’s loud, and it’s busy.

A contrast to what Tara is use to, having spent most her life in Woodsboro, not even when she went to the city to get her EMT certification compares to this.

God, but she is loving this kind of chaos.

It was overwhelming at first, but seeing you move through the streets and around people like second nature, switching between holding her hand or having your arm around her.

It’s hard not to feel giddy, and Tara hates it, because she is not that kind of girl.

You’ve made plans to go sightsee today, a few marker spots that Tara finds herself genuinely excited for. The tallest building in the country, Central Park, Time Square to name a few.

But when you bring Tara into what you’ve named your “favorite coffee shop in the world”, she suddenly finds herself thinking this is already going to be her favorite pace you’ve taken her. And it’s not even a highlight tourist go-to.

It’s a hole in the wall cafe, spacious on the inside, and it’s got this… energy that instantly has Tara feeling homesick. But in a good way, it makes her smile as her eyes take in the interior.

The coffee shop is a cozy space with walls painted a dark green color. The wooden floor darkly stained, and the furniture a mix of darkly varnished oak and wrought iron. The walls were lined with dark wooden bookshelves, the air thick with the aromatic scent of freshly ground coffee.

The coffee bar itself was a long, gleaming counter, filled with a variety of coffee beans and a vintage espresso machine. The wall behind it lined with a variety of coffee beans and a menu with an array of coffee drinks. The ambiance was a mix of soft and intimate, with low lighting and a warm and inviting atmosphere.

The sound of steamers, coffee being ground, and soft music filled the air. Soft yellow lighting illuminated the space, casting a homey glow in the coffee shop.

Tara is in love.

Approaching the bar, the barista behind the counter instantly lights up at the sight of you.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes! Back in town for a bit?” the barista asks with a wide, familiar smile, which makes Tara look between you in curiosity.

“Showing my girlfriend around, had to bring her by” you say with a proud smile, your eyes finding hers, a subtle squeeze of your fingers that are laced between hers makes her chest ache pleasantly.

The barista then looks to Tara kindly, “first time in New York?”

That makes Tara flush, but she tries to play it off with a shrug as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear “yeah, you could say that”.

“Well whatever you want, it’s on the house, as usual” the barista says with a nod, already grabbing a cup and writing down what Tara is safe to assume - your usual.

It’s only after Tara gives her order, followed by a thank you, when she looks to you in bewilderment.

“On the house? As usual? Do I even want to ask?”

You lean in, giving her hand a small tug, which has her meeting you half way for a soft lingering kiss.

“I know the owner is all”.

“Friend of yours?”

“We’re practically family”.

day 4

The kitchen table is scattered with Polaroids of Tara, a variety of location and purpose.

Tara thought it a good idea, you were quick to claim it as yours.

The sweetest melody filled the apartment, in time with the steadfast and deliberate movement of your tongue.

One of the photos is her in the passenger seat of your car, water bottle raise to her lips as she smiles around the rim, pretending not to notice. It’s the first of them all, if you remember correctly.

Syrup tasting of the sweetest nectar coats your tongue as it parts through soft flesh, a soft thump of something solid against hard wood can be heard. But muffled by the warmth on either side of your head.

Another photo, Tara standing with one arm up, hand blocking the sun from her eyes as she stands amongst the Great Salt Lake Desert. Still, you’re not sure why she insisted you stop, but you’ve learned to never deny her.

Fingers thread through your hair, those black painted nails gently scraping in a silent gesture of encouragement. Your lips caress fruit forbidden, gently sucking and rolling your tongue in turn, the pressure around your head increases. But even then, you distinctly hear her voice raise an octave.

Your favorite photo by far is from Chicago, Illinois. Of all places, there is where a butterfly had grown fond of Tara, her hands gently cupped together as it perches on her thumb. Those pretty orange and yellow wings don’t compare to that awed smile that graces her lips.

Like biting into a peach, your head spins as ambrosia fills your mouth just as she goes taut and rigid, beautiful symphony surpassing its apex and shifting into a slur of curses and garbled swears.

The most recent one, in New York, is simply Tara gazing up with lights of all colors reflecting in those captivating brown eyes. It’s night, on Time Square, and you’re fairly certain this is the only photo she didn’t see you take.

You savor, relish, linger, as long as she needs until she’s completely undone. And as you withdrawal, a smile tugs at your lips.

Amongst the photos is Tara herself, splayed out across your table, flustered and panting and the prettiest haze in her eyes. When they find yours, she automatically mirrors your smile, which has you leaning forward.

Her fingers part from your hair in opt of tenderly cupping your jaw, shakily leaning up off the table just enough to meet you for a messy, but intimate kiss. And when her tongue glides against your bottom lip, you part them just so she will understand why you’ve grown addicted to the taste of her.

This table, a momentary alter, for the woman you’d die for. The woman you surrender yourself to. The woman that is everything to you.

“I love you” you whisper against her lips, an oath, devotion.

You feel her smile, her nose softly nuzzling yours just as her thumb delicately traces your cheekbone, “I love you”.

To you she is a goddess, and you, worshiper.

day 5

“Yeah, no, you’re kidding yourself if you think you’re fucking going anywhere”.

It’s far too amusing watching you in a panic, tearing the cushions off the couch as you search for your tape recorder.

You’d gotten an email for a “quick job” at the precinct, to assist on a case currently underway, as you so vaguely put. So naturally when you stepped out of the room, Tara swiped it and hid it.

You’ll never leave without it, and thus, gives Tara the time she needs to remind you of all the reasons you won’t be leaving.

Not to mention, Tara is determined to win this. “You promised this two weeks would be about us” she points out, crossing her arms and pinning you with a glare you haven’t noticed yet.

“I can’t say no to work” you say once more, ducking down to look under the couch.

“Yes you can, it’s so simple. It’s literally one vowel”.

“Tara it’s work, it’s what pays-“

“Don’t you bullshit me, I know for a fact Sidney overcompensated you, so you’d better have a plausible fucking excuse for trying to abandon me.”

It’s a low blow, but it gets Tara the reaction she wants.

That makes you sit up, and from where Tara is standing she has to force herself to keep a straight face. As the way your head pops up just over the top of the couch with that look of irritation, only amuses her further.

“Where is it Tara” you say as you stand, your tone unyielding as you begin to crawl over the couch.

“Up your ass, is where” Tara counters, circling the couch before you can reach her.

“Babe-“

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, you’ve been revoked of your title until you promise me you aren’t going.”

A stare off ensues, your hands gripping the back of the couch as she stands opposite of you, arms still crossed. You’re breaking, fighting back a smile, and Tara is far better with her poker face than you.

“You’re. Not. Going.”

“I have to work, I can’t just say no” you sigh, shoulders starting to deflate, which is a signal to Tara she’s most definitely got you right where she wants you.

“Yes you can” Tara says as she uncrosses her arms, walking forward and dropping to her knees on the couch in front of you, purposefully looking up at you under hooded eyes and smiling softly, “like this”.

And in one swift movement, Tara tilts her head up and kisses you slowly. Her hands curl into the fabric of your shirt, tugging you forward gently. Seducing, enticing, whatever you want to call it. You aren’t leaving.

And from the way you lean forward into her, letting her tug you over the couch and down on to the messily placed cushions, you know it too.

“You’re a bad influence” you say quietly, she silences you by grazing her teeth against your bottom lip.

“Come on, work can wait” Tara runs her hands up your chest, her fingers loosely curling around the back of your neck as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

“You’re seriously going to leave me here, alone, in your apartment without you? When I came all this way just for you?”

Hook, and sinker.

Tara sees the fight to hold yourself responsible shatter, especially when she knows how much you can’t argue against her statement.

“Fuck, okay, yeah you’re right” you sigh, your head dropping to her shoulder.

Tara doesn’t even try to stifle her triumphant laugh, tugging you down to lay next to her as she blindly reaches for the remote. The item hastily discarded on the floor in your search for your tape recorder.

Which, you seem to have completely forgotten about, no thanks to Tara.

You will reap minor consequences later, but fuck it, Tara wins.

day 6

“Please don’t laugh, this is serious, Tara”.

She bites her lip, watching you carefully as you shift from the countertop by the sink to the adjacent one next to the stove, you’re just so goddamn endearing.

It’s hard not to watch you these days, the little mannerisms you have as you fidget about. Especially when you’re cooking. The way you pop your knuckles amidst a temporary pause, train of thought escaping you.

The way your tongue sticks out just the slightest from the right corner of your mouth when you’re concentrating far too hard. That subtle small smile that tugs at your lips as your hands move with practiced fluidity.

Tara wishes she could say she was paying attention to what you’re saying, what you’re doing, but she pretty much tuned out after you told her this was a recipe your best friend’s mom had taught you back in your adolescence.

It’s not her fault she finds you captivating when you’re just being yourself, you’re definitely talking to her and she’s definitely offering a small nod of acknowledgement here and there.

Only when you swipe a bit of sauce on to your finger and offer it to her, does Tara snap out of her thoughts. Recoiling back a from where her chin had been rested on her balled fists, elbows slipping off the counter.

“Oh god no, I don’t know where those fingers have been” Tara says as she makes a face, which only makes you let out a belly laugh that causes Tara’s heart to flutter.

“Tara you know exactly where these fingers have been” you say with innuendo, giving her an expectant look as you offer the sample of sauce gathered on your finger.

“Exactly.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully and stepping away, bringing your finger to your own mouth “I did wash them before I started cooking, not that it matters”.

Tara bites back a smile, she can’t help it, its habit. But god it’s hard when you’re always doing the most mundane or stupidest shit that has her fighting off the involuntary action.

Just as you’re filling both plates with pasta and what you call “garlic bread”, Tara told you butter and garlic salt on toast doesn’t count, she decides to approach a topic she’s been trying to find a way to address in the most subtle way possible.

Then again, Tara has never been good at that.

“Baby I love you, but I need human interaction, preferably with the people that love you”.

The sudden statement has you pausing, looking over to her with an expression that’s a mixture of emotions.

“You’ve got me, isn’t that enough?” You say with a half smile as you continue scooping pasta on to the plates.

Expected of you, that tiptoe of a reply. You’re good at it and Tara gives you props, but she knows if she asks straightforward that you won’t be able to tell her no. Only she doesn’t want to have to ask, because that’s not the point.

The point should be that you want to introduce her to the people in your life. But you’re hesitant, why Tara still isn’t sure, however considering her relationship with her own parents. Tara is the last to judge.

“You’re more than enough, but it’s my turn to know you. Is that so hard to believe?”

That makes you pause, and this is one of those moments Tara finds herself prideful with how well she’s learned to read you. How you register she’s throwing your own words back at you, the smile that breaks out across your face tells her it all.

“Okay. I’m hearing you. You’re right” you sigh softly, doing that thing where you square your shoulders when you’re getting serious, “how about tomorrow? It’s a weekend day? I’m sure everyone will be free”.

It’s this moment that Tara’s excitement instantly shifts into dread as she realizes she’s actually going to meet the people that matter to you. Your people.

Now, Tara is a people person, she deals with people all the time with what she does for a living. The hardest of them to the most broken.

But this? This terrifies her, and even when you lean in to press the softest of kisses to her temple, her insides churn uneasily.

What if they don’t approve?

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a wine bottle popping, making Tara’s eyes snap over to where you’re pouring two glasses. You offer her one, to which she gladly takes, a soft clink following the two glasses meeting. That fucking smile gets her every time. So full of love.

And then Tara comes to a second realization, that she doesn’t care.

Because having you? Tara needs nothing more.

day 7

You’d think for a Saturday, the pub would be packed.

The pub itself is a cozy and lively space, with a warm and inviting atmosphere. It’s larger than a typical small town bar, with a bar on one end and a few round tables scattered around the space. The walls were painted a deep red color, and the floor was made of dark wood. Soft, warm lighting cast from lights woven through the wooden rafters along the ceiling, and a small corner of the space was set up with a pool table. Chatter and laughter fills the space as a handful of patrons mill about drinking.

Tara can say with pride she’s finally met three of your childhood friends.

So far, Anika is her favorite. She’s full of life, positivity, and an abundance of embarrassing stories from your younger years. You two banter back and forth like siblings, your incessant desire to remind her you’re two months older. Anika quick to remind you who made sure you actually took care of yourself so that you somewhat functioned like a normal human being.

Tara doesn’t even try to hide her smile.

Ethan is quiet, but not in a bad way, more of a wallflower. His comments are an attempt to insert himself into conversation, Tara takes note of the way you always give his shoulder a reassuring pat paired with a wide smile. How he eases, his discomfort by the public space alleviating.

To balance the group, is Quinn, the wild card. From observation Tara can tell she’s the polar opposite of her brother Ethan. When she isn’t eyeing any man or woman she considers attractive that walks into the pub, the redhead is assessing Tara with a subtle smirk. A flirt through and through without question. She’s charismatic, quick witted, and a bit air headed.

The dynamic works, oddly enough, and Tara lives for it. Being present, seeing you with your friends, and she can tell how much they care for you. It’s clear you’ve all been through a lot together, which only deepens her curiosity on your past further.

You don’t talk about it, this is the closest taste to understanding what makes you who you are that Tara has ever come.

But that’s a question for another time, perhaps in the privacy of just the two of you.

When your laughter rings out, full of warmth and from your belly, Tara’s smile softens. You look so happy, so complete, and when your eyes meet she has one simple thought.

Tara is completely, stupidly, in love with you.

She isn’t sure when she fell, and it’s not like she didn’t already figure as much, but it’s without a doubt now.

And then comes the question she’d been waiting for all night.

“So how did you two meet?” it’s Ethan that asks, boyish grin and curiosity in his expression.

You and Tara share a look, having already made an agreement prior not to mention the… darker details.

“Well, I asked her for drinks-“

“Oh bullshit, that’s not how it started and you know it” Tara instantly cuts you off, grinning as you give her an accusing look, which only makes your friends laugh.

“Tell us how it really went Tara, god knows your local lover over here was probably a blubbering mess” Anika comments, which instantly has you trying to voice a rebuke.

Tara quickly slaps a hand over your mouth, a wicked grin growing across her face “this one was hopeless from the start, but it’s not like I made it easy-“

You swat her hand away, jumping on it with a dramatic scoff, “oh come on I totally wooed you with my charm and pool playing skills-“

“You didn’t win once”.

“Yeah but-“

“And you quit smoking cigarettes because I told you about my asthma.”

That has all three of your friends in disbelief, Anika praising Tara for getting you to quit. Quinn is instantly giving you shit for buckling so quick, and Ethan is completely flabbergasted.

“No fucking way. Did you freeze hell over or something?”

Tara grins smugly, ignoring the way you’re sputtering out, slowly giving up trying to defend yourself.

“You were snatching my cigarettes from me for days, don’t act like you didn’t-“

“Just admit it, you were down bad. I only had to mention it once”.

You suddenly smile, giving her a look that sends a small shiver down her spine, “yeah well you acted like you didn’t care but you just couldn’t help yourself”.

Okay, true, but Tara isn’t backing down.

She reaches up and grabs your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, making your face scrunch in a cute way.

“Come on, with this face? I was bound to cave eventually.”

It makes everyone laugh harder than they should, and you smile more than you should, but when she kisses you it’s full of love.

It’s always been love, even if it took you both some time to get there.

“You better keep her or I’m disowning you”.

The kiss breaks, you huff in irritation, Tara laughs brightly as she leans against you.

“Oh my god, fuck off, Anika”.

day 9

The bathroom is dimly lit by a few tall candles placed around the space, casting a soft and warm glow in the room.

The air was filled with the scent of the candles, a compilation of different fragrances mixed together. The space felt secluded and cozy, on the bathroom counter is your vinyl record player, the sweet lyrics of The Louvre playing over the faint sound of the candles crackling.

The lighting isn’t all that makes the intimate atmosphere, the small bath was filled to the brim with warm, bubbly water, creating a cozy space for the two of you within. The tub is narrow, forcing you to be close to one another as you relax in the water. Despite the tight quarters, you’re comfortable together, the clumps of suds providing the only barrier on the water surface.

Tara is currently nestled between your legs, her back flush to your front. You’re fitted together perfectly, always perfectly, it’s almost cliché to conclude you had to have been made for each other.

Her eyes are closed, hair pulled back into a messy bun as she relaxes her head back into the crook of your neck. If it weren’t for the way her thumb gently caresses your knuckles where your fingers are interlocked, you’d be quick to assume she’d fallen asleep.

You hum along quietly to the music, your free hand coming up to absently tuck a strand of her hair out of her face and behind her ear. The corners of her mouth twitch, and she leans back into you further. If that is at all possible.

“I could get use to this” Tara murmurs after a lapse of silence, the soft words filling the tranquility.

“Me too” you whisper against the curve of her ear, your heart fluttering as you notice small goosebumps form on what skin you can see. Even when surrounded by the warm water the tub provides.

It’s moments like this, with Tara, that make you wonder if this was all you’d ever needed your whole life. Just life, with her.

That thought alone, makes you far more grateful that you made the choices you did, that led you to Tara in the first place.

Having Tara here in New York, away from the otherworldly chaos, no expectations or unavoidable demands from anything or anyone.

It makes you appreciate even the hard times, and the lessons it taught you. Never did you think you’d ever be this happy, this at peace.

You’re completely, unabashedly, in love with her.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t think it can get better than this.

day 10

Tara and Anika are bonding over how you need decorations, that your apartment is too bland.

You aren’t sure whether this is a good thing or not.

“You’re fucked, bud” Ethan comments as he lays down a red nine amongst the discard pile laying in the middle of your coffee table.

“What’s mine is hers” you say with a ghost of a smile, dropping a red four.

Quinn snorts in amusement from your left, placing a green four on top of your card which has both you and Ethan groaning.

“Uno, also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this with a girl before” Quinn says as she shoots you a smirk just as Ethan drops a green draw two, “and that’s saying a lot all considering I’ve never seen you serious with anyone”.

You roll your eyes, pulling from the draw deck and sighing with relief as you drop the green eight you’d gotten.

“Like you have room to talk, you haven’t even been in a relationship-“

Ethan snickers when Quinn grabs a pillow off the couch and smacks you in the back of the head with it, making you suck in air through your teeth as you rip the pillow from her.

Raising it, ready to strike-

“Dont you dare, behave” you hear Anika scold, making you pause mid-movement, shooting her a glare that doesn’t even hold light to the one you’re receiving from her.

The fact Tara is hiding a laugh behind her hand doesn’t help either.

“How about you stop jumping on my case, huh? My apartment is fine the way it is” you shoot towards the both of them, squaring your shoulders.

“You need life in here, some art on the walls won’t kill you” Tara tries to add in, to which Quinn follows up with her own opinion.

As always.

“I agree, these walls are as bland as Ethan’s dating life-“

You swing the pillow down on Quinn, cutting her sentence off as she yelps at the abrupt flop of the pillow against the side of her head.

“CHILDREN” Anika groans, Tara laughing as she watches you and Quinn start shoving at each other while Ethan argues his case on his dating life.

It falls on deaf ears.

“-what’s the point in decorating if I might move to Woodsboro to be with Tara, anyways” you say abruptly, which has Quinn stop on her assaults to look over to the woman in question. Everyone does.

Tara however, doesn’t miss a beat as she holds your gaze, expression unreadable as she raise one singular eyebrow.

“And if I decide I want to move to New York?”

A subtle tension fills the apartment, not even Quinn has anything to say for once.

“You guys joining in on this now? Or what?” Ethan cuts the silence with his effort to change the subject, and for once it helps as Anika and Tara head over to jump in on the card game.

Quinn shoots you a look as she regathers the cards, but you don’t have time to wonder what it means as Tara drops down to sit on the ground next to you. Purposefully bumping her shoulder into yours harder than necessary.

You whip your head around, jaw set and eyes narrowed playfully. Even when she’s trying to look serious, you know it’s not that deep.

But, it is.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, you know” you mutter to her as Anika demands that she be the one to distribute the cards, since Quinn is known to cheat.

As argument breaks out between the two of them, you and Tara find yourselves in a momentary bubble. Your eyes searching hers, she doing the same to yours.

“Tomorrow” she mutters, her hand gliding across the rug, your own instinctively slipping off the table to rest atop hers.

It’s a silent agreement, because the conversation won’t be easy, but even that doesn’t matter.

You’re pretty sure you’re both going to be on the same page.

Quinn ends up winning the next three games of Uno.

You accuse Ethan of slipping her cards again, she does have the better poker face than him after all.

And when he turns beet red, sputtering, war breaks out.

This. This is your family, it always has been. And with Tara?

It feels complete.

day 11

Intimacy comes in many forms, as does affection.

But with you? It’s indescribable.

The level of comfort and safety she feels with you is almost scary, with how quickly she opened up to you. Tara should’ve been terrified.

But if you’ve ever been right about anything, is that Tara just couldn’t help herself.

Tara raged to Sam about you back in Woodsboro on two separate occasions.

The first, after the incident at the lake with Wes. After she’d found you at that diner when she’d gotten off her shift late. After she’d gotten to know you a little better.

The second, was after you’d tried to leave. After you’d returned, told her you’d only come back for her. Reminded her how you’d promised to never leave her, after trying to leave her.

During Tara’s first rant, Sam had told her to stay away from you. How you were nothing but trouble from the outside, how you were reckless and acted with intrusive behavior. By the second, Sam was giving Tara a look somewhere close to sympathetic, with a dash of understanding.

Tara is pretty sure Sam knew before she knew back then, even with her initial reluctance towards you.

But now, as the two of you lay in your bed, a tangle of limbs that leaves wonder where you start and Tara ends. Tara knows.

Not even the movie playing idly in the background helps quiet Tara’s thoughts. The last few days have meant so much to her, life with you is everything she didn’t know she needed.

Tara hates that she is having a hard time admitting that to herself, because even with the phone calls back home to her friends and Sam, she’s painfully reluctant to return.

Or maybe, she’s just grown comfortable being checked out of reality. Now knowing the comfort of your arms, your home, your people, your life. She likes normalcy. She likes the absence is stress, wondering if someone she knows will disappear in a month.

Tara is starting to worry that there’s a slight chance, her trauma is catching up to her, now that she has room to breathe. To love. To live.

Can she go home? Can she leave you? It’s already a miracle that she found you.

Well, technically, you found her. She simply cradles the gift that is your heart in the palm of her scarred hand.

Does she deserve it? She deserves to be happy, just like anyone else. But at what cost? Will it be worth it, if it’s not what she’s desperately hoping it to be? Will this break her? Will you break her?

“You’re thinking awful hard” you murmur softly, your hand that had been idly scratching her back affectionately comes up to dip your fingers under her chin. The small touch has Tara lift her head off your chest, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you fully.

“I can’t be that predictable already”.

“Not at all, but you’ve got a giveaway” you say with a small smile.

That makes Tara scoff quietly, smacking your chest gently, which only makes you laugh as she protests “I do not!”

“You get this tension right here” you reach up to delicately trace the space between her eyebrows, “that and you haven’t made a single comment on the bad acting in this movie”.

She can’t help but smile at that, even as she rolls her eyes “yeah whatever”.

You’re analyzing her, she feels it, so she continues before you ask.

“What are we doing?”

Of course she expects a quip, sarcasm, a witty comment to ease her thoughts. Instead, you do better.

“I’d like to think there is a place where someone loves you both before, and after they learn what sustains you from the inside. And us-“ you pause, raising your hand with her palm pressed to yours.

“We’re just trying to find where that will home us, together” you trace her fingers with yours, captivated by the simple feeling of her skin against yours.

Tara never understood the depth of yearning for someone, anything. But when her eyes find yours, and finds just how deep your love for her runs, it hurts almost as much as it reassures her.

Which now begs the question: New York or Woodsboro? Somewhere in between?

“I can’t take you from your home”.

“Then you know I can’t ask the same of you” you reply just as softly, “I don’t care where-“

“Me either”.

A pause.

This pause, this moment of intimate silence, was a strange comfort, like a warm embrace on a cold night. There was no need for words, no need for argument. If there’s one thing you’ll never struggle with, is communicating, and that alone guarantees that eventually.

Eventually, you’ll come to a solution.

In this perfect, peaceful silence, there was an unspoken understanding between the two, an understanding that words alone could never express. It was a moment that transcended language, a moment that spoke in a language all its own, a language of trust, love, and connection.

It offered no resolute answer, and it doesn’t help that Tara flies home tomorrow.

But just maybe, right now, there didn’t need to be.

previous, next

[rqgnarok]

music to my eyes - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 4,266

warnings: spoilers for the season 3 finale of ted lasso, jamie being a lil self deprecating. reader uses female pronouns.

summary: jamie has a crush on the band’s bassist. 

author’s note at the end!

Jamie’s so, so late.

Roy’s gonna have his balls. It’s the first training for the Queen’s Cup final against Tottenham– their first one without Ted, a little something before the freaking Champion’s League starts next year– and Jamie’s having the worst morning of his life.

He woke up late for his 4 am training that ran long, traffic was absolute shit and now he’s sprinting– not running, cause he’s not allowed to after he and Colin almost ran over the Prince of Denmark while racing each other to the locker room, a story for another day– down the hallway with Roy Kent’s fury just waiting to find its rightful owner. 

He didn’t even have time to comb his hair today. It still looks amazing, but it’s the routine that matters. For his mental health or whatever. 

Maybe that’s why he feels so jittery and doesn’t look where he’s going as he makes his way to the locker room. Jamie’s got his bag clutched to his chest and his headphones hanging around his neck, his jacket halfway on before he gave up and left it trailing down his side like a sad blanket. 

He’s cursing whatever Gods control alarm clocks and traffic and hairbrushes when he knocks onto someone. It’s so forceful it sends them both to the ground with a grunt and a little ah! of surprise. Jamie tries not to grow annoyed and fails. He considers laying on the ground and becoming one with the carpet so he doesn’t face Roy’s justified punishment and sighs out his nose, pushing himself to a sitting position.

“–so sorry,” and it’s a woman, Jamie just knocked out a woman in his rush to work. What’s next? Is he gonna hit a cat with his car? Maybe spit on a kid’s face? She keeps babbling apologies, unaware of Jamie’s foul mood. “–supposed to be at her office but there’s just– there are so many hallways–”

“‘s alright,” he cuts her off harsher than he means to, guilt stabbing at him when she looks at him with wide, remorseful eyes. Jamie sighs, dusting off his clothes and standing, offering her a hand. “Me fault for bein’ in a rush. Should’ve seen where I was going.”

“Oh, god, you actually know where you’re going,” she says with a grimace, accepting his hand. She’s on her feet and standing too close to Jamie for a second that feels like a lifetime– almost nose-to-nose with Richmond’s greatest. Her laugh is stuttery and nervous when she steps back, barely meeting Jamie’s eye.

She’s cute. Jamie’s not planning to do anything about it, especially not with his fine for being late slowly becoming one for missing training but she is. Cute. His mouth lifts in a half smile at the thought, charmed. 

“I was looking for Rebecca Welton’s office but I only got myself lost,” she says sheepishly, putting her hair behind her ear every couple of seconds since it keeps stubbornly falling out of place. Jamie’s fingers twitch a little but no. No, absolutely not, he’s not doing this to himself, no sir. “Is there any way you can give me directions without having to go with me? I don’t want you to be late for– shit. Practice, huh?”

Jamie thinks she’s the smartest woman that’s ever walked the face of the Earth until he remembers where they are. At Richmond’s training facilities. She’s looking at a disheveled man in a sports outfit. The story kind of tells itself.

“I– yeah,” Jamie stutters a little, clearing his throat to disguise it. “There’s, um, it ain’t a problem. I can take you there if you want.”

Her entire posture screams relief as soon as he offers, and it’s enough for Jamie to make up his mind even if she hasn’t said yes yet. “Would you? They said in the group chat not to be late and, like, they weren’t specific about it but you just know when a message’s for you, you know. And here I am, late–”

A beat.

“–and rambling,” she smiles at him again, the sight tugging at Jamie’s chest as he stands there like an idiot, his brain rebooting whenever she does it. “Yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

And so Jamie asks a kitman to take his stuff to the locker room while he walks her up to Rebecca’s office. His hand hovers but doesn’t quite touch the small of her back while he blabbers his way through small talk. Nice weather, today, innit, traffic was absolute hell though. Oh, you’re not from around here, that’s nice, do you plan on going sightseeing?

He delivers her to Rebecca’s floor to a thankful, ecstatic Higgins, who welcomes her with a hearty shake of the hand and promises that she hasn’t missed anything important. She’s barely able to spare him a smile and a quick thanks before the door’s closed behind them and Jamie’s standing there on his own, smiling at nothing.

He’s still wearing a dopey grin when he finally finds himself on the field, Roy yelling at him to run laps until sundown for being late. His legs are killing him, he’s £200 poorer, and he didn’t even get the woman’s name; but nothing can drag him down from his high and make him forget how she’d squeezed his arm in gratitude, touch warm and calloused against his skin. 

The next day Rebecca’s there before practice starts, looking tall and pleased as she claps her hands and shares the big news: since the final of the Queen’s Cup is being held right here at Nelson Road, she managed to get a band to play during the halftime show. They’ll be here the entire next two weeks for rehearsals and staging, so everyone must be on their best behavior if they don’t want their name in the summer transfer market.

Jamie doesn’t connect the dots until he sees her again, this time at a local bar big enough to house less than two thousand people. Keeley hears from Roy who hears from Beard, who heard from Higgins that Rebecca said the secret band was gonna hang around the city for a couple of other smaller, quick gigs. 

Jamie manages to excuse himself from video games at Colin’s with the guys and offers himself to Keeley as a buffer between her and Roy at a bar tonight. Though, in Jamie’s very humble and very right opinion, they’re already on their way to getting back together for good.

The band’s gathered a nice crowd, the lighting low and the thrum of the music hammering on Jamie’s teeth. He’s nursing the beer Roy bought him, the man charmed enough by Keeley’s presence that he let Jamie bend his rigorous diet regime. Just for the night. 

It takes three songs for the bassist to speak up, a makeshift spotlight landing on her, sweaty and delighted at being onstage. Jamie’s blood rushes to his face and his vision blacks out for a second. 

It’s her. No longer is she lost and out of her element, shyly asking a stranger for help. Both of her feet are steady on the ground, the strap of her bass snug around her neck. Her fingers are toying with the strings even when no song’s playing, an air of rightful confidence washing over the room as it takes her in. Jamie isn’t the only one suddenly breathless.

She grins against the microphone, coy. “Thank you so much for having us, Jaded Joker. We’re Karma Police, and we hope you have as much fun hearin’ us as we do playing for you.”

They fall into another song with that quick introduction and Jamie can’t take his eyes off her, barely hearing the song as the world around him slows down. Her clothes and jewelry sway with her to the rhythm of the music, the lights shifting seamlessly into different colors making her look ethereal. 

Keeley clocks it in immediately.

“She’s good, huh?” she nods at the stage where Jamie’s stranger is moving to the beat of the bass like no one’s watching, shamelessly enjoying herself and making funny faces at her bandmates. “Fuckin’ smoking, too.”

Jamie only hums in a very Roy Kent-like way, knowing there’s no fooling Keeley fucking Jones. The last thing he needs is to give her details and have her dip a toe into Jamie’s nonexistent love life.

Of course, he doesn’t take into consideration that Roy’s a brazen gossip.

“So,” Sam elongates the word as he’s spotting Jamie on the press the next day, happy watching him grunt at the effort. “How was the band last night?”

Jamie almost drops the damned thing on his chest.

“Roy said you enjoyed it,” he continues giddily like he didn’t almost commit accidental manslaughter by catching Jamie off guard. “Especially the bassist. What was her name?”

Sam fakes confusion for less than a minute before Jamie gives, mumbling it under his breath. He’d been weak and googled Karma Police in the privacy of his car before going home, swiping through the images that popped up until he recognized her face. 

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), the article he clicked on informed him. Jamie had repeated the name under his breath just to see what it felt like on his tongue for an embarrassing amount of time. 

Thanks to Karma Police’s bassist and lyricist (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the band’s sophomore album New Perspective has found a home in people’s hearts and high on the global charts.

Keeley wasn’t kidding. She’s good. 

“Oh,” Sam realizes, some of his amusement softening into genuine interest when he watches Jamie’s face do whatever the fuck it's doing. “Oh, you like like her.”

Jamie immediately flushes under Sam’s gaze, making sure the weight is safe in its place before physically fleeing the conversation. Sam doesn’t mention it to anyone, which Jamie appreciates so badly he could cry a little, but he does find his eyes across the locker room later when Rebecca comes in, four people in tow.

“Everybody, these are the wonderful musicians I spoke to you about the other day,” she says it in a way that screams I’m a pleasant human being and embarrass me and I will end your career right where you stand all at once. “We’re on a little tour of the installations and I thought we’d all come to say hi to wrap it up.”

The boys are charming and welcome them with ease. They’re not one of the most liked teams in England despite their bad runs for nothing, but Jamie’s frozen the second he catches sight of her. She’s a step behind one of her bandmates, shaking hands and smiling politely at conversations while staying slightly in the background, the stage persona from the previous night gone like taking off a jacket. 

Jamie takes pride in the way their eyes meet and her tight expression loosens, her smile blossoming into something more genuine, less unsure.

“Hey, stranger,” she says a little awkwardly after having gathered the courage Jamie couldn’t to cross the room and say hi. It feels like they’re alone in a room full of people, and for a second Jamie thinks he sees Sam stealing a few looks, making sure he keeps the others away and distracted for a little privacy. “Did you make it to training the other day?”

“What?” Jamie blanks like an idiot, then shakes his head when he remembers how they met; both of them, late for their respective responsibilities. “Oh! Oh, yeah. I– yeah. I had to run for me life to make up for it, but I made it.”

“Good,” she smiles, shifting in her place. “I, um. I’m glad we get to play for you guys. What you’ve done this past season, getting back to the top, has been unbelievable.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he replies, awestruck, and backtracks when she looks a little apprehensive. She’s doing the hair thing again, combing it back while it stubbornly escapes its place every couple of seconds. A nervous tic, maybe. “I mean– some friends and I, we saw you last night at the Jaded Joker. If anything, it’s an honor we get you guys to play for us.”

“Oh!” she seems pleased, ducking her head at the compliment. Her shoulders loosen again, and Jamie tries not to feel like he just scored a goal against Man City. “Oh, you should’ve said hi! Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“I did,” he says, too soft, and it feels like an admission of something when her eyes search his face, for a moment landing on his mouth before putting herself back together. “Up there, it’s like– it’s like you forget everyone else. You’re made for the stage.”

If anything, (Y/N)’s delight only strengthens, tugging at the neckline of her shirt. Jamie finds himself trying to follow the trail of new skin and flushes as well when he catches himself just in time. 

“Thank you,” she matches his tone. “You’d think it’d be nervewracking but it’s… silence. In my head. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t.”

“It does,” Jamie agrees, breathless. It’s exactly how he feels when he gets the ball on his feet, every anxiety and worry and part of him he doesn’t like quieting the minute he steps on a pitch. “I get the same when I play. Peace in the chaos, I guess”

(Y/N) looks at him like she’s discovering the world’s eight wonder. 

“Kids!” her bandmate breaks the moment by coming over, arm draped around (Y/N)’s shoulder. (Y/N) blinks, looking a little shell-shocked. “Sorry to interrupt this party, but rehearsal awaits.”

Disappointment claws at Jamie’s belly, but before he can let it fester the conversation continues, bubbly and loud. “Alas! We’ll be done around 5. You’re welcome to visit then. We’re going to the third floor, I think.”

(Y/N)’s only amused at her friend’s antics, even if Jamie’s back to having a knot in his throat out of nervousness alone. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? It’s like he’s eight again and crushing on the cute boy that lived in the apartment in front of the Tartt’s. 

“See you then?” (Y/N) says, hopeful, and Jamie thinks it’s only fair he’s brave as well and nods as resolutely as he can. 

“I’ll be there.”

He ends up having to ask Higgins for directions, after promising he’s not gonna stir up any trouble at least four times. It takes Roy passing by and giving a few reassuring grunts, guaranteeing Jamie’s best behavior before Higgins gives him the location. When Jamie goes to thank him, Roy only points at him menacingly, though lacking his usual frown, and says don’t fuck this up. 

Rehearsals are just wrapping up when Jamie gets there, instruments being packed and people saying goodbye to each other when he makes his way into the room. He immediately finds (Y/N) sitting on the piano playing a complicated melody.

She lights up when she sees him, the music seizing. “You made it!”

Jamie stops her from standing up, instead sitting next to her after she scoots over to give him room. “That was nice. A song of yours?”

(Y/N) shrugs. “Hopefully soon. You never know, when you’re writing. You start working on a song and it ends up being a completely different thing from when you started.”

“Sounds messy,” Jamie says, a little consternated at the thought. Fortunately, (Y/N) laughs.

“It is. Do you play?”

“Fuck no,” he says quickly, then tries to explain himself as she splutters in amused surprise. “I mean, I don’t think I can. It seems pretty complicated. I’ve always been better with me feet.”

He reaches for the keys and begins playing some nonsense, loud and offkey, knowing it’ll make her laugh again.

“No, you gotta–” she cackles, placing her hands on top of his and quieting the dissonant echo of the keys. Jamie feels the tug at his lips, insistent, automatic, the same rush of delight that courses over him whenever he’s in her presence. “Gentle. Be gentle about it, jeez.”

She lines up their hands so her fingers move his and begins playing a quiet, fun melody. Jamie’s doing shit other than staring at her face, slightly twisted in concentration as she mumbles the notes under her breath. G, G, G, F, G, B, G, G…

“I know this one,” Jamie mumbles in recognition. (Y/N) turns her head to smile at him, pleased. “‘s from Nottin Hill, innit?”

“And a million other movies,” she murmurs back, unable to break the spell that’s fallen over the room. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”

“‘s my favorite film,” he concedes, finding it incredibly easy to be honest when they’re sitting side by side like this, alone, their sides warm against each other. He loves his teammates, but (Y/N) didn’t know him when he was awful and arrogant, too cocky. There’s nothing she holds against him, no standard he needs to meet for her to be happy in his company. “Cried me eyes out at the end. Though I’ll deny it if you ever ask in front of anyone.”

(Y/N) laughs. “I promise I won’t. It’s a good movie. Doesn’t beat While You Were Sleeping, though.”

Jamie’s expression remains blank. (Y/N)’s face falls into disbelief, her hands tightening against his. “You’ve never watched While You Were Sleeping.”

He’s heard of it, but it’s hilarious to watch her forget herself, any sign of nervousness or polite shyness finally out the window. Jamie likes it– likes her, wants her to be comfortable with him and stop holding herself so tightly whenever she’s off the stage. 

“You poor, sheltered boy,” she exhales, aghast. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to introduce you to the best romantic comedy ever made.”

Jamie goes to take the opening but stops himself at the last second. He knows this process; the flirting, the leaning in for just a moment so she smells his cologne then pulling away, leaving her wanting more. The asking for a date, a fancy dinner, then taking her home. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, dodging calls until she stops trying to reach him. 

He’s been doing it for years. He wants to desperately break the cycle and he wants to do it with her, but does he have it in him? Jamie’s been working on himself harder than he’s worked for anything else in his life, but what if he’s one slip away from becoming his old self? From turning out like his dad?

Sure, the old man’s changed, or– well. He’s trying to. But whether Jamie likes it or not he sees a little too much of him in himself sometimes, and he can’t do that to her. He’s known her for less than a week and he knows she deserves better. Everyone does. 

Roy told him not to fuck it up. Maybe this is what he meant. 

His expression stutters, shatters, and reestablishes itself in a matter of a moment, a blink of an eye. Jamie knocks his shoulder into hers gently, leaning back into place after a second. He teases: “And who made you the expert, eh?”

Rather than letting it drop, (Y/N) takes the bait just like Jamie knew she would. They stay there until a security guard comes to kick them out for the night, and they talk about everything and nothing. Movies, songs, bands they like, and foods they don’t. Jamie’s favorite players when he was a kid, his hero-like worship for Roy Kent, and how he’s made him a better player, a better man.

(Y/N) shares with him the first time she held a guitar in her hands, the albums she listened to when she was a kid that changed her as a person, realizing she could create magic through words and music. Her favorite cities to tour, how long she’s known her bandmates, how she’d die and kill for them if necessary.

By the time he’s walking into the pitch at Nelson Road two weeks later, the roar of the crowd around him swallowing every other sound, Jamie’s spent every free moment of his time with (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It was unavoidable, helpless as he is in his attraction to her, but Jamie doesn’t know what to do without, as Roy so carefully put it, fucking it up.

It hadn’t helped when (Y/N) snuck into the locker room to wish him luck, showing him the Richmond bracelet she was gonna wear onstage with a roll of the eyes. “Our stylist wouldn’t let me wear the jersey, but don’t you doubt for a second that I’m rooting for you, Tartt.”

Jesus Christ. Jamie had felt his cheeks warm up and dared to thank her with a loud, exaggerated kiss on the forehead that left them both grinning like idiots and Roy staring at them knowingly.

Before Jamie followed his teammates into the field, Roy had pulled him aside with a hand on his shoulder. “Tartt–”

“I know, I know,” he answered a little too self-deprecatingly. “Don’t fuck it up.”

But Roy only raised his eyebrows, realization dawning on his features. “You think I say that because I think you will?”

Jamie mumbled some not-words under his breath and Roy cursed. “Prick. I say it because you deserve good things, dickhead. And you should let them come to you when they do.”

Good things, Jamie thinks after one of his passes gives Dani the first goal of the night. The younger man jumps into his arms while hugging him tight and laughing into his ear, their teammates joining their embrace less than a second later. 

He looks towards the general area of the VIP seats where he knows (Y/N) and the rest of the band are cheering them on. He pictures her screaming at the top of her lungs, arms in the air, and being happy for him like she’s known him for all his life.

She might be the best thing. Whether he deserves her or not, Jamie wants her. Wants to be with her, watch romantic comedies until they both cry and spend his free afternoons watching her play the piano while he plays FIFA in the living room. He wants songs written about him that have him blushing whenever he hears them in public and for her to come to his games and be able to dedicate every goal to her he ever scores.

Good things. Yeah, Jamie can get down on that.

“You fucking asshole!” she jumps into his arms the second she finds him on the pitch after the game, a medal hanging from his neck and sweat sticking to his skin. (Y/N) doesn’t seem to care as she lets him lift her in the air, holding onto each other tight. “You did it! You fucking did it!”

“I missed your show,” he replies instead, only a little bummed. He’s seen her play live before but there was an itch under his skin the entire half-time, knowing how close she was and being unable to get to her. Jamie grins. “And stole it, too.”

“There he is,” she teases gleefully. “For a second there I thought you were gonna be humble about this.”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” he says cockily.

“And how’s Mr. Man of the Match gonna celebrate, huh?” she wonders, hitting him lightly on the chest now that he’s put her back on the ground. “A fancy club? Getting shitfaced with the boys? A date with your left hand?”

Jamie puts his hand on hers at the last second, stopping her from pulling away. She sways into him, all traces of joking vanishing from her expression. He forces himself to stay on her face, the urge to look away defeated by how she’s looking at him. In wonder, open, hopeful.

She deserves good things, too. Jamie is determined to be the one to give them to her. 

“I was thinking dinner?” he asks, fidgeting a little on his feet. “Maybe a movie? Thought I could see what While You Were Sleeping’s all about.”

(Y/N)’s mouth is fighting against a smile, somewhat hesitant still. Jamie doesn’t blame her, he’s been beating around this bush the entire time they’ve known each other.

“You want any company?” she wonders.

“Well, what kind of date would it be if it was just me?” he forces his features into faux confusion, watching her finally lose the battle and beam like a kid on Christmas. Her fingers twitch where he’s holding onto her hand.

“Not a great one,” she concedes, looking like all of Jamie’s dreams. “How do you feel about Mexican?”

Awful. Jamie feels awful about Mexican. He’s a white sexy boy in all the ways that matter and his taste buds punish him for eating spicy food no matter how much he likes it. But he can compromise. He’s starting to realize there’s very little he wouldn’t do for (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

“I feel fantastic about anything you like,” he answers truthfully. “I’m sure me tongue will forgive me eventually.”

(Y/N) laughs, fingers in Jamie’s hold shifting so she can hold his hand. “I think there’s a good lyric somewhere in there.”

“You plannin’ on writing me a song?”

She smirks. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t yet.”

Jamie squeezes her hand, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 

“Can’t wait to hear it, love.”

___

there’s an ache in my bones to make a series out of this fic omg

i can’t believe the show’s over (is it tho????) so here’s some jamie fluff to heal our tender, mourning hearts. as always you’re welcome to tell me what you think and chat jamie and ted lasso as much as you’d like! thank u for reading AND for all the love on my last jamie piece that you can read here!

<3

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both Worlds (part 1)

Tw: yandere oc guy, but i dont think this chapter shown that yet, but readers a fuckin stalker loser this time, university horrors

Okay guys so this story im literally pitting Yves and Montgomery together, gonna be a little slow burn but we r gonna get 2 da conflict like eventually

Also da settting in university cuase its da most relevant 2 me 💯

Enjouy

PART 2

He's so beautiful and ethereal. The man has been plaguing your mind for the entire week, you're being distracted from your assignments just because of this unbelievably gorgeous man with silky, long hair and dressed to the tens.

You grinded your teeth and scratched your skin, you know where he frequents. The university's library. And you obviously want to get closer to him after he caught you from falling. You slipped on a sheet of paper that you dropped and this mysterious stranger was there to catch you by the waist before your body could make any devastating impact. Unfortunately, your stacks of textbooks and other miscellaneous documents were scattered to the ground.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice was smooth and pleasant with a unique, suave accent to it.

You were reduced to a nervous, stuttery mess. He gently brought you back up to your feet, he helped you gather your things and even arranged it by size and weight, so that it would be less likely for it to topple over. The man took a further step to smoothen the frizzles of your hair, fix your collar and sleeves. He even zipped your backpack up, you were unaware that it was open in the first place, adding to your embarrassment. You couldn't really push him away because your arms are occupied with your belongings.

It was hard to look into those stunning emerald eyes without flustering yourself even further, so you looked away while you stammered a "thanks" to him.

"Be careful." He said as he tilted your head by the chin to make direct eye contact. You know that you're as red as a tomato, but he didn't comment on it. The man lets you go before walking away, he fixed the handles of his luxury bag on his shoulder. Luscious curls bouncing with every step.

You felt like you wanted to explode right there and then, it took you a while to regain composure, other university personnel wondering why you're just standing in the middle of the path like that. Aren't you tired of holding all that stuff? It looked heavy.

You were snapped back into your senses when someone who you assumed had a bad day, told you to get out of the way. You scurried along the traffic, having the incident fresh in your mind.

You wonder who that man is, a student? A professor? A staff member?

You came to know that he's in the library for a few hours every weekday afternoons. He doesn't have a particular spot, the mystique spontaneously appears in random but fairly secluded reading spots in the library.

You felt like a stalker, but that's what you are. Too shy and afraid to talk to him, yet content with watching from afar. His ears are covered by his hair, so you don't know if he had any earbuds in. Fuelling your hesitance to make any contact first.

He could be reading a thick novel, handwriting something down on his notebook, or he could be typing away on his sleek, black laptop. In either instances, you have no idea what he's doing, it's either in a foreign language, full of numbers or completely made up of technical jargon.

You don't know why you're doing this instead of studying for your midterms. You're never like this to any of your crushes, not this obsessive over a real person, so why now? What compelled you to become this... creep? It's like you can't stop. You're scared of rejection but you can't get rid of the butterflies in your stomach.

You had no one to talk to about it because university is a very lonely place. At least, for personality types like you. You didn't want to bother your other friends, they have their own problems to worry about.

It reaches a point that you tried following him out of the library, wondering where he will go next. Before you could step past the automatic sliding doors, you looked at the book in your hand.

'Wait a minute, this is fucked up.' You thought to yourself. This isn't like you, exams are in spitting distance and you're subjecting this poor person to this harassment just because of a singular interaction.

You made a 180⁰ turn and marched back to your all-time favourite seat. Which happened to be occupied by the stranger earlier, maybe that made you a little peeved because you "claimed" it first at the start of the year. But he took it for the day.

To your surprise, there lies his notebook on the ground. He must have accidentally left it. You picked it up and looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then you flipped through it.

You were blasted with numericals, diagrams, words you weren't sure if it was written in English or otherwise and even floorplans of a building of some sort. You couldn't understand anything.

"Excuse me."

You whipped your head to the whisper. It was him! Your blood ran cold as he caught you snooping through his item. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

You struggled to form a coherent sentence as you pointed at it, you're done for, you're going to be confirmed a creep. But he only watched you with the utmost patience.

There came a point where you gave up, placed the closed book on the table and pushed it towards him.

Luckily though, you didn't have to say another word.

"You found my notebook. How careless of me to have dropped it." He pulled a chair opposite of you and sat down. You watch him place his handbag on another chair.

He elegantly picked the journal up and slid it into his bag. You were sweating at this point, the dread is about to make you vomit on him and that's not great. You wished that he would go away now, but seeing that he's locked onto his seat, it's highly unlikely.

You prayed hard for it though, he finished his business for the day. There shouldn't be any reason for him to linger.

"Thank you for keeping it safe. I hope you found whatever it is you were seeking from me." He continued, crossing his legs and resting his hands on the table.

What.

You asked what he meant by that.

A teasing smile made its way to his rouge lips.

"You were watching me." You grew pale and you scrambled to explain yourself, but he raised his index finger to signal you to let him continue.

"Your tact could be improved upon; I could see you trying to hide behind the shelves, I could hear you mumbling to yourself, and you shouldn't think so lowly of yourself." He propped his head up on one elbow.

Your cheeks felt hot. That is true, you were berating yourself for being too wimpy to go ahead and talk to him. You just didn't think you were that loud.

"I would have enjoyed having a chat with you. I wouldn't have thought that you were-- and in your own words, a 'creepy, loser-freak'."

Oh. He heard that too. You wish that you could disappear this instant.

"I'm flattered that you thought highly of me. However, I was disappointed that you thought that I was intimidating." He pouted playfully. "I won't bite." He twirls a lock of his hair around his fingers.

Your nerves are frazzled as he leans in. You didn't know what to say or what to do. He seemingly picks up on that and continues leading the conversation.

"Let's start with names. Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." You felt his shoe brush against your leg.

You almost forgot your own name as you watch the bead of sweat drip down your nose in horror. He must think you're a stinky slob.

But all he does is stare straight into your soul while drumming his fingers against the table.

You told him your name, with a severe stutter. Each passing second felt like a serrated knife slicing through your flesh.

He repeated it, syllables rolling through his tongue wonderfully. He pronounced it correctly on the first try despite your cripplingly anxious enunciation.

"Yves." He replied. Finally, you have his name. You're totally not going to use that to dig for more information on him.

"You have a beautiful name." He complimented.

You nervously returned the compliment and let out an awkward laugh. Trying your best to ignore the growing sweat stain between your pits.

"How charming of you, (name)." He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. Yves collected his bag and turned his attention back to you.

"I'd love to talk longer, but I must go now. I believe you have an exam to prepare for. Best begin your revision now, I hope our brief conversation has helped to quell your worries."

...and you mumbled that part about yourself too. It's pretty safe to assume he heard all your thoughts.

Yves extended a manicured hand to you. Taking this as a clear request for a handshake, you accepted it.

Only for him to bring it up to his lips, tenderly and fleetingly kissing your knuckles. This entire time, his piercing gaze never left your eyes.

You wanted to claw yourself out of your flesh and die out of embarrassment.

"Study well."

He lets your hand down and presses it momentarily with his larger ones.

You watched him saunter away with his back turned against you.

You brought the back of your palm to your sight.

There is a faint, reddish tint on it. It must have been from his lipstick.

You're not sure if you ever want to wash your hand after this.

[jboofan]

Chances 10

YN's about to find out that sometimes a gorgeous man can come up with a plan all his own, and it's a given that it'll mess hers up.

Jungkook x YN

Chapter 10 Bam & Mrs Jeon

"Pass the keys I'll drive," Jungkook extended his hand happy to take them home.

"You have one functioning eye," she grabbed Bam's lead as he grabbed the crate with his things. "Forgive me if I don't want to test out my car's airbags tonight."

Bam pushed ahead to her car as the rain began to fall, catching them unaware. Dog safely in the car, behaving himself as Jungkook pulled a seatbelt over the man sized canine; he got into the fast car.

"Bet it's the first time you've seen a dog in the back of a ferrari," Jungkook tried to make conversation as both YN and him buckled up.

"It's the first of many things this evening," she mumbled to herself, as Jungkook heard her quiet comment under her breath.

"I'm sorry babe," he told her, not realising his slip of the tongue, "but thank you for standing up for me, for letting Bam come with us."

"I guess he misses you, it's not like he can tell you," she watched the dog and its perky ears staring out the window as they rushed through traffic.

"YN, um, can we slow down please?" he clenched his teeth, hand reaching up for a handle to hold onto.

"Ferrari's don't have those handles," YN advised, as though able to read his mind.

"It's a 40 zone!" he gambled with his safety as he leaned over to see the speedometer, "Yah, YN please slow the car down! We don't need to be doing 80!" he screamed, frightened as her phone sounded. "D-don't you dare pick that up!"

YN glimpsed briefly at the name. Dad.

"Leave it," she grabbed his hand as he went to answer it. "Don't answer my phone," fast fingers rejected the call in seconds as they got to the complex.

"You ok?" he asked, she sure did reject that call quick. Ignoring the funny feeling in the pit of his stomach as nausea from the quick ride.

"Always," she answered coldly, parking up surprisingly quick and out the car before he could utter another word.

Fighting the urge to apologise again, he followed her to the elevator with dog and luggage in tow.

"Here, let me," balancing the crate on a knee, he punched in their code holding the heavy door open for her and Bam.

**

YN suddenly felt the tiredness of the day hit her, stumbling slightly as she pulled off her trainers and slipped into a pair of fluffy slippers. It was too late to eat, or drink; the need to sleep was priority over all else.

"I'm just gonna sort his things out," he called out to her as she neared him in the kitchen, watching her wash her hands delicately; handing her the soft hand towel to finish.

"That's fine," she looked over at the excited dog as he sniffed around his new surroundings. How long are they going to stay here? The question arose in her mind, but her mouth ignored it.

"YNah, about sleeping arrangements—" he'd debated bringing up the subject all the way home, but chickened out again and again.

"You'll need to stay in my room. The other bedroom isn't fit for purpose," she spoke as she walked away. Why was it okay to be doing this? This couldn't carry on for long.

Jungkook looked at her shook, how did, how did she do that? How does she answer before I ask?

Jungkook looked at her like she'd grown two heads. This time it was YN's turn to look at him shocked.

"What?"

"S-Stay in your room? With you? At the same time?"

YN looked down a moment, her screen flashing her father's name. "Don't worry Jeon Ssi," she looked up briefly, "you're not my type," she promised.

Jungkook wasn't sure if he was offended or not. He was JK. He was literally everyone's type.

Silently she continued towards her room, as Jungkook tried his best to place Bambam's things out the way. The last thing he wanted was to upset her, or her want to chuck the two of them out, because their things were everywhere.

He heard her answer her phone as the door closed silently.

"YN?" Jungkook heard a muffled voice, not able to place it.

"Appa," she sighed rubbing her face roughly.

"Are you still at Hybe?"

"No, just got home. Why?" she padded across the carpeted room to grab some PJ's. No way she was sleeping in her underwear after what happened last time. She shuddered remembering how he caught her in her briefs the last time he had been here.

"Lunch tomorrow, with your mother and I. I'll send you the details. Are you free at midday?"

Regardless of having a schedule or not, she hadn't seen her mother in a while. That and the combination of feeling drowsy had her defenses down, and eager to agree to anything as long as she could get him off the phone to then go shower.

"Ok. Look, I'm really tired today, I can't concentrate anymore."

Bang heard the stifled yawn, looking at his own watch before realising just how late it was.

"Sure," he heard before she hung up, throwing her phone to the bed and traipsing off to the bathroom.

**

Jungkook looked over in the direction of her bedroom for several minutes. He had knocked with trepidation only opening the door loudly, to alert her of his presence and heard the shower on in the bathroom. Exiting quietly, he'd waited for her to return so he could order them some food, taking out Bambam for a quick walk and final toilet break for the night.

Thankful Jungkook appreciated that he had managed to fill his stomach at the dorms before fists flew around at dessert time, but had she eaten? He would be telling porkies if he said he was beginning to understand her routine slowly slowly, grabbing hold of any scraps of her schedule he could to try and figure her out.

Jungkook walked with purpose to her room. It was gone midnight, surely she was done with her shower? He knocked, moving the door slightly ajar. Tiredness had her lying on her back, an arm hanging off the side of the bed closest to him.

Jungkook watched her, clearing his throat to alert her of his presence once again. YN's eyes didn't move like lasers, honing in on their target straightaway as she normally did. Her eyes didn't move to meet his, but eventually when they did they were tired.

Jungkook put down the paper shopping bag of ramen, bagels and eggs he had been holding too tightly and moved towards her slowly.

"Hey, you didn't come out to eat. Are you okay?" he said, unsure if he should sit at the foot of her bed, or sit on the empty side or drag a chair over to her. His feet however had other plans, and he was soon sitting at the end of her bed pulling the sheets around her neck up, turning the sides down and brushing rogue caramel strands of hair out her face.

YN always found it easier to be sarcastic. She was in and out of drowsiness, that strange place between being asleep and awoke as she was beginning to drift off.

"I was doing great until I saw your face," she fired back, before yawning heavily, the fight leaving her voice.

"How can something that looks so sweet spit fire?" he asked himself, not realising he had said it outloud, manoeuvring Bambam's kennel out the way, he turned his back to go check the locks one last time.

Jungkook couldn't understand the feeling of contentment he gained, simply from self appointing himself the checker of the gas stove, windows and locks. He returned to the bedroom, the lights were off except from a bedside lamp, and he could make out a lump in the bed snuggled deep beneath the quilted duvet.

He left his slippers next to hers by the foot of the bed, moving towards the bathroom as he stripped off the day's clothes and took a good look at his face, gently washing to avoid the bruises now already a yellowish brown colour. Dumping his laundry he walked back to the bed in his boxers ready for bed.

"No barking tonight Bam," he rubbed behind the doberman's ears. "Let's not wake your Eomma tonight. She's so tired she missed dinner because of us," he walked the dog over to the kennel. "Let's be on our best behaviour, cos it's nice to be here," he rubbed Bambam's back once more before pointing, "come on boy, home," he watched him get into the kennel and get comfortable.

**

Jungkook lay awake, hands apologetically held eachother as he stared at the ceiling listening to Bams quiet snores.

He squinted at his phone screen. 3am.

"YN..YN-ah are you okay?" he asked her but it fell on deaf ears when she was still asleep. The silence didn't last long.

In the pitch dark he felt her moving around. Breathing fast, laboured at times even she tossed Samson. He saw the slow dribble of sweat down her forehead and a sudden gasp.

Jungkook would never admit he had seen it. It didn't seem right to expose her vulnerability like that. Whatever it is she was dreaming of, he had heard it the first night he had stayed over on the sofa. Whatever it was, she had dreamed of it before, he told himself before he fell asleep again.

YN lived through the same dream every night lately. Never quite a nightmare, but always heading in that direction. She could see the eyes of the audience in the darkened arena, the heat of the lights on her skin, the throbbing of her eyes, the buzzing of a song in her ear piece, sweaty fingers gripping a purple microphone.

Sing sing! They chanted.

How can they let her sing?

She doesn't even remember the words!

That's Bang's daughter? No wonder he hid that fact from the world!

Jungkook woke for water again. The bed was so comfortable that he debated whether he should just go thirsty and lay comfortably or get up for a glass.

"I'm sorry."

Jungkook froze midstep, her words made his world turn black; the pleading in her voice painfully soft.

Fingers twisted in her sheets, she turned over pure anguish upon her face. YN couldn't feel the rapidness of her breath, or feel the bed dip slightly under his weight as he neared her.

"YNnie?"

He reached out to touch her fingertips, to let her know he was there but by the time he had picked up the courage to do so, her breathing stabilized and she was asleep again, the gentle rise of her chest with every breath.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he murmured to himself, gulping water generously before getting back to sleep.

**

If he felt sympathy for her, he didn't know that she had felt it back for him.

The first night anyone but her had occupied her home, she listened to his whimpers from the sofa, calling out to her in his sleep.

A loud unexpected sneeze from the dog woke the both of them up just after sunrise. Awkwardly staring at eachother, Jungkook made the first move.

"Thank you," he was glad to not sleep on the sofa again.

"For what?"

"For letting us both sleep in your room," he said turning the lamp off.

"Don't get dramatic. Go back to sleep."

She couldn't see him in the new darkness having sidled as far away from his side of the bed as she could, but if she had she would have seen the bright bunny smile on his face.

"Babe?" he asked during the delicate dance of accidental touching and limbs falling asleep.

"Hmm," she turned the pillow over inspecting for the cooler part, trying to get comfortable and not look at his bare torso.

"If I snore, just tell me," he said politely.

Groaning she sat up in bed, the sheets fanning as they crumpled. "If you snore, I will wake you up."

"Thank you—"

"—And I will hit you with my bat."

"Again with that bat. You might be a snorer too y'know."

"No one has ever gotten close enough to know or tell me," she admitted quietly, and he felt something warm in his heart.

"Oh?" he tried to hide the surprise in his voice, not very well.

"I'd just batter you. Dead men can't talk."

She heard Jungkook tut and it made her smirk.

"You said something in your sleep," he yawned.

"Oh? I did?" she'd never realised. "Like you're any better."

He turned over to face her.

"Is this a regular thing? Keeping people up at night? Cos if this is gonna happen every night we are going to have problems."

"Sorry," he apologised, "it's just I've never slept with a woman before, in a bed," he bumbled, "sorry."

"Stop apologising, it makes you look weak."

"Looking into your pretty eyes makes me weak," he teased.

"I knew it."

"Knew what?" he plumped his pillow and then hers.

"You're a virgin, nothing wrong with that," she added.

"Why don't you be my first and last?" he chimed up, not admitting anything, as he settled down, making sure to give her enough space to not feel threatened by him. He knew how difficult she found it to be near to anyone physically.

"Go to sleep Jeon Ssi," her tired voice rang out.

"With you Mrs Jeon? How could I say no when you say it so sweetly."

She was sure he chuckled. Purposely she threw the duvets back and yanked him towards her by the elastic of his boxers.

"Sweetheart," she purred, "I'd break you in half if I let you fuck me."

Even in the dark, even with eyes closed she could see the streams of carmine red radiating off his voice as he replied.

"Fuck," he swallowed hard, his brain beginning to malfunction as she let go of him.

"Go to sleep before I kill you in your sleep."

**

Both were difficult sleepers. Jungkook, always had sore limbs from dance practice or gym. YN, a heavy mind running from her desires or towards dysfunction.

Tugging at pillows, kicking back duvets, heaped limbs and tussled hair the pair of insomniacs slept deep. The next few hours of sunlight brought the unlikely pair together. YN found herself cocooned up against his bare torso, his warmth keeping her warm in now cold morning air. Jungkook enjoyed the gentle lull of her heartbeat as she sleep soundly. If she stirred, unhappy in her dreams he rubbed circles into her lower back and it seemed to appease the ice maiden.

When YN woke to go to the bathroom, Jungkook's arms searched for her body, grumbling for feeling the cold spot she left, muttering to himself until she returned.

"Where you go?" he sleepily moaned.

"Too much water," she had her eyes closed, feeling for the bed in the dark, knocking her knee into a corner. "Ahh fuck," she grumbled.

"Shh, talky too much," he pulled the spread back and deposited it over her shoulders. "I big spoon," he sighed.

"No, I spoon you, my turn," she yawned back.

Even half asleep they bickered.

"I'm JK from BTS. Assume the position," he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her into him, nuzzling her neck.

"Sh-sh shut up or I'll get the bat" one big yawn and she wriggled her way into his chest and gentle sighs ensued.

**

YN never snoozed her alarm. That was because she was always awake ahead of schedule. But this morning she slept through it. Her phone rang three times and eventually she turned over to squint at the screen. Her parents had called several times, each time leaving no messages in typical Bang fashion.

Always too important to leave a message.

YN slid out of bed and straight to the bathroom, before sprinting to her wardrobe to find something to wear. Why hasn't she taken out something last night, and did she really sleep for that long??

This was all so unprecedented. Head fuzzy, but dressed, she rubbed Bambam's ears as he nuzzled up to her ankles searching for her keys.

"See you later Bam," she whispered and slipped out the door.

The eventual cold bed woke Jungkook.

Bambam nudged at him, relieved to finally have some company.

"Bambamy," he groaned, hair scattered. "You're awake?" he flipped back into bed to see the empty bed.

Instinctively making the bed, he blindly looked around the silent room. "How long did we sleep?"

"YNnie.."

When no one replied back he reached for his phone. "Where is she?" he blinked widely realising she wasn't there.

Messages pinged but he ignored them. Had she gone out, not even woken him to tell him where she was?

Jungkook's feelings of annoyance towards her disappeared as soon as he saw the group's messages.

"She's in a group chat with us now?" his groan turned into a giggle as he saw her writing in the chat.

Jungkook rubbed his face and took himself off to the bathroom, wanting to eat soon and hoping to see her.

"Why didn't she say where she is?" anxiously he repeated to himself until he couldn't stop himself from calling her.

**

Bang reached across to YN's phone, as it rattled next to her plate. He was going to ignore it and let her ring whoever when she returned from the bathroom, but seeing Jungkook's face flash up on her screen had him naturally answering.

Jungkook looked around the apartment one last time, checking he had everything.

"Mrs Jeon," he teased, not realising it wasn't the answer machine, "I'm heading to meet the others for lunch. Will you check on Bam when you get in? I've set his biscuits and water. Just check on him, I won't be long. I gotta go now, but call me when you're done with your plans. Bye bye," he hung up, flinging the phone into the passenger seat as he concentrated on driving.

YN returned to her steak, it was so soft she could have eaten it with a spoon. Both her parents stared at her as she ate not saying a word.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she finally replaced her fork, looking back at their rather unreadable expression. Her mother looked somewhat happy perhaps, but her father seemed irritated. "You were fine before I went to the bathroom."

"JK rang," Bang looked at her.

"Oh?" she commended herself for keeping her voice flat.

"Make sure you check on Bam when you get back."

Why the hell would he leave a message saying that?

"He must have thought it was your answer machine. He was driving, said he's meeting the others for lunch," her father was getting pissed off as he related the message.

"His dog is at mine at the moment," she suddenly felt the steak like a pebble stuck in her throat.

"So why did he call you Mrs Jeon?"

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

[cashmeremars]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 || 𝐬.𝐦

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: shawn mendes x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you spend a lazy sunday with shawn in your shared penthouse

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, kind of slow-burnish, shawn making you breakfast, slow dancing at midnight, shawn being cute

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k+

𝐚/𝐧: this was written like 2 whole years ago lmaooo

A heavy loom of sleep clouded the room as soft breaths left the unwavering bodies laid side by side, unaware of their surroundings as they succumbed to slumber. The rain poured relentlessly outside, occasionally laying kisses on the window pane as the couple slipped further into their sleep. As the morning sky was painted a soft grey, and the sheer curtains danced with the wind, the bustling traffic had begun to calm itself. A blaring honk in the distance had caused a body to stir under the warm blanket. 

You shifted towards the edge of the bed, sitting cross legged as the blanket lay faint on your body, goosebumps formed as streams of wind kissed your exposed skin. With the window sat right in front of the bed, you slowly pawed at the curtains before pushing them open. You squinted softly as dim light filtered through the room. You leaned in further as you peered out of the window and watched cars driving through the narrow roads. Sighing sleepily as you reached a hand towards the window, shivering slightly as you allowed the cold air of the glass to settle on your palm. As you continued to gaze out of the window, a body shifted from behind. A deep sigh was heard as the blankets continued to shift until a warm body found its way right behind you.

“Good morning, Shawn” you whispered softly as a subtle smile graced your face. He didn’t reply as he slowly wrapped an arm around your waist, giving it a firm squeeze before letting his legs fall off the side of the bed, each leg on either side of yours. He mumbled a small ‘Good Morning’ as he nosed at your neck while his other hand began twirling a piece of your hair. You slowly sunk further into his chest with a soft huff.

“Are you doing anything today?” Shawn breathed out softly against your neck as you wrapped your arms around his arm that was currently holding your waist.

“No. Why?” You asked quietly as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Just wanna stay in bed with you” He smiled softly as you turned your head towards him, eyes dripped with honey as you gazed at each other.

“I’d want nothing more” you smiled before turning your head back towards the busy street.

“How long have you been awake for?” Shawn asked as he grabbed the blanket from behind him and wrapped your bodies around it, trapping you further in his warmth.

“Not that long. I’ve just been watching the rain” You answered as your fingers began to dance on the window pane.

“What’s up with you and your weird fascination with the rain?” Shawn chuckled quietly as he started to trail subtle kisses along the expanse of your neck.

“It’s just peaceful.” Shawn hummed quietly at your answer. Squinting slightly as he watched the rain hitting the buildings right across your view.

“Speaking of rain, I should shower” you shifted to get up from the bed and mess of blankets.

“Rain and shower water are two completely different things” Shawn whispered as his grip on your waist tightened slightly while he nuzzled his head further into your neck.

“Well, they both have to do with water, don’t they?” you quipped

“I guess” Shawn chuckled quietly as he continued to play with your hair. You once again moved to push Shawn’s arms off of your waist, but you were met with a whine and a firm squeeze to your waist.

“Shawn.” You huffed sternly, turning to look at him. His face held a soft pout and you had remained silent as your eyes met his. There was always something so beautiful about the way Shawn looked in the morning. His cheeks flushed and dusted with faint hues of pink, and his hair had always fluttered right above his eyes. Shawn in the mornings was so gorgeous and ethereal as he basked in somnolence. 

“Let go of me, please” you returned a pout as Shawn sighed. He placed a soft kiss right under your jaw before releasing his arms from your hair and waist, allowing you to make your way out of the bed and towards the bathroom. 

As you stood up from the bed, you turned your body towards Shawn and placed your hands gently on his shoulders. “Have I ever told you how cute you look in the mornings?” you gently rubbed at his bare shoulders with a tame smile.

He chuckled as his cheeks flushed pink before turning his head and placing a kiss on your hand resting on his shoulder. “Nothing could compare to how angelic you are in the mornings” He winked before you walked away. Shawn watched as you padded your feet on the floor, rubbing your eyes and stretching your arms. He smiled to himself before lying back down on the bed with a huff. The light from the bathroom dimly lit the bedroom as Shawn stared up at the ceiling. The cars gliding through puddles and the pittering of the rain soothed him back into a light sleep. 

***

Your bones shook with a shiver as the bottoms of your feet padded against the frigid living room floor. You walked through the kitchen threshold with a smile as you spotted Shawn preparing breakfast for the two of you. 

“How was your shower?” Shawn asked as he gazed up at you slowly with a slight smile.

“It was fine, like any other shower. What are you making?” you asked as you finally reached the boy, wrapping your arms gently around his waist, you slowly leaned your head on his back.

“Omelettes, pancakes, fruits. Nothing special” Shawn shrugged as he flipped some pancakes hastily. You laughed quietly as Shawn nearly dropped a pancake, and he nudged you softly in retaliation.

“Well, I really appreciate you doing this. You’re ridiculously sweet” you spoke gently before placing a soft kiss on his back. You slowly moved away from him and made your way to a seat on the kitchen island. You sighed softly as you sat, before redirecting your attention to Shawn. You hadn’t noticed that there was music playing quietly throughout the kitchen until Shawn had begun to hum along. It was always interesting watching him get lost in his own world. His eyes sparkled in a way that only occurred when he was indulged in anything related to music. Whether song-writing, singing, or talking about his new favourite artist, It meant everything to him and it showed. His head was bopping subtly to the music as his free hand began to tap on the counter. He brushed a curl from his line of sight before looking up at you with a squint.

“You’re staring” He spoke with a smirk, startling you from your bout of admiration. You felt your face heat up slightly as you met his gaze.

“You’re being adorable, I can’t help it” you spoke quietly before tilting your head slightly.

Shawn grabbed a pair of plates and strategically placed your pancakes, omelettes, and fruits on the plate. He smiled to himself as he created little hearts with the strawberries. He handed you your plate and gave you a soft peck before he pulled away. You pat his cheek tenderly with a smile before he moved to sit next to you. You squeezed his hand lightly as he sat before you turned your attention to your breakfast, making sure to praise him with every bite, appreciating his hard work, and the delicious food.

“Hey” Shawn spoke quietly, grabbing your attention after a while.

“Yeah?” You replied, placing your fork on your plate as you turned to look at him.

“This might seem a bit lame I guess” Shawn spoke as he rubbed the back of his neck while keeping his gaze fixated on his plate “But, I really enjoy spending time with you. These days where we can just be alone together are so rare, but they’re so special to me. We get to be stuck in our own little world without having to worry about anything but us. I’m kind of rambling but I really do just love you and whatever time we have to be together. Touring and performing can be so stressful, and having to keep up with my image can be so draining sometimes, but with you, I don’t feel any of that. With you, I just get to be.. me. Without anyone projecting some idealized version of myself on me. I love you.” Shawn continued “A lot.” he whispered, planting a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“Shawn” you cooed, “You’re gonna make me cry” you exclaimed before laying your head on his shoulder. Your head shook lightly as Shawn laughed at your melodramatic dilemma.

“If you cry, I’ll cry” Shawn replied, stroking the top of your head gently before replacing his hands with a small kiss.

You pulled away from Shawn before looking up at him in silence. He offered you a small smile before he leaned into you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he sweetly captured your lips in his as you smiled into the kiss. He huffed out slightly as he began to smile too. You both pulled away, still keeping your eyes on one another as he booped your nose with his finger before turning back to your respective meals. 

The rest of the morning was spent nestled up next to one another, playing with loose strands of hair, stealing heart-struck kisses, gazing upon Shawn’s cheeks adorned in pink, strumming guitars, and talking about everything and nothing as the rain and the outside world continued to pass you by. 

***

Just as it was in the morning, the only sounds fluttering throughout the room were the soft breaths of the content couple as they sat in a comfortable silence. The feeling of warmth buzzed from their toes to the tops of their heads as they sat in front of the fireplace wrapped in an abundant amount of blankets, holding one another in an embrace dripped in solace. Shawn’s fingers softly traced the lines on your palm as he gently leaned his head on yours. He traced a heart on your hand before slowly dragging his finger to the middle of your palm, tickling it slightly. Shawn chuckled as you let out a slight squeal.

“You’re cute” Shawn spoke as he nudged his nose against your cheek with a delicate smile. You tilted your head up to meet his eyes with a smile, whispering a soft “You’re very warm.”

The pair looked at each other with nothing but love; just how it had always been. You could feel his breath lightly fanning your face as he slowly moved his hand from your palm to brush a piece of hair from your face before resting his hand on the side of your neck. He slowly leaned in before delicately capturing your lips in his. The familiarity of the kiss had presented itself in ways unique to just the two of you. It was like the beach on an early morning, waves crashing gently across the sand as a cold gust of wind danced through the air. It was like the first snow of the year, fresh snowflakes twirling onto rooftops and sidewalks like a blanket of serenity.  

“You taste like pancake syrup, Shawn” You laughed softly before pulling away, your nose still slightly brushing against his. Shawn’s lips curled into a smile as he kept his eyes on your lips.

“Shhh” Shawn hushed with a soft chuckle as he leaned towards you once again, tilting his head slightly to mold his lips to yours.

You two had stayed that way for what felt like hours. Lost in a spiral of docile romance as the flames of the fireplace beamed mildly on your faces, illuminating the already warm atmosphere with an orange hue. Your breaths continued to mingle as your quiet proclamations of love persisted. 

“Doll” Shawn whispered out, leaning his head onto yours. You met his gaze with a raised brow, signalling for him to continue.

“You wanna dance?” Shawn asked with wide eyes

“Dance? No offense, Shawn, but you have the worst sense of rhythm. Like, ever.” You joked. Shawn playfully rolled his eyes before standing up with your hand in his, pulling you up with him.

You stood still, with your toes wiggling softly through the cushioned rug below you. Shawn hastily started to rummage through the vinyl collection sitting in a storage box on the floor. 

“Ah, here it is” Shawn exclaimed before he pulled out a record from the box. He stood up, holding the vinyl out as if he were admiring a baby. You could hear the smile in his voice before he quickly moved towards the record player sitting on the coffee table. Shawn rummaged around for a bit before a dreamy melody began to flutter through the air. He turned to you and playfully wiggled his shoulders, pulling a laugh from you. 

“What are you doing?” you attempted to speak through laughter. 

“I’m dancing” Shawn remarked as he made his way towards you, still shaking his shoulders.

“That’s hardly dancing, Shawn” You rolled your eyes at his antics

He held out a hand towards you before speaking, “Come on, dance.” He continued.

You made your way towards him, allowing your hand to fall into his as he pulled you into him. He wrapped a warm hand around your waist as his other hand stayed tangled with yours. You both began to sway back and forth as he leaned his head onto yours. You allowed yourself to be engulfed in his embrace as the music continue to play. It was like a scene in a movie. Your bodies were swaying in tune with one another in the dark living room, as the fire crackled luminously, and the thunder began to die down as the moon presented itself. 

“I went to a record store on tour, and I bought this album as soon as I heard it.” Shawn spoke, breaking the comfortable silence. You didn’t say anything as the two of you continued to dance throughout the living room. “This song reminds me of you” Shawn spoke, gently while rubbing your back with his hand.

“I love that you think of me when I’m not around” You replied quietly, your words slightly muffled as your cheek was pressed against his chest.

“I’m always thinking of you.” 

Your bodies were unwavering, much like your love. The music continued to flitter through the air, wrapping your bodies in a mellifluous melody. Soon, the morning would come, and you’d be separated once again. But as the wind howled and the rain trickled while your hearts continued to bloom, the inevitable departure was far from your thoughts. 

You were looped in a dreamscape when with Shawn. It had always been that way.

***

a/n: wanted to make the ending as dreamy as possible hopefully it worked

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[pinkhairedlily]

[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 4 - R

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

-xxxxxxx-

April 20, 2021, 11:16 PM

“Still in questioning for two weeks,” Sasuke grits through his phone. “And they didn’t allow him to post bail?”

“Akugawa’s attorneys tried to appeal this week but it’s a no go. Doesn’t help that he’s brought to a different district so it’s completely out of our jurisdiction,” Neji replies. “Have you heard from Jugo?”

“Just a text message saying they lied to him and told him the directive was from Asuma.” Sasuke lets his fingers run through his hair, too frustrated to think straight this evening. “All they have against Akugawa are purely circumstantial. This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but the media ruckus is hungry for the gay serial killer angle. Well, I gotta go Uchiha.”

“Have fun. It’s your wedding anniversary tonight, isn’t it?”

“Shut up. Aren’t you with a woman yourself?” The call ends.

Rid of distractions, he is now at liberty to gaze freely at the rosette reading a book beside him. She gives him a smile and ditches the book to trace lazy circles on his chest. The lunch break meetings have become too short for the both of them thus the need for dinners and coffee. He didn’t plan on making a move, not when there is still an active case, but she’s enthralling in a sense. It’s her presence that pulls him into her orbit – or maybe it’s the pink hair and the emerald eyes that make it difficult to look away.

When he almost hailed her a cab for their fifth dinner, she grabbed his arm and slowly pulled it down to her side, intertwining her fingers with his. It was the first time he held her hand.

With a flushed face under the dim city lights, she asked him, “I would like it if you take me home with you.”

And even after arriving in his flat, he hesitated to kiss her. Only when she brought his fingers to her lips did he move, suddenly gripped with a drive to gently coax her into pleasure. She undressed for him in the dark, already wet and pulsating for his touch, his kisses, and he let the jasmine perfume perforate his senses. He was careful not to leave marks of his trail – after all, it might just be the last as it could be the first – and regrets were felt stronger when there were remainders.

The first time was followed by a second, and she posed a question. “Why are you so gentle with me?”

He looked at her face and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, the color of his dreams. “I’m afraid you’ll break.”

She took his hand and slapped it on her perky breasts. “Try and break me then.”

Where he wavered, she asserted – her nails leaving scratches on his back, bruising his lips, marking his neck, and pulling his hair – but she did it so beautifully that he basked in pain as she yelled his name in ecstatic throes.

He pulls away from reminiscing when the lazy circles start to draw lower. He softly takes her dainty wrist and places an open-mouthed kiss where her pulse is.

“I take it your team is still prohibited from pursuing other leads?” Sakura gasps.

Sasuke shakes his head. “Both chiefs had to save face, particularly when the district attorney got the call first, then the media, and we were the last to know. But it’s more of a pro-forma. My guts don’t tell me they’re still out there.”

“You don’t believe it’s him?”

“He perfectly fits Yamato’s profile. Had several sexual relations with married CEOs, naively accepted promises of secured futures, let down just as quickly as he has been picked up.”

Sakura climbs on top of him and starts to grind on his hardened member. “Too bad. Akugawa is a nice colleague. I was the one who encouraged him to enroll in those meditation classes.”

One arm wraps around her waist to keep her steady while the other tugs away the sheet that comes in between their moist flesh. He brings her breasts closer to his tongue, his words lapping against her skin. “Oh you must be good in yoga too.”

“I’m flexible like that, Detective.” She slips his cock insider her ready core, and the fitting sensation makes the both of them shiver.

“What other things are you good at, Dr, Haruno?”

She locks eyes with him and words are lost as they start to find rhythm in their thrusts.

-xxxxxxx-

April 25, 2021, 6:27 AM

“I take it they’re gonna name you as the director for the overseas expansion.” He asks as soon as they step out of her penthouse.

He didn’t expect to step foot in her domain; he knew it was how the elites operate, but maybe she waited for the sixth date to test him. He couldn’t deny how he was intimidated by her biometrics door, the large cctv panels on her foyer, and her voice-automated house system, but it fascinated him to see the bleak contrast of her plant-filled space against the extravagant automations and sharp marble floor.

“I’m not quite sure.” She angles her eyes on the retina scanner, and the security system beeps to life. The whole floor will be inaccessible even to the administration until she comes home. “Either way, it’s gonna be a success for the Senju-Haruno corporation and its shareholders.”

“Shouldn’t they give you bodyguards then?”

Her fingers ease in into his waiting hand. “I have a detective for a lover. I’ll be fine.”

He leaves soft kisses on her knuckles. “Can’t your lover be worried?”

“I don’t think they’ll come after me. I’m a woman, remember?”

6:41 AM

“Sorry to delay your trip to the office. I’ll just check the ravine again.” They hazard park on the side of the forest. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Sakura nods with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll stretch my legs out for a bit, but I really wouldn’t want to wander. I don’t know the area quite well.”

He hops off the car, unaware that a nondescript black sedan stopped a few meters away from their spot. Sasuke traverses the wide trunks and mossy forest floor until he finds the exact dumping spot – a clump of thorny bristles and rue hedges. His eyes survey the surroundings and notices a disturbed, rather steep area above the ravine, a tricky slope which cannot be possible for someone like Akugawa. With his built, he would have skidded down when he dumped the body. It had to be someone petite.

Light footfalls behind him. Sasuke glances at the sound, his hand ready to pull out his gun.

“Sorry I followed you. I’m kinda jumpy.” Sakura waves at him from above the slope, her silhouette prominent against the morning backlight.

Then his eyes register another bigger, taller, heavier silhouette behind her.

“Sakura!”

Gunshots miss Sasuke by a breadth, but he doesn’t miss how the hooded figure clamps a hand over Sakura’s mouth and drag her away into the forest. He scrambles up and follows their trail, cursing his ineptness.

His breaths are louder than the wakening birds and traffic on the roadside, and his feet feel more like lead for every tree that leads him deeper into the forest. Then he hears two consecutive shots, and he feels all of his sensory motors go into overload.

Sasuke’s feet direct him to the sound. When the vines give way to a clearing, the first thing he sees is her disheveled rose hair, pulled apart from her high bun, tousled like an unkempt mane on her back.

And a dead man on the forest floor, a gunshot to the head, and another on his side.

She was trembling, eyes wide, clenched teeth, and closed fists. Giving her time to adjust to the events, he goes first to the perpetrator and lowers the hoodie. It’s one of the Mingwa private cronies, probably following him to make sure he isn’t doing independent investigations. But since they touched a Haruno-Senju heir, the corporate publicity will angle this as harassment and attempted assault while the private faction will absolve their hands of any involvement. He calls Kakashi and Asuma for help.

After which, he glances at her, and she finally blinks out of daze. She slumps against him as soon as he’s near, and the reverberations of her body immediately hit him.

“I’m sorry,” he says even though he has a lot of questions.

“He slipped and I went for the gun,” she whispers shakily against his shirt.

Yet he still wonders why there were two shots when one to the head could have sufficed, especially with unfamiliar hands. Or how she’s able to take down a man that size with her dainty wrists.

“I’ll call in sick today. Bring me home?”

He tightens his hug before he lets her go then he realizes he’s not familiar with the terrain.

She tugs on his coat and starts to walk. “If we cut across here, we’ll see the road in five minutes.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 5, 2021, 10:22 AM

“Did Dr. Haruno come back okay?” Kakashi sits down across Sasuke’s desk and fidgets with his unused pens. Even though the investigation was halted, his room remains littered with manila papers, bulletins, and notes on the white board. The necessity to preserve becomes apparent when they receive news of Akugawa posting bail this morning.

Sasuke nods in response. “She still went through with her trip to Belgium last April 28. I don’t know when she’ll be back, but I’m not privy to her internal emotions so it’s not my place to say she’s okay.”

“About time they gave her bodyguards.” The chief detective taps an unlit cigarette stick on his desk. “It’s great seeing you like this.”

“This what?”

“Happy?”

Sasuke clucks his tongue. “It’s not official. She just might be in it for the thrills.”

Kakashi smirks and lights up his stick. “Sex must be great then.”

“Get out, Hatake.”

A rap on the door catches both of their attention. Yamato comes in followed by Asuma, Tenten, Jugo, and Neji.

“There’s a fourth body in the same ravine. Body is now with the ME. Estimated time of death is enough for Akugawa to file for several cases. It’s gonna be a media bloodbath,” Asuma says.

As the lot file out of the office, Kakashi pulls Sasuke to fall behind a bit. “Trust no one, Uchiha.”

11:45 AM

There’s something off-putting about the smell.

This body does not follow the two-week gap; the ME estimated the date of his death on April 27. This slight change in MO presents the possibility of a copycat, but other than that, all injuries are the same – a stab in the carotid, teeth pulled out, arms and feet cut, genital missing – which means another thing, the killer slipped somehow and they’re on a rush. For what, they don’t know.

“Ando Suzuki, CEO of Suzuki Airlines for Japan,” Asuma states his name for confirmation. “Let’s do our usual. It’s time we ramp up our progress, Uchiha.”

Sasuke ignores the pointed insinuation and steps closer to the corpse. It didn’t rain last week despite the forecasts so the state of the body is more or less preserved. He brings his nose closer to the neck, right where the murder tool punctured the artery.

“Sasuke, what are you doing?” Tenten asks. “Forensics have close up shots for that.”

“It’s the smell.”

“Like decomposers and rotting flesh?” Jugo scoffs.

“Is it possible that they might have tried to remove him?” Sasuke asks the ME who quickly goes to him and helps him turn the corpse on its side.

They see fresh scar on the pricked wounds, like someone tried to drag them out of the ravine. As if they knew the position would give them away this time. The smell hits him strongly when the ME returns the corpse to a prone position, and Sasuke almost vomits when he recognizes it.

It can’t be. In controlled breaths, he steps away from the examining table and slumps against the wall. Kakashi notices but pretends not to. It’s Tenten who slithers beside him inconspicuously and taps on his arm. She raises a brow which he responds to with a cluck of his tongue.

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts. “Why can’t it be a woman?”

“If you can recreate a position of a woman stabbing the artery without defense wounds, let me know,” Yamato says with a cold smile. It’s meant to shut Tenten up; he doesn’t like his profiles being challenged. “And the smell you’re talking about Sasuke? It’s jasmine. The area probably has blooms.”

2:30 PM

“Something’s weird with Uchiha,” Neji pulls out his badge, ready to present it to the landfill. They’re revisiting dumping sites again for a second go-through. The killer is starting to leave breadcrumbs all over the place. “Did you see how pale his face went earlier?”

“Jasmine and rotting flesh don’t make good perfume,” Tenten figures. The guard sees their badges and gestures for them to come inside.

There’s a peculiar batch of scavengers in the area, people who aren’t part of junkshops or associations, just individual peddlers. A bald man in his 70s glances their way and starts to move towards their directions with only one foot and crutches for the other.

“Police?” He has a putrid gummy smile. “That lad didn’t come here again.”

Neji tugs Tenten away, but his wife stays rooted to the spot. “A lad?”

The old man opens his palm.

“He just wants money, dear,” Neji grumbles. “Let’s go now and talk to the real rational people.”

Tenten pulls out her wallet and sticks a wad of one dollar bills on the man’s hand. “A lad?” She repeats.

“Thought it was our fellow. We have young ones with us, you know, like your age but definitely shorter in height. He comes in dressed in a black raincoat and plastic boots, dragging bulky garbage bags like they’re not heavy at all.” His smile gets bigger by the count of the bills.

“Did you get a good look at this man?” Tenten asks, still unwilling to let go.

“Tenten,” Neji warns.

“This might be our lead. A concrete lead for once.”

“Wind knocked his garbage of a hood one time. Shiny bald head says hi.”

Neji is at the end of his wits. “Dear, you’re not even sure if he’s talking about our guy.”

Tenten sticks a 10-dollar bill on the old man’s almost torn shirt pocket. He proceeds with a guttural laugh, the phlegm oozing through each gasping breath. “He always dumps those bags on a full moon.”

4:30 PM

Sasuke sneaked in earlier to the administration office just before the receptionist’s desk came into view. With slight intimidation into play, he managed to get duplicate recordings of the cctv of the whole floor.

He taps Kakashi for help and another IT staff.

“Looks normal to me,” the silver-haired man remarks. “Why are you snooping on your girlfriend?”

“All of them were her patients at one point,” Sasuke replies. “And we don’t do labels.”

“But their visits were nowhere near their kill dates.”

“Their visits were logged as emergency procedures because Akugawa or their company doctor wasn’t available. So why?”

Kakashi smirks. “Are you insinuating they were there to get a glimpse of her? The recluse medical corporation heir. Nothings amiss in the recordings, right? No sexual body language?”

Sasuke hopes the same, but the lurch in his guts tells him otherwise. He swallows whatever saliva that hasn’t dried yet in his mouth in anticipation of the inevitable.

“The recordings are fine. She’s always accompanied by her assistant when she has clients,” the IT replies. “It’s the code that bothers me. You see, a malware is playing with it, looping the same frames while continuing the time ticks. Either someone knows their technology or this is a complete human error.”

-xxxxxxx-

May 7, 2021, 12:01 PM

“Oh, it’s you,” Laura says nonchalantly, never glancing up from her keyboard, and click-clacking away even though it’s already lunch break. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you know how to code?” He doesn’t spare her a glance either, his eyes trained on the door.

“Is this a side job? I can get Shin if you’d like. He fixes the systems here when he has time. He’s a computer geek before he settled for dentistry.” She stops typing and eyes her wristwatch. “She’s here.”

True enough, the door opens just as Laura tells him. She wears her rose hair loose today, falling like waves against her tucked in white long sleeve polo and denim jeans. She spots him after she gives her white coat to her waiting assistant.

Smile, wave, and unhurried walk to reach him. “A lunch break?”

“Wondering if you were still alive after your trip.” The jasmine in the air transports him to two different scenes, his memory being stretched out in two drastic dimensions, one where she’s writhing beneath him and one where he sees the corpse falling on top of him. The scents mix, and he fails to cover up his gag. Both women look at him with brows raised but he waves them off with his handkerchief.

“Days of absence and your heart grows fonder. That saying is true after all.” She places a hand on his cheek and softly taps it. “A sandwich?”

“I’m starving.”

“Two sandwiches then.”

8:19 PM

She invited him for dinner while they were munching on half-dozen random sandwiches from Subway. He didn’t talk about the case nor did he question her radio silence since her Belgium business trip. This was why she genuinely liked Detective Uchiha Sasuke.

Or maybe it was just the first time she was treated like she had an agency. The gestures for permission, the unspoken questions of consent, the way he wouldn’t touch her first or grab her or mar her skin even when they were having sex. Most men would have their true natures revealed once shown the great pussy. But there he was, always cradling her like she was porcelain china. Not that she minded. It was a breath of fresh air to be held like that, in gentle caresses and soft whispers that beg to betray his true feelings at any given second. It was madness not to be consumed by it, but it was tragedy that she only knew of this reality just now.

She knew he had an inkling. She messed up in the forest. If she had the luxury of time, she would have dismembered the man who grabbed her. A stab from a scalpel was a merciful way to go, and that man didn’t deserve it. Filthy hands.

The anger rushes to the surface, and she stabs the roasted meat rather too loudly.

“Is your meat still alive?” He emerges in her dining room and continues to look around. “Your wooden mansion is a far cry from your depersonalized penthouse.”

She laughs as she strains the cooked pasta. “I like having two personalities.” He must have triangulated by now that the location of this mansion is smacked in the center of the dump sites, a safe, close distance to the landfills, the forest, and even the meditation place. He must have seen the black pick-up truck on her garage, the one she uses for farming. She can see all the pieces fitting into a completed puzzle in his head, and she’s sad to let him go.

He opens the wine she placed on the counter, and he fills himself a glass. “You also have a crystal collection like Akugawa.”

“I gave him his first obsidian. Their healing properties are supposedly at maximum during full moon.” She places two plated bolognese pasta on the table and a wide platter of medium rare meat. “Dinner’s ready.”

“This looks good.” His tone is genuinely fascinated. “Didn’t know you could cook. We always dined in or ordered take out.”

“A change of pace, wouldn’t you think?” She also fills herself a glass of wine and watches in amusement as he takes a first bite of the meatballs she especially prepared for him.

“You should tell me where you source your meat. I’ll one up you in our next dinner.”

I’m too sad there won’t be a next one.

10:17 PM

Sakura changes position, and she’s on top of him, gyrating her hips in familiar pleasure. Sasuke wants to take it slow, to re-encounter her folds and curves after several days of not seeing her, despite his senses overriding in danger. He took her an hour ago, on her immaculate grainy wood counter, wine spilling on the sink as he thrusted into her unclothed core. She had gone commando, and this drove him insane. Maybe his lust is taking over him, clouding his judgment, muddling his perfect frame by frame memories, but he has to play this game. It’s only a matter of time.

He feels her insides throb in urgency, and he knows she’s near her orgasm. Her juices leak out, and he bucks against her wetness, releasing his load into her with eyes closed.

He waits for the scalpel to puncture his carotid, but nothing comes. “Sakura.”

She continues riding his limp member and rubbing her clit against his balls. A strategic distraction as they are coming down from a high. He expects her to trace lazy circles on his abdomen, a mannerism he picked up from their nights, but the dainty hands go to his neck instead.

He opens his eyes, and he sees a different Sakura. Her microexpressions are different, her eyes throwing daggers, soft pliant lips in hardened scowl, and hollowed cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s your issue with a scalpel, Sakura.” Her voice is different, the accent changed. “You must have fallen in love with him already. Such a frail human.”

“I wanted to prepare myself before I see him go. That is all.” Her face shifts and the emotions return to the Sakura he knows. He also notes the loosening grip on his neck, unaware that he is holding his breath.

Another shift and it’s back to the other Sakura. “She has such a saccharine charm effective in luring me to do things.” She smiles at him, but it’s not the smile he’s familiar with. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna die yet.”

She chokes him with surprising strength. He places pressure on her wrists and elbows, but she doesn’t budge. His legs start to thrash out beneath him, and his sight starts to dim.

“Great work as always, sister. We’ve always wanted the truth about Madara, don’t we?”

[writtenbynightlock]

synopsis: college kept your life busy. the miya twins also have a life of their own. with your secretive nature, things became complicated.

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

wc: 1.9k

warnings: college au, series, post time-skip spoilers

Part 4 | Part 6

Miya Atsumu has had the reputation of being Japan’s best high school setter, as well as its best server. His accomplishments and background made him qualified to be the starting setter for the University Volleyball Team as they have witnessed his plays during National matches which led to the coaches having big expectations of him with his skills and Atsumu never disappoints — not until today’s practice.

Miya Atsumu was off in his game.

With a shake of the head from the head coach, this led the assistant coach to declare a water break.

“Atsumu, don’t let the fans distract you in your play, okay?” the head coach says, gesturing to the small group of girls in the stands. Atsumu let out a sigh as he glances up to hear them squealing --- a bit tired of the thought that they just won’t leave him alone. He appreciates the support, it even gives him confidence but right now, their support was more of a nuisance to him but his fangirls weren’t responsible for his loss of focus.

“Yes coach.” 

Atsumu grumbles as he grabbed his water bottle from the bench, aggressively drinking the cool liquid, hoping to lessen his frustrations on his performance today. Atsumu has always been a perfectionist when it comes to volleyball because he knows that he is skilled and of course, he wants to keep on improving to the sport he dedicated his life into. Not being able to perform well in practice makes him irritated as ever.

“Oya? Slacking off now, are we?” snickers Suna as he wipes his sweat, stopping beside Atsumu who had his eyebrows furrowed, glaring at the wall.

“I am not slacking!”

“Wanna know what your spikers think? We are not satisfied.”

“I’ll give ya a perfect set after this.” Atsumu clicked his tongue and looked away from Suna, wiping off his sweat aggressively. Suna rolled his eyes and slapped Atsumu’s back, making the setter cower from the impact and glares at Suna as he soothes the impacted area.

“Why do ya and Aran always hit me?!”

“Because you’re being an idiot!”

“How am I being an idiot?!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t ask Osamu for help on this one.”

“He might spill the beans on (Y/N)! I want to tell her myself!”

“Then what are you waiting for? You’ve been ignoring her for awhile now. Talk to (Y/N), Atsumu. If you continue being like this, then you are no different from her ex boyfriend. A total douchebag. Ignoring her isn’t gonna solve things.”

Atsumu clenches on his water bottle as he heard your name. His heart aches for abandoning you like that --- not talking things out. He believes you had no idea that you two kissed because he knows your memory is poor when you’re drunk. He had been planning to talk to you for quite some time but he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready of the feeling in being rejected but this is something he needs to face.

With a whistle from the assistant coach, Atsumu, Suna and the rest of the players resumed the practice for the upcoming tournament.

It was late in the evening. You just finished your last class for the day. With a content sigh, you gripped onto the strap of your bag before walking the empty University grounds where lights were all lit up, illuminating the University buildings with the moon and stars shining and twinkling. The cool and fresh breeze made it even more of a peaceful walk back to your apartment. 

Finally arriving the main streets of Hyogo, you were greeted by bright lights of buildings and people crossing the streets, some going shopping. The part of Hyogo to where you were current at was the busiest part --- the shopping center. Tall buildings were all lit up and multiple cars were causing traffic. It was just the typical night scenery every time you go home from university. 

As you pass by restaurants, your stomach started to grumble, in need of food.

What were you gonna eat for dinner?

As you stopped in your tracks and pondered for a moment, thinking if you should dine in or just order food for take out, a familiar car suddenly parked to where you were at the sidewalk. The window rolls down and a head from inside peers at you with a big smile on their face.

“M-mom? What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t seen you in awhile and that’s how you’re gonna greet me, sweetie?”

“Sorry. I’m just surprised.”

“Have you had dinner?”

With another growl from your stomach that was loud enough for your mom to hear from the car, she laughs and points her finger to the door.

“Well you’re in luck, sweetie. I cooked your favorite foods today. Hop in. I’ll let you eat back at your apartment so that I’ll also be able to see how much of a mess you’ve made.”

“Hey! I am not messy!”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

Excitement fills in your system of the thought you’re gonna have a home cooked meal — the kind of meal that just has the different kind of satisfaction compared to restaurants. You love your mother’s cooking. Not only is it delicious, but it also comforts your soul. A mother’s love is definitely put on the plate.

As you sat down on the front seat and buckling your seat belt, your mom drove the two of you to your apartment building. On the way, the two of you did a lot of catching up like how were your studies and did you make any friends to which you answered a bit enthusiastically because you did with Kaori. Even though your mom knows about Kaori, you told her that you and Kaori are much closer this year. You really love moments like this with your mom considering how busy she is with her work. Too bad your father went on a business trip but the three of you seem closer than ever because growing up, your parents always try to accompany you when you were still a kid. When you got into university, your parents had already planned for you to start being independent to prepare you for your future.

Sharing some laughs here and there, your eyes were finally fixated on the road. As you just stared at the scenery, you can’t help but feel a bit jealous at couples who were walking beside each other on the sidewalk, all love and smiles in the air. You can’t help but frown a little. You regretted dating Nakamura. All he did was just adding to your emotional trauma.

You can’t help but wonder if there is someone out there who really is meant for you.

With the car coming to a stop, you looked around and it was not the parking area of your apartment building. You were still in the main streets. Confused, you looked at your mom who was looking intently at the sidewalk ahead.

“What are you looking at, mom?”

“Which one was it of the twins dearie? The one looking like a bee?”

“What?”

Looking at the sidewalk, your eyes widened at the familiar figure who was just innocently walking down the street, unaware of his surroundings as he just minded his own business. Your heart started to beat faster in your chest as the figure starts to near the car, still looking straight ahead. His varsity jacket hugged his figure as he kept his hands inside the pockets to keep him warm from the cold autumn breeze, with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. You observed that he had a serious expression on his face — somewhat troubled as he grumbles to what was in his head.

Before you could even reply, your mom honked the car to only startle the setter, him jumping a bit from the sudden sound, making you hold your laugh as you saw the expression on his face. It was priceless.

“Mom, what are you doing?!” 

As the window of the car from your side started to roll down, you started to panic. You didn’t want to be seen right now. You definitely wanted to avoid Atsumu. The odds were against you at the moment as Atsumu finally calmed down and looks at the car with a confused expression but decides to just continue walking but then your mom called his name, miraculously identifying the right twin.

“Atsumu-kun!”

Your mom says with a big smile as she waves at your long time friend. Your mom has been friends with the Miyas for a long time --- as the mother of the twins and your mom were pretty much besties. Of all the times you and your families get together, your mother still gets confused on who was who even if their hair colors were dyed purposely for people to tell them apart. 

You wanted to get out of there. Starting to unbuckle your seat belt and just hide at the back, it was too late when Atsumu peers at the window. A bright smile made its way on his face when he saw your mother, feeling a bit of comfort of seeing a familiar person in a street full of strangers.

“Is that you, Mrs. (L/N)?”

“Yes it is, sweetie. Did you just finish practice?”

“I did. What brings you here, Mrs (L/N)?”

“I happen to cross (Y/N) here on her way back to her apartment. I actually cooked a lot of food tonight. Do you want to have dinner with us? (Y/N) told me that you like my cooking.”

Atsumu gazes at you a bit. He smiles a little when he saw how you were trying to avoid eye contact with him as you kept your head down and kept fumbling with your fingers — a habit you have when you’re nervous that Atsumu has caught on. He finds it pretty cute. Realizing the possibility to where this was going, he’s gonna use this as an opportunity to finally talk to you as the words from Suna kept ringing in his head.

You turned to your mom as you were avoiding Atsumu’s gaze on you — your face tomato red from the sudden situation you are in — not to mention how the familiar scent of fresh lemons that Atsumu gives off makes you addicted to it. You gave your mom a look that just screams ‘stop embarrassing me!’ .

“Oh did she now? I’m happy to join you, Mrs. (L/N)”

“Splendid! Hop in.”

On the car ride back to your apartment, you can’t help but drown in Atsumu’s scent, oh how you missed it too much. You feel your cheeks heat up, knowing Atsumu was at the back seat as he converses with your mom who exchanged some talks and laughs. 

While they enjoyed their time, you can’t help your mind drifting to the night when you and Atsumu were being intimate. The way his lips move against yours. The way he caresses your cheek in circles and how you ended up on his lap. Was he gonna tell you about it? The sudden memory of you running and puking in the bathroom made you groan a little loud, making your mom and Atsumu divert their attention to you.

“You okay sweetie?”

You look at your mom with wide eyes, not intending to catch their attention with your memory. You blush bright red as you felt Atsumu’s gaze on you. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? Eyes on the road mom!”

It was gonna be a long night for you. 

Taglist: @softiebadbitch​ @underratedmage​ @haikyuu-appreciation-club​

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

“I’ve Got The Perfect Name”

Summary- 2.9k Sam Wilson x You. Your in training with the Avenger Team and have a slight mishap. No one else is bothered by it, but you can’t seem to get over it. Sam takes you out to early morning breakfast to his favorite place to take your mind off it. Its fluffy fluff. No warnings. Unless you count Bucky stealing food off someones plate a warning. Written for @jtargaryen18​ 4k challenge. Congrats babes! Much love always. 

The day Tony Stark came out as Ironman, things changed. The world changed. Suddenly superheroes were no longer something from comic books and movies, but real actual people, and you wanted nothing more than to become one.

This whole new world opened up, and you were quick to join in, putting in your schooling to join SHIELD. Specifically Nichols Fury. Your time working with Nicholas Fury really opened your eyes to possibilities you never could have fathomed. Being a Shield Agent trained you in all manners of fight styles and technology. So years down the road you had to move on from Shield when Captain, Black Widow and newly recruited Falcon proved it was compromised. Yet you followed Fury, your work had become everything for you.  

Life happened, the snap happened, and you continued on through it as best you could. The losses, there was no way to properly mourn. You tried, once in a while to deal with it, attending Steve Rogers support groups, the two of you would talk one on one. You told him about your history with Shield and Fury, he told you more and more about the Avengers, those people he considered family. You could see the pain it caused him. 

“You don't have to Steve, it's okay.” 

“No I got to, it's how we keep their memory alive.” He would simply say. You left it at that, maybe you were helping him as much as he was helping you. Over time, he became more then someone you once worked with, he became a friend. 

The day came when the snap was reversed, and Steve Rogers called you the next day with urgency. “We have to talk, meet me at that cafe by your apartment.” 

When you two happened to meet an hour later, he slid a folder across the table at you. “I have an offer for you.” 

**************************

You landed on the tarmac designed specifically for War Machine and for the new Captain America. Sam, he really wasn't about to give up his wings, not for the new title. You let out a frustrated exhale as you stepped away from the bullseye target and Sam landed down as you were walking away. 

“Y/N! Come back here, it wasn't your fault.” His red wings folded behind him, and he jogged over to where you were opening the door and going back into the compound, undoing clasps and the harness holding your own wings and sliding them off. 

“I spiraled out of control. If that had been a mission Sam, I could have hurt someone!” You snapped out as you pushed your own set of wings into the lock up. “I need to do better than this.” 

Sam shrugged off his own and put it next to yours. “You are just learning still. It's only been a few months. When I first got the wings with Riley, we were crashing all over the damn place. It takes time. I'm ready to have you join the team now actually, if you weren't so damn stubborn.” trying to reassure you, you shrugged him off, closing the lockers door. You still felt like you were failing the team, and Rogers. He had believed in you when he gave you this opportunity, and still you were making mistakes. Sam might brush it off as small, but for you they were huge, significant. 

“Well I say I'm not.” your arms folding over your chest and sighing. “I have to be perfect, you guys can't afford to have someone making basic mistakes.” 

“Y/N, you know you can’t be perfect, no one is.” He started, but you already were walking away from Sam to go back down to the lounge, when he stopped you, frowning a bit. “You do know that right?” eyes studying yours and you gave a sharp nod, and forced a smile. 

“Sure Wilson, don't worry. Tomorrows a new day.” Extracting yourself from his grasp, you continued to the lounge area, leaving Wilson frustrated with being unable to get you to calm down.  

Inside the lounge area, you went immediately to the kitchen, searching for something. Anything that can take your mind off your mistake today, pulling open the fridge door, and slamming it shut again with an aggravated sigh, then onto the cupboards and drawers. Yanking open one, you saw a half crumpled bag of Mint Milanos, and snatched the bag, unrolling it. Taking out a cookie you munched on it, when a deep voice from behind you made you jump and spin around, catching sight of Bucky sitting at the table, a ripe purple plum rolling between his metal fingers. “Bad day Y/N?” He sunk his teeth into the fruit and chewed it. 

“Disappointed in myself.” You dug for another cookie and crammed it in your mouth. 

Bucky used his foot to push out a chair, and you went to sit in it, snapping your next cookie in half and offering him half of it, which he shook his head at. 

“Sounds kinda like you're beating yourself up, I haven't heard of anyone being hurt. So what happened?”

You picked at the cookie a bit before taking a bite, chewing it slowly and setting the rest aside. “Clint be mad if I eat all his cookies.” Bucky snorted with laughter and took another bite of his plum. 

“He aint gonna care. Probably won't be back for another few months now that he's back home with Laura and the kids. So? Wilson getting on your nerves, cause I could give you a few payback tips.” 

“No no… Sam was helpful. He’s been trying his hardest training me with the wings. Sam told me to be careful of those updrafts, and one caught me unaware, I turned when I should have tilted.” you continued on, Bucky listening and when you tapered off, Bucky had finished his plum, the pit left behind that he made a toss, which it kerplunked into the nearby garbage can. 

“So you made a mistake today. You learn from it and dont do it tomorrow.” 

“And what happens when I make a mistake in a mission Buck?” 

He wiped his hands against his thighs, and moved to a stand, grabbing two beers from the fridge and handing you one. “You make it right, your human Y/N, just like the rest of us. You wouldn't fault any of us on a minor thing, would you? I hope not, cause then I would be fucked.” Tipping his bottle to yours with a clink, he left it at that. 

****************************************************

You still couldn't shake the feeling, wandering the compound early in the morning hours, you wanted to test the wings again, prove to yourself that Rogers wasn't wrong in picking you to take the Falcons place. You were just about to go up the stairs back to the tamarac when Sam came out of nowhere and grasped your arm. 

“No way Y/N, you know you can't go flying along in the middle of the damn night. At least not yet.” 

“I wasn't- Okay okay, I hear you. I just can't sleep.” You gave in, and let go of the handle, stepping away to show Sam that you weren't serious about actually doing it. 

He seemed to study you, and then in the dark his grin flashed bright. “I got something better in mind.” Tugging you away, you followed him down, heading towards the garage. 

“Well what's that Wilson?” 

“Oh you will see, get in the car.” He opened the passenger side door, and you folded your arms in defiance. 

“You know it is only fair to tell a person where they are going. What if sweat pants and a hoodie isn't proper attire.” 

Giving you a nudge, in which you complied, he shut the door and went behind the wheel. “I assure you, you will be fancy enough there. Promise.” The drive was quick being 4 in the morning and no traffic. You leaned forward to read the sign above where he stopped. 

“The Wayside? You took me to an all night diner?” 

“Sure did, best place to get breakfast this early in the morning. Plus you were driving me nuts at the compound. Up all night, pacing around, beating yourself up over nothing” Sam insisted, and got out of the car, you followed suit, wrapping your arms around yourself as his own went over your shoulder, leading you inside. You scowled at him and rolled your eyes. 

“I was doing no such thing.” 

“Sure you weren’t Y/N. Morning Sal!” Sam called cheerfully to the cook just in sight in the kitchen, he gave a wave of his spatula in salute to Sam and turned back to his stove, where you could see he was preparing to start cooking. Sam scanned the room, and then pointed at a booth near the entrance, situating you on a specific side. “Perfect, exactly where we need to be.” 

“Need to be?” You questioned as you sat down, glancing out the window to a sky starting to lighten up, another car pulling into the parking lot. 

“Yup, take your mind off yesterday, get a damn good breakfast and just chill.” Sam explained what he wanted, and you listened closely, laughed with a light shake of the head, arching a brow with a grin on your face. Just what Sam was looking for. 

“You actually do this often?” you say as a waitress grabs a couple menus, making her way over, dropping them off. 

“Sam, two mornings in a row? I say you must be growing sweet on me, cause Sal’s cooking isn't that amazing.” 

“Awww you know I'm always sweet on you.” Sam flirted back while you took the menu, and flicked it open. Nearby you could hear Sal cursing in the kitchen, the waitress rolling her eyes. “Don't mind him, he does that every morning. Get you two something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice, milk, water?” 

You snapped your menu closed with a smile to your waitress, even if you were still bleary eyed and half asleep. Your eyes darted to her name tag before answering. “Coffee please Sara.” She jotted down before waving off Sam's request. 

“Orange Juice and coffee, black?” She quirked a brow and Sam confirmed with a wink, and nodded. “Be right back you two.” Her flats clicked on the linoleum floor while she went around the counter, and grabbed mugs. You settled in your booth seat, your back leaning against the wall as your legs stretched out on the seat, glancing at Sam. 

“So… you actually sweet on Sara?” You grinned at him, and he nodded. 

“I've been thinking about asking her out. She's a sweetheart and I would love to get to know her better. I just haven't yet.” 

“And, what's stopping you Wilson? You wait too long, and someone else is going to beat you to it.” 

Sam glanced out the window a minute, shrugging a bit. “Eh, seems like we’re always heading out doing something, and do I really want to drag someone into a life where she's worried? How is that fair?” 

“Well…” You drifted off, Sam wasn't wrong. The thought had crossed your mind before. It would be alot to ask anyone to wait around, not knowing. As Avengers, they could be called on day or night, plus couldn't talk about their mission. Your partner wouldn't have any idea. “... Ask her. She should be able to make that decision for herself, right? You don't know, she might be okay with it, ya know? Besides, its just a date. Get out and have fun.” 

“I could say the same for you Y/N.” He snorted, and caught Sara heading back over, flashing his bright grin and thanking her as she set down your coffees and his orange juice. “Can I set you two up?” She untucked her pen from her ear and grasped a pad from her apron. You were prompt in ordering your blueberry pancakes with sausage, Sam with hashbrowns, bacon and two fried eggs. Your foot nudged him under the table, and he flashed you a look. Since he wasn't ready, you didn't push any further for now. Left alone again, you picked up your conversation where it was left off. 

“Same for me? Just cause I haven't dated in several months.” 

“Ha, you haven't gone for a night out since you took the wings.” He sipped from his coffee cup while you were prompt grasping sugar and cream, dumping it in. 

“Well I'm in training, I don't have time.” 

“You're done with training Y/N, the wings are yours anytime you want.” His eyes lifted to catch yours, and you could feel unease as to how he turned this right around on you. Back to what was keeping you awake, the reason you and Sam were even out at 4 AM. “I even got a kickass name for you Y/N, since you can't have Falcon.” 

You picked up his straw that Martha left for his orange juice, twiddling it between your fingers. “Wait, why not? You're not the Falcon anymore, since you took the shield.” 

“Falcons mine, I still got the wings, Red Wing. I'm not giving that up. But, now hear me out.” He sounded so excited that you made a go on motion while prying off the top of the straws paper, listening. “We can call you, The Kestrel.” 

That made you snort, bust out into a laugh, looking at him with amusement. “The Kestrel? Oh damn, where did you come up with that?” 

“Come on, it's cool. You're smaller than me, and your wings do that hover in place thing. Know what Kestrels do when hunting? They hover over a spot till their prey bolts in fear. Then BAM! strike. Its badass name, you should consider it.” 

“When did you go all Nat Geo on me Sam?” You purse your lips at the end of the straw and blew, shooting the paper at him, which he swatted away. Grabbing the straw from you, he stuck it in his orange juice and drank. 

“Since forever, You should try it sometime. Expand the brain.” Tapping his forehead, Sara was heading back over with two steaming plates, setting your stack of blueberry pancakes in front of you, and Sam's full breakfast in front of him. “Thanks Sara.” Sam smiled warmly at her this time, which was returned. 

“Enjoy you two, let me know if I can get anything else.” she looked at both of them, and then retreated back to help newly arriving customers settling at the counter. More regulars as she engaged in conversations with them. You couldn't help but watch Sam's lingering gaze follow her before he went back to his plate. You poured syrup on, and cut off your first piece. 

“How about this Sam, You go ask Sara on a date, and I will consider taking up the wings officially. Name and all, no more training. You and Buck both seem to think I'm ready.” compromising with him, you saw a flash of accomplishment in Sam’s eyes and an outreach of his hand. 

“Deal, shake on it, or it doesn't count.” 

Your hand reached across and gave a firm shake. Once your hands separated, you made a motion for him to go, in which he took a deep breath and slid himself from the booth. When approaching the counter, Sam caught Saras attention, and you went back to cutting pancakes, trying to not be obvious watching from the corner of your eye. You could see Sam putting on some of his charm, a warm smile, leaning in closer. 

Bucky suddenly fell into Sam's seat in the booth, grabbing a piece of bacon off his plate and crunching it. “Can't believe you two didnt invite me.” 

“Shut up Barnes, i'm trying to listen.” you scolded him, taking a glance to see both Sara and Sam had their phones out, and appearing to be setting up a time, exchanging numbers. 

“Oh! Is he finally doing it? About damn time. He's crushed on her forever now.” Now a piece of Sam's toast was gone. 

“We made a deal. I decided to officially step out of training if he asked her out.” 

Bucky looked at you in surprise, the triangle of toast hanging from his fingertips. “Well damn, the one time I sleep in, all this exciting stuff happens. What changed your mind?” 

“You and Sam.” Shrugging a bit. “Maybe you two were right, plus it was the incentive Sam apparently needed.” 

“Bucky, get your own breakfast!” Sam shoved back in the booth next to Bucky and grabbed his plate back from his friend. Bucky resettling in against the window, finishing off the piece of toast he had snagged earlier. 

“Why? I got yours.” he snickered and glanced back over your way. “Sam tell you his name yet?” 

“Mmhm, The Kestrel.” you chuckled and Sam shook a fork at you with a piece of egg at the end. 

“It's a cool name, and I stand by it.” 

“I will give it some thought. You get that date?” You change the subject, Bucky and You looking at him expectedly. 

“Matter of fact I did, tomorrow night I'm taking her out.” 

Bucky grinned, clapping Sam's shoulder. “Hell yea man, good for you.” Swiping another piece of bacon off his plate, the three of you continued on, the sun finally coming up to start the day, filling the cafe with easy laughter and the clinking of forks on plates.

[latin-dr-robotnik]

you’re a combo of uwu and too many thots lolol thot and thot solidarity 🤝

Y E S

I thought of where I could fit in best, and too many thots felt like a personal callout so yeah why not haha but uwu? aww thank you! ♥

So... since we're thots... may I interest you in my latest uwu wip I was surely gonna forget about in a few days anyway? It came to me last night during a chat with @dizzydennis 👀👀👀

Prompt goes: Sonic agrees to take Cream out on a small adventure, but Vanilla is completely unaware of that and actually called Amy to come over and take care of Cream while she was out for the day. The end result is Sonic and Amy both fighting over Cream’s care, as Sonic’s proposal might not be as chill as he originally thought.

"He should be here any moment..."

Shortly after their last adventure in Music Plant, Sonic promised to take her out again, this time to a less dangerous yet still adventurous place. The 23rd day after the leaves started falling down was chosen as the date for their next meeting, and Cream waited patiently... until now.

Today's the day Sonic will return, and she's been waiting all day long, leaning on the open window from her bedroom.

"I probably should've told mama about it, don't you think Cheese?"

Her Chao Cheese flew outside and stood in front of her with a concerned look, "chao..."

"Yes, I know... I shouldn't hide things from mama, but I assumed she would be fine with it anyway... maybe I should tell her now, right?"

Cream stepped away from the window, and took a moment to pick up courage to leave her bedroom and talk to her mom. But as she was just about to reach for the door, a voice startled her from downstairs.

"Cream, sweetie, I'm going to be out for a bit." It was Vanilla, ready to go open the front door with one hand, and carrying a bag with the other.

Cream gasped, then opened the door just enough to squeeze her head out the bedroom. "What!? Whe-where are you going, mama?"

"I need to go to the city, buy some things... do you want me to buy you anything in particular?"

Cream hesitated for a second, thinking if she should tell her mom about Sonic right now or not, at the risk of upsetting her or worse... "no... no! I'm fine! Thanks, ha ha!"

"Oookay..." Vanilla opened the door, revealing someone else standing right outside, "oh, by the way, Amy is here to join you while I'm out. Have fun, girls!"

Cream closed the door immediately and held it shut with her body, looking back at Cheese in complete panic, "AMY?!"

Amy entered the house carrying a bag, and slowly walked towards the sofa, "hey Cream! Your mom told me to bring something so I picked up some movies and popcorn for us! I think you're gonna love this!"

Cream didn't say anything, still looking at Cheese, which prompted Amy to leave her things on the couch and come upstairs.

"Hey, you okay?" Amy said, knocking the bedroom door, "something's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, Ms. Amy!" Cream replied from the other side, refusing to open. "I need to put some things back in place and I'll join you in a bit, don't worry!"

"Fair enough, call me if you need help, though!"

Cream sighed in relief, then jumped right onto her bed, "what are we going to do, Cheese?"

Cheese looked outside the window, confused.

"We got ourselves into this, we need to make up some sort of plan or something, before Mr. Sonic arrives!"

Cheese nodded, and they spent the next 10 minutes thinking about something. Meanwhile, Amy set everything up for the movies, wondering why Cream isn't coming down.

Soon, that feeling of wonder became concern, and Amy went upstairs once again.

"Cream, open this door, please. You're worrying me."

"Okay Cheese, let's hope this goes well..." Cream took a deep breath, then opened the door only to see Amy with her fists on her waist and with a very serious look on her face. "Oh, hey Ms. Amy... I'm so sorry!"

"What was all that about, anyway?"

Cream was clearly uneased by the situation, scratching the back of her head and avoiding eye contact, "Amy, there's something I have to tell you..."

Suddenly, the wind started picking up outside, and Cheese started to fly around the window, weaving arms in panic, "chao! Chao! Chao! Chao! Chao!"

Amy looked extremely confused, but Cream knew exactly what that meant. "Oh, no..."

"Oh no what, Cream? Cream!"

Cream ran downstairs and straight to the front door, Amy chasing after her. A few seconds later, the doorbell rang.

Amy froze in place, "huh? Who's coming now? Cream, stop! Don't open the door to strangers!"

Against her wishes, Cream opened the door, only to reveal a familiar blue hedgehog standing outside.

"Hey Cream, sorry for the delay! There was a bit of traffic, haha." Sonic joked, but noticed Cream was looking down, as if embarrassed by his presence. "Hey, don't tell me you're gonna back out of our plans!"

Cream didn't say a word. Amy, on the other hand, couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"...Sonic?"

"Huh? Amy? Wha-what are you doing here?"

Amy's face suddenly turned to a furious red, "I should be the one asking that question." Then, she grabbed Cream by the shoulder, "CREAMMMMM!"

"Okay, okay!" Cream broke out of Amy's grasp, "Mr. Sonic agreed to take me out today on an adventure, and I... I forgot to tell mama about it!"

Sonic felt a chill running through his spine, "oh, dear..."

Amy facepalmed. "Oh, Cream... why didn't you tell Vanilla that?"

Cream jumped right to hug Amy, tearing up, "I... I was afraid she would say no... I guess I wanted this adventure so so much..."

"It's fine, Cream." Amy comforted her, "but you can't hold things from your mother, you know that... you don't know if she would let you go out or not, but she'll certainly will not let you if you start hiding things from her."

The two stayed hugged for a bit, as Sonic awkwardly stared at them.

"That being said..." Amy broke the silence, "I haven't said no to it yet, and I'm in charge of you today."

Cream's eyes lightened up, "you... you are serious?"

"Yup, I could use some fresh air, and I guess you too. C'mon, go get yourself ready."

Cream stopped hugging Amy, and then happily nodded to her. "Yes! I'll be right back!"

Cream ran back to her bedroom, but Amy stood right where she was, leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed and looking directly at a Sonic sheepishly smiling back.

"So... an adventure, huh?" Amy fired. "You know that can get a bit dangerous out there."

"Well, yes... and no..." Sonic scratched the back of his head, "this adventure... is an amusement park... Adventure Park is its name, off the Golden Bay Zone... should be a pretty chill place."

"A PARK?!" Amy lost her cool for a moment, feeling incredibly upset that Sonic never picked a place for them to go out before.

Sonic took a step back, well, actually, two steps back before Amy calmed down again.

"It's fine, it's fine. I was getting tired of asking you out to the same places anyway."

"Amy..."

Just as the conversation got a lot more awkward, Cream returned from upstairs "Ms. Amy! Mr. Sonic! I'm ready! Uh... Mr. Sonic...? Are you alright? You look a bit pale..."

Sonic shook himself back to his normal cocky self in a super Sonic second.

"Pale? Ha... must be the breeze!" He gestured around, then at a nearby tree... that was completely still. "Alright, you ready for the adventure?"

Sonic turned around and Cream immediately jumped on his back so he can carry her. "Yes! ...hold on, a park?"

"The Adventure... Park." Amy added, still crossing her arms.

"Wait, a park? Mr. Sonic, I wanted to wreck some Eggman robots, you said that's the best thing in the world!"

Sonic raised a finger and gestured negatively, "no no, I told you that was way too dangerous! We're gonna do the second best thing in the world, play some dangerous yet controlled amusement park games!"

Cream let a frustrated sigh out, "okay... but what about Amy? Are you gonna carry her too, Mr. Sonic?"

Sonic turned around nervously, and looked back at Amy then down to his hands, "I... think I can do it."

"I can run there by myself."

Amy closed the door just after Cheese, and so the four of them began their way to Adventure... Park.

The sunny afternoon was the perfect set up for this adventure. The park was spread around the bay coast and offered an amazing view of the entire city from its dedicated looking spot, a massive tower sitting on the westernmost point of the bay.

Down on the ground level, Cream was totally amazed by the park's rollercoasters, bumper cars and many, many green spots surrounded by shops and carts. One cart in particular grabbed her attention.

"Oh, oh!" Cream exclaimed, holding on to Sonic's hand while pointing to a cart with the other, "I want some cotton candy!"

"No, Cream." He said, trying to be a bit more strict than last time they went out together, "Vanilla won't appreciate the fact I allowed you to have sugar before your vegetables!"

"Nah, it's fine. Go grab some, Cream." Amy replied over Sonic, still arms crossed, scanning the place around with her look.

"Yay!"

Cream and Cheese dashed to the cotton candy cart, as Sonic approached Amy a bit upset.

"Excuse me, I think I'm doing a good job taking care of Cream on my own." He pointed out.

"Excuse YOU, I'm the one left in charge by her own mother!"

"Yeah but I'm the one who told Cream about this adventure first!"

"And I already had plans for both of us before you came around, hmph!"

As they argued, Cream came back overjoyed holding her giant cotton candy as Cheese directly jumped into it, overjoyed as well.

"Hee hee, I'm back! Where to, now...? Oh... are you fighting?"

Both Sonic and Amy stood still for a moment, side by side, both with their arms crossed.

"Oh? It's nothing, Cream! Ha ha!" Sonic tried to look for something to talk about, "we're just... discussing what attraction we should head to first... yeah!"

"Aww," Cream lowered her cotton candy, searching for Cheese somewhere inside it, "don't you think they look cute when they fight, Cheese?"

"Chao! Chao!" Cheese gleefully replied.

Suddenly, Sonic and Amy lost their cool at the same time, letting out a big "WHAT?!" before turning away from each other, upset... and blushing.

"Yeah, they do! They look together, hee hee!" Cream continued, before setting her sights on the next attraction, "I wanna go to the bumper cars next!"

They followed Cream and Cheese, but keeping their distance from one another.

"We don't look cute together," they murmured.

Back to latin-dr-sonamy-trash: Okay okay, this is a very rough draft - written exclusively for this post, and not even spell-checked! I feel like there’s still sooooo much more to this one, but I’m already 1800+ words into it and I need some sort of self-control (well, not only that one lol) or else I’ll never post this ask haha

Also, I would not be a too many thots thot if I finished this one right here and now~~

But seriously, I think I have a solid grasp for this one, and I could actually return to it and finish it! There’s still the bumper cars bit, the rollercoaster bit, Eggman actually coming in and storming the place, and Sonic and Amy’s final reflection on the day (and maybe more? 👀), so, yeah, we’re just halfway done with this little SonAmy trash piece where our emotional support hedgehogs are a bit... grumpy at each other? 👀

[ticklikeabomb]

The Medusas - Part 1

Pairing : Mayans MC x Plus Size Reader ; Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Plus Size Reader (platonic)

Warnings : Language, Slight Mention of child traffic -> ( If it’s any kind of  Triggering for you, PLEASE don’t continue on this post)

Word Count : 1.4k

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the universe where they were created and interact in. This series/fiction is only for entertainment purposes.

A/N : Buckle up, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride ;)

Year 1999

It was another morning that awaited the Mayans MC and its members. The sun shone from the early hours only to get warmer by time. Marcus Alvarez’s routine was simple: wake up, have a cold shower and a coffee right before pulling his kutte over his shoulders and make his way to his Harley. While leaving his home, he felt the pressure under his boot switch and looked on the floor. There was an envelope, the only information on it being his name. Picking it up, he opened it and came across pictures along a message. His neutral features contorted to anger, jaw tightened and heavy sighing. He put the intel back inside the envelope and made his way to the club’s quarters.

Once he arrived at the clubhouse, he convoked everyone for an emergency meeting. “Javier is missing”, commented one of the members. “Good”, replied firmly Alvarez. They took place at their respective seats, the silence and cigarette smoke feeling the air. Alvarez took the envelope out and splattered the pictures all over the table. Bishop reached to the one closest to him and frowned. Letting the members acknowledge what was in front of them, Alvarez spoke at last. “I received these this morning. No name, no address, anonymous. Javier has been double crossing the club, filling his own pockets with the enemies.”

Some members shook their heads not believing their Vice-Presidente would do that. “You said it yourself, it’s anonymous. What if it’s trafficked?”, asked their Secretario. “We’ll have to sort it out. If it comes out it is indeed true, measures must be taken”, replied Alvarez to which everyone agreed. He quickly collected the intel and advised that the matter would not be further discussed until some investigation. “We’ll decide once we’ll have more information.” “Bishop talk to his lady. Try to find out if financially there has been an improvement. In the meantime, just act like nothing happened” The hammer smashed on the table, indication that the meeting was over.

Two weeks passed and the club discovered that Javier, their VP, was indeed mixed with the enemies. The vote was unanimous. The day came were they planned to bust him. After one of the club’s parties, Javier told the club he was needed at home earlier. The club used the opportunity to follow him to an abandoned barn, isolated in the desert. Kneeled on the ground, Alvarez and Bishop saw Javier greeting the club’s enemies. There was no more proof needed. The Mayans covered the entry and exit before striking and shooting. They put down the rivals and shot Javier in the leg before disarming him. Alvarez brought Javier by his shirt and punched him, “Traidor”.

“Marcus”, exclaimed Bishop and nodded at him to look around. What the club came across grossed them beyond words. Cages were splattered all around the barn, crying children occupying them. “Get this piece of shit out of my face”, spat Alvarez before turning to Bishop and helping him in opening the cages. The President gave the order to call the Prospect back with a van. Bishop was opening the last cage and slowly approached the child. The girl lifted her face at him, traces of dried tears on her face.  “Are you taking us to heaven?”, she asked with a small voice. Bishop’s breath got stuck on his throat before shaking his head. “No but I will take you somewhere safe”, he said calmly while showing her his hand. Hesitant at first, the girl looked at him, a sparkle of hope crossing her eyes before accepting his hand. “I’m Bishop and you what’s your name?”, he asked. “Y/N”. He nodded and forced a smile on his face.

You were the last to leave the barn before you stopped on your tracks. You let go of his hand and fumbled on your pockets. You reached out for the stolen lighter and turned around, walking to the entry. It took you a few tries before actioning the lighter and threw it inside. You saw the barn slowly burn, the flames intensifying. You walked back to Bishop and took his hand. Looking up, you locked your gaze with his and a small smile formed on your lips. Even after everything you must have endured inside that place, Bishop was in awe when he saw your smile crossing your features. At that moment, Bishop knew how special you were and decided to legally adopt you as soon as he found out you didn’t have any known relatives.

You grew up among the club and its rules. A few days after he saved you, he became the Mayans’ new Vice-President. You couldn’t dream of a better father. Bishop was understanding, caring, making sure you had everything you wanted and investing in your education. You became the club’s sweetheart, a smile always gracing your face and your compassionate persona enlightening every room you entered. When your father had to make runs, he would leave you in the care of Marisol Reyes, which is how you became best friends with Ezekiel. EZ was by far the smartest person you came across with and it only intensified with the years. From this small bean, birthed a young man full of potential promised with great achievements.

Year 2007

Your platonic feelings towards EZ quickly evolved into more but you never acted upon them, not wanting to risk the dynamic in place. You kept both growing each at your own pace and each with their predefined plans. Considering that EZ was a year older and almost finishing high school, you asked for his help on one of your classes you had trouble understanding. Truth to be told, it was more a ruse to spend more time with him. You knew exactly how to succeed the class but you loved hearing his voice.

A few days later, you received your test and seeing the A+ written on it, you smiled, excited to share the news with EZ. Walking out of the classroom and into the parking lot, you saw and called him before engulfing him into a bone crushing hug. “Woah, hey there Y/N”, he mumbled. Feeling his muscles tense, you disengaged from the hug without noticing a pair of eyes analyzing the interaction. “Look I got an A+ thanks to you”. A smile graced his face before congratulating you. He turned to his left before stating happily, “Y/N, I would like to introduce to you Emily, my girlfriend”. You felt your heart squeeze inside your chest at the last word and turned your gaze to where he was looking. You met with the sight of his girlfriend, your mood switching from joy to sadness and back to smiley in a matter of seconds. It was a few seconds that told Emily everything she needed to know. “Hello, nice to meet you”, you said and reached out your hand. She grabbed it and faked a smile only you could identify. “Y/N, hi. EZ has told me so much about you.”

“Good things I hope”, you chuckled slightly giving him a look. “Of course, the best. He told me how close you both are”, she mentioned to which your jaw tightened just the slightest. “This guy I have to bear with? Nah”, you joked in order to break the tension. “Oh you’re like that hein?”, EZ turned to you, fake hurt plastered on his face. “Either way, we got to go babe”, Emily’s voice cut through the moment. “Yeah right. Do you wanna join us Y/N?” Before you could answer, Emily did it for you, “I’m sure Y/N must be busy and we already planned to go check that dinner, remember.”

Either way, you were about to refuse his invitation, not in the mood of being the third wheel on the date, watching the guy you were in love with being all lovey-dovey with someone else. “Thank you for the invite but Emily’s right. I have some things to do.” He nodded, understanding and joined hands with her. “See you around then. Tomorrow, usual place?”, he asked you to which you only nod. You saw them distancing themselves from you and made your way to the club, unaware of their conversation. “She’s totally into you”, commented Emily. EZ looked at her funny before laughing. “YN? No, we’re just best friends. What are you talking about?” She shook her head and told him he was too smart to not have noticed your feelings towards him earlier. “Trust me, she likes you.” He kept shaking his head even if doubt was making his way to his mind.

*gifs, credit to the owners*

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[milstrim]

Strong Words of Encourage-Mint!

"Okay, you win," Tony conceded, pointing an accusing finger at the kid walking next to him, "This is the best sandwich I've ever had. But don't let it go to your head."

Penny took a bite of her own sandwich, polishing it off and throwing the wrapper at the nearest trash can where it landed perfectly in the hole. She flashed him a cheeky grin, "Never. Nothing goes to my head. Ever."

"Uhuh."

Tony took another bite, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. Today, they served more than the purpose of carrying around his own personal badass AI, but actually blocked the bright New York summer sun that bounced and glared off the windows of buildings and nearby cars. Heat passed through the crowd like a dusty wind, hanging onto him and letting go just as quickly as a new wave took its place. He licked his lips at the heat, hoping that whatever Penny's trip through the city had planned was prepared for a water break.

"So, where to, kid?" he asked, throwing his own wrapper in a trashcan, though he begrudgingly admitted that it was much less cool than the kid's shot, "'Cause I don't know if it can surpass the best sandwich in Queens."

"It's gonna be great, Mr. Stark!" Penny chirped, ignoring his comment and bouncing forward a little. He smiled. "There's this really cool tunnel thing that turns into an arcade. It just opened last week and the graphics are so good, it's like it's actually real! They also have an escape room if we wanted to do that too. It's supposed to be the hardest one ever, no one's cracked it yet!" Tony smirked. Between the two of them, it'd be done in ten minutes tops, "Oh! And there's this cool, like--it's like a superhero store? They have a bunch of really cool Avengers merch and there's this life size Captain America plushie that's like three hundred dollars and it has the funniest sayings ever. You've got to see it!!!"

"Sounds like a full day," Tony commented, wondering when life had ever become this carefree. He was spending the day discussing afternoon plans with his intern, just for fun... No, not his intern. More like his kid. He couldn't help himself as he gave the girl a fond look. It'd been two years since they'd met, she was almost eighteen, and she changed so much, yet her bouncy childish joy still hung in a bubble beside her. Tony took a breath, surprised to find his breath taken away with the thought of how much she'd grown, "So, where to first?"

"Where do you wanna go first?"

"Nope. Your day."

She bumped into him playfully, sticking her tongue out at him. He blew a raspberry in her direction, dragging a delighted, crinkling giggle out of her.

"The arcade is closest," she said.

"Cool, let's go do that first. Which way?"

"Um, it's a couple blocks over," she started, stopping, much to the chagrin of the bustling crowd. She stepped away from the stream of traffic. Tony followed, "We can take some shortcuts, though."

"Y'know, you're pretty impatient," he teased.

"No! I'm just showing you my amazing street cred of knowing the streets."

"Okay, Underoos. Lead the way."

She shot him a look, but still led him through the alley. And then another, and then another. The first two were completely fine. No surprises, no boogy man jumping out of them. Nothing other than the toxic smell of a dumpster. By the third one, everything went downhill.

Now, Tony didn't have a 'spidey sense' or whatever she and her friend called it, but the moment he stepped on the street, the feeling of wrong overtook him. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was the way Penny had slowed down, her body language reeking of fear. Almost against his will, he took a step further, reaching out for Penny in an attempt to pull her back.

He'd barely reached her by the time something clattered at their feet. It was small and round, barely bigger than a bouncy ball, a sickly gray color shining dully in the darkened alleyway. Before any movements could be made, it stretched, revealing a clear vial.

Smoke began dispensing from the ball, billowing in thick clouds. Extremely thick for how small the thing was. Tony's breath shortened immediately, and before he clamped his mouth shut, stuffing it into the crook of his arm, he shouted to Penny, "Don't breathe, kid, just run!!"

Surprisingly unaffected, he moved forward, gripping Penny's hand as he did, but he was stopped short, almost falling with his cut short momentum. He whipped around to stare at Penny, his eyes widening with horror.

She was rooted in place, her eyes dreamy and droopy, as if she was nothing more than a vacant shell. She swayed. Her legs shook. She fell.

The man rushed forward, barely managing to catch her, and feeling like someone would have to catch him soon as well. His vision swayed dizzily from the lack of air, and Tony couldn't stop himself from taking a breath in at the sudden movement. He expected something bitter or tasteless, and for him to faint immediately if it had already taken Penny out so quickly, but instead, he was fine. Nothing happened save for the burning of peppermint on his throat and burning his nose.

Peppermint.

He cursed. Penny was dangerously allergic to peppermint, a fun little gift from her spider powers. Whoever had done this hadn't come for him. They wanted Penny, and they knew just how to do it.

With that horrifying thought, Tony ran. Or, well, he tried to run.

Scooping up Penny, he began to stumble out of the alleyway, only to be met with a wall of people. There were three of them, all with guns in hand. Waiting. He turned on his heel, only to discover the other end was surrounded with three men as well, as dangerous and formidable looking as before. He spotted a red octopus on their jackets.

He hugged Penny tighter, and held out a gauntlet covered hand. His glasses lit up, Friday already calling a suit.

A man took a step closer, his gun held aloft. Tony took a step backward, his eyes dancing around and looking for an escape. Penny couldn't stay in this cloud of peppermint for long. As if hearing his thoughts, a rack of coughs shot through Penny, who buried her shaking form into his shoulder. He had to get her out.

"Hand over the girl," demanded the closest man. The group closed in, but remained wary of the weapon gripped onto his palm.

"Not happening," he snapped, "I think you know what happens to people that mess with me. So why don't you just go ahead and keep moving?"

"You know it's already too late for that."

"I don't think it's ever too late for anything."

"I do," the man responded, and that was all he had to say.

The men rushed forward all at once, a tidal wave. Tony fired immediately, but was only able to fire out one shot before they were on top of him. He kicked out violently, but was horribly unbalanced by the girl he held in his arms, limp and unaware of the world.

A punch landed to his face, knocking him backwards and the glasses off of his face. Assumingly distracted, he felt arms grip around his kid, tugging painfully at her, but he managed to cling on. In his desperate attempt to keep the kid with him, however, he found himself defenseless.

Another fist. Another kick. Tony felt his nose snap and his arms bruise beyond belief as he was rammed against the dumpster, arms worming between his, digging and tugging and tearing. But Tony refused to let go, unable to do anything else. All he could do was shield Penny from being hurt and taken.

But all he could do wasn't enough. Tony's legs wobbled, his body shook, and Penny was torn away. He reached out immediately, struggling to force himself up only to be met with the butt of the gun against his face. He went down like a rock, his head tearing against the concrete painfully.

Tony Stark had never been one to give up though, and this was a moment he was determined to not let pass by. Even if it killed him.

The sound of a car screeching to a halt is what managed to stir him to his feet, throwing away the dizziness that faced him and instead running towards the group of kidnappers. No longer encumbered with a child in his hands, he held out his wrist gauntlet. The first two missed, but the last hit the man holding Penny. He dropped to the ground just outside a gray van, Penny tumbling with him.

Another took his place, hooking arms underneath the limp girl and attempting to herd her back into the van, but he rushed forward. Anger burned in his eyes and leapt from his palm. Now close enough, he hit the man picking up Penny, forcing him to stumble back, and knocking him down with a swift shot.

Tony couldn't stop to make sure Penny was okay, instead swerving back to face the rest of the group, who were sprinting forward and redrawing their guns. The first slammed up to him, clicking his gun and ready to fire. Tony grabbed his wrist as he approached, clumsily twisting and placing his armored hand over the barrel, only just able to stop the metal that bounced against his hand painfully.

He took in a wispy breath, adrenaline pumping. He threw the man into the next one, forcing them to tumble to the ground, not that it would keep them down for long. He turned to the next one, firing two quick excessive shots that blasted the gun out of his hand and sent it clattering on the pavement. Tony punched him, his metal hand swiftly knocking him out.

Three down. Three to go.

The two he'd shoved to the ground earlier had stumbled back up, and now all three surrounded him, guns drawn and pointed at him. Tony pointed his gauntlet, gasping for air and refusing to move from where he stood over his kid protectively.

"Give it up, Stark," the tallest man demanded, a trickle of blood running from a cut over his eyes. Tony glanced around harriedly, desperately searching for an escape, for something to use. The sound of whooshing let him know he didn't have to.

"I've never been known for that," he snarked back, ducking and swerving for Penny just as the suit clanked down in front of him. Tony didn't even have to watch the fight, though he would've preferred to see the way their faces widened and whitened with fear, instead kneeling beside his kid.

No longer in direct contact with the peppermint bomb, the swelling had receded, and, when he placed two fingers to her neck, he was relieved to discover her heart was beating normally. Her breaths were a little shallow, but she'd live.

Penny blinked awake, her eyelashes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked lost, unfocused and unseeing, before they shifted and locked onto him. Immediately, a look of trust washed over her, and it made Tony equally terrified and fond. He'd barely saved her, yet she still held out a hand and gripped his fingers as though he would protect her forever.

He would try.

"Are you o'ay?" Penny mumbled, her words heavy as she began to regain control of her body. Tony wanted to scoff, but he was sure he looked like a bruised and horrid mess. His eye was bruising, his nose tender and broken, and trickles of blood escaping from given cuts.

"I'm great, kiddo," he responded instead, "But I think our little playdate is over, so why don't we go home?"

"I wanted you to see the Captain America doll."

"We'll go another time," he assured.

"Really?"

"Really."

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Tryst-Chapter 10

I did it! I finally edited this thing. Still not completely happy, but they are, so 🤷‍♀️s! If you enjoy let me know. I love a like, reblogs are love, and anons are lifeblood! 😘!!

Tam

Inglewood

There seems to be an equilibrium they have reached, Helene decided one balmy afternoon home alone of her tiny apartment patio. She pictured it like a piece of a Johnny Cash song, them walking the golden line in the middle of U.S. streets. If they were to veer either way the emotional equivalent of oncoming traffic would flatten them.

Though she supposed that line felt pretty roomy, like an estate broker's favorite word, spacious.

Maybe it's a tightrope, and any imbalance means they smash upon the hard, unforgiving ground.

Helene had convinced herself that this was her own conception, that her lover, her boss, her Harry, didn't feel it as well.

Until she heard the album.

She'd been at the Paris listening parties, so she'd heard snippets, and she'd been in the studio a time or two, so she had heard rough stones being polished to diamonds, chord progressions and roughed out lyrics and melodies. That was all up until this point.

Helene was offered a choice, the whole of staff was, to hear the album early or with everyone else.

She had declined. Because she had a very clear picture of what it was about, who it was about. It stung. Not because she was unaware of his sorrow, or how he missed her, the other French girl, the one worthy of homage, but because, she had been there too- with him too. Every step of the way and through Paris and Rome, and Japan and Australia too.

It hurt.

As much as her eyes were open, muscle memory of the drill, the words cemented on her brain to console herself. He was in an open relationship, Helene was not in that relationship, she was simply a reason for the unbolted window. Always making cameos, never the headliner.

So, the album, as great as she kept hearing it was, would be confirmation of her role, or lack thereof. She wasn't ready for that truth.

She'd better get ready. Helene would be hearing it soon no matter what, and seeing him. It had been a little bit since Cancun, but the show was going on, and she was involved, expected. It wouldn't do to cry over her lack of lyrical odes in front of the fans, they all knew her name and face, and she wasn't so good a liar they'd believe a disclaimer of happy tears.

Before the first show went on, her own show needed to get on the road. It was time for her to break a leg, or her heart as it were. Her set up was optimal for a breakdown.

Empty hotel room, qui Tissues on the toilet seat, qui Full hot bath, qui Goblet of red wine, tout a fait.

Helene was as ready for heartbreak, or it's residue if that's where she was now, as ready as one can be.

Her clothes are easy to quit, sweats and a TPWK tank exclusive to crew. The water is hot, her skin will redden to match her tear streaked face.

The level of melodrama she's reaching for this is impressive to even herself.

"Allons-y" she mutters and presses play.

And Clairemeant, she loves it. From first cord, she can imagine being in his stupid convertible driving to Shanghri la. Helene wishes he had played this when they went, a moment of California dreamin. She knows the next couple, as everyone does, in his world at least. Soon the whole world probably. They were radio besties, not just friendly.

It's the next few tracks where her preparations pay off. The tears come. For him, for her, and for Helene herself. The worst part isn't even her own pain; the waterworks are for Harry. She can hear his broken heart and bad decisions.

God, she hopes he does not count her among those.

But She, She is a new place to be. It's exactly what she would expect him to make and miles beyond expectation.

Then Sunflower, god, is it ridiculous to feel like there are glimmers of them? If kraft services counted as kitchens. It's the toothpaste. It's the fact that on their first go, they didn't know each other. Not really. She was his employee. She knew him, intimately, from all the watching, much less creepy than it sounds when it was her job. But she was somewhere between an insider and an outsider. Always an observer, never a participant was the lot of a photographer.

Except when Harry pulled her into the shenanigans, onto his lap, or some other harmless flirty gesture she couldn't forget.

Helene never lived in a canyon, though all of Paris seemed to rise around her some days. That one was nothing to do with her, and after a couple songs reprieve her heart seized all over again.

Helene loved that he'd made a song for his motto. It had all the silly he made cool. Even if he broke her heart sometimes, she loved how her kindness grew watching him cultivate and sow his own. The harvest was in the venues, and her heart.

After that happy high, she's not ready for the closer. Though she suspects she may never have been, no matter practice or preparation.

Fine Line throws her, thrills her, and makes her think.

Is it her? Is it them? Is it like most of the rest,  Camille?

Helene is aware she is simplifying. Music isn't exactly clear in its inspiration or intention. There may be shades of her throughout.

In this last song, she feels more than shades.

Had they ever been anything besides a fine line? Somewhere between one thing and the next.

She hesitates to think something more, that denigrates their friendship. Romance isn't necessarily superior, that's a bought and sold fairy tale she has tried to unlearn.

But, if she is honest, being together would have felt like more, better. Because she wanted him, wanted him to want her.

Some of the lyrics trouble her.

She didn't think she was unknowable though. Maybe at the end, when she let him open her completely everywhere, and then promptly hopped over into one territory and only tread their old familiar line  accidentally once.

Could she ask him? Would she? Tomorrow?

Non, that's not like her. Helene's direct in desire, but not in definition. Probably why they got stuck walking the line.

But they were alright. What a comfort that was.

Whatever the truth, the inspiration, when she heard it live, tomorrow, she would pretend or hyperextend. Believe. She'd believe it was about her.

———————————————————————————

Helene always forgets what it's like to see his face in person, be in a room with him. On paper and in her mind when she is away, she can rationalize. 'He's handsome. But not extraordinary. You know better looking men, have shared more time with some.'

And then he is nearby, and her entire body is aware of him.

Moreover, so is everyone elses. That is his power, super prowess. He has this energy that galvanizes every libido in range. The hell of it, it turns on a dime and you want to ruffle his hair just after riding his face. He's so sexy and frustratingly endearing.

His gap between adorable and sexy is so small, and bowtied to perfection.

"What's new pussycat?" He whispers near her left shoulder before she can even fully take him in.

"Enfin!" She could see the rear of her brain case. Harry turned her body into his hug and was responding to her exaggerated exclamation.

"See Jeffrey, I told you she had the best eye roll!" He giggles a bit and holds her long, in that way anybody else probably couldn't get away with. Someone might rightly think they'd tasted every part of one another if he didn't hold everybody like this.

Helene takes the opportunity to smell him. He always smells good to her, even his stink. Sweat drenched and ball's empty or dandied up and stage worthy, he tasted like her first meal out when she returns home to Paris.

" I cannot believe you remember that conversation." She said into his neck.

It quelled his laughter.

"How could I forget the look of disgust on you and Sarah's faces. Too good to not use!"

"You gonna use it on Sarah too? Or would Mitch put your nose between your pretty eyebrows?"

"Don't mock my eyebrows!" He pulls back, but she's still within the walls of his body, bracketed by his arms. "They just grow like this."

"Qui," she snorted. "Don't forever I've photographed you being groomed, ma belle."

"She's  just cleaning them up! I swear."

"She just took your man card Harry." Jeff 's snickering.

"He didn't have a man card since long ago." She and Jeff laugh together.

"Heeeey!" His offended face goes soft around his smiling eyes. He tilts her body away from the small backstage crowd and she wonders where they are going. She's still going; her toes have all but left the ground while he leads her with his whole body.

She follows her heart.

Helene always feels small, but he makes her feel deliciously tiny. He leads her down a corridor, past people he waves to and she would have stopped to hug in other circumstances. She'd missed this circus family. Finally, she just has to ask, "Harry, where are we going? I don't have my equipment." If he wanted her to capture the moment, she needed a camera. He did this sometimes, this drag to a piece of personal history or set up he saw well in his mind's eye. His enthusiasm always contagious.

He didn't exactly have that energy going on now, he seemed nervous rather than excited.

"That's a bit unfortunate. S'ok though I only want a mental picture of your face. When you tell me." He pulls her through a door, a different dressing room from last time, which she realizes upon entry is actually an office.

"Where are we?" Helene asks as he positions himself between her and the door like she might make a break for it.

"Irving's office." He explains off hand. "Now tell me, what' d you think?"

"Quoi?" She can feel the screw of her face to the left. She has no idea what he could mean, she'd been so busy keeping up with his footsteps, she had no idea what he was on mentally. They didn't always connect easily, he wasn't always an open book, but she'd figured out how to crack him a time or two. It was easier with a camera at her eye, or both of them naked.

"Of the album, my album." He pinches his bottom lip and wrings his hands a tad.

"The album?" Her brain's slow. Why were they talking about this?

"You' re the only one who hasn't text me, or responded. That's included I mean."

"Included?" What?

"Please stop repeating me in one word questions, Helene!" He looks up and blows out a breath. "Did you like it? Are you upset?"

"Upset?"

"Helene!"

"Harry, lower your voice."

"Apologies." He takes her hand. "Now, did you like it?"

Ah, it was easy to forget how praise was like water on a neglected plant to him. He just wanted assurance that her love of his work would fill her photos again.

"Qui, clairement, it's gorgeous."

"And?" He looks, she couldn't quite place it, Like a puppy trying to sneak into your bed. Hopeful but preemptively scolded.

"And?" She opens her palms to him, subconsciously trying to release his nerves about whatever he's asking her opinion of.

"Did you hear it? At all." He rolls his eyes, but it was so clearly at himself that Helene takes no offense. "Hear us I mean?"

"I didn't want to presume." She starts after a pregnant pause.

"Presume, tournesol, presume." He leans close and she can really smell him. Not pungent like Mexico after hours of sun, or after a night on stage. But, days lazing or loitering in Italy under warm skies.

She shakes her head at him. She felt a spark of recognition that she'd classified as hope during that song, but, "that one is not all me."

"No, not entirely. It is an idea, a feeling fleshed out, but an ode none the less." He assures her, all eye contact and vulnerability.

He's closer now, enough to touch. And she could have? Would, but she had a more important question, a deeper song to address. Though she had to admit, most days Sunflower was her favorite. "Am I in any others?"

"Glimpses. Though one is mostly you." He gives her an encouraging smile, mischief around its edges.

She sucks in a breath. She really wants to know, she's become so much more that she was since she met him. Braver, kinder, richer in many ways. Could she be direct as well? What would Dominique, her most forward friend, do? "And the ending. That feels like a beginning?"

"Fine line?" His dimple's out. Helene might feel upset that he's a cat and she's the mouse if he wasn't a Tom to her Jerry.

"Qui, fine line?" If she just lifts her hand, his jaw will fit just so, always has., or the beautiful curve of his shoulder.

"That one," he's smiling like the time he presented her cake on her birthday. "I realized in Mexico is you!"

"Not until Mexico?" Now she didn't want to touch him, not even his fine shoulder.

"I knew while writing, the glimpses of you, but only one part was, her, was" he swallowed. She hoped it wasn't still pain slicing his throat as he forced the feeling down. She'd even take regret. "Camille" he took her hand. More friendly than the conversation. "The rest, the hope, is you." The nerves were foreign to him when he was with her, he didn't wear them well, his only awkward fit.

Helene let's her eyes fall closed while his breath wafts over her face. That was more Harry. The taste of caffeinated mint. The familiarity messes with her head, it's a bit false but never forced.

She wants to accept his compliment, even though he's undercut it with an inconvenient truth. Their relationship was not one. They were friends, they slept together sometimes, he was her boss and her muse. But they were never together, and  "that's nice, Harry, but, forgive me if it seems, well convenient."

"Convenient?" Oh, his brows are as tangled as his growing curls. Damn him.

"Me belle, it's hard not to notice who is not here, but everywhere on the album." He narrows his eyes in response to her observation. "And I also have someone else to call baby."

"You're with someone?" His pretty brows nearly touch above his nose.

"Qui." It was a bit of a stretch, really. A man she is dating, fucks occasionally. They're not exclusive, and she likes him, Rene, but no more has developed With anybody else, since she gave Harry Carte Blanche with her body. She had liked him, them, a few of them, thought they had potential. She supposed they still did, it just hadn't developed. Helene has never pushed them down the hill.

It hadn't stopped her from being with Harry in Mexico.

Helene talks about him now, hoping it will slow down the ball rolling from the top of the hill in Harry's mind. If he'a just realized he wrote about her and still believed sharing that notion just after she spent several hours marveling, begrudgingly, over his words to another woman, her clothes would fall off over one song for herself, well, he might be right. But she needed some kind of defense mechanism.

She's lacking a chastity belt, Rene's specter would have to do.

"How long?" He asks quietly.

"A bit." She wasn't going to give him details. That was showing him the chinks in her honor.

"Oh, ok, well, that's good." He clears his throat, looks at her with murky eyes. "I'm happy for you."

"I'm happy for you, as well." She hugs him, to touch him and reassure him. "This album, tour, will be a great success."

"Yeah, yeah." He says trying to believe it. "Now that it's out there, I hope so. But we are going to make it fun. You up for some fun, Helene? This time out?"

She's  confused, last time was fun, but she supposed her life was changing so fast, she had no grand expectations to carry on her shoulders and no one broke her heart during tour.

That came after. He must be going into this round with a different attitude.

"Yeah, fun sounds good." He high fives her and she can't help but laugh at him. It turns into another hug, and all the distancing she'd done during this conversation ceased when he kissed her flaxen hair.

"Break, break a leg, Harry." He smiles, the nerves making it quiver just a bit as they go their separate ways.

—————————————————————————— The album closer is approaching and Helene is suddenly nervous. Sunflower kinda made her shake, luckily it's such a damn happy jam, her feelings didn't sweep her away. It's already been a magical night, and she knows the magic doesn't end with the album. Harry has some amazement up his pink sleeve.

His outfit had been distracting, not like Paris or Madrid, but it's so pretty and such a cute silhouette. Helene realizes while she is snapping away. It was distracting because she wanted it herself. It might overwhelm her small frame, but that pink would look good on anyone. He might loan it to her, Sarah and Mitch wore his clothes sometimes.

She's at least as close.

Closer.

He says something before he begins, and it's loud so Helene has to translate it twice, figure out his words and then think them in French. The song's started before she realizes he's said its a difficult song to perform for the first time.

She can't put her finger on why, but she feels for him, for herself. Her brow is knit up like that time she tried to make a Christmas scarf and the little piece of her heart she took back from him breaks free from its stitches and goes to him, right where he stands on his big stage.

The music starts and it's the build that gets her. Just like the first time. She admits she listened to this one repeatedly, Listen one- physical experience, listen two- listening for the glimpses she thought she had caught of herself. Listen three- cry time.

Helene does not want to weep, but it seems she might be in good company. Harry's doing his closed eyes thing. She teased him about that onetime.

"Is it easier to hear how good you are if you close your eyes?" She'd asked this from the head of the bed while he lay across the bottom rubbing her feet.

"What?"

She supposed it was a nonsequiter. "When you sing and when you fuck, you close your eyes sometimes. Is it so you can focus on the screaming?" She pushed him with her foot and gave him a flirtatious smile.

"I don't need to hear the screams to know I'm good." He'd smirked at her and she would have kicked him off the expensive high hotel bed, but he continued too quickly, "To be honest," oh he was serious now, "It's when I get emotional. Or I need to focus."

"Like to hit a note?" She likes his explanation. He keeps his eyes closed sometimes when he's inside her. She hopes that, she, makes him feel; she's too afraid to ask him about that though.

"Or to make you hit a note!" He'd dropped his emotional temperature quickly, grinned and tackled her. "Let's see if we can get you to a G7!"

She did not hit any whistle notes, her orgasm had actually been pretty silent, but the build up had been harmonious.

The conversation came back to her now. His eyes were definitely closed, as they had been during Falling, and a few other times. But, he'd said this was hers, theirs, and he seemed to be feeling, if her memory served, and she remembered so much about Harry, she trusted it.

And then, as her eyes are unquestionably about to spill over to wet the forum floor with her fellow Harry fans, his open. They find her like he's been tracking her all night, and that may be true, though that is more her job, to always be aware of him and his location. But she's rooted there now. She may never leave this spot, Because there is emotion in his eyes, it's not humid like hers, but it's intense.

He eventually shifts to connect with a paying customer, but Helene is a mess. She has to go back stage to collect herself.

She almost misses Stevie, and even if he wrote songs about her, Helene is fairly certain she would get fired for that. The rest of the show is a blur. She snaps it by muscle memory.

Helene also doesn't stay for the after party, it's all to much. It's a departure from her normal behavior, she would almost always stay, with her camera, and to be with everybody. Tonight she's planned to. She missed them dearly, she just couldn't after that moment.

Harry doesn't have that luxury, it's his party, which is why he doesn't knock on her hotel room door until 3am.

She thought she'd got away with it.

Helene's still awake, barely, and when she answers the door, she knows she's mussed. He's seen her like this before, he's caused it. She's too tired to care much.

"Harry," she sighs. "It's late, Cherie."

"You left, and I needed to talk to you." He walks in like he owns the place. She supposes he did pay for it. He just turns to look at her, and if she didn't already feel exhausted beyond measure, those eyes on her may have sparked the fire he lit long ago in her belly.

"Go ahead." The sooner he unburdens himself the better, she looks longingly at her bed.

And then he just sighs and says, "are we?"

She's doubts the face she makes is attractive, "are we what?"

"Alright? Are we alright?"

God, that's a major question. What they are is a shadow of existence, some half way place between what they could have been, what they should be, and then what they are. It a very strange set of loops, like the comparison charts from school. They are colleagues, no doubt, friends, thankfully, and lovers, occasionally. Do any of those designations mean they are alright?

Because she doesn't want occasional lovers. She's put distance between them because she wants more. Halfway is not alright to her.

"Helene?" Oh, she's just been biting her lip this entire time. She really wants to go to bed, but, they should get this done before tour. Does she tell him she wants to be the dead center of his life, or just leave it at they are alright and go to dreamland.

Either are scary in their own right and he's distracting.

He's wearing comfy clothes, the yellow shirt and large trousers she'd snapped him arriving at the forum in. The shirt hugs his body and it makes it difficult for her to pretend she doesn't want to be really open about her feelings. Sometimes isn't enough, not anymore, maybe not ever.

"Let's sit."

"Uh oh." Harry exhales.

"Uh oh?" She looks up at him.

"Is the next sentence 'we need to talk?'"

"Well, we do, or you wouldn't be here on the wrong side of the sun."

"Fair enough." He sighs and sits back, his head hits the back of the couch. He's stretched out, and her small frame would fit well between his hips and chin. She's tempted to do it, to straddle him. Then the talk won't happen, and all these things will be left up in the air. And she will be narrative adjacent, still.

But she's in his narrative, right? If the song is about her? Is that enough?

So she sits with him. "Harry," she takes his hand and he looks so hopeful. "What does it mean to be alright?" Helene is surprised by her own question. It's direct, perhaps not as direct as it could be. She's unsure what he's asking. Is he asking her for more of the same? Today's same, where they are flirty friends and colleagues. Or the alright of yesterday, where she's his friend and employee with benefit.

That's not alright.

Or does it mean something else, something more. Like the feeling after the build in the music, hopeful, open ended: a chance taken.

He finally yanks his eyes open, and Helene remembers he performed an entire concert and went to an after party. That he is center stage in many peoples life. Is she insane to want to be his locus? Harry opens his mouth, then closes it.

"I guess, I don't know."

Helene nods. It's not a surprise, he just wants harmony and everybody happy. He may not have thought beyond them being ok on the surface. He's not ready for the conversation she thought he was asking about.

"We're fine Harry. You're tired, you should get to bed." She stands to show him to the door,  is suddenly back to wholly exhausted herself.

He's shaking his head.

"Harry's it's 330. We need sleep."

"I didn't like that you left."

"You don't get to make me stay at a party. It's not part of my duties."

He's still shaking his head. "No, I'm not saying this right. It's not alright."

"What isn't?" God, she's frustrated, wants him to be clear.

"That you don't want to be around me. I miss you." Well that's obvious for him, and wrong.

She closes her eyes. "Did you ever consider, maybe it's that I want to be around you too much."

"What do you mean?" He looks puzzled but there is light around his eyes, blue skies and clouds.

She sighs. Someone has to be vulnerable, Might as well be her. She knows how straightforward he just was must pain him. "I mean, I don't want to be with you at the party," he's cringing. "well, not just." She takes a fortifying breath. "I miss you too, but I miss what we could have been as well. And I can't," she could do this. "I can't just sleep with you when you are feeling lonely anymore. We are either friends or we are more. It's not fair to me. I can't walk the fine line anymore."

He's looking at their interlaced fingers. A drop hits her hand.

"Harry?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers

Her heart breaks. He doesn't want this. She tries to take her hand from his. Dammit, why did they have to do this in her room? She can't run away now.

"No, no." He looks  up. Why's he sad when she's getting rejected? "I'm sorry I took you for granted, or made you feel like you were my second choice."

She'd not said that.

"I can read between your lines, Helene." He touches her cheek. "I had feelings for you, but I was already with Camille. And then, I was mourning. And it takes me bloody ages."

She wants to role her eyes. She supposes it's kinda true, but he was mourning his rejection.

"I've realized since then, my heart was bruised, but my ego was what got broken. And I wasn't in a place to offer you anything. Not until Mexico, but then things just got busy and we didn't talk."

"We never do." She purses her lips.

"We need to." He holds her chin in his hands. "So, I'm asking. Will you cross the line with me?"

God, her heart is swelling, and she's afraid to look at his face. Is he really asking what she is hearing? "Harry, amor, what does that mean? I can't speak in metaphors." She can, but it's trouble with him. He's a metaphor himself with his figurative edges and blurred meanings.

He sighs, chuckles to himself, and lets go of her hand. He cups her face and draws her eyes up to the tide pools of his. The tides in, he's teary. "I want to do it together, not have you cross the line hoping I follow, or me waiting on the side for you thinking you understood what I was asking for. But together."

She huffs, she stilll, always, doesn't know what the fuck he is talking about. "What line Harry?" She assumes when someone is holding your face gently you shouldn't be yelling in their face in return, but he is so frustrating. "I still don't know what you are saying."

He laughs at himself, or at her, or them. "I'm saying, we should do this, you and me. Like a real relationship. Not just when we are together on tour or meeting up for me to work. But you come home with me to London, or Malibu, or wherever. Or I go with you to Paris, and we don't leave."

"Are you suggesting we move in together?" She's smiling, finally. The edges of her lips would be at her  earlobes if they could be. "You may want to ask me to be your girlfriend first."

"We've been moving at a glacial pace for years. But that's not really what I meant—"

"I know." She shakes her head fondly. "So?"

"So-" he takes a big breath. "Will you be my girlfriend, Helene?"

Oh god, this is what it feels like to look at the sun. To be the sun. "Yes!" It's a whisper, but full of emotion if not voice.

She's not sure why she is so overcome by it that she can't speak, but she can move, she's straddling his lap a moment later.

He laughs, "it's hard to kiss you when you are giggling." But he's vibrating along with her and his bunny teeth clack against hers just as much. His hand is in her hair and it's not until it slides down to cup her jaw that she can't laugh anymore.

Not when he is looking at her like that. His heart is in his eyes and her face is in his hands. Harry's eyes always sparkle, but the combination of mirth and awe shakes her like an earthquake.

The kiss goes better then, or it more closely resembles a kiss, in that their lips form to one another, going from right angle to straight line to acute in time. His tongue has always been devilish and she wonders if it's vocal training that renders it so.

She's more vocal than him, as always, and she's panting his name when his hand engulfs her throat before sliding her silk pajama top off her shoulder to kiss her neck, collarbones, the tops of her breasts. Her nipples stand high on her plum sized mounds and they always trill along the roof of his mouth deliciously. His other hand is around her hip and he's gripping it fiercely to move her over him.

She's halfway there on his question alone, but their venue seems a bit uncomfortable. Helene almost reconsiders her position on their positioning when Harry has that perfect mouth between her breasts and below and the back of the couch is perfect to hold onto while she arches back, back, back. She's bent in two when he pulls her up to his mouth.

This time she is getting his teeth. Why's he giggling again, this is serious business? If she could just concentrate, get him to focus for a moment, she can have her first orgasm of the night.

"Harry, Cherie." She tríes again, her tongue ready to slide over his lips and into that pattern that makes her shiver when his teeth block her again. "Please kiss me!" She's frustrated.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to move to the bedroom, girlfriend, but you're very focused." He's still smiling and her ire melts at the appellation.

Does she want to go to the bedroom? She won't have the back of the couch to hold onto, but she will have Harry.

She stands and drops her loose shorts. As is usual, Harry has most of his clothes on and she's suited up for her birthday.

"Alright." He breathes and she's in his arms and he's finally giving her the tonguing she loves en route. Her in the altogether seems to have finally got him from mirth to girth, pressing against her and filling the void at the apex of her thighs the way only he has.

She's happy Harry seems to have been enjoying their bodily arrangement as much as she is, when he sits on the side of the bed and maneuvers to the middle with her still draped around his waist. He's said before he loves how maneuverable she is, and she is loving her tiny stature at the moment too.

Her hands are pulling his t shirt free and tossing it away. She loves the golden hue of his skin, he's always a little tan, even in winter. The milk and honey of their bodies against one another always delights her. She goes for the button on the jeans she'd like for herself. They won't fit her, but he always fits, snug at first and then just right.

He kicks them free and then she's back on top of him doing the wiggle to get his inside her, pressing over the largest part before the pressure keeps up and then everything slips into place, the audible pop of his tip still her favorite part.

They both exhale, and smile into each other's eyes. Helene touches the corner of his eyes and they twinkle back at her. "Hi boyfriend."

He chuckles and she moans over the tiny vibration it causes. "You're ready then?"

He already knows the answer to this question. Helene braces her hand behind her while she nods and then his hand is beneath her ass flexing her pelvis over his own.

He really is her prince of rock and roll. She rolls up over him and rocks over his dick until he's closing his eyes and drilling her hips. He's split her open, bottom up and it's intense.

"Give me a minute." He chokes after less time than she expected.

"Too much?" She likes that the shoe is on the other foot, usually she needs a break from his unrelenting physicality, Harry the athlete in the bedroom as well.

She supposed it takes emotion to force Harry to a quick release.

She's keeps flexing around him until he puts his head to her collarbone and then looks up to glare at her. "You're walking a fine line!" He says before he laughs at his own joke.

"I'm not waking anywhere. I'm loving you." She let's that sit there while her hips are quiet. That's all she's going to say about that. He stares at her intensely.

"Let me see you love me, then." She likes when he gives orders, even when their sex is closers to making love than fucking.

Helene obliges him, caves her belly back and starts the ride again, notches her head next to his, like the teeth of zipper, so she can watch with him.

It gets her there, but he's a little ahead of her. He's stilling her hips again. "Stop." It's a beg.

"Just come bebe." She whispers into his sweaty skin.

"You're not ready." He protests.

"We have all night, you can spread me open, all. night. and all day tomorrow, and after." She smiles at him. "All the time in the world to know me!"

"Yeah?" He's gleeful like a kid finding tooth fairy money.

She nods and starts moving, directs his gaze down. The edge of pleasure closer than she expects. Harry is rarely wrong about pleasure. Helene's happy her climb surprises them both.

She reaches the peak and plummets with him on the rollercoaster of emotions tonight's brought. Screams with the thrill.

It's more than fine, the white light explosion behind her eyelids. They've found the right side of the line.

They'll be alright.

[genuflectx]

4th Dimensional Being/OC - CH1

Full Length: 19,543

Chapter Length:  4,248

Main Themes: Other dimensions, tentacles, confinement, nsfw

Other Warnings: politics, "godly" behaviors, vomit, feeling of loss of autonomy, comparison to a toy

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

I ended writing a novella... this is my longest short, non-fanfic work yet. It's not perfect but was a fun exploration of these characters and themes. Yes, there will be explicit sex in a later chapter :) Later on I will format the novella correctly for a nice little Gumroad/Patron release! Enjoy! (WILL BE NSFW IN LATER CHAPTERS)

The 4DB Chapter 1: Heartburn

“Do you need any stamps?”

The middle-aged woman re-set her teeth subconsciously and rose a brow. “No, I just came to drop off the package.” Her eyes crinkled in a way that passive aggressively said 'get on with it.'

Chris pursed her lips, features big and round with false politeness. “Okay then! If you could just insert your card-”

“Is it one that takes chips?” She interrupted.

“Yes, it's ready for you.”

The mail room was a quiet murmur as the card clacked against the plastic scanner. Eventually it happened to slipped in. “It's not doing anything.”

“You might have it in the wrong way ma'am,” Chris suggested, tense.

The woman squinted, a corner of her mouth raising in distaste. She ripped the card from its slot and turned it around. The machine asked her pin. She got it right on the third try. Finally, the package could be put in its place as the lady left with a stick up her ass.

“Some customers are just the worst,” Chris concluded as she and two of her co-workers were closing shop.

Vincent shrugged. “They just like to take out their anger on strangers to make'em feel better,” he smiled and locked the door.

Mildred chuckled and rolled her eyes, patting Chris on the shoulder. “Make sure none of them hear you talking like that!” She started to walk to her car. “I been here for a decade. You'll get used to them.”

“Well I been here a year, I ought to be too!” Chris groaned, slumping dramatically where she stood.

“Just get some rest, tomorrow's the big event!” Vincent grinned and pranced off to his own car.

Chris found her feet dragging on, her hand fumbling for keys. “Yeah yeah, see you there,” she mumbled, climbing on in with exhaustion.

She was never much of a people-pleaser, but she did her job alright. After a long exasperating work week the weekend was blessedly encroaching upon her, right along side the annual downtown gathering of Gabriel's Children. Chris was not one of those children. However, Vincent had been since the horn had first begun to blow. Chris did have to admit it was an astounding scientific phenomenon, but that's all it was. Just something science had yet to explain. The little festival the locals vended had delicious food, though. Hearing the horn was a fun little bonus.

The festivities started early in the morning and she arrived with Vincent in the afternoon. There was a talk being held at its center, which Vincent felt the need to drag her to hear after gathering snacks. They nibbled on freshly baked pastries and sipped hot coffee as a man high on the stage explained recent discoveries of the hum- another word for the horn. Chris thought maybe they'd come in a little late, as the man was already beginning to finish off his speech. Plus, it was hard to hear with the bustling of the surrounding crowd; all the people laughing and chatting and cooking at their stands, necklaces jingling and children begging parents for magnets of trumpets and angels. She strained her ears to listen.

“So if it wasn't the factory, if we are inland unlike the Children of Europe, we have no buzzing wind farms nor major fault lines, then what is it? What is the 'horn?'” He stalked across the stage, pacing and looking so, so serious. “Twenty years and we have no answers. But we know it's sped up. We know it's moved and honed in to few locations; from our little mid-American town, to Washington D.C., all the way down to the hot, dry climates of Texas.”

Chris sighed and slid further in her chair, looking bored. “We've heard all this before. They haven't learned anything new in years,” she whispered across to her excited co-worker. Vincent shushed her and she resisted a bored moan.

The speaker was unaffected, totally unaware of a particular audience member's dry indifference. “Every year now it comes, and every year we gather again to try and learn something. Anything,” he frowned.

Chris crammed cinnamon role into her gob and huffed quietly. “Good luck.” She washed it down with a big swig of coffee.

Vincent gave her a look that could melt the bones right out of her body. She smirked at him.

“Maybe this year... things will be different,” the speaker trailed off quietly and quit pacing. He became eerily still, looking out over the heads of the crowd and into the mottled stone walls of downtown. Vincent felt that he was pausing for dramatic effect, but Chris rose a brow. He'd stopped speaking, almost wall eyed.

“Shit,” Chris suddenly whispered, bringing fingers to her temples and shutting her eyes.

“You okay?” Vincent worried, glancing from her to the stage with a sense of terrible unease.

She grit her teeth and shut her eyes. Her ears were ringing, one even popped. A few seconds passed. It slowly subsided into a dull pain. “Just a weird headache? Guess it's all the noise,” she dropped her hands, exhaling.

“Guess he got one too?” Vincent gestured uncomfortably.

She followed his hand up to the stage, where the speaker was continuing to pause. By now it had just become awkward; his palm on his forehead and a pained expression encased his wrinkled visage. The crowd had begun to murmur in confusion. Slowly he swallowed, like forcing down vomit, then became relieved enough to continue.

“That's... that's all. Thank you for coming to listen to me speak,” he shuffled away to the shallow stairs and disappeared, making way for the next speaker.

“Weird,” Chris mumbled. “Maybe air pressure then? Well come on, I want to look at some shops before the countdown reaches zero.”

He jumped up enthusiastically, all starry eyed. “Yeah! I want a new key chain!”

As they carefully navigated the crowd back to the local art shops, Chris shook her head and laughed. “Don't you already have like, six trumpets?” She scolded.

He scoffed and waved a hand. “Pch, sure, but they're all different!”

An hour to go. They browsed, they made small talk, they sat stiff on freezing metal benches outside of local junk shops. Vincent not only snatched up a key chain but a copy of a screen print as well. He turned it upside down and squinted, humming. It was some abstract piece. Flat shapes seemed to wiggle around at him in a colorful confusion.

“Why don't you buy anything?” He asked, tuning the print right side up again.

She shrugged, chilled hands in warming pockets. “I'm not a tourist like you.”

“Heeey, I resent that!” He joked, trying to hide a smile.

Suddenly Chris winched, putting a hand at the nape of her neck. There it was again, that creeping feeling of a splitting headache coming back. She sighed and slowed her pace, feeling nauseous.

“Listen, I think I'm gonna head home.”

Her friend expressed disappointment. “What! It's only fifteen minutes now! Really want to miss Gabriel?”

She nodded, rubbing her neck and looking down. “Yeah, I really feel icky. Besides, I'll probably still hear it in my car if I roll the windows down. I think the crowd and air pressure are just overwhelming me.” Chris did hate to leave her friend to himself, but he was a big boy, even if he was two years younger. She just didn't feel up to staying any longer.

He pretended to pout and waved her goodbye. “See ya at work Monday,” he called across the loud, mingling voices of the festival.

Chris waved back and found her way through downtown, back out into the more empty streets. She pressed a red button. The streetlight sounded and the image turned white so she crossed swiftly on numbed feet. She made it up the car park elevator, found her car among the dimly lit concrete slopes, and finally was on her way home. The headache had yet to return during the trip so she counted herself lucky.

The roads were relatively empty due to the majority of traffic having already settled in to wait for Gabriel's horn, though a few roads were annoyingly blocked off for the event. She was deathly glad for the vacant roads that allowed her to slip out of downtown with an ease she'd not get to enjoy any other day.

“Oh right,” Chris rolled down her side window. Fresh cold air flowed in, which soothed her head a little. “Not long now.”

She was just about out of downtown when it happened. But... there was no horn. No rusty screech, no hum that she'd grown to know so well. However, there was an awful, unaccounted for noise that came from the rolling Heavens. A sharp, quick sound; a hard whispered word blasted her brain and set it on fire. It hurt like Hell. Like the loud screech of white noise when one had forgotten to turn the volume down before pressing 'on.' Chris slammed her breaks and cried, her wheels screaming. Was that what Vincent heard, waiting patiently back in the crowd? Or was it just in her head?

Chris pressed the gas gently, teeth grit and eyes barely open. She veered into an empty parking lot and stopped askew over two spaces. She yanked her hair and pressed her forehead against the wheel then suddenly felt extremely sick. She fumbled for the door then stumbled out. Chris felt pressure and collapsed clumsily to her knees against the broken asphalt. After a few moments some of the pressure let up, but then she heard that word again.

“What's wrong with me?” She slurred, feeling dizzy.

A look around found that she was very much alone. There was nothing but empty parked cars. The pain was suddenly gone. She froze and took a deep breath, her eyes re-focusing and hands shaking. She needed to go to the hospital but did not want to pay for the ambulance. Vincent could drive her. Her hand slowly retrieved the phone from her pocket, but as she pressed the button to find Vincent's contact she heard the word one last time. Sharp, quick, just like the first, but it was more clear.

“Wh-what? I'm hallucinating,” She mumbled, knowing full well that that was not the sound of Gabriel's horn.

“Chrysanthemum,” a loud-quiet voice called out in her head.

“Shit!” She dropped her phone and watched it smack against the faded asphalt.

“Chrysanthemum, don't be afraid. You are not hallucinating. The pain you felt was an... accident,” it explained, lowering its voice.

“God?” Chris called, slipping onto her butt and staring with fear into the sky. She was shaking from head to toe now.

It made a weird sound. “No, we are not a god, though we may seem it to you. We are the noise you call 'Gabriel's Horn,' but we are neither Gabriel nor Horn. The 'Horn' you've heard was merely our days affecting your years as we... tuned equipment,” Not-Gabriel explained plainly.

She glanced from cloud to cloud, brows furrowed so hard her forehead hurt. For a moment she thought if she just searched long enough she'd be able to find the face that was talking down on her.

“It will be difficult for you to understand and will take many of your days to acclimate. Do you at least understand this Chrysanthemum?” It sounded condescending at the end.

Chris scowled. “Well you can't be God if you keep using a name I don't go by,” she complained.

“We are of the 4th dimension. We are not a god. Here. I will touch your insides, it may feel strange,” it warned. “See?”

She screamed and grabbed her stomach. It felt like her acid churned, and suddenly she had heart burn. Chris burped and felt woozy. “That's... ohhh I think mm gonna pahhh-” Chris collapsed heavily to her back, unconscious.

There was nothing, nothing, nothing, then there was something. She saw herself amid a void. It was like a thick goo, as if the gas or lack of gas in the air had solidified. There was no cold nor heat, no apparent up nor down. But then, as she turned her head towards her feet, there was an illumination that lit the ground beneath her. A flat plain decorated with complex, ornate geometry rested below. She squatted against her calves, though it felt years before she came to a halt, and with every tiny change in posture she saw a ghost of her former self.

“Hello?” She called, echoing into the void. Her word simultaneously stuck in the goo and penetrated its atoms all at once. This world was a contradiction.

Something small screamed, a high-pitched trill of terror and shock. Chris glanced down at the geometry and squinted. The geometry was moving; it shivered and vibrated like cells in a body. It was all scrambling so fast compared to her.

“Hello?” She asked again, balancing with a hand so she may come closer.

It screamed again. A tiny little organism wriggled backwards, and across the plain something tickled Chris's hand. She lifted it and gawked with disgust and horror. She'd squished something, and it lay in bits in pieces.

“Whoops, I think I broke something,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Don't smite me!” Squeaked the thing by her feet.

Chris frowned. “What are you? You're so small and... flat.”

It rotated and looked around, but it never once looked up into the sky. The creature could not see anything but the outline of her shoes where she'd stepped atop its planet.

“You don't know?” It asked, sounding only slightly less panicked. “Then you're not God? Are you from Somewhere Else?”

She shook her head, confused. “No, I'm not a god. I'm Chris. And you're a cell?”

“A cell?”

“Yeah, a small organism that can group up to become a bigger organism. I'm full of them. You look like all the diagrams we used in school. But you can talk and I can see your insides. Which is the mitochondria?” She scrutinized the inside of the creature's body. It was sorta gross.

The flat creature's brain was working hard as it stared at the funny outline of Chris's shoes. She could even see it working. It nervously moved around her shape, making a full circle to get a whole picture.

“You're gigantic, please don't hurt me Chris. What do you want?”

“I don't- woah!” She began to sink. The illuminated plain was caving to her weight, but only she passed through. The plain itself remained as flat as ever. “I'm gonna fall!”

The creature's panic sky rocketed as it watched the line gyrate and change, growing larger and longer. “Ahhh!” It yelled, backing into a corner. If Chris continued to grow it would have no way of escape and be crushed against the side of a wall. “What's happening? What's wrong?”

She slipped further. Now it was Chris who was in a panic, scared of the endless black void below the flat planet. She sunk through to her elbows, leaving her to sprawl her arms and claw at the ground for purchase. Across the world her fingers scraped through a once wondrous shape, which crumpled and splintered as she accidentally destroyed its existence.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” She freaked out, heart beating like on a roller coaster. Chris fell.

She gasped, her skin clammy and damp. Everything was too bright and she shielded her eyes.

“You're awake, good. Here,” a man said.

Chris sat up and exhaled, her eyes adjusting. She was in a stranger's house and was being handed a glass of cold water, though the ice inside had since melted. The flat planet was a dream. She had not really scraped a building from the face of a world. As she took the water, her hands shaking, she realized something.

“...You look familiar. Where am I?” She fretted, sipping a little.

He sat across from her in a chair. “What's the last thing you remember?” He asked rather than answer.

She crossed her legs atop the couch and dabbed sweat off with her sleeve. It took some brain power to get any semblance of memory going. “I had some sort of weird... episode. Then I passed out in a parking lot. I think I need a hospital,” Chris groaned.

He grinned. “So you did hear it?”

“What?”

“You heard it? The thing that says its from another dimension?” He was star-struck.

Chris stared down into her cup, thinking. Flashes came back to her until finally she remembered everything, right down to the nausea. A chill came over her body so she sat the cold water down. “It wasn't a hallucination.”

“No it wasn't!” He exclaimed, shivering with excitement. “It spoke to me too! It told me where to find you since you fell unconscious! But we aren't the only ones. It spoke to even more.”

She quirked the corner of her lips and let that information sink in. Suddenly something came to her and she tilted her head curiously. “You're that man from the stage.”

“Call me Cole,” he scooted closer and stuck out a hand.

Chris hesitated, unsure. “Chris.” She shook his hand daintily.

He explained everything. The headache, the ringing in his ears, how he'd been packing up his laptop to leave backstage when the countdown hit zero. To everyone else it had been a disappointment, for this year the horn did not hum to the eager ears awaiting it. Instead, it narrowed down its focus and spoke to them. Chris and Cole, but others, too.

“It told me there were six others. That includes you. So outside of us there are five other people it spoke to directly,” he explained.

“But... why? Just seven people?”

He leaned back in his chair and shrugged, nonchalant. “I asked, after the initial shock and having dropped my laptop (may she rest in peace). It just said: you work for your government.”

Chris looked off, expression soured. It was true. The Postal Service was a branch of the government, but she hardly equated government with the mail.

“What do you do?” She asked him nervously.

“Department of Energy.”

Chris got the creeping notion that his house was vaguely radioactive. Or, at the very least, he was. “Great.” She stretched her legs over the couch's edge and stared at her shoes awkwardly. “So now what?”

“We wait to be called upon,” he answered simply. “I'll go start some tea,” and like that Cole was out the room.

So they waited and waited. Chris thumbed through books as she did, glancing at Cole's collection and idly sipping tea. Sometimes she'd get the fear that he was making it all up, that this was all a scheme to kidnap her without freaking her out. Or that maybe he was just some guy screwing with her head. But then her stomach would churn and she'd remember how it felt to be touched. Chris felt queasy. At the same time she couldn't help but feel... honored? It was strange. This was all so new to her.

Finally it came to them. This time there was no pain, no headaches or heartburn. Cole fell to his knees as soon as the creature spoke, but Chris just sank shakily back into couch, empty teacup in hand.

“You will be transported to a location for study,” it said.

Cole nodded his head and agreed instantly, but Chris found herself asking it: “Why? And where?”

“Why: a 'mutual' exchange of information in a controlled environment. Where: the center of your 'country' in a long-term observation facility.”

She balked. “For how long?” But Cole spoke over her.

“That's brilliant! Brilliant! Have you spoke to the president? Surely you have,” he clasped his hands together and smiled.

“...Yes. Unfortunately. Some deep convincing was needed to induce submission,” it replied with obvious irritation.

Chris was uncomfortable and suspicious of the wording, though she was not surprised the president was a nuisance to converse with. The creature assured them there would be at least a day or two before anyone came for collection, so they had some time to prepare. Cole questioned why this creature could not simply pick them up and plop them back down, but it was uncertain that such action would be healthy. So again they played a waiting game.

Chris went back to her house. Cole stayed in his. Sunday dawned upon the world and there was no one yet at their doors. Chris paced uneasily in her little home, her suitcases already packed in the living room. She didn't know what to do with herself. Couldn't even stomach trying to explain anything to Vincent or Mildred. Hell, did she even want to leave? She was sure she had no choice.

Finally, come Monday morning, there was a knock at her door. She jumped from bed and scrambled to answer, a measly robe tossed across her shoulders. A stoic man dressed in all black was there to greet her, his eyes unreadable though they crinkled. She could sense some strange dread in him from his hard posture alone. Only the automatic light of her porch lit their way as this stranger led her to the car.

Cole was there, his white teeth gleaming at her as she boarded. Despite his cheer, Chris felt like she was in a daze the entire time. Her hands settled frozen in her lap and eyes glued to the window. She watched her little town pass her by just as the night drifted to day. The ugly office building next to the apartments, the fenced off government buildings. There went the post office. She sighed.

Where are you? Vincent texted Chris when they were already hours from town.

Her thumbs hovered sleepily over the keys. She didn't know what to say. Eventually she just settled for:

It's been a long weekend. I don't know when I'll be able to come in again. Something's happened

…

…

…

Are you sick?

Don't know what I'm allowed to say. I'll text later. Xoxo

Well that's not totally vague but ok

…

…

Tell me if u need soup fam

Chris smiled at her phone. She really hoped this didn't cause her to lose her job, even if it was something way more pressing than delivering mail. She'd miss her co-workers the most. Even Mildred. With any luck the 'long-term' in 'long-term research facility' wouldn't be any more long-term than a vacation.

The driver drove non-stop, through the night and the day, across interstates and through small cities. It was unnerving. Cole whispered that he was sure the creature was to blame, even though it hadn't spoken the whole trip.

“It's fascinating,” he whispered.

Chris hummed and faked a smile in acknowledgment before staring back out the window. All she could think was what a weird vacation before she found herself nodding off.

“We've arrived,” the driver announced as sudden as summer rain.

Chris jerked, her stinging eyes glued in confusion to the dim window. They were inside of a painfully lit parking garage and there were droves of black-suits and white-coats to greet them. She must have fallen asleep for some time.

“Thank you,” she heard Cole dully as his door was opened for him. Her door was next.

“Have you been in contact?” Asked a man sternly, no trace of emotion in his voice.

She furrowed her brows. “What?”

He didn't miss a beat. “With the 4DB?”

Both she and her jittery acquaintance were being led away through the garage. Someone gently guided her through a door with a palm against her back.

“The... the Four Dee Bee?”

The man re-adjusted the wireless device in his ear, lips crinkling. “The Fourth Dimensional Being.”

Chris began to sweat and tried to explain. “Not since before we were told we'd be sent here, but-”

A woman patted her shoulder nonchalantly and shook her head. “Can't even wait till she's in the room huh?” She teased her co-worker, her heels clicking against the hall tile. “We're just eager, don't be afraid! You and Mr. Artrip will speak with a scientist and be briefed before joining the others. This was all very sudden so don't mind the dust bunnies.”

Chris nodded quietly, glancing ahead to get a glimpse of Cole- Mr. Artrip. This was all so weird and she felt she had some sort of jet lag. She wondered when she'd be allowed to talk with the creature again. It had been a few days now.

“And then after everyone's settled it's about meal time! But first,” she carefully pushed Chris into a dimly lit room, had a quick word with her co-worker, then silently shut the door. “Have a seat.”

She did as she was told. Chris sat before a small wooden table, as if this was meant to make the room more inviting than it really was. It just made her feel interrogated. Or like she'd been called to the principal’s office.

The woman took a seat across from her and peeked into a thin file. After a short pause she looked up, smiled, and said. “Chrysanthemum Sain... tell me everything.”

Read CH2 early on Patreon or wait for it to go public!

[myforeverforlife]

portrait of you.

For @colorful-taste​! Junmyeon and 48. "We've become the clingy couple that you used to complain about." (I hope you like it! 💖)

Come send in a request here!

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Word Count: 2,164

Masterlist

You loved your boyfriend, you honestly did. But sometimes, you wondered if he really needed rows upon rows of jackets in his closet. That didn't even count the shirts and pants folded away in numerous drawers, as well as accessories.

From where you sat on the floor in his walk-in closet, everything seemed even more cluttered and suffocating. Junmyeon had kept a lot of the clothes since he had begun his career, unable to throw things away because of the sentiment that each one had. 

"Chanyeol bought that for me!" he said once, as you were trying to help him sort through his clothes. The puffy jacket was a bright-yellow color, and a few sizes too small for him now. But still, he refused to let you give it away or throw it out. 

Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present. "Sweetie, we're going to be late for the exhibit. You look fine."

Junmyeon came back into the closet, two different ties in his hands as he held them up. "Which one do you think is better?"

"Myeon, you don't need to dress up. It's just a normal museum exhibit." 

"It's Van Gogh, Y/N," he said, as if that explained everything. Although you supposed in Junmyeon's eyes, it did. "But maybe ties aren't the way to go." He placed them on top of a small dresser, placing his hands on his head as he looked around the room. He was truly a sight to see — white button-up left open over his chest, and tweed pants threatening to slide down his hips. 

Sighing, you stood up and smoothed your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. "You always look amazing, no matter what you wear. But, I think you're really overthinking it right now. Just go with your gut." 

Junmyeon smiled bashfully, emphasizing the round apples of his cheeks. "You're right." He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, before following it up with a kiss on your forehead. "What time is it?" 

You pulled out your phone, both of you grimacing as the screen lit up. "Almost two. But we should leave soon, there's always traffic and parking to think about."

Junmyeon began scrambling to change out of his clothes, hands and feet flailing as he struggled to pull his arms out of his sleeves. With a giggle, you reached over to help him out, folding the garment over your arm once it was finally off. 

"I'm surprised you didn't plan your outfit already." Junmyeon was by nature, a meticulous planner, but even more so when it came to figuring out what to wear. You didn't mind though — not when the end result was so appealing to look at. "Oh, I did," he replied. "But when I put it on today, it didn't look right." He hummed thoughtfully, rummaging through a rack of cardigans. 

Setting his button-up down, you squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as you passed by. "I'm gonna run to the restroom, but we really need to leave when I come back."

"Shoot," Junmyeon gasped, quickly moving over to a set of shelves and pulling open the top one. 

You could hear him moving around, hangers clattering against each other and drawers shutting closed even from your spot in the bathroom. Upon returning, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your boyfriend had found an outfit that he liked.

Junmyeon stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring down at his phone as he texted someone. He was unaware that you were back, so caught up in his conversation as you took the time to admire his beauty. You almost felt like you were studying a portrait in an art gallery, studying every detail that made up Junmyeon's overall charm. He had gone for a simple, black and white striped polo shirt with some well-worn light blue jeans. On his head, he wore a black felt beret, only it was sitting backwards. Altogether, it made for a very pleasing sight, especially with the face of the wearer. Junmyeon let out a soft giggle at something he read, awakening a fluttering sensation in your chest. 

"Are you ready?" you asked sweetly, touched to see how his face lit up when he heard you.

"Yep!" Junmyeon stuck his phone into his pocket before checking that he had his wallet in the other one was well. Walking over to you, he wrapped an arm around your waist. "Let's go!" 

This was an event that both of you had been looking forward to for a long time — the arrival of the special Van Gogh exhibit. The two of you were a pair of avid museum-goers, and were frequent visitors at the Leeum and Daerim museums. But this journey was different, a visit to see a traveling exhibit on its stop in Seoul. The Van Gogh interactive exhibit was on loan from a museum in Australia, and had been making its rounds through Southeast Asia before coming to Seoul. A wide assortment of Van Gogh's works were projected on large screens that formed an almost maze-like setting, immersing visitors in his work. 

You and Junmyeon could hardly wait once you heard that it was coming to Seoul. 

Junmyeon was practically buzzing with anticipation, his hand tightly holding onto yours as both of you were let in. "Wow," he breathed out in awe. 

The gallery was filled with visitors, from couples admiring the work together, like you and Junmyeon, to groups of friends or family, and even a few individuals wandering around alone. People milled about the open space, marveling at the enormous screens that were currently projecting Van Gogh's "Wheat Field". The billowing clouds looked so soft and fluffy, swirls of white and shades of blue mixed together. The fields of wheat were painted so meticulously, individual brush strokes making up the stalks of grain. It all looked so real, you could have sworn that you were really there. 

Painting by painting, you and Junmyeon watched in wonder as Van Gogh's works flashed before your eyes. At one point, Junmyeon turned around and pointed at the floor. "Y/N, look!" 

Spinning around, you were taken aback to see Van Gogh's "Almond Blossom" projected on the floor below you. A cluster of blossoms overlapped with your feet, the colors creeping up onto your shoes as you exchanged a delighted smile with your boyfriend. 

Of course, Junmyeon didn't forget to take pictures himself, documenting his favorite pieces as he snapped photos of the images. You even took a picture of him posing in front of a large screen displaying "Cafe Terrace at Night", Junmyeon crouching down and pretending to sit in a chair. 

"Did you take it yet?" he asked, squatting and trying to hold an effortless grin.

"Oh, this one's no good," you lied, trying to hide your giggles. "Hmm, no the lighting is weird from this angle." You stepped to the side, taking a photo before shaking your head. "Not this one either."

"What?!" Junmyeon exclaimed, teetering on his feet as he tried to maintain his balance. "Are you serious?" 

You burst into laughter, coming over and showing him the photos you had taken. "I'm kidding! I'm sorry, Myeon, I couldn't help it." 

"Gosh," Junmyeon sighed, finally allowing himself to stand back up. "You're so mean, Y/N. How long were you going to make me stay like that for?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Oh, not much longer. But I'm glad to see your workouts have really been paying off." You patted his stomach as you gave him back his phone, hand brushing over his clothed abs.

Junmyeon shook his head with a grin, playfully swatting your hand away before swiping through the many photos you took. Both of you laughed over some of the funnier ones, Junmyeon visibly trying to maintain his cool composure even as his face said the opposite. 

It was easy to get swept away by the marvels of the exhibit, the paintings constantly changing even as the room stayed the same. From specific works like "Irises" to assorted views of the countryside and self-portraits, the pair of you were spellbound. Most of the visitors reacted the most when "Starry Night" appeared, the swirling skies and repeated brushstrokes evoking a sense of calm. 

"It's amazing how he made all of these," Junmyeon whispered to you. "He put so much emotion into each of his paintings, and we can still feel it, all these years later." He hugged you from behind, lightly swaying both of you from side to side as the animated paintings continued to play on the screens. "I'm so glad I get to experience this with you," he murmured into your ear, placing a delicate kiss on your shoulder.

Leaning back against him, you closed your eyes. "Me too, Myeon. There's no one else I'd rather have with me." 

Everyone was reluctant to leave the room, still entranced by the interactive displays. But the next area held informational placards on all of the works displayed, providing more context behind each individual piece of work. You and Junmyeon soaked it all in, not leaving a single one unread.

As you neared the end of the placards, you noticed the entryway leading to another part of the museum. "Myeon, look!" you pointed out.

The museum had a cafe set up, normally left minimally decorated in shades of brown and gray. But for this special installation, the cafe had gone along with the Van Gogh theme and changed its interior accordingly. Tiny, elegant light fixtures hung from the ceiling, resembling the stars in Van Gogh's "Starry Night". Even the walls had been covered in the painting, making you feel as if you were an actual part of it. 

You wasted no time in lining up to order something, coaxing Junmyeon into trying one sweet treat with you. Just as he was consistent about many other things, Junmyeon was particular about maintaining good eating habits. "Just one!" you reasoned. "Today can be your cheat day."

Junmyeon stared wistfully at the beautifully decorated cakes and other desserts displayed in the cases. One particularly beautiful cake caught his attention, decorated with a sapphire mirror glaze. "Yesterday was my cheat day though," he said woefully. "But it's a special day today. You deserve it! If it makes you feel better, we can split something?"

Junmyeon's eyes shifted uncertainly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck before he gave in. "Okay, but just for today." 

You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning against him as the two of you waited in line. "You deserve a treat every once in a while, Myeonnie. You work too hard." 

"Which is why I'm glad I have you to remind me." He sent you a flirty wink, chuckling when you pretended to look away. "You know, we've become the clingy couple that you used to complain about." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," you sing-songed, trying to ignore the familiar sensation that Junmyeon evoked in you. He made it too easy for your stomach to start doing somersaults, for the dormant butterflies to wake up in a frenzy even with just a simple smile of his. 

"You don't remember how when we first started dating, you said I was too cheesy? How the tables have turned," he said with a smirk. 

"You're still the cheesiest," you countered, melting into giggles when Junmyeon swooped in to press a prolonged, sticky kiss to your cheek. "Myeon!" 

"What?" he feigned innocence. "I can't show you how much I love you?" Junmyeon smiled to himself when you hid your face against his shoulder. You mumbled something he couldn't make out, words muffled against the fabric of his shirt. "What did you say, sweetheart?"

Lifting your head, you made an effort not to shy away. "I love you too," you confessed. You cringed inwardly, fighting to urge to retreat back into your hiding spot. But seeing how Junmyeon's eyes lit up so brilliantly held you in place, your smile mirroring his own. 

"I love you more," he countered, his bunny smile only growling larger when you groaned. "Too cheesy?" 

"I should have expected it, coming from you. I don't mind," you joked. "I've grown used to it by now. I don't think I can last a day without your cheesiness."  

Junmyeon's tender eyes drank you in, committing every detail to memory — staring at you intently as if you were the subject of his painting. Even in a gallery full of artwork, he only had eyes for you. 

A furrow appeared between your forehead as you wondered what Junmyeon was thinking about. "What is it?" 

He shook his head, content to keep his sappy musings to himself for now. "Nothing. Just got lost in my thoughts."

"Don't get lost in them for too long. I'll miss you." 

Junmyeon giggled, shaking his head. "Don't worry." 

He would never stray too far away from you, his muse.

A/N: I went back and watched junmyeon’s heart4u episodes to get inspo for this oneshot, and this idea just jumped out at me! this exhibit is based off of a real traveling exhibit (although I made up the cafe lol 😂 I really recommend checking the official site out, and watching the promo vid they have here at: https://grandeexhibitions.com/van-gogh-alive/#explore)

Come send in a request here!