#i used to have a very pretty curl pattern before i started dying my hair

[nanamimizz]

going to try the heatless curls again today i think

[jungkxook]

—backseat serenade. (m)

⟶ pairing: taehyung x reader

⟶ genre: punk!taehyung / band au / brother’s best friend au + smut 

⟶ words: 10,790

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: falling in love and having weekly sex with kim taehyung is wrong for a number of reasons — and, no, that’s not including the whole other issue that he’s also your brother’s best friend

⟶ warnings: multiple sex scenes, slight exhibitionism if u look hard enough, wall sex, car sex, unprotected sex, all the sex (seriously), fingering, pussy slapping (also if u look hard enough), lots of teasing, doggy style, riding, creampie

⟶ disclaimer: this story is another repost of an old one (although it’s basically been entirely rewritten lol)!  

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

“We have to hurry. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Taehyung says this with much difficulty, of course, especially when considering you’re currently pressed up against him, his fingers digging crescent-moons into your hips ━ but he knows you’re teasing him now.

You can’t help it, though; he just makes it so easy for you.

He can be so stubborn and impatient at times that poking fun at him brings you quite a bit of joy. Maybe not so much to him, as he often whines and complains that you like to torture him, but, really, how could you not? When you think about what he’s usually like in bed, away from prying eyes, it’s entirely different. So to see that dominance in him fade into nothing short of helpless is simply satisfying ━ even if you know you’ll pay for it at a later time. It doesn’t always happen either but when it does, you bask in it for as long as possible.

Which is why you seem to take the liberty of “torturing” him so sweetly now, just before the boys are about to play a gig at a bar late one night. Taehyung had found you the moment he and the boys had finished soundchecking for the evening, then had you pinned up against the brick wall of the dingy washroom, his hips digging harshly into yours, and his hand now gripping your thigh around his waist. It might have been you who instigated it, hooded eyes and fluttering lashes and shit-eating grins meeting him in secret from across the room as he stood on stage before you with his bass guitar in hand, but Taehyung was the one to put it into action just like he always does, pulling you in there even despite the fact that they were scheduled to play in twenty minutes.

But who could blame you? Taehyung is always so charming, and tonight he was looking extra irresistible. Maybe it was the silky blouse, the first few buttons left open so that the floral tattoo on his chest pokes through, leaving very little to the imagination, or maybe it was the way he had let his hair grow out a little longer than usual, soft dark curls pushed back by a single bandana.

“You’ll be late,” You warn him in between heated kisses as he pecks his way down to the underside of your jaw where he tongues a warm pattern there.

“Just a quickie,” Taehyung promises gruffly. His hips rut against yours again and you feel his straining erection against your inner thigh. Poor thing. “Been dying all day to feel you on my dick.”

You only hum in response, a small amused smirk plastered on your face. He’s sucking a hickey onto your neck when he speaks next.

“Had all these thoughts but I was all alone. It was terrible.”

“What kind of thoughts?” You pry, quirking a brow. Your fingers toy at the top of his belt buckle, pulling him towards you. “Let me guess. Were you thinking about what it feels like to have my mouth on you? All warm and wet.”

He doesn’t move a muscle when he feels your hand trail lower past his belt only to grab at his crotch through the rough material of his jeans. You press your palm against him and he hisses.

“Sucking you off nice and slow, just how you like it?” You probe, teeth tugging at his lower lip when he catches your mouth on his once more. Your voice is low and sultry and invokes something in him that has him tensing. “Or maybe the way it felt when you had me bent over your kitchen counter the other day. You know, you always make me feel so good, Tae━”

He growls against your mouth but the harsh sound dissolves into a strangled whine. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, love.”

“And I always love when you pull at my hair too━” But you continue on as if he hadn’t even spoken, the thrill of the moment coursing through your veins like crackling electricity. “And when you grip my thighs so tightly when your head’s between my legs━”

“Y/N,” he says your name in a strained warning, bordering on a desperate beg if you listen close enough. He gets distracted when you suck delicately on a spot on his jawline and has to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

“My mouth?” You ask, tantalizingly slowly. “Or me?”

“I’m a simple man, I just wanna cum,” he hums, earning a delighted snort from you. “I’ll take whatever you give me, Y/N, please.”

“Hmm…” You trail off. You press your palm a little harder against him, rubbing your hand across his length. “Think I want you inside me, Tae. Wanna be wrecked by you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Now, this seems to excite him to no end. He fumbles with his belt at once. A devious cackle meets his ears and he knows you’re purposely toying with him. The next few moments unfold in a blur as his eager hands join with your own nimble ones, having his belt undone in a matter of seconds and your skirt hitched up nearly to your waist. With one hand gripping his straining and leaking cock as he pulls himself free from his pants, the other hitches one of your thighs to his waist. He pushes into you at once, the familiar feeling of your wet walls coaxing him in further and further as he sinks against your chest entirely, a beautiful luscious moan falling from his lips and a hiss of glee from yours. And, then, all at once, it’s as if all the pressure that has been building up inside of him tumbles to the forefront to be released.

“Jesus, fuck,” he grunts. He buries his head against your chest, one hand feverishly grasping at your breasts from under your shirt, fortunate you chose to forgo a bra for the night.

“Ooh, Tae━” Your own arms wrap around his neck, holding him tightly to you, but you don’t think he’ll bother going very far when his own weight slumps against you entirely, pressing you against the wall roughly. And even though he’s quick to fuck himself into you, his hips hardly stray far from yours too, causing you to bob violently up and down the wall behind you, the rough brick structure scratching at your flesh paling in comparison to the cool metallic rings on his fingers holding you up and the burn between your legs as his cock stretches you open.

“Nice to know that’s all I am to you━” Your head falls back against the wall as he continues. “Something you can use to get off. Not that I mind.”

“Nah, that’s not all you are to me,” Taehyung sharply inhales, and then shudders. In the heat of the moment, you miss the sentiment in his voice. He lifts his head to yours finally, smothering your lips with his. “But your pretty little cunt sure is nice.”

A maniacal cackle bubbles at your throat as you nip at his lower lip. Before you can respond, outside the washroom Jimin’s voice can be heard calling out aimlessly for Taehyung as the boy most likely wanders by, oblivious to what’s unfolding only a few feet away from him. “Has anyone seen Tae? Taehyung! Get your ass back here or we’re gonna be late━”

Taehyung groans out of frustration and buries his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling angrily, “Fuckin’ hell.”

But despite the Jimin’s close proximity and despite Taehyung’s bitter resentment for it, his hips still continue to rut into yours. You do manage to pull apart from his mouth and giggle when he chases after your lips desperately. “Think that’s your cue, baby.”

“There’s no way you’d be that evil,” he protests like a whining child.

“But Jimin sounds pissed.”

Taehyung finds it hard to focus when your fingers tug at the collar of his shirt, absentmindedly (or so he thinks) running your hands under his shirt and over his chest. He cradles you close to him, following your every move. That, and the way your walls clench around him drives him wild. “Heaven forbid we let down Jimin.”

“Nnng━” You choke back a whimper. “He’ll be mad.”

“As if he wouldn’t already lose his shit if he found me here in such a compromising position with you being that you’re his sister.”

Compromising is certainly one word for it. So, maybe Taehyung had a point, but that never stopped him or you before. In fact, it only seemed to add to your lustful endeavours, as if you both enjoyed seeing how far you could push the boundaries before getting caught ━ or not.

It hadn’t always been like this. For a period of your life, you had somehow forced yourself to believe you had despised Taehyung as much as you claim, as much as you lie. You wondered just how Jimin could ever be friends with, or be as inseparable with, Taehyung as he was. Whereas Jimin is timid and shy, gentle and caring, like a soft breath of cool air on a hot summer’s day that sways the knee-high grass in meadows behind your house, Taehyung is energetic and effervescent, reckless and wild, akin to that of a sudden flash of lightning that breaks apart the calm sky, a clap of thunder that shakes even the very core of sleeping Gaia. Though, somehow, their two vastly different personalities come clashing together in a harmonious perfection and create something that is entirely too rambunctious for you to handle, even as a young child.

But now? Now you’re positive neither you nor Taehyung would stand a chance against Jimin’s wrath if he found out his best friend enjoyed weekly sex of all sorts with you, sometimes even when he’s asleep in the next room over in your shared apartment with him and Taehyung had somehow managed to sneak in during the night.

“You know he’s already suspicious,” You moan as his cock angles upward into you in such a way that makes your body tremble. You jut your hips forward, meeting his halfway. “Now━ Fuck, Tae━ you wanna… You wanna risk getting kicked from the band for not showing up to your set?”

“There’s still ten minutes,” he hisses hotly. “Ten minutes is more than enough time.”

“Then you’ll really be late.”

“It adds to the rockstar brand, doesn’t it?” he asks hastily. “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking wet and you’re teasing me?”

He’s met with a roll of your eyes, and then a drunken snicker as you retort, “Maybe being fashionably late will be more acceptable when you’re a big celebrity.”

“Did you find him?” Another voice suddenly sounds from outside, this time resembling Hoseok’s. Taehyung wonders how they haven’t heard either of you yet, the lewd wet noises of his cock burrowing into your cunt seeming to grow louder each time. Surely, you would have been caught by now had it not been for the thudding bass of the music playing at the bar.

“No,” Jimin grumbles, closer this time.

A dangerously loud whimper tumbles from your lips and Taehyung hurries to clamp his hand over your mouth. You’re fortunate when he does, clinging to his hand as he pumps himself into you. At the very least, no matter how cocky Taehyung got with you or how many times he teased the thought of getting caught, he would never actually risk facing Jimin’s mighty wrath. Still, he finds a way to have fun with it.

“Uh oh.” Taehyung meets your darkened stare, lids heavy, as his other hand leaves your thigh to stick between your legs, fingers rubbing circles against your clit. You know he does it on purpose, judging by the broadening smirk on his face when the added stimulation makes your hips jerk instinctively beneath him. He’s surprised when you hardly let out a noise, safe for a sudden gasp for air. “Not even one tiny moan? Come on, baby.”

“Fuck it. Wherever he is, he better know we’re on in ten!” Jimin’s voice carries back to the two of you. Then, a little more faintly as he wanders off, you can hear him grumble, “I swear to God, this asshole━”

“Wait, wait━” You rasp suddenly, twisting and turning beneath Taehyung and the boy stops at once. You try not to let your heart swoon at the way his hands are all soft and gentle as they touch you now, sliding his palm off your mouth if only for it to fall to your hips where he rubs at comfortingly.

He tries to ignore the way his cock twitches, shoved so deep within your walls. “What’s wrong?”

You slither from his grasp, unraveling your leg from his waist and delicately pushing him away, trying not to focus on the way your pussy throbs at the sudden missing warmth of his length. Taehyung is suddenly even more concerned, the poor boy gawking at you helplessly, his swollen cock completely forgotten as he fixes himself back into his jeans, his attention solely focused on you and your wellbeing now.

“What happened? Did I hurt you━”

“No,” You promise. “No, I just━” You look sheepish, and he wonders why, up until he sees you fidgeting with your skirt in an attempt to fix it and the mischievous twinkle flashing in your eyes. “I just figured maybe we shouldn’t risk it tonight. I mean, you heard Jiminie.” You pat Taehyung’s chest once, smoothing out the material of his now crumpled shirt. “So, I’ll see you out there.”

Taehyung blinks once. “What the fuck.”

It doesn’t seem to hit him at first; not until he spots your wicked grin as you lean past him to look at your reflection in the mirror, fixing your clothes and hair. You wipe at a smudge of lipstick in the corner of your mouth, and Taehyung gaps.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” he whines. Needy and desperate hands try to grab at you on your way to the door, but he ultimately lets you weave your way out of his reach. “What are you, the antichrist? Don’t be such a tease. I’ve got a problem that you helped start. It’s only fair if you help finish it.”

Admittedly, it is cruel. He looks both shameless and shameful, an exasperated and flustered expression to match the helpless state he’s in. Shirt askew on his shoulders, hair a wild mess, and his painfully obvious boner struggling against his jeans. You almost feel bad, until you realize you shouldn’t be. Because this is all it’s ever been between the two of you ━ sex, and more sex, no feelings attached, but lately something seems off…  Either way, Taehyung will get over it, and he’ll still come crawling back for more which is why you have no qualms when you leave. Just, maybe, not in the way you would like.

The last thing he sees of you before you flee the washroom for him to fend for himself is a seductive smirk and a wink being thrown over your shoulder as you remark innocently, prettily, “You have hands.”

And then you’re gone, leaving him alone in the dingy washroom. He doesn’t come out right away, though it leaves the restless boys that make his band awaiting him to speculate some more.

“He’s gonna totally screw us over if he doesn’t show up in the next two minutes,” Jimin is saying hotly to the boys behind the stage when you rejoin them. The bar is already filling up with partygoers but mostly fans of the band, eagerly anticipating the set.

“Relax, Jimin,” Namjoon says carelessly. “He’s probably getting blown in the washroom or something. Can’t rush a man through these things.”

Jimin rolls his eyes as the others snicker. When the others have distracted themselves by discussing other business, you approach your brother casually, saying as inconspicuous as possible yet reassuringly, “Everything will be fine. I’m sure he’ll be here any second.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he throws this all away for a girl,” Jimin shakes his head. “It’s a miracle he ━ or any of the guys, for that matter ━ hasn’t tried anything on you yet.”

You try to laugh, though the sound is more forced and strained than you would like. At least Jimin doesn’t seem to notice. “But he’s your friend. Don’t you trust him?”

“I do trust him,” Jimin replies. “He’s a good guy, he’s just too caught up in all this band life. We’ve both seen it with the guys, especially with Taehyung. They take advantage of this stuff in the early stages.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” You promise. “I’m not interested in your friends and never will be ━ especially not Taehyung.”

Fortunately, the dreaded conversation doesn’t last much longer. Taehyung does end up making it to his own set on time, and when he finds you out in the crowd, you’re smirking deviously up at him for a secret that never has to be told aloud to the world and certainly not to Jimin.

You don’t quite remember when you and Taehyung started hooking up behind your brother’s back or what exactly caused it.

If you think back long and hard enough, you’re positive it was the result of some sort of drunken one night stand that elapsed into sober days and conscious decision making, which then turned into weeks, then months, which leaves you to where you are now. Almost a year of sucking your brother’s best friend’s dick and you’ve somehow, miraculously, never been caught. But aside from occasionally sleeping with one another, there was nothing more to be exposed to Jimin in terms of romance. Because, as far as he was aware, you and Taehyung were still embroiled in your childhood rivalry with one another that was less violent now than when you were younger and more civil, aside from the offhanded jabs and retorts shot at one another. And, as far as Taehyung and you were aware, the charade and the hook-ups all resulted in a peculiar sort of friendship between the two of you that was certainly as far as either of you would take things. Supposedly.

But between sexual teasing and taunts, you sometimes wonder if the lines have begun to blur, and if you’ve gotten too comfortable with Taehyung asking to sleep in your bed. Which is why, maybe, you overcompensate by “torturing” him on the days that he really needs you, like the night before in the grimy washroom of the bar. He hadn’t joined the real world or the band until the very last second they were meant to go on stage, looking all the more discomposed and flushed in the face when he rushed out, though at least he had somehow managed to tame his raging boner.

Now you were certain the universe was toying with you, bittersweet payback coming to nip you in the ass.

You hadn’t been so bothered the night before, leaving with the boys when their set was done and returning to your home with Jimin, not a word being uttered between you and Taehyung, even up until the very next day where you find yourself now. Crammed in a local studio run by some friend Yoongi had known from college, you were quite used to watching the band brainstorm new lyrics and record songs in real time, all from the sofa shoved up against one wall of the small space. You had been there every step of the way ━ their first rehearsal as a formed band, the day they discovered the group’s name in almost a dreamlike epiphany, the release of their very first full-length album produced and recorded all by them and promoted all by them, their very first gig with a decent following and the jittery anxiety they had all been troubled by, and every gig following it in which their nerves subsided and their effervescent charm and credence began to finally show through. But they had never been as disconcerted as they had now ━ which, really, you don’t blame them.

“Bro, this is stressing me out.” This aggravated groan sounds from Jungkook, the band’s lead guitarist.

He’s currently splayed out on the ground of the sofa you’re seated on, head thrown back against the cushions. Every other boy in the studio bare a similar wearied look ━ even Jimin, as their usual spritely lead singer.

You suppose that’s just the inevitable stress bound to occur when a scout from the infamous Columbia Records had somehow found the band either in person at one of their gigs or online and taken an interest in them and were interested in signing them. After weeks of back and forth discussion, Jin had been fortunate enough to land a meeting with the label in New York City, looking promising enough to excite even the stoic Yoongi. And after a month of planning, their meeting was set to take place finally only a week from that day. The issue seemed to arise when the label claimed they wanted the band to bring a set of new songs to the table to discuss at the last possible moment, sending the boys into a chaotic frenzy as they had only just released their first album a few months back. You had come to help the boys, though they were lucky enough to have found a handful of pre-written songs from their repertoire that still, unfortunately, needed fine tuning, vocals, and melodies. After working meticulously all morning, they were only just now deciding to split for a much needed lunch break.

“Same here,” Jimin says glumly, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Can’t wait to get out of here. I feel like I’m going insane.”

As the boys begin to shift and move, Jin gets to his feet and clasps his hands onto Jimin’s shoulders, giving him a reassuring nudge. “Just think about it: international success and Grammys await.”

“If we don’t fall apart before then,” Namjoon stifles a yawn as he stretches out his arms. He tosses a glance at you and Taehyung. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah,” You say, though you hardly move from your seat. “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute,” Taehyung nods. He’s sat across from you on the couch, journal propped on one knee as he scrawls away in it, a jarble of chord progressions and lyrics. “Just gonna finish cleaning up in here.”

It seems convincing enough to Namjoon and the rest of the boys, even Jimin who is already out the door, not in the least bit suspicious of you or Taehyung. Honestly, you’re sure not even Taehyung is suspicious of your unmoving presence beside him until the boys leave and suddenly the room falls silent.

“You’re stressed,” You point out in a gentle musing. Which is true. You don’t usually see Taehyung riddled with anxieties, typically keeping to himself and maintaining some sort of effortless and mysterious coolness around the others.

The boy quirks a brow as he lifts his gaze to look up at you, tossing the journal onto the ground. Whether or not he seems to catch the underlying suggestive and sultry tone in your voice, you’re not quite sure but could you really blame yourself? It was difficult having to watch Taehyung all morning in his element, gazing at him whenever he was in the recording booth, headphones dangling from his neck and bass guitar in his lap as his expert fingers thrummed away at the strings. He always looks most attractive to you when he’s so utterly consumed by his work and his art, whether it be on stage in front of hundreds of people or in a more intimate setting at recordings or practices.

“What happened to you not wanting to disappoint Jimin by getting caught or whatever it was?” he asks, waving his hand dismissively. “Staying back with me is definitely gonna catch his attention.”

“Maybe,” You shrug. You catch his hand as he brings it back down, raising it to your lips to kiss at the tips of his fingers slowly, one-by-one, never once breaking eye contact with him. “I was just thinking you could use some help. And an apology for yesterday.”

Despite the way Taehyung’s dark gaze scrutinizes you in a taunting manner, he still watches as you take his hand and place it between your thighs, over your core. At least today you chose to wear leggings, the smooth material allowing for very little obstacles standing in his way as you press his fingers against you. A wolfish smirk tugs at his lips. “You think your pussy’s gonna help me?”

“Yes, actually, I do,” You say, matter-of-fact. “And I don’t think it will; I know. If I remember correctly, you were begging to use me as a stress-reliever before your set yesterday.”

Taehyung clucks his tongue. “Sounds a lot to me like you just want my fingers in you. Not so nice now being the needy one, huh?”

“I want you to do a lot of things to me, Tae.”

“Careful, baby. You’re playing a dangerous game,” Taehyung says. Still, he entertains the idea. Pressing his thumb harder against you, he rubs leisurely at the sensitive part of your clit over your clothes and the sudden feeling makes you pur with glee. “Besides, why should I be so nice and help you after what you did to me?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re still on about that? You’re a grown man, you can pleasure yourself.”

“How mean.” He feigns a look of mock hurt. “It doesn’t feel as nice when it isn’t you.”

“Taehyung,” You scold his name in a warning, but it mostly comes out as a contented sigh. You know you’ve already won him over, though the impatient tug you give on his arm as you clutch at his wrist of the hand still between your legs is a wordless reminder. Your fingers flutter up to his face, pulling him down for a kiss which he gladly obliges to. “Think they’ll walk in?”

“Nah.” His voice is a throaty murmur. “We’ve got some time. The boys’ seem worried enough as is; think they’re already halfway to that pho place around the corner they wanted to try, and they’re probably not gonna wanna come back here for at least another hour. Plus, I think we’ve given the producers a raging headache with all our requests so they definitely won’t want to be back in here for a while.”

You snicker at the thought, humming into his mouth as you pull him down with you onto the sofa, bending your knee so as to let him slide into place between your legs more comfortably. He pulls his hand away from you only long enough to lick at his digits before slipping his hand past the waistband of your leggings this time. Nudging aside your underwear, he swipes his fingers at your clit, marveling at your stickiness.

Your breath hitches in your throat. “What do we say when they ask where we went?”  

“Doesn’t matter,” he grunts into your mouth. “Fuck, tell them we were busy fucking for all I care.”

You swat at his chest playfully but lose your spirit when he presses his thumb against your clit, causing your hips to rut forward in a silent plea. Taehyung’s right, you think. Your excuse for the boys can be worried about later. Now, Taehyung slides a finger into you, then another, stretching you open experimentally, causing you to croon.

Face warm and head spinning, a sudden thought pops into your head that seems much more intimate than his fingers in you. “So━” You bite your lip to stop a moan. The question that forms on your tongue is timid despite the lewd things that threaten to run through your mind at his every touch, “S-So, what happens when you’re a big and famous rockstar, touring the world now?”

“I’ll take you with me.” Taehyung tongues a pattern down to the underside of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. He curls his fingers upward, sinking further into you until he’s reached his knuckles, enjoying the way your hips twitch beneath him. “Fuck you in every city we go to, in every fancy, over-the-top hotel we stay in. New York, L.A., Paris, London, Rome…”

“Romantic,” You snort, although maybe it kind of is if you think about it long enough. He slides a third finger into you then, fucking his digits in and out of you at a gradual pace that has your core aching. You’re all warm and wet around him that it goes straight to his dick, the thought of him tearing you apart as he plunges his cock into you making him grow antsy. It does the same to you. “Nnngh, Taehyung━ We’ll see about that when you meet pretty girls thousands of miles away who can offer you so much more than me.”

“Hmm… Dunno about that,” he hums. “There’s only gonna be you.”

You wonder if he knows what he’s doing, the way his words make your heart stutter in your chest. But then you start to wonder why you’re even feeling such things for him. Pretty words promising you that you meant more to him than sex meant little to you in comparison when he never acted upon it ━ but could you blame him? Even you were apprehensive of ruining what you already had with him, his friendship with Jimin if you told him how you were feeling lately, and the integrity of the band.

Your legs tremble as your orgasm approaches. Taehyung busies himself by nipping and sucking at your neck and all you can do is puff and pant, the lewd wet noises of his fingers penetrating you filling your ears. “Taehyung━ God, I wanna feel your dick so badly.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Gonna let me fuck you finally? You’re so wet right now, could slip right in. Fuck, look at what you do to yourself by being so mean to me.”

He twists his finger up into you in such a way that has you grinding against his knuckles. “Please, Tae━”

“Got you stretched so wide too,” Taehyung hums pensively. “Your pussy always takes me so well too, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm, Taehyung!”

“Look at you,” he hisses, quickening his pace. Your back arches until your chest is pressed flush against his, walls quivering around his fingers. You reach out desperately for his face, smoothing your lips over his but you fail to really make any sort of connection. Instead, your jaw unhinges in a breathless moan against his mouth as he rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna come around my fingers so badly, don’t you? So close too.”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m━” Your hands ball into fists around the collar of his shirt. Your eyes threaten to roll back as you get closer and closer, your aching pussy so close to feeling its much needed relief when━ “What the fuck, Taehyung?”

He pulls his hand from your core before you can cum, leaving you a sweating and panting mess. The sudden loss of contact leaves you dumbfounded, gawking at the boy who’s suddenly grinning in a similar ungodly manner to your selfish response to him the day before. Payback has never tasted so sweet before to him, and so bitter to you.

“You did that on purpose,” You whine, jutting your hips forward desperately to meet his hand again. Instead, he gives your leaking and sensitive pussy one slap, the pleasant jolt shooting up your spine making you moan. “You’re so mean. I thought you were over it.”

“Well, now I am.” He pulls his hand out from between your legs and licks at his fingers. “Have you had your fun?”

It takes you a moment to respond as you gather yourself. He finds your sulking a little hilarious, and maybe also feels a little bad. “For now.”

“That’s a good girl.” He leans down to kiss your mouth hungrily, enjoying when you suck eagerly at his lower lip. “Because I’ve had my fun.”

You open your mouth to say something more but are stopped shortly when, somewhere outside the recording room, you can hear the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching, followed by the sound of the doorknob turning and Jimin’s curious voice, “Tae?”

You and Taehyung have stumbled off of one another within seconds, listening to the way Taehyung curses under his breath as he flings himself off the couch and a few feet away as you sit upright on the sofa. You have to only pray and hope that you both don’t look too obvious, though you think it’s too late for that. Either way, you cross one thigh over the other, biting down harshly on your tongue as Jimin stumbles into the room. As his gaze sweeps fleetingly across the room, he hardly takes note of both you and Taehyung.

“There you two are,” he says. “Was wondering where you went off to. And━” His stare flutters over to Taehyung for a moment and you hold your breath, fearing he may know a little too much, when━ “There’s my wallet! I knew I forgot it here.”

He crosses the room swiftly and plucks his abandoned wallet from the desk, holding it up to show the two of you. You smile nervously and Taehyung takes it upon himself to answer, clearing his throat in the process. “We were just gonna catch up with you, actually. Y/N was just helping me finish up here.”

You’re fortunate that Jimin’s probable sudden panic of trying to find his wallet and the relief of realizing he hadn’t lost it to the ether is what distracts him. He seems hardly intrigued by your lack of presence or yours and Taehyung’s odd companionship without the other boys. Whatever the case, you both manage to make it out of the recording studio unscathed and Taehyung does a well enough job at deflecting from any further suspicions by talking as normally as he usually would with Jimin on your walk over to the restaurant the rest of the boys are at.

Well, as unscathed as you can be, the tragedy of your lost orgasm still haunting you even as you sit across from Taehyung at the table.

“Now you’ll really be late.”

You say this as a heedful warning, though you’re fortunate when you find that you’re both distracted this time.

You know you have Taehyung under your spell that morning when he catches you purposely wandering his apartment in nothing but a pair of your panties. It’s not as if it’s uncommon to see you naked in his kitchen, making breakfast. That morning, when you walk into the bedroom holding a cup of tea, Taehyung almost chokes at the sight of your bare chest. It’s early the day of the band’s flight to New York City for their meeting with Columbia Records, and though Taehyung has roughly an hour before he has to leave the apartment, you’re worried he might just miss the flight altogether when he pulls you onto his bed again after a night of fucking.

“Don’t care. Come here.” His large hands are on you in an instant, roaming your body as he kisses the underside of your jaw and pins you beneath him. You let him get carried away, let him leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your lips down to your collarbones and in between your breasts.

“What are you gonna tell the boys when they’re on a flight to New York and you’re still in your apartment?” You rasp, fingers threading in his hair.

“Was busy spending the last twenty-four hours making hot, passionate love to you.”

The wry grin on his face makes it come across as a joke and makes your heart skip a beat. Admittedly, that was partly the truth. He had invited you over the day before and you had spent the better part of it in his bed in every position imaginable. Have to make up for the three days we won’t see each other, he had said after your first round, head between your legs and mouth on your cunt.

You snicker now but the sound falls short when a moan replaces it. “Don’t think you can call it passionate love making when you gave up halfway and made me ride you like you always do.”

He gasps and bites down teasingly on your skin but not with enough pressure to hurt. “Was that a jab at my manhood?”

“Of course not.”

“Besides, I like it best when you’re in charge.”

You roll your eyes but pull him up to your face so that you can kiss him again. It’s an odd shift in atmosphere when you find him kissing you in a chaste manner, despite having marked you red all over and legs still shaking from how many times he’s made you come in the last twenty-four hours. But it wasn’t all sex for once. Falling asleep in his arms left you still dreaming even when you were long awake.

“Gonna miss you,” he whispers once he parts from you. He rubs soft circles against your hips, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“It’s only for three days,” You say.

“I know,” he sighs. “I just━ God, I’ve gotten so used to you being here. I’m just sick of sleeping alone all the time. Shit, I don’t think I’m making any sense anymore. All I know is you’re driving me crazy.”

“Taehyung…”

“Am I wrong to feel that way?” He lifts his head now to look at you, ardent sincerity glazing over his eyes as he gazes at you.

You’re too caught up in the moment, the lustful afterglow of sex and whatever else is starting to emerge however blurry it may be now, to not notice right away the sound of knocking on the front door. Instead, you reach out to push his hair out of his eyes. You think you know what he means; you just want to hear him say it aloud. Your question is a gentle probe. “What are you trying to say?”

“I━”

But Taehyung’s voice is cut short by the sound of Jin’s shouting from the front door. “Taehyung, you in here?”

Wide eyes meet with yours in the sudden alarming panic of Jin’s arrival. Taehyung grumbles mostly to himself, “God dammit, what’s he doing here?”

You can hear the band’s manager talking aloud, quite possibly to another one of the boys that he’s dragged with him, and you and Taehyung scramble to react. Taehyung only has enough time to clamber out of his bed and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants from the floor as you pull on one of his sweaters and grab the bedsheet to cling to your chest if only so it can hide the rest of your bare legs.

“Are you alive?” Jin’s asking, closer this time.

“We had to come check on you━” You don’t register the second voice until it’s too late.

Because there, standing at the threshold of Taehyung’s door to his room, is not just Jin but your brother. Jimin’s familiar pop of bright blue hair and nonchalant smile are much too hard to forget. But, upon stumbling across Taehyung’s room, they each come to a stuttering halt. It doesn’t take long for the realization to dawn on them ━ and how could they not piece together the puzzles painting such a painfully obvious picture? The dishevelled bed, the clothes that litter his floor, your clothes that litter his floor, Taehyung’s shirtless and sloppy attire, your own half-hearted attempt at dressing yourself and the marks that riddle your body that you were banking on fading completely by the time you were reunited with Jimin after their return from their meeting.

“Uh…” Taehyung trails off awkwardly. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh shit,” Jin curses under his breath. Despite having no idea whatsoever about you or Taehyung (though maybe having a better inkling than the rest of the boys), he turns hastily towards Jimin. “Maybe now’s not a good time.”

But Jimin hardly budges. Instead, he looks enlivened, jaw setting harshly in place as his brows furrow into a scowl. “Jin knows I have a spare key to your place after that one time you locked yourself out and he wanted to make sure we all met up before getting to the airport. You weren’t answering our calls, thought you were dead. Guess now I know it’s because you were too busy fucking my sister.”

“Jimin,” You hiss sharply.

Taehyung shakes his head wildly. “It’s not like that.”

“Really?” Jimin retorts. “‘Cause it sure seems like it is.”

Taehyung grimaces. “Okay, yes, but not in the way you think. It’s not some meaningless fuck. I care about her.”

But that only seems to be the wrong answer. Would there ever be a right one? Taming Jimin’s stubborn anger and protectiveness over you was hard enough on any other day. Now that he knows you’ve slept with Taehyung, Taehyung felt as if he were a lost cause.

“How long has this been happening?” Jimin asks, tight-lipped.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, neither can Taehyung, and that seems to be enough to answer his worries. Maybe if you had acted faster, said it was only a one night stand, he wouldn’t have been able to read your mind so easily. Yet your silence was enough to make you guilty.

“Shit,” Jimin runs a hand through his hair. When he speaks next, he’s looking only at you. “Do you love him?”

“I━” You open your mouth, as if to explain yourself. This time, the answer came much easier. You know what you want to say, but voicing the truth out loud in front of your brother and Taehyung, who might not feel the same way, makes you clamp your mouth shut. Whatever your answer anyway should be for Taehyung only. Instead, you frown up at your brother. “I don’t get why you’re so upset anyway. Who cares if we’re in love? Who cares what we are? It’s not like you can control me. I can make these sorts of decisions myself, Jimin. This is ridiculous.”

“No. I get that,” Jimin says firmly. “But you’re my sister, and your wellbeing comes first to me. So, Tae━” Now, your brother turns to look at Taehyung. You’ve never seen him so furious before, disappointed even, and certainly not when it comes to Taehyung. “If you care about her so much, when were you gonna let her know?”

This seems to catch your attention, sending a curious gaze between Jimin and Taehyung. “Let me know what?”

“That he’s been screwing some other chick he met at the bar a while ago,” Jimin says. “Walked in on them once by accident and, after the fact, he said some similar bullshit about how it wasn’t meaningless or whatever.”

You blink.

The blow to your chest, and subsequently your heart, makes you teeter on your frail legs. Because if what Jimin was saying was true, then were all the sweet sentiments Taehyung whispered to you even yours to begin with? Did he care about you as much as you cared about him? But, the worst part of it all, is how utterly foolish you feel. Because when Taehyung doesn’t immediately answer, your question about whether or not Jimin was telling the truth was confirmed; and you had let yourself almost willingly fall for Taehyung despite all the warning signs. Despite the fact that you had both initiated your relationship on the basis that nothing would ever blossom from it.

“Is that true?” You ask Taehyung.

The boy hesitates. He meets your stare solemnly, flinching when he notes just how hurt you seem. “Partly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You demand. But before he can respond, you scoff under your breath as you begin to gather your belongings. “Oh my god. I’m so stupid━”

Taehyung starts. “Wait, Y/N━”

“Just leave her alone━” Jimin interrupts.

“Hey. Hey!” Jin snaps abruptly, the firm tone in his voice catching the boys’ attention. “We gotta go. Now. Taehyung, get yourself decent; Jimin, in the living room. We leave for the airport in five minutes.”

You decide you no longer want to wait for an answer. Your own embarrassment is far too much to handle for the moment being, and you favour the idea of fleeing from Taehyung’s sorrowful gaze, Jimin’s heated one, and Jin’s scrutinizing scowl.

You’re long gone before Taehyung can even think to stop you.

The three days in which the boys find themselves in New York City for their meeting with Columbia Records is the longest three days of your life.

Taehyung never bothers to call or text you ━ and the looming swell of concern of awaiting to hear his voice or your brother’s or any answer of how the meeting has gone fades in comparison. Because every sweet nothing he ever said to you suddenly means nothing, and you don’t know where that leaves you.

Just when you think you can take the torture no longer, the band returns. Jimin comes bounding into your shared apartment the moment his flight lands and the taxi has brought him home, greeting you with the wonderful news that the band’s been signed, and a celebration is in store consisting of their closest friends and family members. While you initially bask in Jimin’s excitement, mirroring your own, it quickly fades as you fear you’ve lost Taehyung for good.

“You’ll come to the party, won’t you?” Jimin asks hopefully at some point. “The boys will want you there.”

You shift warily in your seat on the sofa across from your brother who stands in the midst of the room after having animatedly relaying the story of the past three days to you. You shrug now, and when Jimin shoots you a quizzical look, you decide to approach the topic cautiously, dancing over your words slowly. “I dunno, Jimin. If he’s gonna be there… I don’t know if I can face him right now.”

Jimin comes to an immediate halt. His face falls and he sinks onto the seat beside you. “Y/N… Look, I was wrong, and I’m sorry. While we were away, Taehyung and I talked and he’s gutted about what happened. But that’s all I can say. I think you should talk to each other. No, I want you to talk to each other. I know now that you’re meant for one another.”

“Are you only telling me this because you’re being your best friend’s wingman, or because you’re being my brother?” You ask, a weak lighthearted attempt at a joke.

“Both,” Jimin says warmly. “Because I care about you both, and I don’t want to have to live with the regret of being the reason two people perfect for each other aren’t together.”

And when your brother says it with such earnestness, you have no choice but to believe him.

So, despite feeling like a fool for potentially crossing paths with Taehyung again, you muster the nerve and motivation to go, and arrive at the party with Jimin later that night. The impromptu last minute party itself is held at Namjoon’s home, filled to the brim with mostly familiar faces and a few unrecognizable ones that must be acquaintances of the boys you’ve never met before. You make your rounds and congratulate the boys one-by-one, being enveloped into a tight hug with each one, safe for Taehyung whom you don’t see at first.

You’re fortunate when mutual friends of yours and Jimin’s arrive, spending the majority of the night with them as your brother wanders off to get wasted. At some point, as the night drawls on, you catch sight of Taehyung and the presence of him is enough to dampen your mood entirely. You decide you’re no longer in the mood for a party, and make haste for the door, stumbling out onto the lawn. You only make it so far, coming to stop at the foot of the curb to breathe in the cool night air around you, before you notice Taehyung hurrying out after you, calling your name.

Almost as soon as he’s able to catch his breath and you lock gazes with the boy, he asks aloud, “Where are you going?”

You hadn’t expected him to follow you, nor the terrible nearly tangible awkwardness that hangs heavy in the air. Still, the concern in his voice and the corners of his eyes softening at the sight of you makes you want nothing more than to forget all the heartache. “Home.”

“Let me drive you?” he asks delicately.

You hesitate before responding. You know the simple offer of a drive is more than that. It’s an invitation to talk to him, sort things out. And you, of course, can’t possibly deny him. As soon as you’ve followed him to his car and he starts driving, everything goes silent. It’s almost unbearable as you shift uncomfortably in your seat and gaze out the window, hoping the long car ride will pass by rather quickly. You thwart his attempts at starting any conversation by turning the radio up and letting the music ━ a mix from Taehyung’s phone filled with pop-punk and indie classics ━ fill the emptiness but it doesn’t work with distracting you. He takes a detour from the path to your apartment, driving instead to a nearby lookout point of a hiking trail, now abandoned and desolate this late at night.

It’s quiet even long after he shifts the car into park, leaving only the sound of the stereo to fill the void. Then, at long last━

“You didn’t call,” You say.

Taehyung swallows thickly. “I know.”

“That’s all I wanted. An explanation.”

“I know,” Taehyung shifts in his seat to look at you. “I’m sorry. I messed up.”

“I know I have no right to feel like you’re mine when the reason we started seeing each other was casual, but everything you’ve been saying to me lately━” You rasp, “that I’m the only one for you and that you were gonna miss me because you were tired of being alone ━ did all of it mean nothing?”

The boy’s stare hardens. “No. I was never lying when I was with you. Everything I said, I meant.”

“Then why didn’t you call?”

“Because I was scared I had lost you,” Taehyung grovels all at once, silencing you. “Because things were starting to finally change between us ━ where it wasn’t just sex all the fucking time, but something genuine ━ and I didn’t want to face the reality that it could all be gone, just like that.”

“Well, what did Jimin mean, about that other girl? Was he telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Did you fuck her?”

“Yes.”

“And did you fuck her while you were still saying there was only me in your life and pretending you meant it?”

“I was never pretending,” Taehyung protests exasperatedly. “We had a fling, but that was months ago, when you and I first started whatever the hell this is. But Jimin was wrong. I never told him she was the one, or whatever. I said I didn’t want it to be meaningless anymore. That I want something more. I thought I had found it with that girl; but it was really with you.”

“Taehyung…” You whisper his name now, a delicate utterance.

“You can’t tell me I’m the only one feeling this way about us,” Taehyung beckons desperately. “I know you’ve been feeling it too.”

You purse your lips; then, you let out a small exhalation of air. “Tae… I think I’ve been in love with you ever since we were little kids.”

Now, Taehyung’s stare softens. He reaches out to grab at your face, gingerly pulling you into him, thumb caressing your cheek.

“I want you,” he promises. “God, I want you so bad. Do you really think I’d risk getting kicked from the band for anyone else but you? Or let anyone else tease me so bad but you?”

You can’t help but snicker. You shake your head at him as he pulls you into a kiss. He grins against your mouth and, this time when he kisses you, it’s hot and needy, a whole three day’s worth of pent up emotions and desires pouring into your every touch. Your hands fumble to undo your seatbelt and then you’re climbing over onto his lap and he’s welcoming you with open arms, the skirt of your dress hitching up higher on your thighs. Your knee, or maybe it was your foot or elbow, accidentally hits the horn of the steering wheel and startles the two of you, earning a squeak from you, before you both erupt into laughter. Taehyung reaches down to push the seat back a few inches to give you more space in the cramped driver’s seat and then he pauses to look up at you with mesmerized eyes. He kisses you again and again, as your hands come up to grasp at the sides of his neck.

“Had enough of the bullshit, have you?” he asks humorously. “Gonna take matters into your own hands?”

“I’m tired of all this teasing and chasing,” You pout. You’ve already begun grinding your hips against his, enjoying the way his face pinches in pure delight. He burrows his face into your chest, breasts soft against his head. A soft moan bubbles at your lips as you plant your own hands onto his chest. “I think so are you. We’ve both got a taste of it, haven’t we? We need to make up for lost time.”

“Fair enough,” he rasps. “What do you want from me, baby?”

“You, all of you,” You murmur. “Want your dick in me.”

“Gonna let me finish this time?” he tuts.

Your amused giggle meets his ears and he wonders how you can be both cute and sexy at the same time. “Mmm, I wanna be filled with your cum.”

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung grunts. “Okay, okay. Here━”

Somehow, he’s able to gesture to the backseat and you and him clamber your way there until you’re finally both situated once more with you straddling his lap. There’s a mutual understanding that there’s no point, nor time, for foreplay but it’s not as if either of you mind. Taehyung’s surely had enough and so have you because while teasing him may be fun for a while, it certainly can feel like torture trying to stay away from him in the meantime. You help him fumble with the belt of his jeans so that he can unbuckle them and watch as he grasps at himself, pulling his cock free. Immediately, you’re lifting your hips to pull the skirt of your dress up higher and his hands help aid you clumsily, palms gliding up the smooth expanse of your thighs.

Then, fumbling to push you on your knees before him, with one hand on the small of your back, he pulls you towards him and gazes down between the two of you as he hooks a thumb over the material of your panties to push it to the side and teases the tip of himself over your slick folds. Your hands flail outward, palms pressing against the windowpane as he somehow situates himself behind you in the cramped space on his knees. He grunts from behind you at the feeling and then slowly and carefully guides you down onto him. It takes a moment to adjust but as you sink fully down until he’s balls deep, his cock coaxed easily by your leaking wetness, the both of you come to a halt, sputtering for air.

“Wait, wait,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck━ Stay put for a sec.”

“Why?” You ask, jutting your hips backwards teasingly. “Gonna cum already?”

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he mutters. He thrusts up into you without warning as payback, causing you to gasp out loud and flail forward. “No, you brat. I just want to enjoy it a little bit longer.”

He’s right. It does feel nice to finally feel some sort of friction after three days of nothing. To him, you just feel so nice and warm and snug and, to you, he fills you up so perfectly. So you stay put for a little bit, adjusting to the feeling as you kiss each other slow and steadily. His dick twitches inside you, warm and wet and so fucking hard. He’s just so big, your head is spinning. It’s almost as if you feel him in the pit of your stomach, legs trembling at the feeling. He yanks impatiently at the top of your dress, pulling it down so that the material pools at your waist now, reveling in the way your bare breasts spring free. At once, his hands are reaching around your front to palm at your breasts, grasping at your hips and navel.

“Wanna wreck you so bad,” Taehyung growls roughly against the shell of your ear as he presses his chest against your back. “Gonna fill you up so good, make your pussy all mine. How does that sound?”

“Want it so bad,” You whine, one arm hooking behind you so that your fingers can scratch at his hair. “F-fuck, Taehyung━”

When he tugs lightly at your hips, you take that as his gesture for you to move and start grinding your hips against his.

“Been waiting so long,” he hisses. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t know why you always gotta tease me.��

“Taehyung,” You choke out. “Oh, f-fuck━”

“That’s it, baby girl. Doing so well,” Taehyung grunts as your walls quiver around him. He starts grinding into you, rough snaps of his hips sending you jolting forward each time. “Gonna take my dick like a good girl?”

“Y-Yes━ God, want it so bad,” You cry out. “Give it to me harder, please, Taehyung━”

He gladly obliges, quickening his pace until he’s slamming his hips into yours in thrusts that tremble you to the core. Tears begin to prick at your eyes at the glorious sensation, your cunt throbbing with each thrust. You’re so wet, he almost slips from your walls each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Fuck━ Want you to ride me,” he rasps at some point. “Show me how your pussy belongs to me. Can you do that for me?”

You nod blindly. You try not to whine at the sudden loss of contact when he pulls out of you, the tip of his cock glistening with both of your leaking cum mingling together, the sticky strands pulling apart midair as he fumbles. Soon, he has you straddling his lap, sinking onto his dick once more. You grip his shoulders this time, bouncing on him as he buries his face in your chest.

A sudden thought has him groaning aloud. “Your brother’s gonna fucking hate me.”

“I thought he said you talked things over,” You gasp. “That everything’s okay.”

“I don’t mean that,” Taehyung’s head rolls back, eyes squeezing shut. “He’s gonna murder me if he ever catches us like this.”

“Think he knows it happens by now,” You giggle. You moan when you drop your hips on him completely, swiveling around his dick.

“Still don’t think that means he wants to see us making love on the couch in your apartment. Not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you,” Taehyung points out. Then, adding hastily, “Fuck it. Can we not talk about your brother? It’s killing the mood.”

Another delightful chuckle bubbles from your lips though it’s quick to dissolve into a splintered cry as his dick angles upwards into you.

Your back arches until your chest is pressed against his. It’s almost embarrassing how fast the two of you become complete shambles, a sticky mess forming between your legs. It comes to that point where you don’t care about being careful and where you decide to adopt such a reckless pace, fucking yourself on him, your breasts bouncing wildly before him. Taehyung moans and eagerly latches his mouth on one of your breasts, sucking hard.

“Taehyung,” You whine. “I’m not gonna last.”

He hums against you, pulling you closer to his mouth and chest and wrapping you in his heat, as if to urge you on. Your mewls and whimpers ring in Taehyung’s ears as beautiful sounding as the music that plays in the background. You begin to give out, your tiredness mingling with the intensity of pleasure, and you collapse against Taehyung’s chest, huffing for air. He quickly replaces your efforts, grabbing your hips tightly and plummeting his upwards into yours so hard that you feel each thrust shake you to the core. You know you’ll have bruises in the morning but you don’t mind. You’re leaning entirely against Taehyung now, your arms wrapping around his neck, as cries of his name and choked whimpers continue to tear from your throat and mouth.

“F-Fuck!” You cry. “Taehyung, faster━ oh my god, please━”

Your pleas drown out when one long moan escapes you. You can feel the muscles in your core tighten and loosen in a constant battle that has your head swimming in a good way, your heart pounding in your chest. Taehyung grits his teeth, focusing on bringing you to your high, and, before you are able to even comprehend what’s happening, you’re toppling over the edge. You’re still on top of Taehyung, whimpering profusely and crying his name in a beautiful mantra as your high shakes you from head to toe.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” Taehyung hisses. “Cum for me. Cream all over my dick. You love it, don’t you? Love having me fill you up like this?”

“Yes, oh my god, Tae, yes━ faster, please━”

Taehyung obliges, sweat forming on his forehead. He feels you squeeze around him so tight that he fumbles for a second, sputtering for air. Then, he feels your cum pulsate out of you, leaking down his length. You’re instantly floating up high with the stars, relishing in your high and the way Taehyung rides it out as he also fights for his own sweet release. As your hips come to a stutter, he grips at your waist and pummels his dick up into your aching pussy.

His tongue continues to lav lazily at your jawline and, by the time he reaches his own high, you are beginning to cringe from the sensitivity. Yet, you hold on, pushing away the slight sting as you help coax him to his high, squeezing your muscles around him. He cums moments later, releasing into you warm and wet, crying your name.

“Fuck, Y/N━ Gonna fill you up, baby, just how you like it━”

He rams his hips up into yours for one final effort, shuddering in elation as his cock twitches every last drop of cum from it. Then, both breathless and panting, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, you slump against his chest, resting your forehead against his. The car instantly goes silent and the foreground music that was the radio comes to once more. You listen to the soft lyrics as the two of you bask in the afterglow of sex and he kisses you all over.

You don’t know how much time passes as the two of you lay there, his hands rubbing comforting circles on your hips as your own fingers trace the tattoos that ink his skin.

“You know━” Taehyung speaks up eventually, his voice a low mumble. “Gonna be extra hard not to be late getting to gigs now.”

“Uh oh.” You roll your eyes. “Think we’ve got all the time in the world now for sex, Tae.”

Taehyung grins. “I was thinking more about the fact that I’m not gonna want to get out of bed in the morning, whenever you fall asleep beside me.”

Your heart swells at his confession and you peck his cheek quickly before burying your face in the crook of his neck. It’s his own serenade of sorts, his small promise in the backseat of his car, that makes it all okay in the end.

“And,” Taehyung admits cheekily this time, “knowing we don’t have to keep us a secret anymore, even to ourselves━ I'm definitely not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you now.”

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[in-ky]

An Old Scent [4] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: literally just seduction and smut for this chapter lol, biting, ~aggressiveness~, pet names, fingering, penetration, edging?, breeding kink, soft aftercare negan :)

A/N: so this is the first smut i've ever written! i hope it's alright, some feedback would be awesome :) i hope you guys enjoyed my first story! 3k words

The next few days were a blur. Negan would come in, give me food, water, and a backrub, and then leave me to my own devices. I wanted to ask him for more, but for some reason I never did and he never tried anything. That wasn't to say he didn't want to. I could tell that my smell alone had an effect on him. That was obvious by the noticeable bulge he sported when he got up from by bedside and exited my room. Yet the alpha had an insane amount of self-control. So I got myself through my heat.

When my head finally cleared of the fever, the first thing I did was text Bee.

'All good now.'

'Thank the gods. So??? How was he? Am I going to be an aunt?'

'I wouldn't know. It didn't happen.'

'You guys didn't fuck? Jesus, you should get an award for the most disciplined omega on the planet.'

'I wouldn't go that far haha. I still want him more than anything.'

'Well, who says you have to be in heat for that to happen?'

'Fair point. Talk to you later, xo.'

I tossed the phone onto my mattress and crossed over to my dresser. Now that I wasn't a moaning mess, I had some semblance of self-control. Which meant that I could seduce Negan in a way that I wanted. In a way that would make him pounce and fuck me until we passed out. He had gone out to the store for a restock of the pantry so I had about thirty minutes to get myself together for him. I foraged through my underwear drawer until my fingers wrapped around a pair of black lace underwear and a matching bra. My lips curled wickedly. If this didn't get him riled up, I didn't know what would. I laid out the set on my bed and moved to my closet for the perfect outfit. I was still wearing Negan's shirt and boxers. They were admittedly very wrinkled and a bit stained from all the fluid that had been produced from my body in the past few days, but Negan didn't seem to mind. I reminded myself to follow up on his orders before I put my plan into motion. I flicked through the hung up clothes before settling on a cute black dress with a sparse sunflower pattern. It was low cut and showed off all of my goods. Perfectly. I put that safely next to my undergarments and headed out of my room.

Peeling off the clothes was harder than I thought. They were a bit crusty in some areas, particularly the crotch, and I almost felt bad for ruining Negan's clothes. Almost. I folded them as best I could given their condition and placed them reverently in the center of his bed. I found a piece of paper and scrawled a note over the middle. I folded the paper in half and put it on the pile of clothes. I nodded in satisfaction and headed into the bathroom for my shower to scrub off the remaining fluids that still clung to my skin.

~~~

My heart raced as I heard the front door click closed. I could tell by the footsteps that it was Negan. That and the fact that all I could smell was that goddamn smell. The scent that could drive me crazy with just one breath. A sudden doubt edged at my mind. What if he didn't want me. What if I was misreading the signals? I shook my head roughly, clearing the negative thoughts. Even if he did reject me, I could play it off to the endings of my heat...besides, I was leaving in a few days and I could wait to be heartbroken in Colorado.

My heart stopped it's assault on my chest cavity when I heard his heavy steps ascend the stairs. He cleared his throat and entered his room. I could hear a small growl escape his throat. He had found my present. I closed my eyes and imagined him suffocating himself in my smell, much like I had when I saw the clothes in the bathroom. I forced myself back to the present when I heard the crinkling of paper. He gave a little scoff of laughter and I heard him cross the hallway and twist my door open.

"Hey what did you wanna talk abou-oh." He trailed off and stiffened as his eyes caught my body. I was laying on my side, one hand propping up my head, the other draped over my round hip. The deep cut of the dress exposed my breasts as well as some of the bra to him. I saw him drag his tongue over his lip and it ignited a fire in the pit of my stomach. I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the side of my bed, rising to my feet and sauntering over to him. I watched him watch my hips sway with every movement.

"I just wanted to thank you," I purred, voice dripping with seduction "for taking such good care of me." His jaw tensed as I placed my hands on his chest, running my palms up to his shoulders and pushing off his leather jacket. "I really appreciate it."

"What are you doing?" He whispered. I could tell it was taking every ounce of control he had to not grab me by the throat and pin me up against the wall. Little did he know, that's exactly what I wanted.

"I wanted to return the favor," I said, blinking wide eyes up at him "Surely there's something I can do to show you how thankful I am, alpha." His eyes closed and a growl rumbled through his chest at the name. My hands trailed down his chest to his abdomen. But before I could reach his belt, Negan grabbed my wrists. I pouted at him.

"Careful, omega," He warned, eyes dark "don't start something you're not willing to finish." My frown turned into a sultry smile. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him where his ear connected to his jaw.

"Please, Negan," I whimpered in his ear. His grip on me tightened "Alpha, fuck me."

"Shit, doll, you don't have to ask me twice." Negan growled. His hands grabbed my waist and hoisted me up around his midsection, hurriedly capturing my lips in a bruising kiss. He thrust his tongue into my mouth as he walked us over to my bed. It was all a blur as I fell onto my back and he moved away from the kiss. He bit and sucked at the skin of my neck, attacking my pulse point in the best way possible.

"Alpha." I moaned, tugging at his shirt. He grunted against my neck and continued his trail of love bites until he met the collar of my dress. Negan growled in disappointment at the lack of skin and used his large hands to tear at the fabric. I gasped as the cool air of the room met my heated skin. He let out a feral groan as he drunk in the sight of me in the black lace set.

"I hope you didn't like that dress." He mumbled as he tossed it over his shoulder, returning to his suckling.

"It was too small." I gasped, finding my hands entangled in his hair. "Ugh, Negan!"

"Fuck, you're beautiful." He hummed, one of his fingers trailing down the middle of my stomach towards my rapidly pulsing core. I whimpered as he got closer, hoping that he would dip beneath the waistband, but he continued over it, cupping my sex over my panties. "And so damn wet. Shit, darling, is this all for me?" My eyes fluttered open to see a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He was a bastard. But I was too aroused to care.

"Yes, alpha, all for you." I gasped, sitting up and tugging at the bottom of his shirt. I pushed it up his body and over his head. He lifted his arms and I pulled it off him.

"A little eager, are we?" He snickered.

"Negan, you don't know how fucking bad I need you," I whined "I was dying during my heat. I needed my alpha." I pulled him back on top of me, pressing my lips against his. My face was starting to burn because of his stubble, but it felt amazing.

"But I do fucking know, princess," He gasped between kisses, pulling away with one of my lips between his teeth. "It was so difficult not to flip you over and fuck you right then and there. I knew you wanted me, but I wanted to wait until you weren't some sex-crazed beast to admit that."

"Well I'm done now," I grinned, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him close. He hissed as his clothed erection rubbed against my pussy. "So fuck me right here and now." I bit his ear lobe and peppered kisses along his jawline until I met his lips again. He chuckled against me, lips curling into a smile.

"Can-fucking-do 'mega."

He unhooked my bra and tossed it to the side, capturing one of my hardened nipples in his mouth. His tongue added with the scruffiness of his beard was enough to make me toss my head back in pleasure. A string of profanities left my lips as he moved to the next one, kneading the one that he just left. My insides were burning and I needed him lower. Thankfully, he began to kiss down my navel, leaving bites to mark his path. When he reached my panties he used a combination of his teeth and his fingers to drag them down my legs. Once they were gone, he kissed up my calves and my thighs, stopping in front of where I needed him most. He planted one of his hands on my hip and used two of his other fingers to spread my lower lips apart. I let out a moan at the action, bucking slightly into his touch.

"Stay put for me, doll," He ordered before giving my hip a kiss "I know you want my knot but I've gotta get you ready first." I just whimpered in response. He slowly entered his two long fingers into my aching cunt. I let out a heavy breath and grasped onto his shoulder, digging in my nails. He deftly curled his digits upward, hitting that sweet spot almost instantly. I cried out in surprised pleasure. I figured Negan was experienced but he knew where everything was. He scissored his fingers and I gasped at the stretch. It had been a while since I actually had something moving inside of me. I could only imagine what his cock would feel like. The thought made my walls clench around him. When he brought his thumb up to press gently on my clit, I dug my fingernails deeper into his skin. He worked the pad in circles, bringing me to an edge I was very willing to jump off.

"Fuck, Negan, I'm..." I huffed, eyes screwing in pleasure.

"Do it baby, cum for your alpha." At his permission, I let the tight band snap and my legs shook with the intense orgasm that crashed through my body. I breathed heavily and arched my back. When the intensity subsided, I collapsed back and brushed the hair back from my face. I felt Negan remove his fingers from my core and I opened my eyes to see him lapping up my juices that had dripped down his palm. Another spark of arousal was already beginning to form.

"Finally got my taste," He moaned, licking his lips in satisfaction "and shit, doll, you taste even better than you smell."

"Please, Negan," I whimpered.

"Please, what?" He cooed, crawling over me and pressing a kiss to my forehead "Use your words, omega."

"Please fuck me, alpha."

He ripped off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a sigh of relief when he kicked the restraining fabric to the side. His hard cock was outlined against his boxers. He was right about needing to be prepared; he was huge, no doubt the biggest I had ever seen. A proud smile formed on his lips when he caught me ogling his goods.

"You ready for my dick?" He growled, tugging down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. It was angry, desperate for any sort of contact.

"Please," I gasped.

"Then present for your alpha." I rolled onto my elbows and knees, sticking my ass in the air and wiggling it in hopes that he would pay attention to my weeping slit. "Fuck you look so good." Negan grumbled, scooting closer to me. He ran the head of his cock up and down my entrance. I whimpered and pushed myself back eagerly. He gave me a slight hit on my ass cheek. "I'm in charge here, don't forget that."

"Y-Yes, sir." I said, fisting the sheets in my hands. Thankfully, Negan wasn't in a teasing mood and he slid himself into my pussy in one thrust.

"Fuuuuck," He hissed as he bottomed out, fingers gripping my hips harshly. I would have bruises everywhere tomorrow. But I didn't mind, it would be a reminder that this actually happened. "You're so goddamn tight. Shit." I clenched my walls around him and he let out a husky groan, causing me to smile. He wasn't completely in control. After I was adjusted to his size, I gave him a whimper as a signal to move. And he did. He pounded into me, hips ramming into my ass with every thrust. He fucked me like a wild animal and every time he buried himself inside me, his cock would hit that perfect spot. We moaned in sync with the sounds of skin slapping skin. One of Negan's fingers drifted down beneath himself and he furiously rubbed at my clit. The stimulation was enough to send me into another mind-boggling orgasm, but Negan shut that down quickly.

"Don't you fucking dare cum until I tell you to, understand me?" He growled, resting his head against my shoulder. I couldn't form words so I just nodded frantically. "I'm gonna pop my knot in you, omega. Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed you so good," He huffed between thrusts "You're gonna look so goddamn beautiful when you're round with my fucking pups. Then everyone will know you're mine." I moaned in agreement. I don't know what I moaned, but it was a combination of his name and a curse. A few thrusts later and I could tell that Negan was close. His breathing was heavier and his hips were staggering against mine and his knot was catching at the entrance of my pussy. "Cum with me, baby," He ordered "Let me feel you." With that I let go, letting my walls spasm around his thick cock. He came at the same time, spilling his seed deep within me. I milked him for every drop.

Out of instinct, I tossed my neck to the side, exposing my mating spot to the man above me. With a growl, Negan sunk his teeth into my skin, bonding us together. Fireworks shot through my body and I collapsed beneath him. Negan rolled us both over onto our sides, still inside of me. He lapped at the blood spotting at his bite mark. It took a few moments for us both to catch our breath, but Negan was the first to speak.

"I'm going to take such good care of you," He promised. It was the same tone that he had used at the dinner table when I asked him about the situation with his ex-fiancé. Sincere, vulnerable. "I might not be the best man, but I promise you I will always be there for you and whatever pups we might have. I've never felt like this before and I just...I don't want to fuck it up." I looked over my shoulder and saw worry in his eyes. I gave him a small peck on the nose.

"You won't fuck it up, Negan," I murmured, giving him a reassuring smile "Trust me, I won't let you." We both let out a soft laugh. "I trust you. You're my alpha. I know you'll be the best one you can be, and that's all I can ask for. You're lucky I'm a very patient person."

"Not in bed, you're not." He teased, giving me a wink. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I don't want you to leave. You'll have to go back to Colorado soon. I don't know if I can handle my girl being so far away. Especially around other alpha assholes." I felt his grip tighten around me. I lifted a hand and stroked his arm.

"Don't worry about that yet," I sighed, closing my eyes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about it either. But that wasn't the most pressing issue we had to face. "Let's figure out how we're going to tell Rick first." Negan groaned and wrinkled his nose.

"Can you not mention your dad when my dick's still inside you?" He grumbled. I let out a giggled and kissed his knuckles.

"Sorry," I hummed "just saying, I'm not sure how well he's going to take it."

"Well, he better take it like a fucking champ." Negan huffed "'cuz if he doesn't he's gonna fucking regret it."

"Negan," I warned gently "He's my dad. You're his friend. We're mated now. It's gonna be weird for him. You gotta respect that."

"You really do bring me down to earth don't you," He sighed, nuzzling my neck "I guess I underestimated how much I need you." I let out a yawn and rubbed my eyes with a groan.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" He asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

"No, I'm just tired," I giggled "I haven't been fucked that good before."

"Damn straight you haven't." He smirked. Negan gave my neck a kiss and pulled himself out of me. "You get some rest, I'll clean us up and then we can cuddle. When we wake up I'll make you anything you want, deal?"

"Deal."

Not how I expected my summer trip to go, but I'm very happy it ended like it did.

[tarithenurse]

Spark - 25

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shōbōtai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Angst, feels, danger, stubbornness. The usual. A/N: Manage to get myself pretty confused because it said I’d already posted 25 chapters on AO3 but here on Tumblr it only claimed 24...aaaand then I remembered posting the what-if directly in the story there but not here...so yeah! Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

25. Forged by fire

...   Reader   ...

Your brain is protesting as you wake up. No, scratch that. Your entire body is throbbing as you’re being jostled by each step of the one carrying. Benimaru. The scent and heat can only be his but it’s comforting to open the eyes and see the shock of dark hair flopping about, occasionally blocking the view of his right cheek bone. Somehow, probably with the help of Joker, you’ve been tied together, allowing your arms to hang limply over his shoulders while he supports your by wrapping his arms around your thighs. It’s not comfortable but it’s efficient.

“Wait,” Joker hisses from up ahead.

There’s very little light – barely enough to illuminate the obstacles littering the crumbled hallway – and you can’t see what has alerted the gangly man, but you feel the uncrowned king of Asakusa tense beneath you, his lungs slowly expanding as he takes in the surroundings.

“Hm. I smell it.”

Smell? Sniffing the air, you don’t pick up on anything much at first apart from Benimaru, dust; and your own need for a bath.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N], just stay calm.” He must have felt you stirring.

Nothing snappy comes to mind and it doesn’t matter because that’s when you realize that a curl of sulphurous stench is mingling with the air.

“Let me down.”

“You can’t stand on that leg,” he argues as Joker steps closer.

Already fumbling with the sash holding the two of you together, the idea of supporting the weight seems like a horrible idea. “It wasn’t an invitation to a discussion, Beni,” you growl, “I’ll hold you back if you carry me.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Stubbornly digging the fingers into your thighs, he’s probably stubborn enough to stick to the word.

Finally free of the restraints, you tug at his hair. “I’m only telling you to put me down for now.”

There are whispers now, low murmuring groans coming from both directions as if carried on the fumes. The lightest dust and ashes are starting to dance on the ground in spiralling patterns that clash and divide in mesmerizing patterns. They could have been fascinating to watch if it wasn’t for the temperature slowly rising.

“Do as she says, Shinmon,” Joker drawls, his eye fixed at a warm glow that has appeared in the distance.

Begrudgingly, the man sets you on the ground, careful to let you gain the balance on your good leg before letting go. It’s obvious on his face: one wrong move and he’ll sweep you off your feet. I’m so gonna use this to my benefit once we’re home. You decide to ignore the nagging sense of doubt and instead focus on the growing lights in either direction of the tunnel.

What at first was nothing more than a glow has now, beyond a doubt, taken shape of several flickering fires moving towards the same cluster of targets. Misshapen bodies cast their stretching shadows beneath the flames, obscuring dozens of shuffling feet as the pace begins to pick up. They know you’re there. They are hungry.

Glancing at the men, the darkness before them is illuminated in red and purple and the air around them is shimmering with heat.

“Let them get close.”

“Guess you’re too exhausted to think clearly, dear,” Joker chuckles but then hesitates as he sees your face, “...okay. Call it.”

...  Joker  ...

Smiling behind the collar, Joker recognizes the worry flashing across the other man’s face. It’s a bold plan and he isn’t sure it’s strictly necessary...but they can’t be sure what else they’ll be facing on their way out, so [Y/N]’s idea of preserving the would-be rescuers’ power for later makes sense.

“Lighten up...or not, actually,” he smiles wickedly at Shinmon, “let’s see what our girl can do, eh?”

The glare he receives from the captain is a logical response.

“[Y/N]...there’s no reason to push yourse-”

“I didn’t survive this shit just to be rescued like some fairy tale maiden.” The threatening purr combined with the half-dried blood makes her seem tantalizingly dangerous. “There’s no one to take out my revenge on, but at least I can clean up the mess I’ve made when I let the lab blow up too.”

Oh? That must be an interesting story...for later. Finding an adequate slab of broken concrete, he brushes it off and sits down. In one of the inner pockets of the coat is a pack wrapped in cellophane and he picks a cigarette from it, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. Aaah. The acrid taste fills him for a handful of seconds before it’s blown out through his nostrils together with the last hours’ worth of stress – he could almost chill for a moment if it wasn’t for Benimaru joining him by the boulder, sitting as relaxed as a statue about to crack.

“Has anyone ever told you t-”

“Shut up, Joker.”

The men relapse into silence. It’s not that the man with the hat doesn’t understand Benimaru’s sentiment: the girl’s in horrible condition and is using almost all her strength to stand, it seems. The white-clad ran from her. The image of a dying man clutching a bundle of hastily written notes is still clear in Joker’s mind. Abandoned a comrade together with a demon infernal...he didn’t think they could end it. It’s clear, though, that something did put it to rest, most likely causing the explosion at the same time. Show us what you’ve got, [Y/N).

...  Benimaru ...

Like lit matches, only their heads are burning as they rush forward. At first surging for whomever is nearest until a clear shout orders them to ignore the men.

“I am what you want!”

The way the infernals all zero in on [Y/N] it really looks like she’s right and as they swarm around, pushing closer but never able to touch her, he can barely see her until he stand up on the slab of concrete.

Eye glowing bright yellow even against the infernals’ blaze, she doesn’t flinch as charred fingers scrape against the air, trying to reach her. She stands, immovable, talking calmly as if they could understand her. Maybe they can. Yes, they absolutely can and some must be accepting what she says because they stop and wait without a sound. Wait for what? A few infernals continue their struggle only to be wrapped in the arms of those standing by until finally, none of them are moving more than their dead faces.

There’s a shift in the air as [Y/N] spreads her arms, smoke and heat pushed outwards by an unseen pressure and stilling the flames of the damned.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispers a second before tugging her fists tightly to the chest and plunging the Nether in darkness once more.

Benimaru can hear the muted sounds of clothing landing in heaps on the ground, the impact softened by dust and ashes, but the room is obscured by dark flakes filling the air to the extend that the glow from Joker’s cigarette nor the captain’s excellent vision can guarantee a view of the woman they came here for.

“Impressive,” the smoking man comments, snapping a fiery playing card out of nowhere to illuminate the space.

No one is listening to the compliment. The captain of Special Fire Force Company Seven is reaching out for the swaying figure of the woman he loves, barely making it over the heap of sooty jumpsuits in time to catch her as she collapses one more time.

“[Y/N]!” he croaks, frantically feeling for a pulse.

Eyelashes flutter for a brief second before she scrunches her face to look up at him. “Yeah yeah...I’ll let you carry me this time too.”

[waitimcomingtoo]

Oh My God, They Were Roommates

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You’re tired of denying your relationship in every interview, but Tom insists on keeping it a secret. Lucky for you, he’s terrible at keeping secrets

Masterlist

Secretly dating Tom Holland was not an easy job. You were his on and offscreen girlfriend, no people naturally wanted you to be together in real life. Towards the beginning of your relationship, you both agreed to keep it private. You’d managed to deny relationship rumors for over a year until you discovered something:

You and Tom were really really bad at keeping it a secret. 

Far too many times, you’d do or say something that confirmed your relationship. And far too many times, you’d have to go on twitter to say it was a joke and that you and Tom were just friends. You hated lying to your fans about the nature of your relationship, and Tom wasn’t fond of it either. You didn’t want to lie anymore. You were ready for the world to know. And yet, the worst secret keeper in Hollywood was determined to keep it a secret.

It all started with social media.

You had stirred up rumors that you and Tom were dating when you dyed your hair red after being cast as MJ and posted a photo of it, captioning it “Face it tiger…”. Tom couldn’t help himself from commenting “I hit the jackpot.” The Spider-Man and MJ reference did not go over people’s heads and the rumors were born.

“This would be such a cute way to confirm our relation.” You smiled as your scrolled through the comments of your picture. “We should tell them.”

“Not yet, darling. I’m not ready for the world to know.” Tom said, much to your disappointment.

“Okay. No, I get it.” You gave him a small smile and kissed his cheek, dropping the subject.

A few weeks later, you sent out a tweet that read, “Tom just hit a pothole so hard that he’s American now.”, leaving fans to wonder why you were together on your day off.

“They caught us. They know we’re on a date.” You said from the passenger seat.

“Friends can hang out on days off. That doesn’t mean we’re a couple.” Tom replied and you looked over at him.

“But we are a couple.” You reminded him, a little hurt at his phrasing.

“They don’t need to know that. I wouldn’t even respond to it. Don’t feed the flame.” Tom shrugged and shot you a smile. You faked a smile back and nodded.

“You’re right. I won’t respond.” You put your phone down and looked out the window, hoping he couldn’t sense your disappointment.

Then, it escalated to interviews.

“Does your friendship ever interfere with shooting the romantic scenes? Like, were you ever shooting a cuddling scene or a date scene where you were grossed out because you had to do romantic things with your friend?” The interviewer asked. You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony.

“Was it weird to do romantic things with my friend Tom? That’s a great question.” You said and Tom laughed from beside you, also seeing the irony. “It was pretty weird since we are such good friends.”

“The best of friends.” Tom egged on.

“Definitely.” You gave an over exaggerated nod. “He’s like family to me.”

“Like brother and sister.” Tom added and you burst out laughing. Tom laughed at your reaction and suddenly, you’re both hunched over laughing while the interviewer watched with a confused smile.

“I don’t think it was weird.” You said after you calmed down. “I have such a respect for Tom and I really admire his work as an actor, and I assume he feels the same for me-“

“More or less.” Tom joked.

“-so it wasn’t too bad.” You finished and elbowed him slightly.

“Was the first time you kissed awkward?” The interviewer asked.

“In the movie or-“ Tom began, forgetting the rest of the world didn’t know that you’d have a first kiss as Peter and MJ and a first kiss as a couple.

“No, it wasn’t awkward.” You quickly cut him off before he blew your cover. “At the end of the day, we’re both professionals and it’s just kissing. We do it all the time now.”

“Sometimes off screen. And that’s not a joke.” Tom brought up. “Especially during filming, I would sometimes forget we weren’t actually together and I’d walk into a room and kiss her.”

You smiled at the memory, remembering all the stolen kisses before you’d made it official.

“How did everyone else react?” The interviewer asked.

“They acted like it was completely normal.” You answered.

“Because for us, it was.” Tom shrugged.

“I will say, it did get complicated kissing you when were were shooting our reunion scene in Endgame because I had to be careful of your balls.” You said.

“What?” Tom nearly gasped. You realized how it sounded and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Motion sensor balls. The little white motion sensor balls.” You quickly explained. “Oh my God. I meant the balls on the motion caption suit.”

“I was about to say.” Tom laughed at your accident innuendo.

“Ask the next question, please.” You pleaded to get out of the awkward moment.

“So did you guys meet through this movie?” The interviewer saved you.

“Yes. We met while filming Infinity War when no one had any idea our characters were going to date.” You answered confidently to redeem yourself.

“We were always paired together for junkets and she gradually became my best friend. Sorry Haz.” Tom apologized to the camera.

“It’s great that you guys were able to click. Your chemistry in the movie is really outstanding.” The interviewer complimented. “I’m sure that’s due to the friendship you’ve built off screen.”

“Yeah, I mean it always helps to be friends with your scene partner. And when we would have to spend hours in a prop bed together, cuddling and kissing while they got the perfect shot, it made us even closer. And as for the chemistry, I guess it kinda happened naturally.” You smiled shyly.

“Here’s a clip from the upcoming film.” The interview said to the camera. A scene from Far From Home played where Peter and MJ awkwardly yet adorably flirting with each other on the London Bridge. You couldn’t help but lovingly watch Tom as the clip played, overly proud of his job in the film.

“We do have great chemistry.” Tom nodded after the clip played. “We should date.” He added and you laughed.

“The fans would love that. I’m sure you’ve seen the campaigns online for you two to get together.” The interviewer remarked.

“We’ve seen it. Or at least, I have. Have you?” You asked Tom.

“I started the campaign.” Tom deadpanned.

“Oh, okay.” You nodded causally. You both kept a straight face for as long as you could before you burst into laughter. You curled into Toms side and laughed until your sides hurt.

“So is this really just a friendship? Nothing more?” The interviewer asked skeptically.

“No. We’re just really good friends.” Tom said firmly. You smile slowly faded and you gave a curt nod. For the rest of the interview, you were in autopilot. Every time you thought Tom was ready to tell the world, he hit you with the “just friends” line. It wasn’t him calling you “friend” that hurt you. It was him saying “just”. Every time he said it, he chipped into your heart. It hurt you to hear him play your relationship off as “just” anything.

At the next interview with Jimmy Kimmel, you had a bigger slip than usual.

“I love the pants Tom.” Jimmy complimented a few minutes into the interview. “But I do miss you in the Spiderman suit.”

“Oh, thank you.” Tom smiled and smoothed out his grey patterned pants. “My girlfriend picked them out.” He said causally. His eyes widened and you did your best to keep a neutral expression.

“Girlfriend?” Jimmy asked with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, Uh, yeah. I’ve been seeing someone for a while now. I wasn’t supposed to let that slip so no one tell her.” Tom grimaced before looking into the camera. “Sorry, baby. She is really good at fashion though. She picked out most of my outfits for the press tour.”

“Well I have to say, your girlfriend has great taste.” Jimmy said.

“Thank you.” You answered, then cleared your throat to cover up the slip up. Tom caught your mistake and stifled a laugh.

“What was that, Y/n?” Tom asked coyly, knowing full well what you had accidentally said.

“I said she’s gonna kill you.” You lied through a smile.

“You’ve met her?” Jimmy asked you and you thought quickly on your feet.

“Oh yes. I know her very well.” You nodded. It wasn’t a total lie. You knew yourself pretty well.

“So you guys are friends?” Jimmy continued.

“No. I cannot stand that girl.” You laughed and Tom rolled his eyes. If he wasn’t gonna admit that his girlfriend was you, you were gonna have some fun.

“Here we go.” Tom sighed and the audience laughed.

“Why not?” Jimmy inquired.

“Because all she does is talk about herself.” You said. Tom laughed the irony and you giggled yourself.

“Well what about you? Do you have a boyfriend?” Jimmy asked.

“I do have a boyfriend but he’s the worst.” You confirmed. Tom gave you a half cracked smile.

“What?” He asked, practically daring you to go on.

“Why do you say that?” Jimmy laughed.

“He can’t keep a secret to save his life.” You shrugged. “Except the one. He’s really good at keeping one.”

Tom knew exactly what you were doing and he couldn’t even blame you. He didn’t say anything, but patted your knee and left his hand there.

“So he’s like Tom then?” Jimmy said. “Tom, you’ve become infamous in Hollywood as being loose lipped.”

“He is not loose lipped, his lips are very nice.” You defended and Tom smiled shyly. “He just gets too excited and lets things slip.”

“Like you during that one scene.” Tom spoke up. You knew what he was talking about and your face reddened.

“Stop.” You warned.

“What did she let slip?” Jimmy wondered.

“Oh My God. This story is so embarrassing.” You whined as you covered your face in your hands. Tom laughed at your discomfort and took your hand.

“We were shooting the “steamy”, as one night call it, scene in the film and she was supposed to say “Peter”, you know my characters name, in like a breathy voice.” Tom explained.

“I’d like to preface that this was an accident.” You cut in.

“So we’re shooting the scene and right in my ear she goes “Tom…I mean Peter”. But the whole thing comes out in like a moan and I thought it was the funniest thing ever.” Tom told the story.

“It was so embarrassing! The whole crew heard.” You groaned while Tom and the audience laughed at your expense.

You and Tom walked into your shared hotel room after the interview and allowed yourselves to relax. While you were setting your purse down on the bed, Tom came behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You leaned into his embrace and smiled.

“That went a lot better than I thought. If people think we’re dating other people, they’ll stop asking us if we’re together. This will totally throw them off.” Tom said and he kissed your temple. Your smile dropped as you turned around in his arms.

“Or, we could use this as an opportunity to tell them the truth about us. They know you have a girlfriend. Why not tell them that girlfriend is me?” You asked.

“Because my fans will come at you with a fiery vengeance. It’s better if they think you’re just my best friend. Trust me, darling, you don’t want them to know it’s you.” Tom tilted your chin up to look at him.

“And trust me, Tom, I do.” You said, and left his embrace.

The next day, you pretended like nothing happened for the sake of all the junkets you had to get through. You could tell Tom was sorry from the guilty looks he kept giving you, but you wouldn’t look back at him.

“What’s the best part of the press tour?” The interviewer asked.

“Getting to spend all day with my best friend.” You laud the word on thick as you wrapped your arms around Toms neck and covered his cheek in kisses. He got your point and let you do it as his way of apologizing. The interviewer laughed along, knowing the effect your actions would have on the fans.

“It’s great that you two are best friends. Is this press tour similar to the Homecoming one where you had to spend all day with Robert?” Tom was asked.

“That was a lot different. Robert has more of a godfather role in my life. I can go to him for advice, but I can’t play table tennis with him at three am in the hotel lobby like I can with Y/n.” Tom answered. You were warmed back up to him and gave him a gentle smile.

“And what’s your relationship with him like?” The interviewer asked you.

“He’s like my dad. He used to carry bandaids around just because I got hurt so much on set.” You replied.

“I remember that. He was always prepared. I went to Robert once when I was sick and he hooked me up to this crazy machine. I was super scared but it’s Robert Downey Jr., so I wasn’t gonna say no.” Tom chimed in.

“He makes Marvel lower your paycheck every time you say no to him.” You joked.

“Exactly. So I let him hook me up to it and it totally cured me. I was better in 15 minutes.” Tom continued.

“Aw. That’s so funny to think of Robert playing doctor on set. I guess your relationship with him is similar to Tony’s relationship with Peter?” The interview asked Tom.

“Definitely, definitely. Minus the fighting crime together and dying in his arms, obviously.” Tom replied.

“Mr. Junior, I don’t feel so good.” You cut in with a laugh. Tom and the interviewer stopped and looked at you.

“What?” Tom asked with a growing smile.

“I said Mr. Junior, I don’t feel so good. Like Mr. Stark I don’t feel so good.” You explained. You looked at Tom in confusion as he and the interviewer shared a look.

“What?” Tom repeated.

“Because you said your relationship was similar so I said-“ You began.

“No, I heard what you said.” Tom cut you off. “Who’s Mr. Junior?”

“Robert.” You replied, still confused why everyone was making a big deal.

“It’s Mr. Downey.” Tom said and began to laugh.

“Why would it be Mr. Downey? You wouldn’t be Mr. Stanley. It’s the last name. Mr. Junior.” You said again, feeling yourself growing frustrated.

“Yes, and his last name is Downey. My middle name is Stanley.” Tom explained.

You sat in silence for a moment, contemplating what Tom was saying.

“Did you think his last name was Junior?” Tom broke the silence.

“No?” You said as more of a question than a statement.

“Have you seriously thought Roberts last name was Junior this entire time?” The interviewer asked, also laughing at you.

“I thought Downey was his middle name!” You shrieked.

“What?!” Tom asked and burst into laughter. You felt your face redden as the crew laughed at you as well.

“I thought he was Robert Downey Junior!” You said each name separately. “I thought he just used his full name like Neil Patrick Harris.”

“No.” Tom said in exasperation. “His fathers also named Robert so he’s Robert Downey Jr.”

“But he goes by RDJ! That implies that the “J” is a part of his initials.” You exclaimed.

“I cannot believe we’re having this conversation right now.” Tom said as he wiped a happy tear from his eye.

“How did you think I feel?” You asked.

“I can’t handle this. You’re so ridiculous.” Tom choked out through his laughter. “I love you.” You restrained yourself from telling him you loved him back, knowing you couldn’t possibly make it sound platonic.

“Aw.” The interviewer gushed. “You two are such cute friends.”

“Yeah.” You gave a tight lipped smile. “Friends.”

As the press tour neared its end, your ability to keep the secret worsened.

Tom gave you a quick kiss on the lips before the cameras started rolling. The interviewer almost caught it, but you pulled away quickly before he could.

“What is that?” Tom asked as you bite into something orange sometime during the junket.

“A carrot.” You shrugged as your chewed.

“Where did you get carrots?” Tom laughed in confusion.

“The snack table outside.” You replied as you ate another one.

“There’s a snack table? Oh, that’s why you tasted like peppers.” He realized. Neither of you realized what he said but the interviewer raised an eyebrow.

“You know I can’t resist some peppy boys.” You told him. “That better be cut out.” You warned the camera.

“You say that every interview.” Tom pointed out.

“It feels warranted every interview.” You giggled. “You know I debated stealing some of the pineapple from the snack table to take home?”

“Of course you did. You and your smoothies.” Tom rolled his eyes.

“I love smoothies! Is that a crime?” You turned in your seat to ask him.

“Yes! You drink a smoothie every morning and then get hungry twenty minutes later. You guys, she does not eat enough.” Tom said to the camera.

“It’s better than you and your thirty jars of jelly in the refrigerator because someone can’t go a day without toast.” You shot back.

“Oh, do you guys live together?” The interviewer asked in surprise.

You and Tom blinked in surprise at accidentally revealing that fact.

“Uhh, yeah. We’re um…” You started.

“Roommates.” Tom said quickly. “I live in the UK but I work mainly in the States, so I live with Y/n when I’m here.”

“Roommates? How cute.” The interviewer smiled.

“Just adorable.” You mumbled.

You dropped your purse on the hotel bed that night and put you hands on your hips. Without even looking at you, Tom could sense you anger. He sheepishly looked up at you and gave you a weak grin.

“I’m sorry?” He offered.

“For what?” You demanded.

“I don’t know. You haven’t told me yet.” He said.

“Roommates? You told him we were roommates?” You asked, not bothering to mask the hurt in your voice.

“Well why else would we live together?” Tom defended his answer.

“I don’t know, maybe because we’ve been in a committed relationship for over a year.” You grumbled. Tom heard the frustration in your voice and and put a gentle hand on your arm.

“But they don’t know that, darling.” He said softly.

“But I want them too. You keep pushing back telling our fans. You said we’d tell them before the press tour.” You said, feelings tears rise to your eyes.

“Yes, but then I realized all the interviews would focus on our relationship and not the movie.” Tom reminded you. “We needed to promote the movie.”

“No one needs to promote Marvel movies! They’re Marvel movies!” You exclaimed.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this, sweetheart. We agreed not to tell our fans.” Tom tried to talk you down.

“We agreed not to tell our fans right away. It’s been a year Tom. Do you not want them to know?” You sighed.

“I like my privacy, love. I don’t want the world intruding on us. I love you too much to share.” Tom cupped your face in his hands but you looked away.

“You say you love me, but tell the world I’m nothing but a best friend.” You said sadly. “Or worse, a roommate.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, angel. I’m sorry.” Tom apologized. You dropped the subject and went to bed without another word. You were cold towards Tom all the next day until your interview that night, the last of the press tour.

The media frenzy of rumors came to an end during a game of Charades on Jimmy Fallon. You were on Jimmy’s team, leaving Tom and Benedict as your opponents. You shot flirty banter back and forth all game until finally, your team won.

“Haha.” You pointed a jeering finger at Tom as you got off the couch and approaching him. He had his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you with pure joy. “Just like the War of 1812, the British lost-“ You couldn’t finish your burn because Tom had pulled you into a kiss.

“Sorry, darling. You looked so cute up there. I couldn’t resist.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Wait, are you two together?” Jimmy asked, interrupting the moment. He was looking back and forth between you and Tom and the camera. You realized that the moment occurred on live television and suddenly felt shyer than you ever had before.

Tom looked at you, allowing you to be the one to confirm it after wanting too for so long. You looked into the camera and smirked.

“Truth is…I am dating Tom Holland.” You said in true Tony Stark fashion. The audience irrupted into applause and you couldn’t stop your smile from breaking through. Tom looked at you fondly and pulled you into a hug.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You mumbled against his chest.

“Yes I did.” He whispered into your ear. “love my privacy, but I love you more.”

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[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Astor nodded. He and paced the hall and muttered under his breath.

“I see...I never meddled in the realm of technology...but to think that Sheikah Technology could hold such a secret.” He tapped his chin, staring at the astrolabe on the other side of the dungeon bars. “I suppose it makes sense. The advanced accomplishments and feats that such technology is capable of...it’s only naturally that it is powered by unconventional means.”

Siv spun the Sheikah Core on his index finger like it was a ball. “Yeeeep. I’m guessing that’s what allowed the super old dudes to beat the Calamity all those years ago.” He shook his head. “So, yeah. Dick Lord Ganon is gonna use that to turn the Guardians and Divine Beasts against us. And even if the science peeps keep researching into them...well.” He looked up at Astor. “Obviously, they would never figure out this crucial little detail even after a hundred years of science-ing. So this is our little secret, capiche?”

Astor nodded again. If what Asivus was saying was true (And it was) then Hyrule were truly doomed. The Calamity would exploit this secret, and use it to flip the entire war on its head. This is what Ganon would use to turn the Divine Beasts against them.

If any of the researchers found out about this aspect of Ancient Technology, and adapted to it, then Ganon would lose his biggest advantage...and it might be possible to...

The seer quickly shook away the thought. No, even if they knew, the world would be helpless all the same when the Princess fails to awaken their powers. In fact, it would probably be more brutal if Ganon’s forces were reliant completely on the bludgeoning and stabbing that came with monsters. Machines would have avoidable patterns in a post-apocalyptic world, but monsters of malice would be exceptionally harder.

So yes...We keep this info from everyone. Especially Robbie and Purah and...

“How sure are you that no one else could figure this out?” Astor asked.

“Decently sure. I mean, it’d be pretty hard to guess such a crazy thing.” Asivus shrugged.

“Are you positive? Because I know my—” He stopped in his tracks, suddenly stumbling on his words. “I—in reference to random researchers—other non-specified—she’s not—Look. There are very talented and intelligent researchers across the kingdom, surely someone—”

“Did you say it yourself? Everyone’s way to arrogant around here!” Siv threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “No one’s gonna look for faults in their perfect little war machines! They shoot lasers, and don’t talk back. It’s a general’s wet dream. Even if someone figured out this secret, no one here would listen to them.” He waved his hand in a circle and gestured towards his half brother. “Case in point: You.”

Astor folded his arms and sighed. “Alright, fine. So that’s how the Calamity will turn the Guardians and Beasts against us. But what’s the actual execution of it all? The plan? What’s your play in this? How did the Guardians in the yard get corrupted?”

Siv was silent; thinking. He seemed to be endlessly swimming through thoughts and words and memories. The man fiddled with the discs surrounding the astrolabe, eyes drooping in misery. Interesting.

“I was supposed to make them. That’s what he wanted,” Asivus finally said. “Beast of water, lightning, air, and fire. Or, demons? Blights or something. Creatures that were to take on the Divine Beasts.They’re built slightly different than Guardians, so he needed a little something special to deal with ‘em.” He blew hair off his forehead with a huff. “It all sorta just came into my head in the minutes before I fucked up those Guardians, so the details come and go, but that’s the gist. I make the Blights, Ganon does his thing, then I wait at the Sanctum to achieve true happiness or whatever he was bullshitting.”

“But you failed.” Astor interjected. “You failed to make the blights, and thus today’s calamity failed. At least, in this timeline.” Siv opened his mouth to object, but he continued to think outloud. “The Guardians were a fluke, then. You were not capable of creating Blights, but wielded enough malice to corrupt a Guardian. Although that brings into question how you control malice to begin with...and why you were chosen specifically for the task...”

Asivus was silent again, spinning the astrolabe on the floor. Astor observed him for a moment.

“Is he speaking to you? At the moment?” The seer asked. “Every time you fall silent is when you start looking down at that device. That thing I can correctly assume is the instigator of all this, given that you look at it every time I ask about the recent Guardians you ruined.”

Asivus narrowed his eyes at him, annoyed at being so readable.

“Ganon isn’t in your head, as you said you were overcome with this information in the minutes you truly held that astrolabe and walked by the Guardians.” He thought back. “Earlier before the incident you said you had a dream, and then you found the astrolabe? You leave it on your desk as a paper weight, before developing the decent moral to drop off a potential lost item to the Sheikah. But then you were holding the astrolabe in proximity to the Guardians, and subsequently are suddenly given the revelation to the Calamity’s plan...”

He locked eyes with him. “Combine that with the truth about all Sheikah Technology itself...and the fact that your eyes only change when that core is in your possession...”

Astor walked closer and gripped one of the bars, calmly. “That astrolabe is the link between you and the Calamity. It speaking to you through it. It’s lending you the power to control malice. It’s a manifested vessel of Ganon’s ill intent for this world...perhaps made of whatever malice plagues yourself. Perhaps he chose you for the job because you’re brimming with his favourite substance.”

Assivus started at the seer, and blinked once. Astor took that as confirmation, but asked anyways: “Am I wrong?”

Siv bit his tongue for a moment, before sighing in defeat. “You’ve got Ligero’s mannerisms down to the T. The perceptiveness nearly makes me wish I had actually paid attention to his parenting attempts.”

Something twisted inside Astor at that comment, and his voice grew a dangerous edge. “I’m nothing like him.”

“It’s alright, don’t take it personally. I just have a love-hate relationship with smart people.”

“Tsk.” The prophet stared down the corridor in thought. “Don’t we all.”

“But you’re wrong about one thing.” Siv added, and he looked up at Astor with a new seriousness. “I didn’t ‘fail’ to make the blights.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t fail to make the blights, I didn’t want to.” Asivus raised his voice, and rolled the astrolabe to the other side of the cell. “You can’t fail something you never really attempted in the first place.” He winked. “I mean, that’s been my philosophy on life for the last 15 years, heh.”

Astor blinked in surprise. “But...why? The world is doomed, and you were handed a position of life and power on a silver tray. Chosen above anyone else.  Why wouldn’t—?”

“I didn’t do it because I’m not like you, pissface!” Siv snapped. “I jump outta my socks to make a selfish decision. I don’t just run away from any inconvenience in my life.”

Astor nearly laughed. “Oh? And what exactly is it that you do, then? You’re really going to preach to me, Mr. Assivus Asunder?”

“YEAH! That name is exactly why I decided this!” He waved his arms in the air, and gestured to himself as he slumped against the wall. “Taking action and fighting for anything, regardless of what, sucks ass. Initiating change? Bad. Acting on what you care about? No likey.” Siv pounded his chest proudly. “The ideal ending for Asivus Ex-Hartell is to just chill out, and wait for the end. Drink in hand!”

He raised his empty flask, but nonetheless pretended to drink.

Astor frowned, but let the distant drip of leaking water echo in the corridor.

He watched Siv for a few more minutes, silently tapping his fingers on his elbow.

“You still care about your brother.”

It was a good think his flask was empty, as otherwise he would have spit out his drink. Siv angrily sputtered. “The fuck does that have to do with anything—?!”

“Why are you just relaxing in there after all this time?  You think you deserve this? Don’t want to be a burden for others?” Astor looked him up and down.

“Listen, you little shit. I know at this point it shouldn’t be a surprise that my family is made up of asshole, but—”

“You know when I first saw you around the castle, I did recognize you. The eyes, you see. But of course, I didn’t see the need to trouble you with my story, but I did watch you.” The prophet sneered. “Dear Asivus Hartell, sneaking into town to share a peach cobbler with his niece. Assivus Asunder, teaching his nephew to shield surf, and trying to encourage him down a more righteous path than his own. The Royal Orator Siv, who thanks his little brother for taking care of him by spending four hours making perfect hand drawn rat doodle cards.” Astor leaned down with a smirk. “You’re not the only one who paid attention to the captain’s birthday presents.”

“Alright get to the point, fuckface.” He waved the prophet off. “What? I screw around with my dumb family. What’s it gotta do with anything?”

“It means that for all your talk of laying down and dying and giving up, your action seems to indicate that you don’t actually believe that.” He jabbed a finger at Siv through the bars. “Or at least you don’t fully. Maybe you don’t want to. So don’t go blathering about your sorry life, only to try and insult me in the next minute. This isn’t about your apathy. You’re just scrambling at this low bar Ganon gives you as you drool the rare opportunity to unequivocally be an undeniably good person. You just want to tell yourself you’re a hero.”

Quiet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“OK.” Asivus curled his lip. “I didn’t want to join Ganon, because I’m still stupidly trying to not be an asshole. I’m too much of a wuss to commit to the dickhead role I was probably meant to fulfill. I’m pathetically trying to keep control over my image—is THAT what you want to hear, magic man? Congratu-fucking-lations. You turned the tables, you can see how pathetic I am and can feel better about yourself. How do ya feel?” The astrolabe had rolled by Asivus’ lap, and gold speckled in his eyes.

Astor sighed and answered honestly. “...Well. I’m envious, truth be told.” Siv blinked, but let him continue. “I haven’t bothered trying to be a hero my whole life, much less have such a driven (and these days useless) hunger to be ‘good.’” The seer shook his head, staring down the hall again. “I’m envious, but I do think you’re a fool. I’d take the opportunity to wield the future in a heartbeat, no matter the consequences.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Siv chuckled. “This malice stuff is fucked up.”

“Only because you don’t understand it.” Astor replied, offended. “I’ve studies it for years, and it’s often misunderstood. There’s a beauty and usefulness to it, even detached from the Calamity. You’re just not intelligent enough to get it, I understand. ‘Love-hate relationship,’ like you said.” He snorted.

“Are you sick?! This Ancient Core thing made me walk through so many shitty memories and thoughts...I wouldn’t walk through that again to end OR save the world.”

“Again. All due to your plight of ignorance. It’s not your fault.”

Asivus rolled his eyes. “You know what? Why don’t you explain it me then?! If you’re so excited about it? Talk aaall about how I’m not fit to properly wield this and how pathetic I am?”

Siv dangled the astrolabe in the air between his fingers.

“Go on! Explain how great this malice is, and maybe then if you’re so eager I’ll just leave the thing in your care!”

[thegreatestofheck]

The Girl with No Heartbeat ⊰JJ Maybank⊱

(gif not mine. All credit to siren!) 

Find the other parts here!

Word Count - 5362 Warnings - Mild swearing Synopsis - After a near death experience, JJ is saved by a girl in the water. When he and the Pogues find her washed ashore the next day, they are more than surprised to discover that she isn’t your everyday girl. A/N -  I’m pausing your daily uploads of Ocean and Alcohol for this. It’s mostly based off of that one quote by John B in episode one where he says something about JJ going after any girl with a heartbeat, so here’s him going after a girl without one. Also, I wanted to write a mermaid AU, so. Let me know if you want to see more of it!

The first wave crashed into JJ with a startling force. The second snapped the tether keeping him attached to his surfboard. He tumbled under the water, the current pulling him down and out deeper into the ocean. All he could think of as the water pounded against him, keeping him down, was that he was going to drown and no one would know what had happened to him. He tried to kick his way to the surface, but by the time the waves stopped beating down on him, he wasn’t sure which way was up. Suspended in the open ocean, his mind starting to dull as his lungs screamed, JJ remarked to himself how peaceful it all really seemed. He could barely hear the waves up above, as the ocean continued its usual pattern. His presence didn’t disturb anything in the end. The waves still crashed against the shore, the wind still blew through the trees. Everything was at ease in the face of his death.    So he thought. He was seconds away from opening his mouth, letting the water flood into his lungs. There was no point in prolonging what he already knew was coming. He knew this day was coming, but now that it was here, he wasn’t sure he was ready to die. There was someone else in the water who agreed with him. Just before JJ gave in, a girl swam up to him. Her hair was dark as the night, billowing out around her. JJ tilted his head to the side at the sight of her. He was sure he had never seen anyone so beautiful before. Hold on to me. A girl’s voice whispered in his head. He heard it clear as day, but the girl in front of him wasn’t moving her mouth. She grabbed him around the waist, tucking her arms under his and took off toward the surface. JJ had never moved so quickly through the water in his life. He knew that there were people who could swim quickly, but to swim this fast carrying another person, that should be impossible. He saw the light from the surface approaching and when he glanced down to the girl’s face, he saw something in her eyes that looked like...grief. As they were nearing, he felt the girl push harder, her face set in stone. When they finally broke through the surface, it was like shattering through glass. JJ felt his body leave the water and then slam against the shore, coughing and spluttering water out of his lungs. He flipped himself onto his back, waves lapping at his feet. He looked back to the water, which was now even wilder than before. If the girl was with him when they left the water, she should be somewhere. But he was the only one on the beach and the tide was rising steadily. He lay there for a few more minutes, waiting to see if her body washed up on the shore. But there was nothing. She was gone. *** “You’re crazy,” Pope said the next morning as he walked beside JJ on the very same beach. “I’m telling you, the girl saved my life,” JJ told him. “You believe me, right Kie?” Kie turned around, walking farther ahead with John B. She smiled at JJ and nodded. “Course I believe you.” 

“What did she look like again?” John B asked from the front. “Well,” JJ said, rubbing the back of his next. “She had, like, hair? And this face, I mean, wow.” 

“Hair...and a face,” Pope said with an “over-it” kind of expression. “Great.” “I didn’t really have the time to check her out since I was, I dunno, dying!” “You really can’t remember anything, bro?” JJ shook his head. “Real helpful, JJ,” John B said, running a hand through his hair. “Give me a break!”

“Guys,” Kie called, yards ahead of them. “It’s not like we had anything else important to do today,” JJ grumbled, kicking a piece of driftwood. “My dad wanted help today and now I gotta spend all of tomorrow doing it because we’re chasing after a hallucination!” “Guys!” Kie cried out before JJ could respond. “I found something.” JJ ran over to where Kie was, pointing away from them. At first, it was nearly impossible to see, but as the wind shifted, they could all see what looked like fingers buried in the sand. “Oh my God,” John B breathed. JJ took off toward the body, Kie right on his tail. When they got to the body, it was half-buried in the sand. It was obvious from what little of the body that peaked out through the sand that it was a girl buried there. All four of them dropped to their knees, trying to dig her out of the sand. Once they had her half unburied, Kie yelled at them to stop. “What, Kie?” JJ asked, continuing to scoop sand away from her legs. Kie grabbed his wrist, stopping him from going any further. “She doesn’t have any clothes on, JJ,” Kie said. “So?” JJ shook his head as John B and Pope stood slowly. “How would you like it if you washed up on shore naked and woke up to a group of girls staring down at you?” JJ considered it for a second, tilting his head to the side. Kie glared at him and swatted at his hand. “I’ll finish unburying her. Just, give me your sweaters of something,” Kie said. JJ huffed and stood, walking over to where Pope and John B had turned their backs. All three of them pulled off their sweaters and tossed them backward toward Kie. She got the girl fully out of the sand, rolling her onto her back before laying the sweaters over her. “Okay,” Kie said, kneeling beside her. JJ spun around and looked at the girl. He recognized the hair first, black as the night. Her eyes were closed, so he couldn’t tell if it was the same startling green, but from the rest of her face, he knew it had to be her. “That’s her, yeah. That’s the girl that saved my life,” JJ said, looking up at Pope and John B. Pope knelt down beside her, pressing his fingers to her neck. “What are you doing?” John B asked, standing behind Pope. “Checking for a pulse.” “JJ,” Kie said, pushing herself to her feet. “If this is the girl that saved you then she’s been out here since last night.” “What are you saying?” “There’s no pulse,” Pope said with a sigh before Kie could say anything else. Pope dropped his hand back into the sand, looking up at JJ. “What?” Kie and JJ turned back to the girl, looking down at her. “There has to be,” JJ said, locking his hands behind his head. This girl did not die for him. She couldn’t have. “You want to come down here and check yourself?” Pope snapped. “Look, man, I’m sorry-” “What the….” John B kneeled down slowly, looking at her neck. “What is it, John B?” Kie asked. “Her neck.” “What is that?” “There’s no way.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Are those...gills?” Once the word was actually said, Pope stood up and backed away, eyes wide.    “No way. That impossible!” “You look at her neck and tell me those aren’t gills, Pope.” “It’s scientifically impossible,” Pope said, shaking his head, hands tense. “Guys, look,” Kie said, pointing at her neck. As they all watched, horrified, as the gills on the girl’s neck began to close, starting to look more and more like normal skin with every second. “What the actual hell?” “If her body is doing that then she must still be alive!” JJ said. “You don’t know that,” Pope said, still standing a few feet away, arms crossed. “We can’t just do nothing,” JJ said. “For once, JJ’s right,” Kie said, nodding her head slowly. 

“Thank you, Kie!” JJ put his hands on his hips. “What can we possibly do to help her...it...her,” John B said, glancing between JJ and Kie and the girl. “We could give her mouth to mouth,” JJ suggested. Kie scowled up at him. “What? I’m serious.” “That might work,” Pope said, wagging a finger and stepping closer again. “I mean, if she’s used to breathing underwater with gills, then she’ll need help breathing air.” “So, who gives her mouth to mouth?” John B asked. “I should do it,” Pope said, raising a hand. “I know what I’m doing.” “No way, dude!” JJ protested. “She saved my life, now I’m going to save hers.” “No one wants to wake up from being unconscious and see your face, JJ. It should be me,” John B said, crossing his arms. “Bullsh-” Kie rolled her eyes, ignoring the boys as they argued over who was going to give the pretty fish-girl mouth to mouth. Kie had CPR training, she was probably the only one who actually know what she was doing. Without alerting the boys, Kie pinched the girl’s nose, tilted her head back, and put her mouth against the girl’s lips. She let out deep breaths, silently begging the girl’s body to take them. If JJ was right and this girl had saved his life, Kie knew he would never forgive himself if she died. Kie wasn’t going to let that happen. The girl’s eyes snapped open first. Then she gasped in a deep breath, sitting up so suddenly that Kie shrieked and fell backward. All three of the boys turned around, startled by the gasp and Kie’s scream. The girl gasped, sucking in shallow breaths. Her eyes were wide as her chest heaved, fists curling around the sand. The Pogues stared at her, none of them moving as she sat there, heaving. Slowly, Kie moved forward. She didn’t want to terrify the girl, but Kie knew that she would want to cover up before she exposed herself to the boys. JJ looked like he was going to step forward, but when Kie sent him a sharp look, he decided against it. The girl pulled her legs up to her chest, shivering against the cold morning air. All three of the boys’ sweaters had fallen off when she sat up, laying now by her feet. Kie grabbed one, JJ’s, and inched it closer to the girl, holding it out for her to take. When the sweater was by her knee, the girl finally looked up. The intensity of her sea-green eyes sent a chill down Kie’s spine, but she didn’t move. The girl slowly untensed her hand, lifting it from the soft sand to take the sweater from Kie’s hand. 

No one breathed. The boys watched from behind as the girl’s breathing started to slow, Kie sitting, nearly unmoving, just inches away from the strange girl. Once the girl pulled the sweater over her head, Kie sent another look toward the boys, giving them permission to move once again. “My name is Kiara.” Kie spoke gently, slowly, unsure if the girl even spoke English. “Do you understand English.” 

The girl nodded her head once, trembling still. Kie smiled at her. 

“Okay. What’s your name?” The girl looked down, giving her head a short shake. 

“You don’t know?” Another shake. “That’s alright.” “We should get her somewhere warm,” Pope said, startling the girl again. She turned around suddenly, backing away from the boys, her breathing speeding up once again. “You’re alright,” Kie said, hands out to stop her from backing into the ocean. “These are my friends.” The girl looked at each of the boys in turn. First Pope, who had spoken. He looked afraid, like the basis of everything he knew had just been shattered out from underneath him. The girl understood how he felt. She looked at the second boy, John B. He didn’t look afraid. Far from it. If anything, she thought he might want to dissect her, to figure out how she worked and what she was doing here. He looked at her and saw a mystery that he wanted to solve. But then she saw the last boy. His face was instantly familiar. She remembered seeing him floating there in the water, his eyes wide and unafraid. She could hear the ocean call from inside of him, the same call that pulled her to the ocean long ago. At the sight of his face, a smile tugged at the girl’s lips. “It’s you,” she breathed, her voice raspy from years of unuse. “You’re the boy in the water.” And then she passed out. 

***

“She is hot thought.” “God, JJ!” Kie dropped her head into her hands. “This is the first known interaction between a hominid-fish species and humankind and the first thing you do is check her out?” Pope sounded appalled, but he wasn’t really surprised. It was JJ after all. The girl lay in the back of their van, her head resting in Kie’s lap. She was curled up in JJ’s sweater with another blanket draped over her. Still, she shivered while she slept. “Should we tell someone we found her?” John B asked. “I mean, someone could be missing her.” 

“What would we say?” Pope asked, turning to John B from the front seat. “‘Oh, hey, we found this girl on the beach. Do you know anyone that might possibly be missing their fish-girl?’” “Besides,” JJ added, rolling a blunt mindlessly between his fingers. “We talk about her to anyone, next thing you know, the suits are pulling up and taking her away to experiment on her or whatever.” “She’s safer with us,” Kie agreed, gently running her fingers through the girl’s soaking wet hair. “Where can we take her?” Pope asked. “My house,” John B said. “Why your house?” JJ asked, scowling. “Because you barely live at your own house and Pope and Kie have actual parents who would probably turn her in if we brought her there. My house is pretty much the safest place for her.” “What, so you can have her around all the time? I don’t think so,” JJ laughed. “Dude,” John B looked at JJ in the rearview mirror. “I just want her to be safe is all.” 

They pulled up to John B’s house, moving as quietly as they could, but nothing about any of the boys was very quiet ever. JJ opened the side door and Kie helped him get his arms underneath the girl. He pulled her out of the van as Kie made sure that the blanket was still wrapped around her. JJ carried her toward the house while Pope and John B attempted to throw as many things into hiding places as they could. “Put her on my bed,” John B said, pushing open his bedroom door. JJ complied without complaining, setting her down on the bed. “Keep the blanket over her,” Kie said from the doorway. They pulled the blankets on John B’s bed over her. She continued to shiver violently. “We need more blankets,” Pope said, running back to the front room to grab the blankets off of the futon that JJ usually slept on. He threw them on top of her, tucking them underneath her as best as he could. They all watched her, but she didn’t stop shaking. “It’s not helping,” John B said. Kie stammered for a bit, pressing her fingers against her temple. “Uh, yeah, John B go boil some water and Pope, find a balloon or something. If we can get heat in by her feet it might help.” John B and Pope rushed off to do as Kie told them. JJ stood by the bed, his mind running a mile a minute. Here was the girl who had risked so much for him, dying from the cold. He remembered the look on her face as she pulled him to the surface, the look of sadness, sorrow. He wondered what she had left behind to save his life. JJ wasn’t going to let this girl die. Not after what she did. 

He threw the blankets back and crawled into the bed beside her. “What are you doing?” Kie asked, moving to shove JJ out of the bed. “Body heat,” he said. “We’ll share it. You too.” Kie raised her eyebrow at him, but she knew he was right. The shared body heat might just keep her alive. Kie slid into the bed on the other side of the girl. With the girl sandwiched between Kie and JJ, they felt her shivering slowly start to fade. Kie watched JJ grab the girl’s hand underneath the blanket. “She’s so cold,” JJ said, his voice quiet as if he was afraid to wake her up.  

“If she really is a fish person,” Kie said and then cleared her throat. “I imagine going from the water to the air was a huge shock to her system.” JJ nodded his head, curling an arm around the girl’s waist. Pope and John B came running in with a balloon full of hot water. “What-uh,” John B said. “What’s going on here?” “Body heat,” JJ and Kie both said at the same time. 

“Put the balloon under the blanket near her feet,” Kie said. “Then find a spot and get your asses under this blanket.” “We won’t all fit on the bed,” John B said as Pope did what Kie told him to. “Do you want her to die?” John B shook his head quickly. “Then get under the damn blankets.” It was a tight squeeze to get everyone under the blankets and onto the bed, but they somehow managed it. Kie wasn’t really sure if two extra bodies were helping any, but she could feel the girl start to shake less and less.  It took almost an hour for her shaking to go away completely. No one spoke the entire time, each of their hearts pounding with worry. If she died, then there would be a lot of explaining to do. Besides, she had saved JJ, which meant they all owed it to her to do everything they could to save her in return. Once Kie was convinced that the girl was no longer trembling, she tapped Pope on the arm. 

“I think she’s okay,” Kie whispered. Pope let out a quiet groan. Kie rolled her eyes. Had he really fallen asleep? “Pope?” Pope groaned again but rolled off the bed, allowing Kie to get up. When she walked around the other side of the bed, John B was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He made eye contact with Kie and she gave her head a short nod. He sat up slow and moved his legs off the bed. “JJ,” Pope whispered, but JJ didn’t stir. “JJ!” “I think he’s asleep,” John B said. He was right. JJ breathed softly, his arm dangled over the girl’s waist. Even with three fewer bodies, the girl still remained warm. “We should go,” Kie said. “Try and figure out what we’re going to do about her.”    “What about JJ?” Pope asked. Kie looked back to the bed. “Let him sleep.” 

*** The girl woke up first. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she peeled them open anyway. The room she was in was unfamiliar to her. She lay in a bed…. A bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept in a bed. So, saving the boy from the ocean hadn’t been a dream. She had made the decision. She left her brothers and sisters under the ocean and now she was stuck on land until she died. There was no going back for her.  A tear rolled from her eye, running down the bridge of her nose and dropping onto the sheets beneath her. She tried to remember the sound of Ira’s voice, her favorite sister. Ira was the prettiest of all of her sisters and because of that, she had the most kills. When the girl had first joined their family, Ira took her in, showed her the ropes. The girl would miss her sister, but for all her beauty and kindness and talent, Ira was still a murderer, like the rest of them. And the girl couldn’t take it anymore. She had every intention of leaving the ocean for land, but she didn’t have the means to do it until she saw the boy floating in the water. He was going to die, she couldn’t leave him. And she couldn’t save him without leaving the water. By saving him, she knew what she was leaving behind. Her mind was running through her time beneath the surface, trying to hold onto the little things she loved about all of her brothers and sisters. Lost somewhere in her memories, she felt someone shift beside her. The girl startled, sitting up quickly. She hadn’t realized that she was in bed with someone else. She tried to think back to what she could remember after she left the ocean. There was nothingness for a long while, just warmth. And then there was a girl and the boys on the beach. And then it was cold...so unbearably cold. That was it. She couldn’t remember anything else. When she looked over, there was a boy beside her. He was asleep on his stomach, his hands underneath the pillow. She couldn’t see his face because it was shielded by his long, blonde hair. The girl tilted her head to the side and leaned toward him to brush the hair from his eyes. As soon as her fingers grazed his skin, his eyes shot open. He sat up almost as quickly as she had, his arm covering his head. “No!” He called out, palms facing out toward her. “I’m...I’m sorry,” the girl said, voice still weak. “I will not harm you.” 

Slowly, the boy lowered his arms, eyes fixed on her. He dropped his hands suddenly into his lap, the look of fear on his face turning into a smile. “Hey!” He said. With his hair out of the way and his hands no longer shielding his face, the girl finally recognized him as the boy in the water. “It’s you,” she said again, the same smile pulling at her lips again. He had survived. “JJ,” he said, offering out his hand. The girl shook it with a smile. When she didn’t say anything, JJ narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “What’s your name?” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “I need to pick a new one,” she said as if everyone just randomly picked new names every now and again. JJ’s scowls deepened and he moved off the bed, standing by the door. “Hang on, let me get my friends,” JJ said. He stood and the girl nodded her head slowly, pulling her hands into the sweater she still wore. “She’s awake!” It took only a few seconds for the three others she remembered from the beach to flood into the room. The one who looked afraid, the one who wanted to solve the mystery, and the girl who saved her. “Hello,” she said to them all, smiling. “Damn,” the fearful one said. Pope, she remembered his name was. “She is beautiful.” The girl felt her cheeks heaten as she looked at her hands. “What happened to not hitting on her?” The girl, Kiara, seethed at Pope, slapping his arm with the back of her hand. Turning her attention back to the girl, Kiara lowered herself onto the edge of John B’s bed. “How are you doing?” The girl smiled and nodded her head. “I appreciate all that you have done for me,” she said. “Is there something we can call you?” Kiara asked. The girl shook her head. “I have had two names in two different lives. But now I am on my third and final life so I need a new name.” 

Pope sighed and put his head in his hands. There was that fear again. The girl knew that her existence did nothing but shatter his version of reality. The more she spoke, the more she would continue to do that. “What do you mean?” Kiara asked, her voice gentle. “I lived a human life long ago. They called me Anthea then. Anthea Steelheart. And then I became one with the sea and I joined my brothers and sisters. There they called me Apa. Now I have left the sea, never to return, and I must take a new name.” “We...we’ve never met someone from the sea before,” Kiara said, confusion evident in her voice. “Will you explain how it works?” The boys stood in confusion; JJ with his arms crossed, Pope with his eyebrows pinched together, and John B with his eyes narrowed in thought. The girl smiled and nodded her head. When she opened her mouth, her story began. 

***

Anthea Steelheart was born to Captain Amarylis Briarheart and her husband, Cael Stoneheart, aboard their ship, The Iron Anchor. She grew up among the scum of the earth, the scallywags and the heathens, the lords of the sea. They were her family and she would do anything for them. She got her last name by the age of 13, when she ran a man through with a sword. She carried the name ‘Heart’ from birth, but when she killed the man who was threatening the life of the cook with no hesitation, her parents gave her last name the prefix “Steel”. She worked alongside her mother and father, stealing cargo from European ships, cargo that was actually people. 

They were boarded one day by a British ship in retribution for stealing the passengers from one of their own. The Iron Anchor was overrun by British soldiers looking for punishment. Anthea watched the Commander of the British ship kill her father, watched as he went for her mother. There was no way Anthea was going to watch her mother die. So she ran at the British soldier, sword ready. The fight didn’t last long before she had his sword in her belly. She was dying. She was going to die. But she wasn’t going to die without taking the man who killed her father with her. She hooked her arm around his, stabbing her own sword through his stomach, pulling them toward the edge of the ship. She heard her mother scream, heard the British calling for their commander. But it was too late. The two of them tumbled overboard and into the deep ocean. Down, down, down they fell into the blue. Anthea watched the life drain from the Commander’s eyes. She could see her own blood swirling around her, light draining from her vision. She didn’t want to die, she didn’t want her life to end here. That’s when she saw it, the face in the water. It wasn’t the face of one of the men thrown overboard. It was a woman with a face like an angel. She approached Anthea, swimming up to her effortlessly. Do you want to live? Her sing-song voice whispered in Anthea’s head. Anthea nodded as best she could. The woman took her by the hand dragging her deeper and deeper into the water until there was only darkness. 

When she awoke, all she felt was numb. She didn’t realize that she would spend the rest of eternity feeling nothing; no cold, no warmth, no pain. Even when she thought of losing her father, of never seeing her mother again, didn’t bring her pain. She never once cried about it. They called her Apa. She was one of their best. With eyes like the sea itself and hair black as night, there were few who could resist her. She killed to feed herself and her family and it ate away at her day after day. Anthea knew the cost of returning to the surface. Once again live a mortal life. Never set foot in the sea again upon pain of death. Never see your brothers or sisters again. She knew the price and she took it anyway.

***

“You left your...family for me?” JJ asked once she finished. The girl nodded her head a few times, twisting the blankets in her hands. “I suppose so,” she said. “She has a higher body count than you do, JJ,” John B said, laughing at his own joke. Kiara threatened to kill him with her eyes. “We have to come up with a name for you,” Pope said as Kiara and John B argued about whether or not it was appropriate to joke about killing people and having sex. JJ was silent. “I would love a name,” the girl said. “Should we stick with ‘A’ names? I mean you’ve got Anthea, Apa….” Pope offered, sitting beside the girl. She tapped her chin with her finger. “We could, but there are so many letters in the alphabet to chose from,” the girl said. Pope could see her mind whirring with possibilities. There were a million names in the world, but which would work for her? “We could go simple,” John B said. “Something like...Sarah!” “No,” Kiara said instantly, her voice harsh. “That’s a stupid name. What about Emma?” The girl tested out on herself for a moment. Emma. Emma. Eventually, she shook her head. “What about something Greek, like Amphitrite?” “That’s a dumb, Pope,” John B said. “No one would know how to pronounce it.” “Okay, so Athena,” Pope offered. “She’s a boss ass bitch who doesn’t take shit from anyone.” The girl’s eyes widened, a smile pulling up her lips. “You have the mouth of a sailor, Pope,” she said as she leaned forward. “My parents expected me to keep my mouth clean, but I’ll tell you a secret. Around the other sailors, I had the worst mouth of all.” The boys smiled at her. Kiara letting out a sigh. 

“Athena was also the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy,” Kiara said. “It might be fitting.” “I knew a pirate by the name of Athena,” the girl said, sitting straight once again. “She was, in fact, a ‘boss ass bitch’ as you would say. I would feel strange taking her name.” “Okay,” Kiara said. “What about something space-y, like Jupiter?” The girl shook her said instantly. Her father had been the navigator on their ship, always talking about the stars and space, stacks and stacks of books about the universe covering his corner of their cabin. She couldn’t bear to carry the weight of one of the names her father loved so much. A few more names were thrown around that the girl didn’t really like. Her heart was starting to sink when none of the names stuck. She hadn’t been there for the name deciding process of her parents and she hadn’t known the process for choosing names amongst her siblings. Things seemed to be going sour, until JJ finally spoke up. “What about Mera?” He asked, lifting his head. Everyone looked up at him. “I read it in a comic once.” The girl considered it, mulling it over in her head. “A comic book name, JJ?” Kiara asked. “Isn’t that a little...strange?” 

“I like it,” the girl said suddenly, meeting JJ’s eyes with a smile. “Yes. Mera.” JJ smiled back. He shot a look at Pope, who glared at him. “Mera,” Kiara said and it was then that the girl knew the name was right for her. She wanted to hug JJ, hug them all, but she knew that she wasn’t wearing pants and if the world was anything like it was when she left, pants were often required before you hugged someone. 

“Thank you,” she said, looking around at the others. “For saving my life and then giving me my name. It is more than I could ask for.” 

The four of them smiled down at her, a warm feeling spreading in her chest at the sight of them. “It’s no problem. You’re one of us now,” Pope said. “Yeah,” John B continued with a smile. “Welcome to the Pogues, Mera.” She wasn’t sure what a pogue was but somehow, it felt like family. 

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

The reader is a best selling author and her book is about all her past lovers (Erik is one of them)

Smutty, Flashback, Dark

It’s hard writing Erik with a nickname besides killmonger so I am sorry in advance if his name pops up when it’s not supposed to LOL. Enjoy Loves!

Y/N was afraid to come out with this book but her team insisted that she did. They said it was one of her best works yet. Y/N did agree but there was one particular person in that book that she didn’t want to know about her writing. Y/N went along with it anyway because she needed the new book to do well since her royalties were getting low from other published works. That was over three months ago. Now, she was still doing interviews and signing autographs in New York and Los Angeles book shops. Her face was on TV, in magazines, and in Time Square in Manhattan, New York. He knew... he had to know.

Y/N’s book was an erotic tale about her past lovers. She gave each of them pseudonyms to protect their identities. The title was called Concupiscent. It means lustful or desire. This wasn’t like the poetry or erotic romance tales...this was very smutty and so nasty you couldn’t go a second without touching yourself. The fan mail she received was outstanding. Especially from the BDSM community. It was all thanks to him... F-16. He was the last chapter in her book filled with past lovers.

He was nicknamed F-16 because the one thing he told her was that he flew an F-16 Fighter Falcon Jet in the Military. His story got the most hits out of all of them. People were dying to know who F-16 was.

-I need F-16 in my life! He fucked you so well I could feel that shit myself!

-could you please share with me who F-16 is? He sounds so sexy.

-are you still in touch with F-16? If so you are a lucky woman, Y/N.

-F-16 fucked you real good!

-all of the chapters were amazing! Nothing surprising but that F-16!!! Girllllllllll I need more of him! Write an entire book with just him and I’d give you all my money!

-The book club loves the story! A lot of us reread F-16 while sipping our wine LOL. Very sexy chapter.

“You see, Erik, they can’t get enough of you,” Y/N spoke to herself within her penthouse while reading fan mail. She sipped her glass of red wine with enthusiasm. Y/N couldn’t deny the fact that she missed Erik deeply. It was just a one night stand but goddam...the shit needed to happen more than once. However, Erik was very secretive with his life. He was also very upfront and told her what he wanted: some pussy...

July 8th, 2019:

F-16.

She lived for nights thick with lust.

Angel Face wasn’t so much an angel anymore.

She yearned to be seduced and destroyed.

She was tired of delicate kisses and romantic evenings.

No...Angel Face wanted something harder; vicious even.

The Blaze was a rather chancy bar. Y/N sat on a bar stool on her fifth shot of Blue Sapphire Gin with her finger twirling a strand of her sleek silk pressed hair. Maybe she didn’t have enough to drink. She was already talking herself out of this mess. Her stomach did summer salts and her fingers fiddled with the hem of her short red mini halter dress. Such a slutty choice of attire. She nibbles the corner of her bottom lip as her amber-colored eyes scanned the bar for a potential man to take her home and fuck her hard and rapid. She didn’t want timid strokes, she wanted back-breaking strokes. Y/N needed a man who looked at her as she rested before him with her divine body exposed for him and thinks to himself, what kind of noises would I like her to make? 

“OHHHH!” 

Thunderous drunken applause came from Y/N’s right. She looked over at the small group with immense curiosity. A group of men that looked very hazardous and unsafe. Even the women who entertained them looked a little wary. They were all tall and muscular. Men who could snap your neck with a simple squeeze. 

“Can I have another shot of Gin?” She asked the same punk rock bartender who gave her the last five she had.

“Foxy,” He nicknamed her since she settled at the bar, “You’ll pass out and I don’t want your pretty face on this bar.” 

“I can handle it, trust me,” Y/N pleaded.

“Fine, I warned you.”

He poured her the shot she asked for.

Y/N threw it back and accepted the sweet burn.

“Whew,” she pinched her lips together, “That really hit the spot,” she let out a drunken giggle, her breasts bouncing.

“Foxy,” The punk rocker gave her a playful smile, “Are you alright?”

She gave him a goofy grin, “never better,” her words slurred slightly.

The Punk Rocker gave her a bottle of water, Y/N taking it thankful that the bartender was being thoughtful.

Y/N turns back around focusing on that corner again. There were dartboards on the wall and a pool table but instead of the men throwing darts they were throwing daggers. Y/N flinches in her seat. Sharp toys...spine-chilling. Her body felt hot all over. The alcohol seemed to make her hyper-aware of all the predatory eyes on her. All different types of men staring at her like a pack of wolves. 

“You’re too delicate for this bar, Foxy.”

Y/N could agree with that but she was tired of that label. Why couldn’t she be risky and wild? Y/N was doing it now. That dance floor surrounded by low lighting was calling her name. She could twirl her hips and shake her ass into a sweaty frenzy. Finger comb her hair to show off her sex appeal, lock eyes with a man just to tease him and make him consider going to the urinal to buss a load. Bend over to show her lack of panties. Yes…she didn’t have on panties but she did bring a pair in her clutch just in case. Y/N could be heaven or hell. A strong man’s dream and a weak one's nightmare. 

“That a boy F-16!” 

Y/N’s eyes darted back over to the group of intimidating men, resting on whoever F-16 could be. She hoped this was him. He was honestly the only good-looking man in that bar. 6 ‘3, 225 lbs of lean muscle. He wore a tactical black utility vest, black long sleeve fitted henley, cargo pants in a black and grey camouflage pattern and black timbs. 

“Watch out, Damion, I don’t wanna end up aiming for your head,” F-16 spoke while rotating a Kunai throwing knife in his hand. All eyes were on him in that moment to see if he would miss or actually hit the bullseye. 

“Any day now, F16,” Damion rushes him while downing the rest of his beer. F-16 gave him a death glare before turning back to the dartboard, arm coming up and forward swiftly. The throwing knife whizzes past Damion, almost slicing the top of his ear and landing straight for the damn bullseye. The area exploded with cheers, yells, and ferocious pats on the back. The women clapped delicately while staring at F-16 with sultry eyes. Y/N could relate to those stares as well. He was...so damn...fine. However, if he was around those types of men that means he’s equally as dangerous. 

Don’t do it, Y/N...

“Hey, could you watch my bag for me? I feel like dancing.”

The punk rock bartender squinted his eyes covered with black eyeliner, “alright, Foxy, don’t get yourself hurt out there.”

Y/N stepped off of the stool, giving the bartender a sassy look, “who would want to hurt all this?” Her hands trailed up and down her tantalizing body, “I mean...fuck it maybe, but hurt…”

“I think I underestimated you, Foxy,” The bartender gave her a sly grin.

Y/N swiveled around in her heels. She made her way through the wild crowd and to the dance floor. They were playing decent music to dance to. She found a spot in the center and started at her own pace. Her eyes moved around her to take in all the men who savagely wanted to grab her. They looked ready to gang-bang her and she liked the thought of men salivating over her that intensely but Y/N wouldn’t bring herself to fuck a group of men...unless they all looked like F-16. Her hips moved in a circle to the deep base of the Afrobeat. She really liked the variety of music here. Of course, this caused all the black people to crowd the dance floor too. Y/N had her hands in her hair, on her thighs whenever she went low, on her ass when she let it jiggle and bounce. She was looking really scrumptious on that dance floor. 

It was as if the entire dance floor made a circle around her. She was in her own world now. Eyes closed, body moving with a skill that could make a grown man cry. She was giving her the best sexy performance. This had her adrenaline pumping. 

Behind every bad bitch is a sweet girl who got tired of everyone’s bullshit. 

“You’re the best fucking dancer I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” her heart skipped a few beats.”

“Name?” He raised a single brow at her as if to say oh, you’re gonna tell me your name, baby girl.

“Foxy.” She didn’t want to tell this man her real name. This was supposed to be a no strings attached ordeal. 

“You’re doing the damn thing, Miss Foxy.”

The way he said her newfound nickname had her toes curling. She was Angel Face no more. Not when this fine ass dangerous man stood before her. That’s right...F-16 was down for her. Y/N’s little performance sparked his interest. 

“You’re out here by yourself?” He got closer to her now. His dreads rested over his eyes almost and it gave him a wild look. 

“Yes, I came alone.” 

“Damn...to a place like this? you never come to a place like this alone, Foxy.” 

“...why?” She gave him a perplexed look.

“Because it’s filled with bad guys,” His eyes looked tricky, “None of that fake shit you see in movies, baby girl...the real lion's den.”

Y/N swallowed spit to soothe her dry throat. 

“I take it you’re one of those guys?”

“You wanna find out?” His precarious grin would be beautiful if it weren’t for his haunting words. Y/N came to find out. She wanted this. 

“Yes, if it’s with you, I’m down.”

He chuckles, “Shit...aight.”

He grabs Y/N’s hand, leading her towards the “bad guys” that she watched from the bar earlier. Some of them reeked of liquor breath and cigarettes, others smelled quite nice like F-16. The women in the area looked at her like she was competing with them. F-16 kept her close though, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting her between his strong thighs. She assumed he did this to show the other men that Foxy was his to play with. 

“This is Foxy. I found her shaking that thick ass on the dance floor.” 

She froze at that introduction. Y/N looked around at the group of men giving them a shy smile and a wave of her small hand.

“Nah, baby girl, introduce yourself,” His words were cutthroat and sharp in her ear.

“I’m Foxy, nice to meet y’all,” F-16′s hands gripped her hips on both sides.

“She’s soft,” A tall man with skin like midnight and a scar on his left cheek spoke, “a good girl.”

Y/N didn’t like that. She was trying to appear like a bad bitch, not a princess. 

“Pussy probably tastes just like sugar,” The man spoke again causing the other men to hum in approval.

“If it does, I’ll be the judge of that. Ain’t that right, Miss Foxy?” 

His soft-spoken voice tickled her neck. She felt frazzled. Her low eyes turned to his dark ones, her lip between her teeth. 

“Yeah...that’s right,” He gave her a sly lop-sided grin with those full lips. He was certain that Y/N would be going home with him. She liked that a lot. A hell of a lot. He could take her to his place right now and fuck her all night long. Y/N wanted to bury her face into this man's neck and breath in his scent. He was so large and warm surrounding her. Her pussy quivered and damn near begged her to let this man put it on her. 

“So, what do you guys do for a living?”

She was curious. 

“We’re military men,” One of them spoke up.

“I’m an Airmen,” F-16 spoke with a husky voice, “I fly fighter jets.”

He said it in such a dismissive tone that it didn’t appear all the way true. He did hint to the fact that this place was filled with nothing but bad men so maybe he was putting on a front so she wouldn’t go running away crying. All the other men had treacherous looks on their faces. 

Killers.

They’re murderers.

She was glad they put on a nicer front. If not she probably would chicken out of an opportunity with F-16. 

“Sounds cool,” she smiles, “tell me more.”

“Nah,” F-16 places his thumb against her chin to rub it lightly, “You’re not interested in what I do. You just want somebody to fuck the shit outta you.” 

Her lip twitched a little. Damn, this man could read her like an open book. 

“Is that a problem?” Y/N said in a discourteous tone.

“Fuck no. That’s what I plan to do to you, Foxy. Just know you’re in for some shit, girl,” he brought his lips to her ear, “You got these other bitches mad at you.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” She spoke in a bold tone, “they’re loss my gain.” 

“Shit,” He places a kiss to her neck, “I like you. You got a lot of mouth on you.”

Y/N normally didn’t but he sparked a rebellious nature within her. Y/N wanted to be a bad girl for him tonight. 

“Sharing, F-16?” The same man with the face scar asks. He had a determination in his eyes to have a piece of Foxy. F-16’s succulent lips dragged down Y/N’s neck and to the exposed cleavage on the sides of her dress. She was alarmed by his outright need to suck her flesh in front of these men. His hands were dancing around her hips just above her soaking wet pussy. He didn’t need to respond to that man, He let him know by how famished he was. 

“Come on, let us get a piece of that,” Another man with an African accent asks. 

“Y'all some thirsty motherfuckers. Nah, she mines,” F-16 wrapped his hand lightly around Y/N’s neck. She shuddered from how thick and warm his calloused hand felt around her slender neck. If he applied just the right amount of pressure she would probably whimper in ecstasy. Even though Y/N was bold enough to stand between F-16’s legs she wasn’t bold enough to press her bubble booty against his crotch. She just knew that dick was nice, hard, and suckable right now. 

“You can’t speak, Foxy?” One of them spoke up with a harsh tone. F-16 grunted with frustration. Maybe it was best that he takes her out of here to avoid a brawl between these men. 

“I can speak...I’m with him, sorry,” She gave her best charming smile. The menacing glares were thrown they’re way had Y/N shaking in her heels. F-16 pulls Y/N closer to him, her ass finally slumped with a soft bounce against his long and rather...girthy erection. 

Stuff this pussy, Daddy, She thought. Lord, he was everything she was missing. 

“Can we get out of here?” Y/N whispered to F-16 while he was drinking his whiskey, “I want you to take me home with you.”

“Just like that, huh?” He licks his lips, “Don’t act all scared when I take that ass out of here.”

“I promise I won’t” She spoke to him softly before placing her lips against his dimpled cheek.

“We’ll see.” His disbelieving eyes had Y/N second-guessing her words. 

________________

Leaving that bar was like a breath of fresh air. F-16 informed her that he arrived on a bike and that she would need to ride out to his hotel on the back with him. He didn’t have a spare helmet so he offered her his. She took it with quivering fingers hoping that he didn’t sense her fear. 

“You riding, baby girl?” He looked so good on that speed bike. Taking one last calming breath, Y/N placed the helmet over her head, gripping her clutch tightly before settling on the back of the bike with F-16.

“Good girl. Wrap your arms around me nice and snug...good girl. Now lean in towards me...just like that. You’re ready?”

“Just drive.” She placed her cheek against F-16’s back, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Say less,” He zoomed off down the city street and into the night. Y/N was in a state of anxiety the entire ride. He zipped and zoomed between cars, made sharp turns, and sped up whenever the roads were clear enough for him to have a little fun. He had to feel her heartbeat rattling against his solid back. Now, they were inside a tunnel whipping past cars. Y/N could feel her dress flying up past her naked ass and at this point, she didn’t care that everyone around her caught a glimpse before they were nowhere in sight. She wasn’t about to let go of him just to pull the short-as-fuck dress down. Plus, she had too much ass back there anyway. F-16 began to slow down as he approached a luxury hotel in Boston. He drove through the garage, going around several levels before finding a parking spot. The minute he parked his bike Y/N hopped off to fix her dress. It was up and around her waist. That explains why the valet men wolf-whistled at her. The minute Y/N removed her helmet she came face to face with F-16 adjusting his shirt and revealing two Glocks resting on his hips. His well-knit, muscle-bound abdomen and hips made her crave to touch, lick, and suck this man all over but those guns...petrifying. 

“Gotta watch my back,” He answered her question before she could even ask, “Got a lot of enemies.”

“For a fighter pilot?” Y/N gave him a puzzled stare.

“You’d be surprised, ma,” His eyes flickered up and down her shapely form, “I won’t hurt you.”

She knew he wouldn’t but Y/N never saw guns up close and in person. This just made the situation more real for her. She was definitely fucking a trained killer. Maybe a mercenary? An assassin? He’s definitely more than a fighter pilot for the Military. All of the men at that bar too.

“Don’t be scared, ma, I got you.”

“Okay,” Y/N placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead the way to his hotel room. 

__________________

It was dark.

Everything pitch black.

She could hear him moving about before a small lamp light within the living room flickered on. She looked around her with eager eyes as he removed his utility vest and timbs. She walked slowly around the hotel room, hands in her hair and a nervous feeling in her gut. 

“Restroom?” She asked with a shaky voice.

F-16 points down a hall, “Down and to your left, baby girl.” 

Y/N took off finding the restroom with a jacuzzi tub, standing shower, and a beautiful view of Boston. She closed the door, pulling her dress up to use the toilet. Y/N ran her trembling fingers through her hair, trying her hardest to calm her nerves. He was gonna put it on her for sure he didn’t even have to prove that to her. She wiped and flushed, standing at the sink to wash her hands and look over her makeup and hair. Her hair still looked nice but that wouldn’t last. Makeup still on point as well. She hesitated to leave that bathroom. 

“Breath, Foxy, it’s just sex. You’ve had sex plenty of times,” Her voice didn’t even sound convincing. Grabbing a hotel rag in a frenzy Y/N refreshed herself between her legs before finally leaving that bathroom. When she walked back to the living room he wasn’t in sight and it was dark again. Turning around, Y/N went to find his room which was directly across from the restroom except the door was cracked. Being the nosy girl she was, Y/N peaked between the crack to see what he was up to. F-16 was in the middle of packing away some weapons and foreign currency. He was topless showing off his powerful and dynamic body covered in keloid scars. She had an odd look on her face as she studied the organized placement of those scars. It was beautiful but Y/N is a smart girl, she knew those scars held a grizzly past. Before she could even react F-16 pulled his bedroom door opened, staring down at her with a menacing glare. 

“Spying on me?” He had a glint in his eyes and a base in his voice that made her shiver.

“I’m sorry I was just looking for you!” She spoke in a jumble. 

His chest rose and fell with harsh breaths, “It's not polite to spy on someone, Miss Foxy. That shit can get you in a whole lot of trouble if you aren’t careful,” F-16 stepped back to allow her to fully enter his room, “Get comfortable, we got a long night, ma.”

Y/N cautiously stepped inside. F-16 reached out to harshly slap her ass. Y/N’s back flinched and her hands came around to caress her sore flesh. 

“Big ass on you, girl,” He closed his door, “You need another drink?”

“N-No.” Y/N sat on the edge of F-16’s bed facing a wall mirror that hung over his hotel dresser. 

“Stand up,” F-16 stood in front of her. Y/N got up from the bed, his hard body pressing against the front of hers.

“Turn around.”

She did as she was told, turning away from him and stroking her hair to the side to give him access to her neck. F-16’s hands feathered through her hair, massaging her scalp. She closed her eyes, head falling back against his brawny chest as he lightly tugged on her pressed out strands. He would wrap his fingers around her hair and pull to make her head fall back against him. Now, his nose was in her hair as he massaged her scalp. The air from his nose warmed her scalp each time he exhaled. Her eyes fluttered shut and now her hands were reaching back to squeeze his thighs. That’s all she could really reach since he was much taller than her 5’ 5 self. F-16 takes her hair into a ponytail, leaning down to place his lips against the back of her neck. Now, her body was arched forward a little and her bubble booty was pressed firmly against his groin. His lips circled her earlobe over her diamond stud in her left ear. His wet warm mouth had a tight suction on her ear that had her thinking about that same tightness around her clit. F-16 softly places his hands on her hips, flipping Y/N around to face him. His brown eyes were so fanatic that she couldn’t even hold his gaze. F-16 grabs her jaw, placing his starving lips against her neck again. His hands moved from her jaw down and around her waist to pull her from the ground. Startled, Y/N wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He had better access now to her collar bones and heaving chest. His large hands squeezed each bare cheek of her ass while he places open-mouthed kisses along her breasts.

“I’m tired of this fucking dress,” He spoke in a hushed tone, “I feel like cuttin’ this shit off of you, girl.” 

If he did that she wouldn’t have anything to wear when she went home. He takes one of his hands to untie the halter. Once that was free he practically ripped it from her chest. Her breasts popped out at him and his lips began to suck and lick her nipples. Y/N arched into his mouth while her hands fingered through his dreads. She tried looking down to watch him pleasure her breasts but he had her so weak and feeling so good. He was suckling like a hungry baby and damn she could feel that shit in her toes. 

“Fucking sexy, girl,” He murmured something into her chest while his lips attacked each hard nipple. Not only were her nipples given attention but around her breasts were too. He french kissed that skin basically wetting her up with his saliva. 

“Oh, God,” She mewled, “Your mouth feels so good on me.”

She wanted him to lay her on her back and lick and suck her all over. Y/N’s body was screaming for attention. Y/N pulled F-16’s face away from her nipples and replaced it with her greedy dripping tongue. He swallowed her tongue and lips with his full mouth. His tongue was deep down her throat causing her eyes to open and stare at him with a sexual appetite. She really needed him. Kissing him made her open her legs further so she could feel his clothed dick stroke her hard clit. 

“You needy little girl,” He smirked, “that pussy wants some attention, huh?”

“See?” She opened her legs as best she could. F-16 looked down then back up at her face. Y/N had her fingers pinching her clit, “Suck my clit.”

“Shit,” F-16 tosses Y/N on the bed, “Spread them legs and show me how you play with that pussy.”

She didn’t hesitate because her fingers were aching to touch. She spread her legs so wide she felt like they were detached from her own body. Her pussy was spread out and sloppy. She fingered her clit causing some of her natural lubricant to drip. Taking her fingers, Y/N dragged that liquid up to her clit to rub it in. She noticed F-16’s erection twisted to the side in his briefs now that his pants were removed. If she pulled those briefs down his dick would probably hit her in the face. He walked up to her, standing between her legs and bringing his hand down to rub along the outside of her opening. Wet gushing sounds came from her pussy each time his fingers would tap lightly against her hole. Damn, she was so wet. His other hand grabbed his balls through his briefs. 

“This how you play with that pretty pussy, Foxy?” 

“Yes,” She rolled her hips.

“You rub that clit just like that?”

“Mhm,” Her eyes closed.

“Make that clit nice and hard, huh?” 

“Fuck yes,” She was close. 

Two of his fingers slipped inside. She widened her legs while still rubbing her clit. He was knuckle deep in her pussy and she was sure his hand was soaking wet. 

“I’m making that pussy cum?” His other hand was in his briefs now.

“Yeah, you’re making my pussy cum,” Y/N couldn’t even rub her clit anymore from how weak he made her. Now his thumb replaced her actions. She thrust her hips forward more to get his fingers deeper. 

“This too much?” His voice was so low and seducing.

“No, I can take it,” Y/N moaned out.

“Shit, then you should be able to take this,” F-16 slid a third finger inside. 

Stuttering she said, “F-fuckk I-I’m cumming f-for you!”

His fingers came up to rub her clit as her essence spilled onto the bed. Her thighs closed and her body fell back against the bed. F-16 finally let those briefs down and showed her what he was packing. He had such a beautiful dick and body. It looked so good and she knew it would feel just as good in her pussy. Beautiful man. She had a serious body and dick fetish. 

“Damn, can I suck it?” She licked her upper lip, “Let me slide that right down my throat.”

Y/N was proving to him that she wasn’t afraid. She opened her legs more for him while wrapping her small hand around his big dick. F-16 smiled down at her and she thought she would die from how fine he is. Taking her giving and unsparing lips, Y/N allowed that pipe to slide right in down to the base.

“Nasty bitch,” F-16 showed Y/N no mercy as he fucked her mouth. She thought she would take control but it was all him… all of him indeed. She wanted to suck him dry. Her sloppy mouth spilled saliva over her chest. She purposely made gagging noises to let him know that she loved the dick and how perfect and beautiful it was. 

“Daddy, I want,” She said while F-16 slapped his weight on her tongue.

“Say please,” He rubbed it along the length of her tongue.

“Please feed me.”

Swallowing it whole, Y/N was loving that chocolate stick as it swelled in her bountiful mouth. 

“Fuck, bitch, look what you’re about to make me do,” His head fell forward and his lip was between his teeth. His face looked so relaxed but his body was literally shaking as he erupted thickly within her mouth. It was yummy perfection. F-16 slapped Y/N’s pussy before rubbing her clit and labia in slow circles. Her eyes were on him, silently telling him to punish her brutally. Removing his hand and placing it in his mouth to suck off her cream, F-16 walks over to his pants to grab his wallet. Wrapped in gold was a magnum that he ripped open to roll over his shaft. Walking back to Y/N with her legs still spread open He reached down to pick her up so he could fuck her standing. She practically jumped on him, opening her legs to give her pussy to him.

“How you like that pussy fucked?” He asked while rubbing his dick back and forth over her wet folds.

“Deep daddy,” Y/N stared into his dark eyes, “So deep daddy...very deep...I wanna feel your balls slap my pussy.”

“You wanna be a slut for this big dick so damn bad,” He finally let his length inside of her. He was deep like she wanted. Her mouth fell open into a silent scream. 

“Damn, pussy feels just as good as it tastes, baby,” F-16 gave her shivers, “You wanted to be filled like this looking the way you did at that fucking bar, HUH?!” He thrust forward sharply and pulled out slowly. He repeated this assault on her pussy over and over until she was finally able to mutter a sound. 

“You can take some dick in you, mhm,” Y/N bounced as best as she could on him without stopping. F-16 was so big in her little pussy. He saw her struggle and now his hands were under her ass to lift her up and down his dick. She dragged her nails painfully over the scars on his chest when his dick made contact with her g spot. 

“Damn, you’re gripping my shit,” His hand found her neck, “You like showing this pussy off? Wearing no panties with all that ass and pussy out. If I would have known, this dick would be in that pussy at the bar instead.”

The thought of being fucked on the dance floor or on that pool table in front of all those people had Y/N so wet and open for him. She moaned his name and wrapped her arms around him while he molded his dick into her pussy at a rapid pace. The power of her orgasm pushed against his dick causing him to slip out. He grabbed his dick at the base and rubbing it along her clit. She continued to spill for him when he did that. Y/N’s cum was plentiful. She couldn’t lie that it feels great when he’s a little too big and overwhelming to take. His dick was long and strong and when he pulled her off him to place her on her back she almost came again. She wondered how long he would be in town because she really wanted to fuck him from sunrise to sunset. 

Damn, now his lips were on her pussy. Y/N rubbed the back of his head softly even though his lips were strong on her pussy. He was licking away the mess he caused. 

“Mmm, fuck this tight pussy up, Daddy,” She was ready for more. 

He still had his lips on her pussy. 

“Daddy...please,” She tried pulling him away but damn he was really eating her pussy. Her arms wobbled and fuck she was gonna cum again. He held her hips in place while his tongue fucked her pussy. She watched his head move back and forth. He pistoned that tongue in and out of her. She wanted the pussy fucked again he was gonna give it to her every which way.

“Ima fuck around and hit you up every time I’m in Boston with a pussy like this,” He slapped her phat pussy, “Ain’t no such thing as too much big dick for you, slut.”

She was really being a daredevil tonight. F-16 wanted to give her backshots but Y/N needed to sit on his dick first. She begged him and now here she was bouncing on his dick. Her ass clapped against his thighs and her titties bounce in his face. 

“Good, bitch, sit on it, take that FUCKING dick!”

This was a real dick fuck. Foxy is a true rider. She was fucking F-16′s head up on purpose. Ride that dick. Jump on that dick. Bounce on that dick. Taking that dick and using it for a cum stick. 

“You hiding that sexy phat ass from me?” His sweaty face glowered at her, “Fuck me in reverse, bitch, and twerk that ass!”

Y/N kept the dick in her while turning to give him a view of her phat ass. She looked back at his sexy face because it said it all for her. F-16 was ready to bust a load in that condom. 

“Shit, that's how you feel?! Gon’ head nut on this Daddy dick then!” her moans were so damn angelic. She couldn’t hide behind a nickname like Foxy when Angel Face was her true identity. 

“Damn, I got me one for real,” He slaps Y/N’s ass, “Thick as fuck, damn, got a phat ass.”

Out of nowhere, F-16 sits up on his knees causing Y/N to fall forward on her elbows with her ass in the air. F-16 was ready to slam in that pussy for real. She needed to be appreciated for being such a good slut for him. F-16 grabs a fist full of her hair, making her look up into the mirror above his dresser. She strained her neck to watch her ass clap back on him.

“Been too damn long...hmmph.”

That’s that shit she was talking about.

Fucking hard and rapid.

Use her pussy like a punching bag.

“You watching that ass? Watch it while I fuck this pussy.”

She could see her cheeks acting like a tidal wave whenever he dug deep. He was fucking the shit out of her. She would love to roll over to this every morning and before bed at night. Damn, F-16 could fuck some pussy up. She just watched open-mouthed as her ass bounced and clapped. She started moaning and cumming around him. 

“You are sexy as hell, bruh...got my dick hard just looking at you, Foxy.”

She started twirling her hips and popping her ass while throwing it back on him. F-16 had his arms by his sides but from time to time he would pop her big ass for pleasing him so good. 

“That’s how you do Daddy’s dick? Just nut on me and fuck on me like this? Nice tight juicy pussy on you.”

“Mmmm-ahhhhhh,” She looked back at it with a pout of her lips. 

“Good, bitch, that’s right, give Daddy that pussy,” He slaps her ass with his eyes on her, “Get that pussy stuffed...good girl...let Daddy use that pussy.”

F-16 had his hands on her hips again and that's when Y/N really was in trouble. He was holding that nut off to feel her as much as he could like she would disappear. 

“Let Daddy use that pussy...let Daddy use that pussy...Let Daddy use that pussy,” He was so hung up on how good she felt he was repeating his words, “I should have fucked you raw and leave my nut in you GODDAM!”

Dick throbbing Y/N concord F-16’s dick. He was filling that condom up load after fucking load. 

“Fuckkkk, it’s so much cum!” She could feel it even though it wasn’t actually coating her walls. His thrusts became slower and slower until finally, his dick slipped out. Y/N turned around on the bed, grabbing his dick to remove the condom. F-16 watched her pour his cum into her mouth from that condom before arching forward to suck the rest from his dick. 

“I’ll suck your dick all the time, Daddy,” She looked up at him with her beautiful eyes.

“Then bring it on I’m always hard and ready to be sucked on ma,” 

Y/N found herself sucking this man’s dick yet again. Anywhere, anytime, anyway he wants it. 

“I wish I could take your fine ass with me,” He fingered some of her hair behind her ear before reaching forward to slap her ass, “I need you to calm a nigga down when he ready to kill a motherfucker.”

She didn’t flinch at his words. F-16 knew that she had him figured out the minute he stepped to her. Yeah...it was for the best that she didn’t get involved with this man and his deadly lifestyle but who was she kidding? Whenever he came to Boston or New York he could stop by and give her some good, rough, loving in her tight pussy. 

The End.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh@chaneajoyyy@pananegra@theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah@moonlight-night-sky @eyeknowmywrites  @crowngold@njadakillthiscookie@blktinkerbell@luvanxi @sheisexcellent1@chocolatedippedinhoney@brandithecrystalgem@dababydababydababydababy@soulfulbeauty19@btitannaaa@sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted@harleycativy @rbhp@thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone@bugngiz@palmstreesallday@skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo​ @truglori @queenflaws

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Day 14: The Last Day

Hi guys! Here she is! The last of our quarantine fic as the world is opening up, whether it should or not. It’s short, but felt complete! Huge thanks to everyone who read and reblogged! A huge thanks for @dirtystyles and @emulateharry for the read throughs and cheerleading! I am sure there will be other little odds and ends-

Harry’s POV maybe...

Day 14: The One With The Loss

"Where the f ..." Elise felt frantic, she could not find her bracelet. Her grandmother had given it to her. She didn't care at this point if she had to leave everything else behind, but she couldn't leave that.

She'd been incredibly close to her grandma Rose. On Some hard days, Elsie would have said she was the only one who ever really loved her. When she was dying Elise had gone to the hospital as much as possible to sit with her, at first to play cards, and then to hold her hand, and finally to curl up next to her and cry. When grandma was still able to talk she'd told her to go in her jewelry box, the one that was packed from her room at the assisted living facility and find her opal bracelet.

They shared an October 21st birthday. Grandma Rose said she'd had the bracelet since her sweet sixteen. Elise was a little older than that when she got it, but the bracelet was priceless and irreplaceable at this point. Her random t shirts and even her books could stay, but not her bracelet.

She'd been packing for a couple hours at this point. She wasn't aware she had this much stuff, or that it was so spread out. She'd been pretty unemotional through the whole process, until she couldn't find her bracelet. Elise might have been crying inside before then, but she was really freaking out now.

It was the first time she had cried since the talk with Harry.

"Is that what you're so scared of?" He'd said.

She'd scoffed. That got her back up. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Are you kidding me?" He actually laughed at her. "You're scared of everything!"

"Fuck you Harry! You don't know how I feel."

"Of course I don't. It might actually kill you to talk about your feelings or be honest." His hands were crossed over his chest.

"Honest, feelings? Cuz you are the king of talking about real shit?" Her hands came off her hips and she was pointing. "All we do is play, or fuck. You may actually be a lost boy."

"I'm just trying to read your comfort level, love. That seems to be the depth of life you're willing to deal in. Gotta keep it light for poor Elise, or she will run away. I'm dont even know why I bother." He sighed. "If you liked spending time with me at all, without being entertained all the time, I would not have to lure you out of your room every damn day with some promise of food or comfort or sex. It's so damn hard to know you."

"How dare you!" She seethed. He'd insinuated she was shallow right? That's what that bullshit about depth implied. "I am not shallow. Or a damn child who needs to be bribed. Maybe if I had any idea what I was doing here, or why you were being so nice to me, I'd not be so damn afraid I'd need to hide. I don't know you either, and your intentions are even more obscure."

"What you're doing here? I was just trying to make sure you were ok, or safe. Take care of you. If you were unwell it would be my fault."

"Cmon Harry, we both know you could have got us tests and sent me packing ages ago. What little fantasy are we living out here?"

"Yours!" He shouted.

And the conversation got more intense from there.

"Where could I have?" Elise's cheeks were wet; she was nauseous. This day had already been too much. She'd just got her head in her palms to weep when strong hands came onto her shoulders.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Harry asked into her black hair before kissing it.

"I can't find my grandma's bracelet anywhere. She gave it to me when they told her she was running out of time." She turned a watery frown on him and he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Ok, well tell me what it looks like and I'll help you."

Elise described the delicate piece and they each set off to look. She was essentially tossing things out of her way adding to the mess. The room had already looked casually like a bomb went off, but she was a mess when she looked for things. She did notice Harry was orderly in his disarray.

"When'd you wear it last?"

"I don't wear it. I'm too afraid I'll break it." She told him, and he chuckled.

"If you say something about patterns or bad habits I will cut you." She mentioned.

He put his hands up in surrender. And they both laughed.

He had a point.

Elise was thinking about how their fight the night before had gone when Harry said. "Is this it?"

"Oh my god." Tears filled her eyes anew and ran down her cheeks. "Thank you! What would I do without you?" It was an honest question. It had only been fourteen days but she honestly couldn't imagine not knowing him, really knowing him, not about him, or speculating about him, or inferring about him, or projecting about him. Knowing him, underneath his clothes, under his skin.

"No need to find out!" He smoothed her hair and then gave her a smooch. "Now, can you grab whatever you need so we can pretend we hate that we have to be locked in a house together for an undefined time."

She giggled. "You don't hate that you are stuck in your house with me for who knows how long?"

"Are you going to let me turn up the heater and stay naked?" He picked up one of the boxes she'd put together.

"Not all of the time."

"Then some of the time?" He curled his tongue and poked it to the side of his mouth.

How was she supposed to say no to that. "Maybe."

"Then hurry." Kiss. "Up." Kiss. " we need to go play strip scrabble."

"Im not playing scrabble with you." She said for the umpteenth time.

"Strip monopoly?"

"No."

"Apples to apples?"

"How the hell.." she just laughed at his hugely dimpled smile. "How about we just go in your hot tub and drink margaritas naked."

"Deal!" He started tossing clothes wildly into bags. It was out of character except for his insatibility. "Hurry up! We have plans!"

"To have sex?" God he was sooo cute. "More sex." She clarified.

"Yea, aren't those very important?" He stepped into her space and planted his hands on her hips and his flag in her heart. He'd leaned in close, but didn't connect their lips.

She gulped and leaned up against his arms keeping her feet planted and away from his tempting lips. "Yes, very important."

"Yeah." He said and kissed her silly.

She'd never done it on that bed. Seemed funny to do it after it had been stripped and with the knowledge it would never happen again.

It could have went another way. Elise kept catching herself in moments and feeling grateful, that once Harry started talking, he really started talking.

The day before, when he shouted the truth about living out her own fantasy, she'd started to walk away. She couldn't handle the truth. It was at least half true, it was a wonderful two weeks of her life, and it looked like now it was over. Elise knew she couldn't handle going back to his place and fighting more, or worse facing silent treatment. Plus, if he had wanted her there, he still hadn't said that today or before. She was about to cross the threshold of the room. Harry muttered something about her walking away.

She stopped and turned. She only had to walk away if she wanted to be done.

"This has been a fantasy, of course it has. Like a dream come true. And I'm really scared. I have no idea why I'm here, not really, or what we are doing, or what..." she sucked in some oxygen. "Or what." She felt tears building in her eyes. "How you feel about me." She expected him to say something, but instead he just stood and stared at her, waiting for her to talk. "And what happens tomorrow."

"What?" It was the first thing he'd said during her rant.

"We' re almost done with friends." She whispered.

He was nodding. "We are. so?"

"You said." She swallowed. "Last week you said we should finish Friends, the you said we only had three more days to finish."

He was nodding. "I guess I did, but Elise, the end of friends, it doesn't mean the end of us. And I'll answer all the questions you have. If you want the answers. But, I'll be honest and say I have no idea how you feel about me, like the real me, too. It's why I held back so long."

"So long? It's only been two weeks."

"Pretty intense two weeks." He wiped her tears. "It felt like forever. I wanted to love you up by day five."

She giggled. "Me too."

"Ugh." He groaned. "All that missed opportunity." But they were both smiling. "New challenge: make up for lost time now."

She was shaking her head at his ridiculous eyebrows. "So, you like me?" She asked.

"At the risk of being really obvious, I like you, like really like you, maybe could be more." He tilted her chin up. "and you like me? Me me?"

Elise nodded then thought she had already been this brave. "More than like, I think."

He beamed. "Honestly Elise, when I first brought you home it was out of guilt and because it didn't initially occur to me to just get tests." He looked down. "I had Jeff do research, and we had to wait a few days, and by then, well, I really liked spending time with you."

"Me too." All these confession made her feel like a feather.

"And nothing happens tomorrow. It's not some scary end date, I'm not kicking you out at check out time." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Honestly? I'd really like it if you stayed with me, for however long this lasts. We've already been exposed to each other.."

"You think?"

"Very exposed to each other." He laughed with her. "And then after, whenever that is. We talk about it. You can keep your place, or save the money."

"I could pay for groceries."

He sighed. "Ok, you can pay for groceries." He quirked a brow and the dimples that bracketed his mouth wanted to break free, they just needed her response. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

"I'll stay." The full wattage of his smile was really like A full moon on a clear night. He bridged the space between them and swooped her into his arms.

"Good, I'd miss you if you were gone."

"I'd miss you if I was gone too." She was honest, hopefully it would become a new habit.

"Then let's not let that happen." He kissed her then, and it was a piece of this tiny instance of forever she'd keep always, if they wound up married fifty years or broke up by pandemic's end.

"Can I tell you something really crazy?"!She asked with her ear pressed to his heart. She felt his body nod on her head. "I'm so glad you sneezed in my face."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I could do it again?" He offered, his body vibrating with his laugh.

"I'm good now thanks. But, I'm still glad it happened."

"Me too baby, me too."

[otonymous]

Roughhoused (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: Gavin, as you’ve never seen him before Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Trigger warnings: rough sex, rough oral sex, spanking, dom/sub, bondage, gun kink, spitting Word Count: 1774 words (~9 mins of pure, shameless smut) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: This story was inspired by this post made by the lovely @dear-mrs-otome.  Apparently, Gavin spitting in my mouth is something I didn’t know I needed in my life until it was pointed out to me 😂 Very smutty and quite rough (please note the warnings above).  That being said, if you’re into it, happy reading! 😊

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex

The smell of leather intensifies in your nostrils as the side of your face presses even harder against the seat of the motorcycle, and when long fingers weave through your hair to anchor and curl in an iron grip, you let loose a shaky exhale to feel your scalp lift ever so subtly in whichever direction he chooses to pull in.

But there is absolutely nothing subtle about the way his knee parts your legs, sudden and rough, like the blast of cool evening air that hits your skin when he pulls your skirt up to the waist, one large hand ripping the ribbon ties at the side of your panties so hard and fast you barely had time to blink before satin slid down one leg to rest at the ankle — the man who has you pinned and cuffed refusing even an inch of movement to allow you to step out of them in the black stilettos you wore especially for—

“G-Gavin!  Ahh!”

You jump at the touch of his calloused fingers between your legs, stroking hard and impatient and so different from how he usually took you.  But there is little time for contemplation: pulling his hand away, he yanks your hair up and back, directing your gaze towards a face so handsome you feel yourself growing wetter despite the distortion of your body.

“Did I give you permission to call me by name?”

His voice is low.  Husky.  Dangerous.

Hair in the grip of his fist, you merely manage a slight shake of the head, tongue running corner to corner to lick lips parched from panting as you desperately try to find your voice.

“N-No, sir.  I’m sorry, Officer Gavin.  It won’t happen again.”

Desire darkens the amber eyes closing in on your face as his lips approach your open mouth, just shy of touching when he whispers:

“It’s too bad for you I don’t believe in second chances.”

Gavin spits in your mouth, shock combining with the heat and taste of his saliva to make you throb so violently your legs press together, chasing some modicum of relief in the absence of his hand.  And when you find your pussy too slick to secure any sort of friction, a whimper leaves your lips, pathetically begging the officer for his cock.

But he merely meets your supplication with a sneer — gorgeous features frozen in an icy expression as he presses an index finger to his lips, the gesture suppressing your groan as it calls for absolute silence.

“I’ve dealt with scum like you before...”

Fingers still wound in your hair, Gavin forces you to the ground and it takes a moment to find your balance — bare knees on dirt and grass with your hands cuffed at the small of your back.  And as the officer starts to remove his gun from its holster, you track his hands with wide eyes and bated breath.

“…Think you can get away with anything and everything just because you’ve got a beautiful face.”

Finally loosening his hold, he squats before you, the dying rays of sunlight glinting off the insignias of rank on his shoulder to make you squint.  Then…deliberately slow…he caresses you with the barrel, cool metal tempering the heat of crimson cheeks with its touch.  And for a moment, you wondered whether Gavin would agree to slide it between your legs if you swore to spread them wide for his eyes only.

“Tsk, tsk.  Were you expecting something?  You’re not even wearing a bra.”

Nipples hardening even further against the silk of your favourite blouse, you bite back your moans as the gun moves against the skin of your chest, barrel pulling at the front of your top to pop button after button until your breasts are fully exposed to ravenous eyes — Gavin’s throat bobbing conspicuously at the sight.

Bringing up the muzzle of the firearm to rest lightly against your lips, the officer studies you intently, not a hint of pink on his cheeks as he says,

“Well, beautiful, it’s time for you to show me what those pretty little lips can do.”

Salivating on reflex at the sound of his pants unzipping, your mouth immediately parts to accept the smooth head of his cock as it replaces the revolver, now back at his hip.  But before your tongue can even slide out to get that first taste of flesh, he draws back, chuckling under his breath as he taps his erection against your lips.

“Impatient, aren’t we?  Nasty girl.  Mind your manners.”

“Please.”

“‘Please’ what?”

The sharp tone of his voice sends another jolt to your core, the surge of moisture now palpable as it drips from swollen lips.

“Please, Officer Gavin…may I have a taste of your cock?”

“Hmm.”  A tiny smile of approval.

Lower lip disappearing behind the bite of white teeth, Gavin slowly exhales as you take him in your mouth, eyes locked on his all the while.  And when you feel his heat against your cheeks and that strain in your jaw, you hum happily, tongue dancing along the underside of his cock just to get the satisfaction of feeling him twitch at the back of your throat.

But with your wrists still rubbing against the cuffs and knees precariously balanced on uneven ground, it was difficult to satiate your appetite, being unable to build up neither the speed nor depth you were typically used to.

“Can’t even do this properly, can you?  Perhaps some punishment is in order.”

Gavin’s fingers fan out on either side of your head, the grip gentle despite being firm.  Inhaling deeply through your nose, you quickly suppress a smile as you relax your jaw, preparing to receive the officer when he suddenly thrusts into your mouth, spit cascading past lips pulled taut over teeth to coat your chin each time his hips draw back.

And just when you think he is close to spilling across your tongue, Gavin stops, yanking you up by your sleeve to release your bound hands.

If the sheer size of his erection wasn’t intimidating enough, the feral look in his eyes certainly was as he said, “Hands against the bike.”

So you comply, the leather seat soft beneath your palms as you bend forward at an exaggerated angle, attempting to offset the way your heels sink into the ground.

A moment passes.  Then another.  And when you still can’t feel Gavin behind you, you lift your head to seek him out amongst foliage that shielded you both from prying eyes at the side of the quiet road, stopping short when his baritone voice commands:

“Keep your eyes forward.  Lift your skirt and spread your legs wide.  Wider.”

Gaze fixed obediently on the ground, you watch as polished boots step between your stilettos.  And when Gavin’s hand finally reaches around to cup and caress each of your breasts in turn, you cannot help but close your eyes at the sensation of his smooth head sliding along the length of your folds, coating himself liberally in your arousal before pressing against your entrance.

His breath is hot in your ear when he whispers, “Does this excite you?”

Before you could even answer, one powerful swing of his hips has him buried to the hilt in your pussy, leaving your mouth gaping open in a silent gasp as Gavin fucks you, relentless in both speed and force.

Smack!

“Mmm!”

Your cry rings out in the open air when the officer brings his hand down hard on your supple ass, and when the initial sting gives way to blooming warmth, you look back to see his hand raised once more, Gavin’s eyes dark with threat and lust as he poses the question yet again, this time slow and deliberate:

“Does.  This.  Excite.  You?”

Smack!

“Ahhh!  Yes!  Yes, it excites me, Officer Gavin!”

Breathlessly, you spit the words out, and when you feel his palm rubbing over the sore flesh of your backside, the unexpected tenderness has you clenching so hard he hisses behind you.

Relinquishing its hold on your hip, Gavin’s hand snakes south until his fingers find their way between your folds — index, middle finger and thumb deftly exploring: savouring the friction in the tight spaces where he dove in and out of your body, testing the consistency of your arousal that dripped and accumulated.  

Drawing concentric patterns around your already sensitized clit as they gradually build up the pressure and velocity needed to send tremors coursing through your body.

“Come…hmm…come with me.  This is an order.”  Gavin’s voice trembles ever so slightly as he issues his final command, spoken against the shell of your ear.

“Y-yes, Officer Gavin.”

Securing your grip on the seat of the motorbike, your face distorts from pleasure and the effort expended in trying to remain silent despite the way Gavin moved within your body — hot, hard and fast as he approached his climax and brought you to the edge of yours.

And when the soft bite of teeth at the nape of your neck coincides with liquid warmth rhythmically inundating you from within, every nerve in your body conspires to snap the tension in tight muscles, the violence of your climax leaving you limp and clinging helplessly to the bike for support.

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“I’m so sorry.  Was I too rough this time?  Did I get carried away?”

Lips curling into an amused smile, you plant a kiss on Gavin’s cheek, admiring the red that crept up to the tips of his ears.

“You were absolutely perfect, Gavin.  Didn’t slip out of your role, not even once!  And that bit with your unloaded gun?  Perfection.  But you can put me down now, I can walk by myself.  My place is right there, and besides…people are starting to stare.”

Your lover breathes a sigh of relief, readjusting his grip to carry you even closer to his chest.

“I couldn’t care less about them, let them stare.  The only one I care about is you.  Besides, are you sure you’re alright?  I…I didn’t hold back at all earlier.  You must be sore.”

Brows furrowed, a hint of remorse crosses the handsome officer’s face as he searches your eyes, soft tenderness wrapped up in a hard-boiled exterior, the entirety of the man making you melt all over again.

“Sore in all the right places,” you snicker in his ear, beaming to see him grin in response.  Then, lowering your voice to a whisper, you ask, “Why don’t we put you in the handcuffs the next time around?”

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Thanks for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[smolbeandrabbles]

Still - Director Keller x OC (Captain Marvel)

Out Of Nowhere Girl (For Reference):  Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Author’s Note: I wrote this as soon as I got out of the theatre when I saw Endgame... As the eventual ending to ‘Out Of Nowhere Girl’... Anyway, basically I spent so long talking about these two to @mendelskrull​ and this fic was basically finished anyway, that I decided to put it out! 😁

UGH. I love them. They must be my second OTP after Lorennic... Now they need a name...

I also realise that he’s referred to as Keller for the majority of this story... 🤔 We’ll just roll with that. 

Keller’s astronomy ring is like this.

Disclaimer: We’re going to pretend that timelines don’t exist. / MCU characters/plots/events not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: When Thanos snaps away half the universe, Maliyah loses everything. It’s a long and difficult 5 years, but now the battle is won...

Words: 1830

Warnings: N/A. I mean we talk about stuff that happened in Infinity War and Endgame, so, a little bit of angst.

_____

Remember when I told you you were mine, all mine I couldn't get you, baby, off my mind Me and you we were the real thing You didn't know but I had butterflies 'Cause I knew then, leaning in Baby I was never looking back again Every day changes but it doesn't change The way you make me smile when you say my name And when you laugh, it makes me laugh And when you cry, it makes me cry Yeah like it did back then When we were just beginning And girl it always will I want you, I need you, still And I don't care how many times that story is told Cover to cover, it never gets old Like a fairy tale, gets better and better Boy meets girl and spends forever together Yeah and, oh my God You are my whole world And we're spinnin' When you look my way  Everything stops And time stands still

---

The Snap

Maliyah had barely been able to face Keller’s family.

His parents had lost their only son, and their grand-daughter. His sister had lost her best friend, and her niece. Maliyah had tried to make sure they hadn’t lost her too. Turning up on their doorstep two days after their worlds had been utterly devastated, it was nothing more than constant hugging and crying. She should have been there for them before then, but for those first few days she was in too much pain – it was beyond unbearable. The bond between their DNA was very suddenly ripped apart, the brightly lit patterns that used to cross her body were now solid black lines. She’d told him once that was never something she wanted to happen; and now Maliyah had failed to protect him, so these marks of shame were his. Maliyah wanted to stay with what family she had left on Earth, but there was so much to help Carol take care of around the Universe – that was before adding on trying to settle whatever was left of the Xandarian’s. Her home destroyed by Thanos even before he’d done the unthinkable. Maliyah was their Supernova – it was her duty to help them rebuild what they could. It kept her preoccupied, a fact for which she was glad. There was so much pain that those two names bought her she wasn’t able to return to Keller’s family easily. Maliyah knew she shouldn’t, but she wanted to face this alone. There were many memorials around the world to the victims of what Earth was calling ‘the Blip’, but this one was her favourite. If that was even the right way to talk about it. Maliyah touched his name gently, but her lip quivered and pretty soon she found herself with her forehead pressed against the letters and her tears wetting the stone. Why? Why had they taken him from her? Why had they taken their daughter? This wasn’t right. Maliyah’s name should be on this, not theirs. She knew she didn’t deserve to live on, not instead of them. Talia was nothing but innocent, and Keller, he’d pretty much single handily raised her. He was a good man - a better husband and father than Maliyah would ever be mother. And yet she lived... She had never deserved anything less in all her life.

She remembered her final conversation with him. Thanos had taken her home from her, Xandar was no more. And he was coming for Earth for the infinity stones, and then god knows what would happen if he succeeded. “You’ll get him. Maliyah. You’ll stop him.” “What if I can’t? Even with help, what if it just doesn’t happen? What if he wins? With those stones-” “If. IF he gets them, Mali... then you can reverse it. I know you can. I know you will. But it’s a big if.” And that smile he’d give her, of assurance. Keller was always so sure. “And I know it won’t come to that.” But it had, and it had taken her family away from her. Maliyah had watched too many turn to dust with shock on that initial battlefield before pain shot through her. At first she thought that she was dying too, but Maliyah hadn’t been that lucky; curled up in pain and screaming as her body warned her that he was in trouble. Just like that Keller was gone, wiped away so unnaturally that her body still didn’t know how to react. Panic for her daughter had eventually spurred her to the house – still too young to be able to fend for herself alone. Maliyah had found nothing but an empty home. And all she’d felt was empty ever since. It had been hard to walk around with the silence hanging the way it was. Uncomfortably loud. The only real indications that anyone had just disappeared was the computer system was still on, pages of notes with a word half written… drawings and crayons on the floor – too peculiar to look like two people had just left in a hurry. Keller’s astronomy ring sat on his desk in open position – that wasn’t insignificant. He knew what was happening, he’d have left it for her. Maliyah picked it up delicately, closing it back to a single gold band: an unusual choice of wedding ring. She’d worn it on a chain around her neck ever since. It had been 5 years, and some had simply accepted and moved on. Maliyah was one of the few that couldn’t – he’d told her not to give up, and she never would no matter how long it took. She refused to believe that Keller was gone forever. And with the help of the assembled team, constantly in contact over video link, she would get him back; everything would be as it should. Maliyah could afford to wait for eternity…. But his family couldn’t. They needed closure and answers: she vowed to help them.

 *** The Aftermath.

Maliyah and Carol arrived on the battlefield together, Earth bound shooting stars. They were used to teaming up by now – and with the Universe corrected, there was only one thing left to do. Win the battle and the war. She knew before the battle was even won: the energy and serenity that suddenly flowed through her could only have one source. How, despite him being a few thousand miles away, Keller’s colours ignited over her skin as she fought. Time to show them what a real Supernova could do… The funeral of Tony Stark was a quiet affair, even if it was well attended. She stood respectfully back, nearer to Carol and Nick than the rest of the group. They were probably her closest friends here, standing slightly forward for Peter Quill – he’d been missing for the past five years too. Maliyah had too much to catch up on. There was a lot of quiet contemplation between the groups. A lot of where to next. For Maliyah there was only ever one answer to that question. Before she jetted off to the stars, or helped anyone with anything. “Maliyah... won’t you stay??” She shook her head at Nick with a small smile, “What’s left of the S.H.I.E.L.D organisation could really use you...!” Carol scoffed, arms folded, “No! She needs to come with me!” She gave Maliyah a soft wink, “What do you say? Marvel and Supernova saving the universe?” Maliyah couldn’t help but laugh, “If you wait for me Carol, I’ll take you up on that... but right now I’ve got somewhere else to be...” “... Right. Of course, Maliyah Keller has somewhere else to be!” She turned from Carol’s big smile and grinned across to Nick Fury with a nod, knowing how perfectly he understood, “You’re damn right!”

***

Flying halfway across America was not what was sending Maliyah crazy. Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating so fast as she landed herself softly in front of the country home. Surrounded by acres and acres of land, it was in the middle of nowhere for so many reasons... It reminded her so much of his parents.

The breeze tousled her hair as it played through the trees. It had been 5 long years - or short - but it felt to her like a lifetime. Every time she read those two names on the mural she broke down in tears. It only served to shatter her heart into more pieces. But all that was reversed now... The door opened, and Maliyah didn’t think her heart had the ability to beat as quick as it did. She couldn’t breathe. He was standing in a three-piece suit. Sans jacket. Sleeves rolled up, he placed both hands in his pockets. The sun hit his face, his hair, his eyes; that gorgeous blue she hadn’t seen in 5 lifetimes... and he smiled taking the two steps down to the driveway, she illuminated in blue and white - brighter than she ever had before. His emotion hit her full force and she could feel herself start to cry. She wanted so badly to sprint to him, but he engulfed her. Her senses were overwhelmed by Keller. Something they had yearned for for 5 years.

It didn’t matter, because Jonathan sprinted to her, and suddenly she was in his arms. She couldn’t grab enough of him close to her; and he couldn’t either. “You did it, you did it... I knew you would.” Keller’s voice was soft as he held her to him, breathing her in as much as she was him. He’d woken up in the same place he’d watched their daughter disappear into thin air. The same place he’d done exactly the same thing - but years after... he’d known life without Maliyah for maybe a month. She had been without him far longer. She laughed through her tears, “I think my input was minimal!” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. Her colours burning a new level of bright. “We’re back. Because of you.” There was nothing she could say back, it was hardly true but Keller wasn’t about to let her argue with him – she knew that, pushing up on her toes to press her forehead against his, Maliyah slipped the chain from her neck, taking his hand to reunite him with the ring. “I knew you’d have taken it with you.” “I needed you.” “You didn’t give up. Not that I expected you to, Supernova.” Keller pulled her back to him, capturing her lips. “MOMMY!!” Maliyah left Keller’s arms, kiss cut short, to see her daughter now sprinting down the same steps. “Tali!” She ran, skidding to her knees. She was still 6; still her baby. Maliyah had missed to much already, she was glad she wouldn’t miss anything else. She placed her head gently against her daughters, Keller watched with a smile as they both lit up in the same amalgamation of purples, pinks and soft blues. There was a communication there he would never understand, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what it meant.

Maliyah stood, gathering Talia in her arms, and Keller wandered to them, taking them both in his own arms. His girls were both okay. And they were both here. Talia wrapped her arms tightly around Maliyah’s neck and entwined her tiny fingers with his. Keller kissed her again. A real kiss, one she savoured with her eyes closed; gentle, nice and slow. “Stay...” He breathed it. “This time, please stay.” She knew Jonathan wanted nothing more than for her to be here. For them to finally be a family. For Maliyah it had been 11 years: for 6 she’d been unprepared to be a mother, for the last 5 she hadn’t had a choice.  Those five years put the three of them into real perspective. She smiled; as if she really had a choice? “I’ll stay.” Maliyah took his hand, “I’m going to stay.”

---

Thank you for reading! 😅

[thotantics]

⚤   pairing — reader + Kim Taehyung

✎ word count — 2,978

✦ genre — smut, pwp

✗ warnings  — graphic description of sex, dirty talk, LOTS of unnecessary talk about dick, WAY TOO MUCH talk ab tae’s massive dick i cannot stress this enough, fingering, oral sex, rough fucking, face fucking, cum eating idk i think thats it god help us all

[requested]  D1 “Rough sex” with taehyung please! ❤ + Can you make a taehyung smut that fulfill big dick tae fantasies, imagine taehyung fucking you slow ,sensual and hard,  to your belly to feel how he stuffs you full with his thicc dic ( ( ( (sorry not sorry)            

[A/N] id been talking some with @red-exo ab tae’s massive dick and totally forgot ab this request but i was so happy when i rediscovered it, and i figured it would pair well with the other request so, i hope this came out ok!! i very much enjoyed this myself but im…incredibly biased

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“Do you want me?” His voice is a low timber that rumbles from his chest straight into yours, his body pressed tightly on top of you as he murmurs, a quiet, husky whisper into the side of your throat.

You’re half way embarrassed by how badly you want him, so you just nod your head a little in response. Tae chuckles, nuzzling a kiss into your skin, inhaling deep through his nose.

“You have no idea how badly I want you.” He tells you, “Or, then again..” He shifts forward, parting your already spread legs wider, slotting his body between them and that’s when you feel him fully hard for the first time, “Maybe you can tell.”

He’s rock hard and jutting out from the suit pants he’d worn on your date this evening. You’ve brushed against his erection a time or two, but never felt it like this, fully hard and pressing warm and insistent between the juncture of your thighs. You gasp at the feel of him, hips rolling up to meet him instinctually, your fingers digging into his shoulders when his lips skim across the lobe of your ear. He feels so big. So thick and so hard, you’re dizzy at the thought of getting impaled by him.

Tae’s been vocal all night about his desires and you figure you owe him as much in return, but god, something about him makes you so nervous. You open your mouth to speak, to tell him that you want him so bad that you ache, but he grinds his dick forward against your core and you’re rendered utterly speechless, mouth hanging open soundlessly.

He inhales against your skin, his breath shaking as he fills his lungs with the scent of your hair, his arms nearly crushing you as he hugs your body, pulling you just an inch or so off the mattress to cling to you as he shifts up onto his knees, drawing his erection away from your middle. You glance down, eyes widening at the impressive tent he’s pitched in his pants.

You can’t help the nervous shiver that runs through you as his long, slender fingers reach for his belt. His lips are parted as he breathes heavy, eyes scanning your body unashamedly, tongue poking out to wet the corner of his lips before he speaks again, “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You gulp audibly. You wholeheartedly believe him. There’s been a lot of men in and out of your life that had talked a big game and were unable to follow through but Taehyung? He carried himself differently than anybody you’d ever met. The confidence was subtle but it was powerful, strong and mysterious and with every fiber of your being, you believed that he was absolutely capable of making you feel very, very good.

He starts to undress and you’re lost in watching him reveal more skin, hidden by clothes that are always much too large, hanging baggy off his broad shoulders and thin waist. After a moment drinking in the tan skin he reveals to you, admiring the shape of his collarbones for a bit longer than you intended, you sit up, rushing to get undressed along with him.

He laughs at you, but it’s a playful sound, a boyish giggle as you watches you rip off your top as if it offended you, accompanied with a deep, “Wow, jagiya…are you that eager for me?”

“Yes.” You tell him flat out, not wanting to shy away from how badly it was that you wanted him any longer. You needed him to know. So as your hands, trembling slightly, go to work shedding the rest of your clothes, you tell him under your breath, “I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

He groans at your words, not bothering with the final few buttons of his long, silky shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it aside. He’s fully nude before you can unhook your bra, and your fingers are fumbling as your eyes focus on his bare cock for the first time.

Taehyung notices you staring and he grips himself, looking down as his own hand strokes firmly from the head to the base of his shaft, his long fingers curled around tightly. “You like it?” He asks, looking up at you from under his lashes, biting at his lip playfully as he stifles a smile.

You lick your lips, nodding your head. You definitely liked it. He’s impossibly long, easily the biggest you’ve ever been with and you have a daft moment of apprehension. How’s he going to fit all of that inside of you?!

“Mm, you make me so hard.” He tells you, squeezing on an upstroke and milking a drop of precum from the tip which he catches on his opposite hand’s index finger, bringing to his lips and sucking it off sinfully. “Lay back for me, baby. Let me get you ready for this big dick.”

Heart thundering in your chest, you lay your head back among the pillows once more, expecting him to follow you with his lips like he had when you first stumbled into your bedroom together earlier. Instead, he looks down at you with his fist still slowly dragging up and down the length of his dick and he stares down at where your knees are tightly knocked together, keeping your sex hidden from him.

He’s waiting for you to reveal yourself to him. Pulse racing, breathing uneven, you part your legs in invitation and have never felt more exposed and raw in front of a man in your life. He’s unashamed, staring openly and jerking himself off at the sight of your glistening lower lips. His tongue traces a sinful pattern, licking in mid air as if he was licking at you, bottom to top, and you shiver under his penetrating gaze.

“So wet for me already.” He groans softly, eyes lifting back up to meet your own, “Good girl.” With a fluid motion he lowers his upper body between your legs, starting on his knees but eventually sprawling out entirely on his stomach, his hands pressing warm against your inner thighs.

He kisses you first, on each side of your hips, his eyes warm and soft as he looks up at your face, attempting to soothe you. It works like a spell he’s cast on you, warmth spreading from where he kisses you and filling your veins, rushing through you with contentment and peace. Then his tongue comes out, a kitten lick at the very top of your slit and you jolt with surprise. He nuzzles into you, small back and forth motions of his head spreading your lower lips, coating your arousal across his plump lips and even his nose, and he pulls back with an awed sound, staring at your sex as he parts you with his fingers.

“You smell as pretty as you look, jagiya.” He praises, “Mm, and it’s all for me, right?”

“Yes.” You breathe, “All yours, Tae.”

He rewards your compliance with his tongue, licking flat up your soft, slick, throbbing center. Your head is absolutely spinning in seconds, eyes rolling back and hips jerking sporadically when it applies the softest pressure from the tip of his tongue to your clit. He slips his first digit inside easily, pulling back to watch as his finger disappears into your cunt, practically cooing in praise, “Your pretty pussy is so greedy to be filled.”

Taehyung latches onto your clit, forming a tight suction with his plump lips, his eyes on your expression but he slips a second finger inside and feels you clench around them and his eyes flutter shut blissfully. He teases your clit with flicks from his tongue for a while, because he likes the way your thighs jerk, giggling in that charming, boyish way of his, and he builds you up to taking three of his fingers.

“How’s that feel?” He asks.

“S-so good.” You moan.

“You’re a good girl.” He smiles at you, tonguing at your clit again as he pumps his fingers steadily into your dripping hole. “I love the pretty sounds you make, jagiya.” He spreads the fingers crammed into you, attempting to open you up further and you gasp and moan, hips lifting to meet his mouth again. You bury your fingers into his hair as he groans against your clit, tongue laving against you slow and hard.

“You’re gonna make me cum..” You warn him breathlessly.

“Ohh,” He pulls away, lips and chin glistening with your arousal, his mouth a plump O before he smirks at you, “Not yet, you won’t. I want you to cum on my cock.” He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of you panting and blushing all the way down your bare chest, before he asks, “Are you ready for it?”

“Yes! Yes, please, Tae..” You sound more desperate than you had intended but you don’t really care at this point. He’s got you on the very edge of bliss and you’re dying for him to just shove you over. Plus, you haven’t been unable to stop thinking about that big dick of his since he let you feel it between your legs, through the barrier of your clothes, and you’re dying to feel him buried balls deep in you.

You think that you won’t have to wait long, because he moves to sit up on his knees, pushing back on your knees to expose you to the monster between his legs, but when he grips it and brings it to your pussy, he doesn’t move to your entrance. Instead, he rubs the head of his impressive length up your slit, gathering your wetness and smoothing it down his shaft with deliberate stokes. The wet noises emitting from you as he slicks his cock along your folds is almost embarrassing, but Taehyung is staring down at the way your pussy lips hug his dick, mouth open, groaning appreciatively and it’s hard not to feel anything other than desire when he’s looking at you like that.

He persists, stimulating you to the brink of an orgasm for a second time but with the slick motions of his cock running through your folds. You dig your heels into his ass, pulling him tight against your middle, groaning, “Fuck me… please. I need it. I need you in me..”

“Fuck.” He pants, hair hiding his eyes as he slumps over you a little, a hand landing by the side of your head as he guides his cock down to where you want him. “I love hearing you beg.” He groans, pushing forward so he breeches your entrance with the first couple of inches that he has to offer and you steel yourself, preparing for the rest but it doesn’t come. He’s patient, far more patient than you, still as he lets your pussy adjust to his invasion before he gives you another inch or two.

“I bet you’ll sound so pretty cumming all over this big cock.” He grunts, giving you a little more. Your mouth falls open in shock. It feels like he should be bottoming out but he’s definitely not. He leans over you, his lips ghosting across your open mouth before he pulls back, forehead pressing to yours, and then he whispers, “You want all of it, jagiya? Can you take it all for me?”

“Yes, yes, please! Yes.” You throw your arms around his shoulders, heels digging into his ass again and he snaps his hips forward, teeth snarling as he sheaths himself into you fully.

He reaches so deep into you that you’re aching already. You can feel him at your cervix, long and thick and throbbing in you, unable to resist withdrawing just an inch or two and pushing back inside once, twice, and you let out a choked, strangled moan on the third time.

“So fucking tight,” He grunts, burying his face in your neck and peppering kisses along your heated skin. “It doesn’t hurt, does it, jagi?”

“N-no.” You groan, “Fuck, god, Tae, you’re in so deep…”

He hums, smoothing his lips from your jaw to your mouth. It’s a sweet kiss he gives you, tender and loving pecks with very little tongue, teasing you with the taste of his mouth if anything before he pulls back and settles on his knees again. He keeps himself buried in you, gripping your hips tight, and then he withdraws from you fully, watching as his cock reappears from your depths, coated with the essence of your arousal.

He pulls out until just the very tip of the head of his cock is pressed against your clenching hole like a very intimate sort of kiss, and then he leans back, angling his impressive length so when he presses it forward this time, you can practically watch as he fills your lower belly.

Taehyung grunts and withdraws in a hurry again, pressing hard on your lower stomach with the palm of his hand as he enters you slowly once more, and you can feel the pressure under his hand as his massive cock stretches you open from the inside.

“Your pretty pussy is creaming all over me.” He tells you in a quiet, husky whisper. “You need to cum so bad, hm?” He moves his hand from your belly, licks the pad of his thumb and presses it to your clit, “You take my cock so well, jagiya. I wanna feel you cum on me.”

“Fuck!” You buck under him, his pelvis still as he rubs insistently over your clit, cock buried deep but unmoving. You jerk and twitch, grinding against him to get him to move but he doesn’t budge. “Fuck me, Tae!” You beg, “It’s so big, you’re so deep! Please fuck me!”

He doesn’t have to do much. A simple shift of his hips and his cock rams you with such force that you’re rocketing up the mattress, your hand flying up to plant on the wall behind your head to prevent you from shimmying too far away from him. You cling to his thigh with your opposite hand, eyes locked on where that impossibly long dick of his keeps disappearing into your cunt. He doesn’t pull out but only a few inches at a time before he rams it back in, a ring of thick white coating just above his pubic hair that makes a dizzying wet slap each time he snaps his hips forward.

Taehyung has worked up a sweat from holding back. You can see it in his eyes, flashing with pent up passion and the way his muscles tense with each withdraw and you rake your nails down his chest, “Give it to me,” You tell him with a gasp, “I want all of you. Don’t hold back.”

He bares his teeth and then, every ounce of resistance in his snaps. His fingers bruise your thighs, shoving your legs up so your feet rest on his shoulders, and he fucks into you hard and fast, pounding your poor, swollen, sopping pussy so deep that you feel the ache from your hips into your cervix and your lower back. You arch, trying to give him more room to fit inside of you but all you manage to do was direct him to your g spot and he pummels it ruthlessly.

“Cum on my cock,” He tells you through gritted teeth, fingers digging even harder into your hips as he fucks your clenching hole roughly, “Do it!”

Tears fill your eyes and you squeeze them shut, the line between pleasure and pain blurring as your orgasm erupts from you so fiercely that you find yourself sobbing. You cling onto his arms, nails biting into his skin, sobbing, moaning, drooling, begging. Tae is delicate when he laces your fingers with his own, holding your hands and stroking at your wrists with his thumb, feeling you clench tightly and spam around his dick. He fucks you slower and slower until he finally stops, slipping himself out of you and bowing over your quivering form to press a kiss to your lips, wiping your tears with his fingers delicately.

“You did so good, jagiya.” He praises you, “Are you ok?”

You nod, sniffling, laughing as a fresh wave of tears spill down your cheeks. You feel entirely overwhelmed and used, completely fucked and you’ve never been more sated.

Tae moves to stand at the side of the bed and he runs his hand through your hair, “My turn.” He grins down at you, coaxing your to open your mouth by pressing his fingers between your lips. He presses the head of his cock onto your tongue and you latch your lips around him, sucking the taste of your orgasm from him. It’s impossible to get him all the way down your throat, but you aren’t a quitter in any sense of the word, so you keep trying, keep gagging around his length. He moans every time you gag, hips resisting to buck down your throat but the moment you reach up and massage his balls, Taehyung loses his composure entirely.

Hands in your hair, he fucks your mouth shallowly, trying not to make you gag too much, and when he cums, he pulls back and spills over your mouth and your extended tongue, your eyes shut tight to avoid a mess in your lashes.

“Good girl,” He groans as the last of his cum spills across your tongue and he watches you swallow it down for him. “Such a good girl for me.” Tae moves to lay down with you, pushing you on your back and hovering over you on his side, and he kisses you messily, tongue sweeping along your own until he kisses the taste of his cum right out of your mouth.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

A Place To Rest

[Broadway Kids]

NOTE: Everything between Carrie and Tommy and Carrie and Sue is strictly platonic!! 

Word count: 6397

Prompt: “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.” “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

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She is shaking.

At least she thinks she's shaking. What difference will shaking make? It won't change anything.

It doesn't matter that her knees are wobbling, it doesn't matter that she is losing her ground, it doesn't matter that she is on the floor holding her head in her hands, now, entire body shaking as she struggles to see through blurry eyes and breathe through rapidly closing lungs. None of it does, did, or ever will matter.

She doesn't even know what’s going on around her now. She can't tell, everything is blurring together and she feels like she's dying, she's finally dying and she's going to accept it, she wants to accept it, she wants to die, there's nothing else left for her here and there never will be, but She won't let her die-- She made her and She’s going to keep her in this godforsaken world as long as She wants because it’s a blessing she’s a blessing even though She hates her even though she’s cursed and cancerous and a devil’s child--

The bile itching in her throat causes her to make a disgusting sound and she continues to lose herself despite it. She is sobbing and shaking violently and she does not know where or who she is anymore and it burns, her skin burns, Mama stop it BURNS--

Tommy is standing near, watching the scene unfold, and does not understand, he cannot understand. He does not and cannot and will not ever understand, but that will not stop him and it never has before. He hasn’t seen this happen before, not like this, not so suddenly and out of nowhere, but he knew what he had to do.

He races over to her and wraps himself around her frail body, feeling her try to curl into herself, feeling her try to push herself away to writhe on the tile alone, but he does not let her, he will not let her. He's new to this whole “big brother” thing, like how she’s new to the “little sister” thing (and being cared for) but he will not allow Carrie to go through this by herself. He does not understand, but he continues on with what he feels is right, and he does not want her to push him away.

She stops struggling and cries into him. His chin resting at the top of her head as he holds her into his chest. Whispers to her to breathe with him, one...two...three-- come on, you're doing great, Carrie-- just like we’ve been practicing-- one...two..three…

Her brain stops and blanks out, and she’s scared--Are people watching? Where are they in the school? Are they still in school?--so scared, but Tommy is a sunny island in a raging sea of dark thoughts and she clung to him as she was drowning in the pitch black tide.

She tries to go along with the breathing pattern he had set for her with wet eyes and sweaty hands and slowly tries to wrap her weak arms around him as well.

She desperately wants to say thank you, so she does so in a quiet, shaking whisper (her hands are too sweaty and she can’t seem to remember how to even sign at the moment). He tells her that it's alright in a voice matching hers.

------

She is shaking.

Was shaking.

Tommy watched her shake, felt her shake, and held her while she shaked. He held her like his arms were the only things holding her together, and he’s starting to believe they very well may have been because this has happened more than once before.

Carrie was broken in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine, and he was determined to piece her back together.

He met her outside her final period class, a mythology elective (because she was a gosh dang nerd), and she looked surprised to see him standing there, smiling (she had begged Principal Morton to not call her mom and be sent home after her little episode in the hallway). She blinked at him, then looked back into the empty classroom like she was expecting one of his friends to materialize inside. Tommy laughed.

  “I’m here for you, silly.” He said. “Come on.”

Carrie hesitated, wry for his sake. She took a tiny step backwards, white-knuckling the black straps of her plain red backpack, like she thought she could disappear into the painted mural of a parthenon on the back wall of the classroom (she had once told him that’s one of the reasons why she enjoyed the class so much- she liked to sometimes doze off and pretend she was in Greece, amongst powerful gods and mythical creatures. she had said she wanted a pet griffon.)

  “Carrie,” Tommy scolded her patiently. “Come on. It’s okay, I promise.”

She hesitated again, then nodded and stepped out. She walked down the hall beside him with her shoulders hunched in, eyes to the ground. She was so on edge, so Tommy just decided to drop the bomb on the plans he had for the two of them before she could possibly get any worse (because he doubted she would get better).

  “You’re probably wondering why you’re getting such a grand escort,” Tommy said. Carrie glanced up at him with a small nod. “Well, you see, since you agreed to be my partner in that project for Mr. Stephens’s class, I thought it would be a good idea to work on it at my house!”

Carrie froze mid-step.

  “Tommy--” 

A smile twitched onto Tommy’s lips. He always grinned like a dopey idiot when Carrie used his sign name. It was a descriptive name instead of an arbitrary one; the letter T at the right side of the face to give his initial and show that he had dimples, a characteristic that Carrie thought fit him the most (although she had REALLY wanted to do a sign name that would include his trademark letterman jacket, but though that making a jacket motion with the letter T would look silly). And those dimples quickly became a noteworthy feature on him because they always appeared when the sign name was used. But then they started to fade when Carrie continued to sign to him.

  “--you know I can’t. My mother--”

  “Tell her it’s for school.” Tommy said hurriedly, cutting her off. “It’s not a lie!”

  “But she’ll get mad if she finds out I’m with a boy…”

  “Then don’t tell her. Say it was mandatory or something. Say I’m a girl! Named...uhh...what’s the female version of Tommy? Oh! Tonia!”

That got a tiny smile out of Carrie. “I think that’s the girl version of T-O-N-Y.”

  “Eh, close enough,” Tommy said. “So. Will you?”

Carrie looked up at him, fingers twitching with half-formed signs, then replied, “Okay.”

  “Yes!!” Tommy cheered. A kid staying for after-school tutoring in a nearby classroom looked up from his desk and blinked at them from the open door. “Awesome! You’re the best, Caz!”

Carrie smiled wryly. “I try.”

The two of them walk out to the furthest parking lot, down near the Ag building and barns, which was named “Africa” by the students and teachers alike because it was so far away (nobody really knew who started calling it such a thing, it’s had that name before Tommy even got into high school, but it just stuck). It was quite the trek, which was particularly rough when raining or cold out, but it beat the front parking lot, which was creatively named “Suicide” because it was “hell to get out of” (there were seven parking lots in total: Suicide, the front one for everyone to use and is always packed; Africa, student and sports parking; Madagascar, a long stretch of lot on the side of the pig barn; Turkey, Ag barn parking; Senior Hill, senior only parking; The Den, teacher parking; and No-Man’s Land, a small, overgrown parking lot near the abandoned campus portables, which nobody really parked in because it was all gravel and pretty creepy). They climbed into Tommy’s black Jeep he had named Bessie when he got it. Carrie always thought it was weird that he named it.

  “Sue named her car, too!” He had argued.

  “What’s its name?” She had asked.

  “Guinevere.” He had answered.

  “That’s a girl's name.”

  “You usually give cars girl names, Caz.”

  “Oh.”

Tommy started the engine and began to pull out. Carrie was fidgeting in the passenger’s seat, eyes locked on an Ag student walking a fat white goat with a red-brown head and floppy ears around a carousel-like contraption. She worried her hands in her sleeves, then in the straps of her overalls, and then in the hem of her shirt. She looked as though she would explode if Tommy were to so much as jokingly brake check the car.

  “Not even Sue was this nervous to meet my folks,” Tommy tried to joke, noticing her anxiety and hoping to help her relax a little.

  “Were you nervous?” Carrie asked instead of commenting on the statement about her being nervous.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Tommy admitted openly. “So don’t be embarrassed if you’re shy, okay? My parents won’t give you the ‘hurt my child and I’ll kill you’ talk like I got from Sue’s dad.”

Carrie nodded and rested her hands into her lap, watching the town flash by through the windshield. She usually didn’t sign when Tommy was driving so as to not distract him, which he appreciated, but he also sort of wished she would talk to him so there wouldn’t just be these awkward gaps of silence. But at least this gave him some time to quietly observe her--which, in a way, distracted him as much as Carrie signing to him would because he kept glancing over at her.

What made her break earlier today? What happened? What was wrong?

She was looking out the window, now, so her thick brown curls were facing him. Even in the dark, stringy abyss that was her hair, he could still make out knots and tangles and a slight sheen of oil that stated she hasn’t washed it in a day or so. Then, she cocked her head slightly and a few locks shifted, revealing her tanned shoulder and neck underneath. There, he could see patches of skin much redder than the rest. There were four in total, two on her shoulder, one on the side of her neck, and one right behind her left ear, and were about the size of a dime. They were edged with ignited crimson flesh that had maws like a frozen lake of murky grease. Crags of crusted brown flesh encircled a few of the marks and-- had they been there yesterday?

Carrie turned her head and Tommy didn't look away fast enough- his gaze lingered for just a bit too long and she noticed him staring. But she didn’t say anything. Just nonchalantly swept her hair back over her shoulders until it covered up the marks again and stole a piece of mint gum from the packet in the cup holder.

Tommy doesn’t look at her for the remainder of the drive.

--

Cheery yellow marigolds and pink daffodils and purple geraniums are sprouted around the side of the grey house with healthy, well-watered grass blanketed out across the front yards. Three large oak trees, encaged in a circle of wood chips cast large shadows over the ground. Stones in various shades of brown are set into the edges of the sidewalk and stoop, and they clink against each other when Carrie’s foot accidentally slipped into the rockbed. She leapt back and looked as though they were actually the last eggs of an extinct species of bird and she had just squashed them, ruining any chance of resurgence in the population. But they weren’t eggs, they were just rocks, and Tommy reminded her of this gently, also mentioning that he stepped on them all the time. It doesn’t really make her feel any better because “he lived there” so he was “allowed to stomp on whatever he wanted”, while she was “a guest” and shouldn’t “go around ruining everything”. Tommy realized that he wasn’t going to win this particular argument, so he let it go and stepped inside.

  “I’m home!” He called into the house. 

He walked through the front room and into the living room. His mother turned from where she was preparing dinner in the kitchen and smiled at both him and Carrie.

  “Hello, sweetie,” She called back. “How was school?” She stepped away from the stove, washed her hands, then walked over to formally greet her son and the new guest.

  “It was good.” Tommy said, putting his backpack on the back of one of the dining table chairs, then motioned for Carrie to do the same. “Mom, this is Carrie. Carrie, this is my mom.”

  “Hello, dear,” His mother said kindly.

Carrie gave a polite smile and wave. Her hands were still fidgeting with her sleeve and Tommy couldn’t tell if she was still chewing the piece of gum she had taken from his car or if she had swallowed it. Her eyes were darting around everywhere, and not just to examine his house. She was looking for something very specific.

  “Oh!” Tommy’s mother raised her hands and began to form gestures with them. “How are you?”

Carrie’s eyes went wide- like, so-wide-Tommy-worried-they-may-just-pop-out-of-her-sockets kind of wide. Her head whipped from the woman before her, then to Tommy, and then back to the woman, and she began to jitter happily. She soon got the most wonderful expression of bliss, anxiety, and triumph that Tommy had ever seen.

  “You can SIGN?” She exclaimed.

Tommy’s mother laughed. “I took classes in college. Who do you think taught Tommy outside of school?”

  “Tommy you didn’t tell me your mom could SIGN!!” Carrie exclaimed again, but this time to Tommy. She had a broad smile absolutely glowing on her face and was shaking Tommy’s arm, as if this was the most delightful thing that has ever happened to her (which was a little RUDE because meeting Tommy should have been in that spot!!).

  “Surprise!” Tommy beamed at her.

  “Tommy!!!!” Carrie released one hand from shaking Tommy to sign his sign name. “This is so cool!!!!”

  “More comfortable, I hope?” Tommy said.

  “A little,” Carrie said. She let go of Tommy and smiled up at him bashfully. 

  “Good.” Tommy said, this time audibly. “Come on, let’s go upstairs and start to work!”

They excused themselves and walked up the staircase to Tommy’s room, which was decked out in as much sport’s decorations as Carrie was expecting by the big teasing grin on her face.

  “Not a peep.” Tommy warned.

  “Good thing I’m mute.” Carrie replied. She looked around the room. “This is the first time I’ve been to a friend’s house. I don’t know why I expected it to be like mine.”

Tommy wasn’t surprised with that first comment. “What’s your room like?” He asked.

  “Dull,” Carrie signed, and stuck her tongue out a little in distaste to enunciate the horribleness of her own bedroom. “Empty. Boring. I don’t even have pillows anymore.”

Tommy did a double take. “Wait- are you serious?”

  “I’m not allowed to lie,” Carrie said, then sighed. “Completely serious.”

  “Are pillows, like, against Christianity or something?” Tommy said. “I don’t remember that in the Bible. Although I’ve never read it, so…”

Carrie giggled. “You goof.” She said. “But no, it has nothing to do with religion. My mom just doesn’t trust me very much.”

  “What does she think you’ll hide under there? Some playboys?” Tommy laughed.

Carrie blinked at him in innocent curiosity. “What are those?”

Tommy stopped laughing. He cleared his throat a bit too awkwardly. “Nothing, Caz, don’t worry about it,” He ruffled the top of her hair and then glided past her over to his desk. He pulled out a dark blue pen and a mostly-blank notebook from one of the drawers. “So, what do you think our story should be about?”

  “Why does everyone think they can keep hiding things from me?” Carrie pressed on instead of giving him any ideas. “What is it? P-L-A-Y-B-O-Y-S.” She had to fingerspell it, which meant she didn’t know the sign for it, if it even had one, and that meant she really didn’t know what it was. 

  “You’re too little.” Tommy said.

  “I’m not little!!” Carrie cried, and the rapid, furious formations of her hands practically equated to her yelling with her voice. As if to prove her point, she stood up straight, puffed out her chest, lifted her head regally, and looked about as grown up as a newborn sugar glider.

  “See? Little.” Tommy grinned at her and she pouted. He patted her head again, then sat down on his bed. “Now, back to the project.”

  “I’ll find out what it is later myself…” Carrie signed grumpily to herself.

  “Caz, honey? I can see you signing.” Tommy said. “Maybe don’t sign-mumble around someone who knows ASL.”

Carrie stuck her tongue out at him, then plopped herself down beside him on the bed. She peered down at the notebook he was holding and then up at him. “What do YOU think it should be about?”

  “I asked you first,” Tommy said, poking her in the stomach with his pen. She squirmed away with a giggle.

  “Well--” Carrie fumbled, clearly shy. “I don’t know--”

  “Spit it out.” Tommy encouraged.

  “I’m mute.” Carrie signed again, like earlier, but this time it was her turn to poke him with a finger that had its nail chewed down to the painful quick.

  “Sign it out.” Tommy corrected. “Come on. I know you got some good ideas in that head of yours.”

She really did. Tommy remembered how Mr. Stephens once had them draw three cards with emojis on them out of a bucket and write a story with aspects of each one. Sue had gotten a file, a girl, and a heart with an arrow through it, so she threw together a cheesy, but cute story about Cupid putting the main character’s love letter into a file that belonged to the love interest, which ended up getting them together. Chris got a globe, nails being painted, and a van, and her story ended up being Gordon Ramsy travelling around the world brutally judging and shaming nail salons on how they paint nails. He, personally, had gotten a rain cloud, a hand, and a blue heart, and after fumbling for a short while, he managed to put together a story about two star-crossed lovers coming together at a heart-shaped pond during a rainstorm, which definitely had hand holding somewhere in there. Not his best work in his opinion. But Carrie had gotten a sound effect symbol, a key, and a chair, and the outcome was a story about a man being held hostage in a room filled with high frequency, ear-splitting noises that would eventually cause all his organs to implode unless he unlocked himself and hit the off button...but the key was surgically embedded in one of his ears, which he had to scratch out and yank on to get out. It was chillingly well-written and had so much detail that Tommy and Mr. Stephens alike momentarily worried that she had gone through some type of ear trauma to the same degree. But she had merely laughed when this concern was brought up.

  “Well?”

  “What if we did horror?”

  “Horror?”

  “Yeah!” Carrie was unraveling from her shell a little bit more, letting her ideas fall from her fingers as she formed the story in her hands. “Like-- what if it was about this person who usually works a shift that has them away from home a lot of the time when everyone else is. The night shift, I think? Sorry, I don’t know jobs. Anyway, their shift gets changed to the day shift and they stop being nocturnal. The next morning after this change, they see their neighbor smiling at them from the front porch when they step out to get the mail. They think nothing of it, but then it keeps happening. The neighbor is always smiling from the porch. And then it’s revealed that the actual neighbor is a woman and she was murdered and her body is rotting in the house and the smiling guy was the killer and the protagonist didn’t know that because they were always working the night shift and never met their neighbors!!” She finished with a radiant smile and expectant eyes. Her expression practically screamed, Praise me! Praise me! Tell me how smart I am! How creative I am! How good I am! Please, please do it!

  “Aren’t you a little Edgar Allen Poe in training?” Tommy teased, ruffling her hair. “That’s an awesome idea!”

Carrie blushed, shy again. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if we did it?”

  “Not at all!” Tommy said. “Let’s do it!”

And so, they began to storyboard and then draft, bouncing dialogue options off of each other and taking turns writing, their drastically different penmanship (Tommy’s was surprisingly more curved and pristine, while Carrie’s was blocky and had sharp edges like ancient text in a prehistoric scroll) a glistening, inky contrast on the pages.

It was currently Carrie’s turn to write and she was fervently scrawling intense detail about the false-neighbor’s impossibly wide smile on the page. Tommy studied her, watching her wordlessly murmur back the things she wrote to herself before continuing on quickly like she thought she had a time limit on what she was allowed to write in one day. She was very focused, but at least calmer than she was earlier. Still, the curiosity was eating away at Tommy- he desperately wanted to know what had set her off at school.

  “Can I brush your hair?”

Carrie looked up in an instant and instinctively touched her hair. The natural brown curls were coiled awkwardly at the tips, individual strands sticking out in places, and it had lost its softness, suggesting that it was in desperate need of a good washing and brushing. She blushed slightly, thinking that Tommy must have thought it was gross or messy.

  “I do it all the time for Sue, believe it or not,” Tommy went on, trying to seem harmless in his request, which he was, but Carrie had more walls up than anyone he had ever met before. He just wanted to help her relax a little more, and maybe even open up to him because Sue liked to share things when she got her hair brushed. Carrie may, too.

Carrie hesitated longer. Truthfully, she trusted Tommy, she really did, perhaps more than she ever trusted anyone, aside from Miss Gardener- not that there was much competition in that regard, granted. Tommy, she knew, she /hoped/, was a good guy. Even before they became friends, he had never done anything to hurt her or betray her trust, instead just staying out of the bullying or even sometimes dispersing it and unknowingly saving her in some cases. That trustworthiness and safety he provided, constantly, was undeniable and reassuring. She appreciated it greatly.

But on the other hand, she had never felt comfortable letting people touch her. Okay, well, that was a lie. She was extremely touch starved. She was more wary of new touch, because, in her experience, it could only bring pain in the long run. Letting people get close, generally, was something she avoided on an instinctual level, not that anyone ever really tried to get close to her before freshman year. Pushing everyone away had become her brand. Only recently did she start breaking that habit, letting Tommy work her out of her shell, but it was still a long, slow process. Becoming friends with him, despite everyone he’s close to at school, was not a choice that came easily, and perhaps, in hindsight, it was made too quickly for her comfort. There was no going back now, though. Maybe in an odd way, that was what she needed. An environment that made getting close to someone a must.

Glancing at Tommy with a thoughtful look, she fiddled with one of her curls, which felt stringy and rough when she wrapped it around her finger. If there was a person she could trust with it, it would surely have to be Tommy. The choice was obvious.

  “Sure,” She signed to him. She wrinkled her nose at his goofy smile. “You jellyfish.”

  “Ow! I’m hurt!” Tommy cried dramatically. “Me? A jellyfish? How could you say such a thing?!”

Carrie giggled. 

  “I’m going to go grab a brush.”

Tommy whisked out of the bedroom, but returned moments later with a blue brush in his hands. It was worlds away from Carrie’s wooden, black-bristled one.

Tommy sat back down on the bed and Carrie turned her back to him, letting him have full view of her dark brown mane. Closing her eyes, Carrie took a deep breath. Why was she so nervous? This wasn't anything she should have been nervous over and yet...it felt almost like a test of trust for them. A trust fall that could make or break all her progress with Tommy.

  “I’m going to start now, okay?” Tommy told her. She appreciated the hesitation and patience more than she’d ever like to admit.

  “Go ahead,” She signed, straightening her back. “Be gentle, please? I know my hair may be a bit knotty right now, but try not to pull…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” Tommy assured her. After a moment, he started running his fingers through Carrie’s hair, slowly and gently. It was smart, he congratulated himself for. It was going to be easier to find and get rid of any knots this way.

Carrie was starting to relax; he could feel the muscles in her upper back lose some tension and her shoulder blades stopped being stiff, featherless wings poised beneath her skin. So far, she wasn't getting hurt, and the touch was surprisingly pleasant. Tommy really did know what he was doing.

  “You do this with Sue?”

Tommy had to peek over her shoulder to see the signs, but managed to make out what she said without asking her to repeat herself. “Yup!” He confirmed proudly. “I’m really good at it too, huh? I am an expert at all the styles! The cheerleaders and dance team should higher me to french braid their hair.”

Carrie giggled at that mental image. And then--

  “Ow!!”

Tommy froze. He had accidentally pulled on a knot too hard and Carrie shouted, verbally shouted, and recoiled in pain. He pulled his hands back instantly as she leaned forward, breathing heavily in a way that suggested that the hair pulling had given her more than just a shock of discomfort. Her eyes wide open from astonishment, her hands shaking.

It’s been a while since anybody pulled her hair, but she remembered the pain and humiliation clearly. After all, it was a constant for most of her life, and was far from the worst thing she had experienced, but even so, it was not pleasant to be reminded of that.

  “Caz? Carrie? Are you okay?” Tommy asked, worry thick in his voice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you alright?”

Carrie took a deep breath and leaned back slowly. She nodded. 

  “Yes,” She signed with hands that were still shaking slightly. “I’m okay.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tommy said guilty.

  “It’s okay,” She signed. “It happens sometimes.” She wasn’t as relaxed as she was at the start, but pulled herself together pretty well regardless. After a short moment of hesitation, she felt the brush on her hair again, gently stroking down. Slowly and carefully at first, growing more steady overtime as her hair was getting smoother.

  “Caz?”

  “Hmm?” Carrie hummed. Her eyes were closed in contentment. Wonderful tingles and sparks were crackling through her scalp with every stroke of the brush. She had forgotten how nice it felt to get her hair played with. She could fall asleep to this feeling…

  “What happened earlier today? At school?” There’s worry in Tommy’s voice. The topic alarmed Carrie, and she tried to shake herself back into awareness, but her hair being brushed just felt so nice…

  “Nothing,” She signed with lazy flicks of her hands. “Just something dumb that happened with my mom. It was on my mind for a while. And then I heard something that reminded me of it and I just kind--snapped--I guess.”

Tommy frowned. At the same moment as she said that, he swept her hair to the side and saw those marks again. Up close, he could make out that they were definitely scabs of some sorts. He thought they may be burns by the pale, pus-like glaze over the expanse of each blemish. Burns from a cooking class at school, maybe? The grease they use did sometimes fly. But the marks looked way too big to be grease burns and Carrie didn’t have any cooking electives. So what were they? What had happened to her?

Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask.

This replayed in Tommy’s head over and over again as he combed Carrie’s hair into one big mass in his left hand. He set the brush aside and began to part the hair into three portions, feeling Carrie lurch slightly.

  “Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.” Tommy shushed her gently.

Carrie relaxed again. He even felt her lean her head back into his hands and breathe out the softest sign of contentment.

With a wrench of his heart, he wondered when the last time she was ever treated with such gentleness was.

  “Do you…” Tommy exhales, unsure if his next words are going to be the right ones. The curiosity is killing him. “Do you, I don’t know, wanna talk about it? It’s cool if you don’t, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.” He dragged his fingers through one of the three groups of hair. “I know it helps for some people, getting everything out. Sue will, like, make these bracelets with beads that have letters on them and she’ll spell out what’s bothering her. Then she will cut it up or burn it or do something and that’s how she’ll get over, or at least cope, with something. If that makes sense.”

  “No, no, it does.” Carrie signed. “That’s really cool, actually. Good for her.” Pause. She fumbled with her hands. “I just-- I don’t think talking is gonna help right now. I’m already thinking about things too much. Don’t really want to fuel the fire.” Another pause. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay!” Tommy said hurriedly. “I understand!”

There’s a beat of silence. Carrie is leaning into his hands again and making tiny cooing noises.

  “You’re enjoying this, huh?” He chuckled.

  “Mhm…” Carrie nodded sleepily. He wondered how well she slept at night, especially without a pillow.

  “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep,” Tommy said.

That seemed to jar Carrie slightly.

  “Mmm--” She tried to sit up and shake herself awake, but it was obvious she was quite tired. Her breakdown at school probably took a lot out of her, and then to continue school activities afterward-- Tommy would be exhausted if he were her. And it seemed that she really was.

  “No, hey--” Tommy grabbed her shoulder, but let go instantly when she flinched. “It’s okay, Caz. You can take a nap if you want.”

Carrie blushed. “N-no, that’s-- That’ll be weird. I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No.”

  “When did you last sleep?” 

It took Carrie by surprise. Tommy finished the loose braid and she turned to him quickly after, blinking tired eyes at him. She definitely didn’t get a good rest last night, if she got any at all.

He wondered if it was from the strange marks on her neck and shoulder.

  “A day ago?” Carrie admitted.

  “Carrie…” Tommy sighed. “That’s not good for you, you know. You need sleep.”

  “I know,” Carrie ruffled. “I just--” Her fluttering hands snapped into tightly clenched fists when the sound of the doorbell resonated through the house. Tommy looked up and could faintly hear his mom greeting someone, then footsteps ascending the staircase.

  “This conversation isn’t over.” He told Carrie sternly, then got up to go into the hallway and see who it was coming up. “Oh! Sue!”

After the initial greetings and a kiss hello, the couple walked back into Tommy’s bedroom. Sue seemed surprised to see Carrie sitting on the bed.

  “Oh, Carrie,” She said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Hi, Sue,” Carrie signed. Her eyes are half lidded, now, and even the simple signing of a greeting is sloppy.

  “We were working on the project for Mr. Stephens,” Tommy informed his girlfriend.

  “Ah,” Sue nodded. She peered at Carrie, who had her head slouched ever so slightly. “You look tired.”

  “She hasn’t slept for a day,” Tommy told her worriedly.

  “I don’t need sleep.” Carrie declared stubbornly. She has her head lifted and eyes open completely, but it seemed uncomfortable for her to do so.

  “I can’t understand you,” Sue said, “but from that look you have I’m assuming you think you could stay awake forever if you wanted to.” She tilted her head at Carrie with a warm smile. “It doesn’t work like that, you know. You need sleep, sweetie.”

That made Carrie falter. Her jaw fell open and she blinked at Sue’s soft expression, then closed her mouth and blushed faintly. She glared grumpily at Tommy.

  “Why is she so nice?” She signed angrily.

Tommy laughed and wrapped an arm around Sue’s shoulder. “Because she’s amazing!”

  “What?” Sue asked, looking up at him. “What did she say?”

  “She asked why you’re so nice,” Tommy told her. “Which is very true. Also you REALLY need to take ASL!”

  “I already have my language credits,” Sue said.

  “Well, so do I, but I’m still taking the class!”

  “I have no room in my schedule.”

  “Then get rid of something! You don’t need that medical class, right? You’re already smart!”

Sue laughed. “Yes, but probably not smart enough to-- Oh! Carrie!”

The little freshman was nodding off, tipping off of the bed, and would have smacked her face against the hardwood floor if Sue hadn’t cried out. She jolted backwards, eyes wide with fright, and Tommy immediately went over to her side, quickly followed by Sue.

  “Carrie,” Tommy said, “you need to rest. You’re /tired/.”

  “No.” Carrie signed stubbornly, although her eyes were barely open. Just a day without sleeping seemed to wring her dry, but, then again, she didn’t exactly have a great metabolism, or much energy to burn with how small she was. It’s no surprise that she got tired so easily, but added with the weight of her breakdown and not being able to properly recover from that because of classes--she must have felt like she’s been awake for weeks.

But there was something else, too. Her avoidance towards rest seemed to be more long-running than her just thinking it was impolite to do so at someone else’s house because she looked up at Tommy, her dull eyes glazed with fatigue and fear, and signed, “Please, Tommy. Don’t make me sleep.”

It was heartbreaking. The way she looked at him dug barbed claws into his chest and ripped his heart right out. He couldn’t possibly force her to do something she didn’t want to now, but…

  “I’m sorry, Carrie.” He said. “You need to rest.”

He swore he saw betrayal flicker in Carrie’s eyes and the barbed claws tore back into the open wound in his chest. He bit his tongue to keep himself from revoking his statement, which was a struggle because he really, REALLY wanted to now.

Carrie turned her head to Sue, her gaze helpless as she began to sway slightly. Her hands were clenching open and close as if she thought she could claw herself back to wakefulness.

  “Sue,” She signed clumsily, desperately. “Don’t let me sleep. My Mama-- I have to-- prayers-- have to go home-- gonna die-- nightmares--”

Sue steadied Carrie. The younger girl whimpered, desperation shining in her dark eyes. Sue looked at her with great care.

  “It’s going to be okay, Carrie.” She murmured to her. “Just rest. You’re exhausted, sweetie. You deserve to relax. Don’t worry, we’ll get you home.”

The pet name seemed to hit Carrie like a rag of chloroform to her face because she slouched over into her arms a mere second later, asleep--or unconscious. Her chest rose and fell in long, peaceful movements, and her face was as still as the couple had ever seen it. The tortured expression that seemed to be permanently etched into her features since she was a child was gone for now.

  “She’s cuddly,” Sue commented with an endeared chuckle. Even in unconsciousness, Carrie still curled into her like a kitten seeking warmth. She stroked her head, running her fingers down the laces of the braid. “Cute, too. Did you ask your mom if you could keep her?” She looked at Tommy with a teasing grin, but it fell when she saw his guilty expression. “Tommy? What’s wrong?”

  “Did you see the way she looked at me?” Tommy said. He clenched his hands against his jeans. “She looked like I had stabbed her.” He swallowed thickly. “What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

  “Oh, darling,” Sue cooed. “You big sweetheart.” She moved one arm that was holding Carrie to take Tommy’s hand. “She’ll forgive you. I know she will. She looks up to you a lot. I don’t think she would want to lose you.”

Tommy smiled slightly. “You always know what to say.”

  “I learn from the best,” Sue winked at him. She looked down when Carrie stirred slightly against her, making a tiny noise before settling. “I never thought i’d be holding my boyfriend’s sleeping pet fish.”

  “Hsst.” Tommy jabbed her side. “She’s not my ‘pet fish’.”

  “If you say so!” Sue laughed. Her laughter died off, however, when she noticed the marks on Carrie’s neck and shoulder, and her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Oh my…”

  “Do you know what those are?” Tommy asked. “I was wondering about that but didn’t want to ask her. I thought that maybe they’re grease stains? I’ve seen that stuff fly before when cooking so they might--”

  “Tommy,” Sue breathed out in horror. “These are cigarette burns.”

[notveryglittery]

in which they have each other

summary: the circumstances are less than ideal. but at least they’re together. ship: pining royality (so technically platonic? they big gay for each other tho) word count: 1.2k / warnings: panic attack. mentions of piercings, tattoos, and a character tattooing himself while drunk author’s note: hi hi !! my second prompt for @sanderssidescelebrations​ 2019: stuck in the airport on christmas eve!! 

takes place in my flowers in your hair au. this fic happens before the events of the main story. many thanks to @fangirltothefullest for picking the numbers that combined this prompt + ship + au <3

read on ao3 | read more of my holiday prompts

— — — — — — 

Their flight was canceled. They were stuck.

Roman was feeling just a teeny, tiny, little bit claustrophobic. Nothing he couldn’t handle, of course! Just a couple of deep breaths and he’d be right as rain and twice as dandy! … Any moment now, Roman, go ahead. Big inhale through the nose, come on… Why did he keep getting caught! He cursed his lungs for not taking anymore air in, the blood pounding in his ears for not letting him focus, the panic grip— No! What panic? There was no panic! He w— 

“—an!” 

Something grabbed his hand and squeezed. It shocked him, just enough, out of his spiral. He blinked a few times, rapidly, aware suddenly of the way his vision was swimming. 

“Honey,” murmured a voice from seemingly nowhere, why was everything so fuzzy?  

His palm was pressed flat against something solid and oh, there was… a steady thump thump thump broke through his thoughts, a familiar rhythm, if only he could remember what it reminded him of. 

“— and hold three, four—” 

Without really realizing it, Roman was exhaling along to the sound of someone counting. In one two three four, they said, and then hold one two three four, and finally out one two three four. He seemed to be moving but finally having enough oxygen to start thinking properly again took priority over anything else. Besides, the even heartbeat under his palm was guiding him, and if there was one thing Roman could trust, he knew somehow that it was this. 

“There you go, sugar,” the voice whispered this time but it wasn’t just ‘the,’ it was… 

“Lovebug,” Roman sighed, closing his eyes and leaning in. 

Patton met him easily, pressing their foreheads together. His cool skin was a relief against the feverish warmth Roman was feeling. Patton’s hold on his wrist loosened but stayed otherwise, keeping the contact there for as long as he needed. They went through a couple more rounds of deep breathing like this, Roman slouched in the chair Patton had helped him into and Patton knelt in front of him. 

“I’m sorry,” was the very next thing Roman said, flinching as pain spiked abruptly through his skull. 

“Hush,” Patton consoled, pulling back. He stayed close in case Roman needed him again but otherwise, went shuffling through the bag at his side. Roman watched him with half-lidded exhaustion, only now becoming aware of the commotion around them. 

Right… surely, he wouldn’t be the only one upset about a canceled flight on Christmas Eve. It was one thing to be dramatic on stage or when working but to have a fit in front of— 

“Darling, I’m gonna need you to rephrase that,” Patton said, just loud enough to derail that train of thought. 

“I swear,” Roman muttered with a short laugh, “are you sure… you really can’t read minds?”

“Positive,” Patton ensured, “just like I want you to be.” He handed two pills to Roman, who knocked them back with a wince. He took the water Patton offered as well, drinking half of it before Patton made him slow down. “Or neutral,” he continued, “that’s fine, too.” 

“I…” Roman huffed, pressing the heels of his hands against his cheeks. “I wasn’t overreacting.” 

Patton started to stand, pressing a kiss to the top of Roman’s head as he did. “That’s right. You’re so smart,” he said, humming, “so talented, and strong, and handsome—” 

“Patton!” Roman squeaked, catching the slider on Patton’s jacket zipper. He gave it a lackluster tug and frowned up at his partner. In… in work. Nothing more. He hoped he could blame his sudden redness on the aftereffects of the panic attack. 

Shrugging the outerwear off, Patton draped it over Roman’s shoulders, before taking the seat next to him. Roman let the heavy material help keep him settled in the present, a welcome distraction from the busyness around them. 

“Of all the people to spend Christmas Eve with,” Patton said, so innocently, so nonchalantly, “I’m not bad company, am I?” 

The laugh burst out of Roman before he could stop it. “There’s no one I’d rather be with,” Roman said solemnly, unable to help his own smile spreading at how easily this made Patton light up. 

“Not even Lin-Manuel Miranda?” 

“Now hold on—” 

“I’m teasing, Ro!” Patton interrupted, giggling. 

Even in the fluorescent lighting, he looked so pretty. The chains of his cuff earrings made the slightest tinging against the bells hanging from his earlobes, which produced their own musical chime every time he so much as shifted. His curls, currently dyed lavender, were contained barely underneath his favorite pink, yellow, and blue beanie; Roman wished Patton’s hair was loose so that he could run his fingers through it. 

“You’re staring, sweetie.” 

“Can you blame me?” 

A moment. A mutual yearning for more. It passed. 

“Text Remy,” Patton suggested, “ask if they can check the shop for us.” 

Grateful for the distraction, Roman retrieved his phone and began typing out a message. 

Of course, it wouldn’t be fair if Patton didn’t get his own moment of admiring Roman, now would it? From his rainbow side shave to the silver hidden Mickey behind his ear to his sparkling nose stud, Roman was bright in every sense of the word. Honestly, Patton was the lucky one here; he couldn’t imagine going through this poor series of events with anyone else. They’d very nearly missed the plane entirely when a TSA agent gave Patton trouble for his belly button piercing. Making it on time only to find out the flight had been canceled anyway due to a snowstorm back home in New York had really been the cherry on top of their terrible evening. Roman was probably worn-out and… Oh, shoot.

“Doodlebug, I’m sorry!” Patton exclaimed, reaching out and covering the phone screen. “I can’t believe I already forgot about your headache.” 

Roman smiled at him, all soft and appreciative. “Your concern heals me all its own—” 

“You’re still shaking,” Patton cut in, unimpressed. 

He took Roman’s phone and set it in the cup holder of the armrest between them. Patton held his hand out which Roman took without hesitation. The trembling was more apparent now but Patton focused instead on trailing the patterns of ink on Roman’s right hand. 

“Remember you gave yourself this one after Percy bet you fifty dollars you couldn’t?” The tattoo was in CMYK, four perfect squares on his fingers, just before the bend of his knuckles. “You were so drunk,” Patton added, laughing, “but he didn’t know that you’re ambidextrous.”

“He didn’t ask,” Roman defended. 

Patton flipped Roman’s hand over and Roman groaned just as Patton traced his fingernail over the faded infinity sign on the inside of his wrist. “Come on, sunshine, not that one.”

“The one that started it all!” Patton said affectionately. “Where would we be without it?” 

Roman waited a beat. He could confess now, pour his heart out, admit that he wouldn’t be anywhere worthwhile, because it would be a world without Patton, without their parlor, without this little space they’d carved out for themselves in the universe. 

“Somewhere awfully boring,” he said quietly instead. 

“Hmm,” Patton tilted his head, sliding their hands together so that their fingers were entwined, lining up the halves of two hearts so that they matched. He smiled at the connected tattoos. “I think so, too.”

[reynesofcastamere]

Jagged Crowns(1/2)[β]

(A/N: I had a bit of an internal debate as to whether I should keep writing while...Well, some parts of our world are in a rapid spiral towards a fascist dystopian nightmare due to centuries of institutionalized racism, ignorance, and hair-trigger violence, among other things. I understand that I will never fully comprehend what POC have suffered, because the system has been rigged in my favour since before I was born. There is much and more that can and has been said on the subject, but to summarize: It is not my intention to further harmful ideas/depictions or to hurt people via this self-indulgent outlet. If I have done so(and not given appropriate warnings), please do not hesitate to inform me so that I may correct this. That said, warnings for: gore, violence, death, intrusive thoughts, mental breakdown/hallucinations, and suicidal ideation. The prompt for this was ‘Ahsoka helping Maul through his own struggles, since he’s pretty much on the verge of insanity at all times.’ Unbeta’d.)

In the end, there is no need for a chosen one. No bright, wide-eyed youth to take up a burning sword and the incalculable burden of ridding the galaxy of an oppressive evil. The reality turns out to be less of a legend and more of a horror story.

The Royal Palace is littered with the dead and dying, but there is only one that matters. Sidious is still immensely powerful, but his body has grown old and slow, and there are only so many guards he can sacrifice to protect himself. Overcoming his Force lightning, preventing bones and organs from being crushed, protecting their minds from invasion and violation: That is much harder. But finally, finally Maul strikes off the Emperor’s head as Ahsoka’s twin ‘sabres pierce his shriveled, black heart. She steps back. He keeps going, slicing and hacking until the throne is in pieces, the floor is a cross-hatch of burning lines, and what was once an Emperor is nothing more than a pile of charred meat and cloth.

“Is this...Am I free? No, this was too easy. Master always has a contingency plan.” He does not even realize he is voicing these thoughts, too occupied with searching the Force for something, any trace of Sidious’s presence. Foolish child. You thought you could defeat ME? I know your every pitiful thought, every scheme you concocted while you wriggled, a blind maggot encased in filth. “Be silent.” Maul snarls, fingertips coiled around his anterior horns, palms pressed into his eyelids. “Focus. Focus. Search for him, he cannot hide from us.” There is another voice, outside his head, but he cannot hear it. He has to know. Yet despite the venomous hiss that tries to steal away his concentration, there is...nothing. The Dark Side is empty of even the barest wisp of his Master. “Gone. Gone at last. Finally I have achieved Bane’s will...” He laughs, long and erratically pitched. Not a comforting sound, or even a sane one. Wait. There is something. He uncovers his eyes and re-opens them. Someone before him, unlit ‘sabres in hand. Another rival apprentice. Another test. “Have I not done enough to prove myself?” Maul whispers, disbelieving and enraged all at once. No. You must destroy all who would stand in your way if you wish to claim my power. Prove that you are worthy and strike them down! “Yes, my Master.” He had dropped his sabrestaff before -careless, stupid, he could have been killed-, but it leaps eagerly into his hand and activates as he begins his assault. He cannot seem to get a clear picture of his opponent, their form shadowed and not entirely solid around the edges. He sees their weapons clearly enough, though, especially when they clash with his own. His rival is on the defensive, parrying his strikes but not counterattacking. He cannot hear their words past the blood rushing in his ears, infuriated by this insult. Is he so weak that they do not even think him worth the effort of assaulting?! Maul drives them back, seeking to disarm, to maim, to kill, but he cannot connect. He resorts to yanking their legs out from under them with the Force, lips curled in a feral snarl as he raises his sabrestaff for the final blow...Then the Light bursts into his mind with the force of a battering ram, and he can feel-These thoughts, this presence, he knows it-Mine, this warmth is mine, cast from the star forever out of my reach. Ahsoka Tano looks up at him, eyes wide from exertion and fear. “Maul. Please, stop.” His legs give out from under him, weapon deactivated and slipping from his suddenly-nerveless fingers. He does not know how long it takes for her to come to him. Seconds, or perhaps years, her hands circling his face as their lips meet. He pulls her close, fervent and desperate in his passion. Yes. This is fitting. One last time, before the end. “You must kill me.” A whisper when they part for air, watching her blink in confusion. “What are you talking about?” “I have never fought for your hope of a restored Republic. You know this. You have prepared for it. Sidious is dead and I will inevitably take control of his Empire. Unless you stop me.” “I don’t have to murder you to accomplish that.” “Ah, so you are content to truss me up like a rabid animal and let your superiors toss me in a cage or cut off my head. How noble.” “No.” “Why? Because you believe that they will not take the opportunity to rid themselves of a long-standing nuisance? Or that they will simply leave me in peace because our goals aligned temporarily?” He summons her shoto to his right hand, snarling in frustration as he presses it to her left. “You are neither sentimental or naive, Ahsoka Tano. Do not hesitate.” For a moment, it seems as if she will go through with it. As if white light and the deep blue of her eyes will be the last things he sees. It is not the nature of the Sith, to surrender to death’s embrace so readily. But Maul has...never been a true Sith, and he is so very tired. The voices in his head are blessedly silent, yet it is only a temporary reprieve. Without purpose, without vengeance or ambition, he will lose himself again. “Stop running, Maul.” Her voice is firm, and oh, she burns bright enough to blind him, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Ahsoka takes her weapon from him, sets it down, and entwines their fingers instead. “You’re right. I know who you are and what you can do. I also know you’re capable of more than that.” He cannot breathe. What has she done, to make him feel this way? That there might be hope of being...something other than this? “Did you really think I didn’t notice all these years? The small acts of compassion and honour...Palpatine didn’t rip those away from you.” She is so warm, so willing to offer up these things he has blatantly denied himself and others. “A foolish dream.” Maul rebuts, but there is no real strength behind it. His left arm holds her more tightly, both for emotional and practical purposes. He is not certain how much longer he can remain even partially upright. “It doesn’t have to be. Join me.” Ahsoka offers. “There’s still Vader, Thrawn, and a whole mess of other Imperials to defeat or force surrender from. But after...We can try to build something of our own.” Her right thumb lightly brushes over his cheek. “Won’t be easy, but it’s a chance for both of us to try something different.” “You will regret this decision. Soon.” He points out dryly. There is only so much optimism he is willing to endure, even in this state. She only laughs. “And you haven’t driven me insane. Yet. I don’t expect either one of us to be perfect at this from the start. Just to try.” Her hand curves down and around, lightly dragging her nails up his nape and eliciting a low rumble from him. “Aren’t you going to give me your answer?” Her smile cements the fact that she is utterly devious beneath her relatively-harmless exterior and he will get her back for this later. “You. Are an unrepentant tease. And I will greatly enjoy administering your punishment.” He growls, both impressed and frustrated by her manipulation. “But I am willing to see whether this insane notion of yours will work.” His agreement brings a smile from her, but not before she rolls her eyes and gives a small, exasperated exhale. “‘Yes’ would have worked fine, you know.” “And since when have I ever passed up the opportunity to frustrate you, my Lady?” “Ass. Mmmmph...”

“Care to rephrase that?”

“No. You are the worst. But I might be persuaded to change my opinion.”

“Let us see if I am up to the challenge, then.”

This is merely the beginning of a very long, hard road. Yet neither one of them will walk it alone, and that makes all the difference.

(A/N:Things I didn’t include in the top note because it was getting a bit wordy: This is set around 5-ish BBY, so Thrawn isn’t a Grand Admiral yet, only an Admiral(or possibly Commander, depending on when his promotion happened). Obviously certain canon events didn’t happen (ie Malachor), and Maul and Ahsoka have been in a sort-of relationship for about a decade at this point. Also, sorry, they didn’t have sex in the throne room. Just makeouts and soul-searching. This is absolutely a starting point. Neither character is ‘cured’ of their various issues/traumas by the end of this installment even if they are being semi-cute and flirty. This is...not what I would consider a realistic way to handle someone being triggered/having a delusional episode, but I digress. *notices that fics that have started with gore or violent imagery have mostly ended in fluff* -_-....Hm...Well, that’s a pattern. Or possibly a problem. Cheers, everyone!) 

[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 2/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) Chapter 1. 

Chapter 2:  He's saved you before. Now he's gotta find you and bring you home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Tag list (open): @darlingtholland @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty

So Far Away Chapter 2/?

Bucky couldn't visit you in the hospital, even if he had wanted to; there was only space for the critically injured in the still-standing healthcare facilities. Others were transported elsewhere in the country. Anywhere that could take people did. That just left the people like you - hurt but able to walk, i.e. not dying.

Along with the thousands of other displaced city dwellers, you were assigned a fold out cot in a repurposed rec centre. It wasn't until you were sitting on it, with only a government issues sleeping bag and water bottle to call your own did reality set in. You'd lost your home. There was no way of contacting finding friends or family. With no connections outside of DC, you could only put your name on the 'registered: to be relocated' list and wait. Eventually you'd be seen by a caseworker, or so you were told.

The rec centre was a battle within itself. Three nights in and it was almost as bad as the moments before Bucky found you. There were crying and hopelessness, and a sense that everything important was happening elsewhere, that all your fates were out of your hands. You were going mad.

…

On the fourth morning, you were sitting on your cot with the girl who'd been sleeping next to you. While her mother went in search of anything resembling warm coffee, you braided the girl's hair. That's when you heard your name.

Behind you stood a man in a crisp black suit. The dark sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose were unnecessary in the rec centre. "Y/N?" he repeated when you turned to look at him.

As you stood, you nodded. "Yes,"

"Please follow me,"

"Wait!" you called when he moved too fast. "What's happening? Did you find my family? Do I bring my stuff with me?"

Throwing all you had - drink bottle, toothbrush and paste, protein bar - into your sleeping bag, you bundled it up and jogged after the man.

Nobody had been collected like that. Nobody had heard anything about their family from any official source either. You were very confused and a little sick with anticipation. Trotting along, you did your best to keep up without dropping anything.

Outside in the still dirty and broken street, the door to a sleek black car was held open for you.

"Where-" but you were cut off by a body emerging from the back seat.

"C'mon, man. She's only got one good hand. Could've taken her bag," Bucky said in a tone that was trying to be friendly but made the suited man shift uncomfortably and mumble an apology.

Bucky took the sleeping bag from you and carefully put it in the car. He looked at you then, smiled and nodded. "Sorry, I didn't bring any flowers. Took a little longer to find ya than I thought."

Eyes welling up with tears, you fell into his solid chest. Any embarrassment you could have felt was chased away with a wave of relief. You felt safe.

"Hi," he whispered, knowing you weren't able to reply.

Bundled in the backseat, Bucky gave you space to spread out if you wanted to. You didn't. After two minutes of watching you breathing heavily and trying not to curl into yourself, he undid his seatbelt and slide over.

"Come 'ere," he said, pulling you closer with his right arm. Nestled under him like a baby bird, it was easier to think. Thinking led to questions.

"Where are we going?" you asked. The first words you had spoken since seeing him and they weren't even gracious. Bucky didn't care though.

"New York," he answered. "Bit of a drive, but I reckon driving is safer than flying right now. We'll stay off the radar better too."

At the allusion to threat, your heart rate increased. "Are they still here?" you asked.

A state of emergency had been declared. That's all you'd really heard. You wanted to know if the creatures that had come from the sky were still waging war. It hadn't been an accident that they'd landed in the capital of arguably the most powerful nation in the world.

"I'm a sucker for a pretty face, Y/N, but I can't go around telling state secrets… But the battle's over for now; you're safe. Nothing to worry about."

It wasn't just you, though. There were people to find. Help. Save. However, even thinking about all of that, all of them, was too dangerous of a luxury at that point. You couldn't let yourself think beyond yourself. Instead, you asked, "Where are we going?" again, meaning to inquire about specifics.

Bucky was very used to people's inability to function effectively after pain, trauma. The repetition hardly registered as such; he knew what you meant. "Been staying at Stark Tower since I've been back in America,"

"Wakanda," you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

"Yeah, Wakanda. The Tower is… not exactly a home, but it's safe and it's somewhere to sleep,"

"'Kay." A slight nod was all you could muster.

You closed your eyes and let Bucky gently move his thumb over the exposed skin on your arm. Since it all began, you'd been cold. It was cold outside between the broken homes. It was cold in the rec centre, despite the mass of human movement. But in the back seat of the sleek black car, you were warm. The hoodie you'd been picturing in your mind for days was crossed off the wish list. Suddenly, you were glad to be in a t-shirt, glad to feel skin on skin.

Bucky's hand was warm. You wondered if his other one was, the one made of new vibranium and Wakandan technology. A combination of sleep deprivation and strange comfort led to you briefly opening your eyes and looking across Bucky's lap to where his left hand rested on his thigh. You reached out and took the hand, pulling it closer.

"You can feel everything?" you asked.

It was more than rude, but he forgave you. Usually people were too afraid of him to ask curious questions, so your bluntness was kind of refreshing. "Yeah. Pressure and temperature, at least," he answered, flexing his fingers in demonstration.

"Can you feel this?"

With the lightest touch, you traced patterns over the palm of Bucky's hand. He nodded, letting you trace seams and map his hand like you were charting a course to somewhere important.

"Are-" Bucky went to speak but stopped himself, starting his sentence again. "I know this is a… I don't know, a dumb question, but how are you?"

At first, Bucky tried to not involve anybody else in his search for you. Eventually, he had to explain to Steve and Sam, who kept asking where he was disappearing to. Earth had been invaded - what was more important? He had to talk to F.R.I.D.A.Y. too, so he assumed Stark would find out he'd been on the hunt for one girl. Bucky had half expected people to laugh at him. Or maybe even warn him against ruining an innocent girl's life with his own chaotic one. He was the Winter Soldier after all. Nobody had though. He'd been left with the resources he needed.

On Bucky's way out of New York, Stark had even phoned in, left a voice message. "Yeah, hey, Barnes… Look, if you find… if you find her, you can bring her here… What's one more stray?"

It made him feel like a massive idiot, like he was getting too big for his boots, but Bucky asked the agent to go into each building full of survivors and check for you. He knew going in himself would make a scene, disrupt the peace people so truly needed. The agent complied, of course. The first three times the agent had returned, he shook his head solemnly - "Sorry, Sir." Each time Bucky had reminded the agent that a) it wasn't his fault, no need to apologise, and b) he really didn't need to call Bucky 'Sir.'

Bucky knew you were alive, so you had to be somewhere. And when he watched you trot outside the rec centre, finally knowing where somewhere was, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders he didn't know was there.

Three nights and four days wasn't a long time, especially not by Bucky's standards, but he'd missed you. Even less than four days were the few moments he'd spent carrying you to safety. It wasn't like he'd gotten to know you. It wasn't like you were looking spectacularly beautiful. Honestly, Bucky had no fucking idea why he couldn't stop wondering where you had ended up and if you were okay. He had no idea what was driving that immense pressure coming from inside him to find you.

None of that mattered. You were tucked safely into him, holding his hand like it hadn't been the thing to kill countless people.

"You must have saved so many people," you said suddenly, ignoring his question not out of rudeness or deflection, but out of distraction. You were replaying it all in your head, imagining how Bucky must have swooped in and rescued other people stranded like you.

When Bucky didn't reply, you looked up at him. His expression was almost neutral, but erring on the side of confusion. His head cocked to the side a little, then his eyebrows pulled together.

"You mean, like…"

"Like me," you confirmed.

"Uh, no… not really. I'm more a… frontline combat kind of guy,"

"Thought you were a sniper?"

Bucky smirked. "Yeah… I mean I'm not… They don't send me looking for… civilians, people. The others are better at that," he tried to explain. He could see you didn't understand. "People see Captain America or… fuckin' Thor and know they're saved. Clint's good at it too. They're… people people, you know?"

You were frowning so much it almost looked childish. It was your thinking face, and Bucky didn't want to think it was entirely adorable, but it very much was.

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a… frontline combat, call me when there's a war not a press conference, kind of guy… I guess…" he said, repeated with flair. It was hard to read the tone in his voice; you couldn't tell if he was glad or sad about being that kind of guy.

"What about me?"

Quiet again while he thought, Bucky racked his memory. "You're… You're the only one…"

Bucky had saved hundreds of people during war pre-Howling Commandos and post, and he had saved the literal planet alongside The Avengers, so you were not the first person he had saved by any stretch of the imagination. But he wasn't searching for civilians the day he found you. He was stalking the enemy and killing them. You were not meant to be there. But you were. And if Bucky wasn't, you would have died. It made you the first and only individual person to be 'saved' by Bucky Barnes in the traditional help-me-Superman kind of way. That fact had only just become clear in Bucky's mind.

As Bucky figured it all out, you were watching him carefully, trying to read his mind. His blue eyes were glazed over, but finally came to refocus on you. He smiled softly, and it was very identifiably sad.

Then, unpredictably, he said, "How about we don't talk about the world ending, and we talk about how there's a hot shower waiting for you in New York." And just like that, as quickly as that strange darkness flashed across his face, it was gone. Replaced with a bright expression and casual smile, Bucky's face was reassuring again.

"Shower sounds good," you agreed.

"And food. What do you feel like?"

"Pizza," you replied immediately. Pizza, always.

Bucky laughed. "Probably need something a bit more… nourishing than pizza, darlin'. Vegetables, ya know?" He almost surprised himself with how quickly he seemed to snap into a caring role. He'd not played that part since Steve was small, sick. It felt good. Natural.

It kept going like that for a while. Bucky's constant small talk chatter keeping you on the upside of consciousness. You weren't sure if he was doing it on purpose. If he was worried a nap would ruin future sleep, he was definitely mistaken.

An hour into the trip, you looked up at him again. You'd sunk deeper into him. "Thought you said you don't talk that much,"

"Don't normally… Why? You got a problem, punk? Am I boring you?" he teased, poking your side a little. You tried to swat him away but you used your injured hand. The bandages frayed and dirty moving through the air were a sudden reminder. Warm. Safe. Comfortable. Almost happy, even. But that wasn't the case everywhere. Even if the terror seemed so far away, it was still just out there. You went quiet.

Bucky repositioned you in his arms then, dragging you across the back seat so he could sit on the far left, leaning half on the backrest and partly on the door. He held you so you could fall back on him entirely. His right arm was a secure vibranium seatbelt. His left one was free to move his hand around. He settled on running fingers through your hair. Surely it was full of knots and grit, but he didn't seem to find them. Very quickly, you fell into a shallow nap.

…

Bucky was trying to wake you gently, but you were hard to stir. He laughed as you frowned hard, slowly coming out of a fitful sleep. When you sat up and looked around, you were confused. The car was no longer in motion, and had come to park. It was difficult to see out of the tinted windows. "Where…?" you mumbled, not bothering with the rest of the question.

"We're home," Bucky replied, getting out of the car and closing the door. Inhumanly fast, he was opening the door on your side, offering a hand to help you out.

Shaky on your feet, you let Bucky's hands linger around you as you found your footing. Looking back into the car, you couldn't stop the natural urge to check you had everything - your wallet, phone, keys… But those things didn't exist anymore.

"Do you want any of that?" Bucky asked you, motioning to the sleeping bag.

Your head was shaking no before your mind had really decided, and you closed the car door with slightly too much force. Wincing at the loud thud, Bucky felt bad for you. He often felt bad for people; everything he'd been through somehow made him more empathetic.

"Stark doesn't normally just let people in the back door like this… But it means if you wander off F.R.I.D.A.Y. will probably lock you in a room."

It was easier to nod than ask who 'Friday' was and how they'd locked you in a room.

Bucky took your hand and began to walk. Stark Tower was designed to be somehow both easy to navigate but just as easy to get trapped in - just in case that's what Stark wanted. As Bucky led you down hallways and into multiple elevators, you knew you'd never be able to find your way out without him. It didn't bother you much. The world beyond the Tower was frightening and cold.

The only thing you really took notice of was the distinct lack of people around. Between the car and Bucky's suite, you only passed two others. There was an agent in the first elevator. She greeted Bucky with a monotone, "Sergeant," before hitting the button for twentieth floor, apparently knowing Bucky's path.

The second person was a little more animated, but also addressed Bucky as Sergeant. When he said it though, it felt like a term of respect and endearment. "Serge!" he called as he turned the corner into the hallway you were making your way down. "Heard you'd be here, Sergant." Bucky stopped to shake and pat the back of the man. He was dressed like the driver and elevator agents, but seemed far less robotic in his professionalism.

"Yeah, taking some quick R&R. I'll be back out soon,"

"Take your time. Don't think you owe us overtime or nothing," the agent said, smiling wide.

Bucky shrugged and stepped to continue on his way, his hand still holding yours firmly. "Be safe, yeah?"

"Always, Serge. You get some rest."

In the next elevator, Bucky ran his thumb over the back of your hand. "Figured you're too tired for introductions," he offered quietly. Smiling weakly, you nodded. "Don't worry - he'll go ask someone about you as soon as he can… Bunch of gossips."

At the door to Bucky's suite, he didn't produce a key of any sort. Simply, he said, "Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," out loud. You looked around, confused, then the door made a small clicking sound and Bucky opened it.

Inside, coming simultaneously from everywhere and nowhere a warm voice greeted you both. "Good evening Sergeant Barnes. Welcome Y/N,"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., I told ya to just call me Bucky,"

"Boss says only your friends call you that," the voice retorted. You could hear the sass in her voice.

It stumped Bucky, and he smirked and looked around, annoyed he couldn't face any one spot to speak to her. "Did Stark tell you not to be my friend?"

You thought maybe… she… had gone, but then, "Boss isn't the boss of me… Bucky."

Bucky laughed, and the sound made you spin to face him. His nose was crinkled up in amusement and he put his hands on his hips. Bucky noticed you watching. "That," he pointed up at the ceiling, "…is F.R.I.D.A.Y. She's Stark's… A.I. Kinda runs the place. If you need anything, just ask her. She can hear you anywhere,"

"But I only come when called," she added, seemingly disapproving of the creepy explanation Bucky offered.

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,"

"You're welcome. Have a good night."

You were still looking around for her when Bucky laughed again as he watched you. "Takes a bit to get used to, but you will. If me and Steve can, you can."

Nodding in response, you glanced around the space. Already it was overwhelming. There were floor to ceiling windows, and you could see all of New York from them, even from the other side of the room. You couldn't regulate your emotions. It was like anything you'd felt in your life had a sudden renaissance, all of them fighting to have their fifteen seconds of control of your mind and body.

Slowly, Bucky approached. It wasn't until he was right in front of you that you even noticed him.

"What do you need?" he asked, reading your expression and each movement of your body very carefully. "Don't answer that… You probably don't know what you need, yeah? How 'bout… Shower first."

He was patient. He could probably stand in the one spot for hours without moving if he needed to - if you wanted him to. But you didn't, of course. The problem was that you didn't really know what you wanted. Logically, you knew you should eat. Sleep. Clean. Facing choice, free will, for the first time in days felt alien.

"I…" you tried, but your voice was shaking and didn't sound familiar. "I… I don't know… Can… Can you just…"

What exactly were you asking for?

"Look after you?" Bucky tried.

Aim. Fire. Bullseye.

You nodded, bursting into tears. Bucky closed the gap between you, wrapping you up in his arms like he'd done before. Your own arms were folded, pressed tightly between your chest and his.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'," Bucky whispered, not trying to hush you. "We're gonna get you in the shower, then put you in bed. Go from there…" He kissed the top of your head. "I got you, Y/N."

Chapter 3.