#I have an active imagination that fucked me up when I didn’t have the maturity XP points to distinguish it from reality

[zadabug98]

I was terrified of our guest bathroom for the better part of a year after watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Just saw one of my Facebook friends asking if Secret of Nimh is too scary for a ten year old. Is this why so many of you are such huge wusses now? Because your mom didn't let you see anything more hard hitting than Scooby Doo until you were seventeen?

By ten years old you should already be irreparably traumatized by at least one horror movie

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | ii. the moment

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Mature [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), reader is described as curvy & only has one parent--all else is open to interpretation (we are POC friendly over here okay!!), one mention of f!masturbation but it’s super brief]

summary: you go over to the miller house to spend the afternoon with sarah, only to find that she's spending the summer with her mom. when joel insists you stay, things get flirty and then awkward and then flirty and then what the fuck.

wc: 3.6k

the masterlist | next chapter

Sarah had begged you to come over to their house next door to watch her at the pool, given that Joel was busy upstairs renovating his master bathroom with his younger brother, Tommy, and you were more than happy to oblige her request. Armed with a book, sunscreen, and a bag of chips, you made your way over and waited on the front porch for one of the Millers to answer. 

Luck seemed to evade you—or perhaps shine down on you, depending on how you wanted to look at it—as it was Joel who answered the door. He looked as good as ever in a paint-stained white t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, his hair damp with sweat and curling at the nape of his neck. His gaze traveled up and down your body, taking in the relatively modest one-piece swimsuit and unbuttoned denim shorts you’d chosen for today’s activities with something one could only perceive as appreciation. 

“Hey,” you managed, offering him a pathetic excuse of a smile. “Sarah invited me over to swim.”

“Oh,” he said, brows lacing together. “She didn’t text you?”

You shook your head, your confusion mimicking his own. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just that her mom called last night and asked her if she wanted to spend the rest of the summer with her, so she’s gone now until the middle of August,” he said, his tone giving away that he wasn’t exactly pleased by the last minute invitation. “But you’re, uh, still welcome to use the pool if you want. I’m just upstairs workin’ on the bathroom.”

He didn’t say anything about Tommy, which could only mean he was the one who was dropping Sarah off at her mom’s. And that meant that Joel was the only one around today, your dad off visiting his girlfriend in San Antonio for the rest of the weekend. 

Was it really a smart idea to spend your day around the one man you’d found yourself fantasizing about in the last year? Probably not. But it beat sitting at home sorting through your piles of keep or donate. 

“Yeah, sure,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “If that’s alright with you. I wouldn’t want to impose or anything.”

“No, you’re fine,” he assured, stepping aside to let you in. You held your breath as you walked past him, convinced that if you caught another whiff of that warm cologne he always wore, you’d be right back under the spell that caused you to act so awkward last night at dinner. “Did you have lunch yet? I was thinkin’ of grillin’ some burgers.” 

He followed closely behind you as you made your way through the living room towards the kitchen. 

“No, but that sounds good,” you said, setting your things on the kitchen island as he walked over to the fridge to grab himself a beer. 

“You want one?” he asked, holding up an extra bottle. 

“Freshman and sophomore year ruined beer for me,” you admitted with a laugh, bringing a slight smile to his face. “Water’s fine.”

“Alright,” he said through a chuckle, grabbing you a bottle and passing it over to you before taking out some thawed burger patties. “How’s it being a college graduate?”

“Nice,” you said, shrugging. “Don’t have to worry about deadlines or finals anymore. But…I don’t know. I guess it’s just a little hard moving back in after living on my own for so long.” 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he said, cutting through the plastic wrapping of the pack of meat. “But your dad seems happy to have you back.”

“Yeah, he’s being a mother hen about it,” you said, chuckling. “I had to tell him it was fine to go visit his girlfriend about twenty times before he finally decided to go.”

“Oh, is that where he’s off to? I saw him leavin’ earlier this mornin’.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a swig from your water. “Off to visit Vic. Have you met her?”

“Yeah, couple times.” He glanced up at you as he washed his hands in the island sink, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Have you met her?”

“No,” you replied, scrunching your face up. “And I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. It’s only been a few years since my mom passed, and well…I just worry that I might be a bitch to her for no reason. Or worse, I’ll find a reason.” 

“She’s alright,” he assured. “A little quiet, a little conservative for my taste, but she ain’t the evil stepmom type from what I’ve seen.”

“I think I’m a little old to call her my stepmom,” you said, cringing at the idea. 

“And how old are you?” he asked, busying himself with seasoning the patties. “I’ve never really asked.”

“Twenty-four. Turning twenty-five in December,” you said, fighting off the butterflies that frenzied in your stomach at the thought of him finally realizing you were only a decade younger than him and all the possibilities that might open up. 

“You started school late then.”

“Yeah, took two years off to work and save money so I didn’t have to take out as many loans.”

“Smart girl,” he praised, and god, did you want to hear more of it from him. “I’ve been savin’ for Sarah’s school since she was a baby, and I still think it won’t be enough.”

“She’s a smart kid, she’ll get scholarships,” you assured, and it was true. Sarah was by far the brightest kid you’d ever met, not to mention that she’d been playing the cello since she was in first grade. She’d have no problem financing her education, but it was sweet that Joel cared so much about investing in her savings just in case. “Did you, uh, go to school?”

“No, I thought about it, but I was never the studious type,” he confessed with a smile. “I liked math and readin’ and all that, but I hated the homework part. Figured all that was important in college, so I just decided to get my carpentry license instead. Tommy went to school, though, after doin’ his four years in the army.”

“Yeah, I think we talked about it once. Hospitality, right?” 

“Yeah.” Joel smiled, a look of surprise on his face as he met your eyes again. “I didn’t know you and Tommy ever talked like that.”

You’d done more than talk to his younger brother, going so far as agreeing to a date with him last summer, but nobody knew about that little secret. It didn’t end in anything more than a kiss goodnight, though, so both of you agreed it would be something kept between just the two of you. 

“Yeah, we’re friends,” you said instead, shrugging your shoulders. Joel arched an eyebrow at you in question, but you only smiled at him, daring him to prod. 

“Tommy isn’t known for havin’ a ton of female friends,” he said, moving back to his sink to wash the seasoning off his hands. “Or just friends, should I say.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, amused by his questioning. If you were a more delusional woman, you might’ve thought his tone carried a hint of jealousy to it, but unfortunately, you were a bit too realistic to buy into that. 

“It would make sense,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back against the counter, his beer in hand. “He ain’t that much older than you.”

“Five years,” you added, smirking into the lip of your water bottle. “I’ve been known to date older men than that.”

“Have you now?” He laughed, swallowing it down with a sip of his beer. “Your dad know that?”

“We don’t really talk about my dating life,” you chuckled. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Joel’s smirk was devious, and you had no idea how you’d managed to start flirting or what gave you the confidence. But here you were, trying not to let your hopes get too high that maybe, just maybe, he’d flirt back. 

Sighing through his amusement, he shook his head and picked up the back of burger patties without saying another word, leaving you to follow after him as he step out onto the patio. 

You expected some sort of verbal confirmation that he was interested, or that he wasn’t, but instead all you received was silence an a permanent look of amusement as he got the grill started. 

And silence just wouldn’t do. 

“Where is Tommy? I expected he’d be here helping you out,” you said, hoping to coax more conversation out of him. 

“Droppin’ Sarah off,” he said, not so much as glancing your way. Your mouth twisted with disappointment. It seemed like he was so close to playing along with your flirtation in the kitchen, but now he was back to being his usual closed off and sidetracked self. “Don’t worry, your boyfriend’s gonna be back soon.”

You let out a gasp of a chuckle, shocked by his teasing. “Boyfriend?”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, glancing up at you from over the hood of the grill with a half-smirk. “And don’t you try and deny it. He’s been askin’ about you since we heard you were movin’ back.”

Well, that was mildly surprising. You were under the impression that he was as disinterested in you as you were in him. After all, he wasn’t really the type you went for. You liked your men quiet and reserved, at least outside of the bedroom, and Tommy was the exact opposite. He was talkative, outgoing, and at times a bit too much. 

“I promise you, Tommy is not my boyfriend,” you said, laughing. 

“Well, seems like he’s interested, then,” he said, setting the patties down on the grill. “Might wanna give it a shot.”

Was this his way of letting you know that he, himself, wasn’t interested? If so, you wished he’d just come out and say it rather than trying to push you off on his younger brother. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, I guess.” 

Deciding to let the conversation end there out of fear that he might continue trying to play matchmaker, you finally decided to take a dip in the pool. Sliding out of your shorts, you briefly cursed yourself for choosing a more modest swimsuit today rather than the string bikinis you’d learned to love wearing through years of teaching yourself to be comfortable with your body and all of its imperfections—or what society deemed to be imperfections, at least. Instead, you were wearing something that covered all the bits you hoped to tempt Joel with, and judging by his lack of interest, your one-piece seemed to serve its purpose. 

You shoved Joel out of your mind as you stepped into the perfectly lukewarm water, keeping your back turned to him. You didn’t turn around and chance a look his way until you were submerged up to your neck, but even then, he still wasn’t paying any attention to you. 

It seemed that whatever had sparked that brief interest back in the kitchen had vanished completely, for better or worse. For the better because if your father ever found out you were fooling around with a man ten years your senior, he’d likely have nothing nice to say. And for worse because despite all the trouble it would cause, you still wanted Joel—wanted to flirt with him, wanted to touch him, and wanted to know him beyond what little he’d shown you over the course of the last four summers. 

When Tommy arrived, the burgers had just come off the grill. You were wrapped in your towel, sitting at the patio table across from a very quiet Joel. Tommy, of course, shooed away what lingering awkwardness remained between the two of you with his overt friendliness, choosing to sit beside you and fix his attention on you alone. 

“How’s it being back home?” he asked, as everyone seemed to. 

“S’alright,” you said, taking a bite out of a fry. “What about you? How’ve you been?”

“Been alright,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a sip of his beer. “Workin’ mostly, but you know me. I make time for extracurricular activities when I can.” 

You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, a smile finding its way onto your face despite your lack of interest in playing along. 

“You have any extracurricular activities goin’ on right now?” he asked, not at all subtle. 

“Not the kind you’re talking about,” you said, shooting him a look. “And I’m not looking for any, either.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, giving you a playful look of disapproval. “Now’s the time.”

“And who do you suggest I fill that time with?” you asked, your tone teetering the line of flirty. You weren’t sure why you were doing it, either, except out of the delusional hope that if you managed to make Joel jealous, perhaps he’d finally be lured into your trap. 

“There’s always me,” he replied, resting his arm over the back of your chair. 

“That’s my cue,” Joel muttered, grabbing his plate from the table. Your eyes shot to his, a pathetic look of disappointment in them as you watched him get up and walk inside. 

So much for jealousy, then. 

“Hey.” You turned in your seat to face Tommy, biting at your lip. “Did you say anything to Joel about our date last summer?”

Tommy smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “I might’ve said somethin’. Why? Should I not have?”

“I just thought we were gonna keep it between us like we said.” You weren’t sure why it angered you so much that he’d gone and done the exact opposite behind your back, but you had an inkling that it had something to do with the fact that now that Joel was aware of your very brief history with his younger brother, he likely wouldn’t try anything with you. 

“It ain’t a big deal,” Tommy said, his brows lacing together. “Unless you wanted it kept a secret.”

“Obviously,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes before standing up and collecting your plate. Tommy’s hand was gentle as it touched your arm, stopping you from walking off. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to cross a line,” he said, his eyes rounding. “I just didn’t know it was that big of a deal.”

“It’s fine,” you said. Anything to get him to drop it. “No worries.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s fine,” he said. “Looks like you’re pissed at me.”

“I am, but like I said, it’s fine.” You moved past him, his arm slipping out of reach as you opened the sliding glass door that led into the kitchen. 

Joel was standing there at the sink scrubbing his plate, his back turned to you. You swallowed the dryness in your throat and approached him, earning a glance. 

“I can wash mine,” you offered. Joel rolled his eyes at that and gently grabbed the plate from your hand. “You don’t have to—“

“S’fine,” he grumbled, turning back to the sink. 

“Did I manage to piss you off somehow?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head and frowning. “Why would I be pissed off at you just because you’re sneakin’ around with Tommy?” 

You chuckled, the sound not one of amusement but realization. 

He was jealous. 

And he was sulking over it. 

“I told you, Tommy and I aren’t sneaking around,” you said, trying not to laugh. “We went on one date last summer, but he’s not—it wasn’t a match. That’s the end of that.” 

Joel shut the tap off and moved over to the stove to grab a dish cloth so he could wipe his hands dry. He kept his head down, watching his hands, but you could tell he was still stewing from the clench of his jaw. 

“Joel, I don’t know why you’re pissed about the prospect of Tommy and I, so why don’t you tell me?” you said, stepping closer to him until his warm scent hit you. Joel lifted his eyes to look at you, his head still shaking. 

“I don’t know either,” he confessed, his voice soft and whispered. “Just am.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes at him and turned to go back outside so that you could grab your things and head home, but Joel’s warm hand on your arm caught you before you could even take a step. Your breath hitched as he pulled you close, his hand slipping up your arm as if to cradle your cheek. You waited for the warmth of his palm to touch you again, but the sound of the sliding glass door opening behind you forced him to take a step backwards as Tommy walked in. 

“You’re still here,” he said, oblivious to the moment he ruined. “Thought I pissed you off enough that you left without your stuff.”

You cleared your throat and turned to him, shaking your head. “No, but I was just about to.”

Joel remained a few feet away, watching the two of you in tense silence, but Tommy didn’t seem to think twice about it. Instead, he gestured for you to follow him out back with a nudge of his head. You took a breath, glancing at Joel before deciding that either way, you needed to grab your shit and go before things got even more awkward. 

“Listen,” Tommy started as he slid the patio door shut behind you. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Tommy,” you sighed, gathering your things in your arms. 

“No, I should’ve kept it between us like we said we would,” he said, stepping closer to you as you stood by the patio table. “I know I went and pissed you off, and I know you probably don’t wanna give me another chance, but—“

“I’m not looking to date anybody right now, Tommy,” you said, half annoyed and half flustered by whatever it was Joel was about to do before he was interrupted. “But we’re cool. There’s no hard feelings, I just…I’m only interested in being friends right now.”

Tommy swallowed the defeat with a nod, his lips pursing just slightly. “Alright. If you ever change your mind, though.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, though you knew it would take a miracle for you to ever go down that path again. Especially when Joel was finally starting to pay you some attention. “I should go.”

“Can I walk you home?” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine. Right next door, remember?”

“Right, sorry,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll see you, then.”

“Yeah,” you gave him a gentle pat on the arm as you passed him to head back into the house, somehow feeling guilty for rejecting him even when you knew you had every right to do so. Still, you were empathetic enough to remember the sting of your own rejected advances and hated the thought of him feeling that way. But your feelings for him, or lack thereof, couldn’t be helped. 

You wanted Joel, and Joel alone. 

Even if it was delusional, even if it was unrequited. 

Joel was nowhere to be found when you entered the kitchen, nor was he in the living room. It seemed he’d retreated back upstairs, and though you were familiar enough with the house, it felt like an intrusion to seek him out when it was clear that he wanted to be alone. So you’d save your feelings for another day, perhaps one where his brother wasn’t around to interrupt the two of you. 

You walked yourself back to your house in the late afternoon sun, your bathing suit and shorts already half-dry by the time you shed them in the bathroom before taking a much needed shower. You were only mildly ashamed to admit you’d used the memory of his warm hand on your skin to get off in there, but it never took much in that regard, at least when the fantasy of Joel was involved. 

By the time you got changed into some pajama pants and an old t-shirt, you were ready to call it a night. You opened your phone to start your routine of mindlessly scrolling until your eyes got too tired to stay open, but were surprised to find a missed text notification from Joel on your lock screen. You opened the message with bated breath and shaking hands. 

Joel Miller: Sorry about today. If you want to talk about it tomorrow, feel free to stop by. Hope you have a good rest of your night. 

Impatience gnawed at you, the urge to get up and drag your ass over there right now so that you could tell him there was no need for him to apologize hitting you hard. But you managed to reel yourself in, choosing to reply to him via text instead. 

Don’t you dare apologize. We can talk about it tomorrow. Have a good night, Joel. 🤍

You waited an agonizing few minutes for a response, half ready to die with embarrassment over your choice of words, your decision to add a heart emoji, the fact that you even responded at all, but thankfully, his reply came in before you had the chance to worsen things by sending a second text. 

Joel Miller: I’m just sorry I didn’t get the chance to kiss you like I wanted to. 

Well, shit.

[freedomfireflies]

Five to Go Live*

Summary: The fifth and final part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

But maybe you want more.

And maybe he does, too.

Word Count: 11.5k (I have no idea what happened tbh)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Good morning, Mr. Styles.”

The tense frame of the man pacing in front of the window stills when he hears your greeting. 

You’re five minutes early, coffee in hand, ready to begin your workday.

However, he doesn’t turn around as you enter his office. But the slight glimpse of his profile lets you know he’s acutely aware of your presence.

He stays by his desk, offering nothing more than his silence as you set down his drink and move for the couch.

“Good morning,” is his brisk greeting. It’s not any warmer or colder than usual. It’s just him. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”

“Right here.” You drop them onto the coffee table. “Ready for your meeting this afternoon.”

“Good.” He stares out at the city, unwilling to look you in the eye. “And you’ve confirmed with Nadia?”

“Yes. She’s calling for a driver as we speak.”

He nods once, fingers flexing beside his thighs before he finally ventures a glance over his shoulder. “And I suppose you’d like to talk to me about the other day.”

You flip open the laptop and pull up your email, eyebrow raised. “The other day?”

He turns to you, and you feel his heated stare. “I believe I owe you an explanation.”

“Not really,” you respond, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “You agreed to help me with the video, and you did. I didn’t expect you to stay, Sir.”

Your peripheral catches his slight frown. “You didn’t?”

“No.” You open his schedule and begin jotting down a few notes from Nadia’s email. “You’re not exactly the cuddling type. Probably would have been weirder if you had stayed.”

His hands disappear into his pockets as he regards you. “I never meant to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” Another shrug. “I knew what I agreed to, and now we’re done. No harm, no foul.”

The frown deepens. “Still, I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that—”

“Mr. Styles,” you interrupt, turning to face him, “I wasn’t under the illusion that things would change just because we fucked. I didn’t need aftercare, I didn’t need your words of affirmation, and I didn’t need you to stay.”

Something unrecognizable passes over his features.

You lean forward. “We’re good, Sir.”

The office goes quiet. You know him well enough by now to know what it looks like when he’s biting back a response.

And you imagine there are quite a few things he’d like to berate you for, but instead, he merely clamps his jaw shut and nods.

“All right.” He returns to his desk and takes a seat. “Let’s begin.”

The rest of the workweek carries on like usual. Things return to normal. Or at least to the way they were before he admitted to knowing about your outside activities.

And you find that you’re grateful for that. It’s much easier to only imagine him as your boss instead of your…business partner. 

What happened that afternoon in the hotel room was great. Fantastic, even. But it was only ever an act of generosity. A favor, more like. He helped you exactly the way he said he would and now it’s over.

You won’t ever have to think about him like that again.

So…you don’t. 

At least, you try not to. But it proves quite difficult.

After deciding against posting the whole video for your channel, and instead only uploading the part where he comes on your tits, it becomes harder to ignore what you two have done. 

 After all, the response is overwhelming. Positive, excited, and extremely lucrative. Most of the requests are for more of the mysterious man they’ve come to know, and you try not to feel disappointed when you realize there won’t be any more guest appearances. 

You wonder if he’s watched it. Wonder if he remembers that day the way you do.

Sometimes you slip up, and you watch the beginning just to hear him talk to you. You watch the way you undress him. Watch the way he kisses you. Watch the way he drives himself inside of you and begs you to come for him.

But then it hits you. Like a fucking freight train. It won’t ever happen again, and lingering on the one time it did isn’t healthy.

So, you turn it off, and attempt to resume life as normal.

You reach out to Max to apologize yet again for what happened, and he’s incredibly understanding. He asks if you’d like to meet for drinks and go over another scene for the future.

And you agree because you will do anything to put Mr. Styles in your rearview mirror.

You don’t mention the meeting to your boss. You figure it won’t do any good, and even if he disapproved, it’s not like he would tell you.

This is your game now. Not his.

So, with a new lease on life, you head for the bar to meet with Max, eager to find out what he has in store.

He’s happy to see you. Pulling out your chair and refusing any attempts at apologies that you offer.

Which you’re more than appreciative of, although you can’t help feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t get the content he’d been wanting.

“Seriously, don’t even worry about it,” he repeats for the third time since you sat down. “Honestly. I get it, once other people get involved, it gets complicated.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, sheepishly glancing down at your lap. “But still. He shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have let him run you out like that.”

He smiles. “It’s fine. Listen, your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. Really. And we can proceed however you feel is best—”

“Oh, no, he’s…he’s not my boyfriend,” you interject, head shaking quickly. “No, he was just…nobody. He’s nobody. Anymore.”

Max studies you for a moment, seemingly curious at your insistence. “Oh? Does…he know that?”

You swallow thickly and take hold of your glass. “Yeah. He does.”

A beat before he nods.

“All right.” Max takes a swig himself. “As long as you’re sure this is something you want.”

You nod but can’t help finding yourself hesitating. “Yeah, it’s…yeah. Of course.”

His expression softens. “Boyfriend or not, he still has a hold over you, doesn’t he?”

And you grimace because you hate the way it sounds. Hate how obvious it must be to everyone else. Hate that it’s even a thing at all.

“No, he just…he’s infuriating,” you argue. “I mean, you were there. You saw what he’s like.”

“I was and I did,” he agrees with a smirk. “Infuriating is the nicer way to put it.”

“He’s a dick,” you correct, making you both smile. “But I trusted him. And I trusted his judgment. And him being so…blunt is sometimes a good thing. Because there’s no room for overthinking or questioning what he really wants. He tells you. Exactly how he feels, exactly how he feels it.”

Max nods thoughtfully, urging you to continue.

“And yet there are so many things I feel like he’s keeping from me,” you murmur. “And maybe he doesn’t owe me answers. Maybe it doesn’t even matter, but I just…there was this moment when we were on the same page. When it felt so seamless, and easy, and good. And now…”

Max sighs. “Now he’s nobody.”

You both grow quiet as you let this settle.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking a sip of your drink. “He’s nobody. And it’s nothing. And it’s over anyway, so…I’m free to do whatever I’d like.”

He laughs. “That’s a great attitude.”

“Why thank you very much.”

“Of course.” He rubs his hands together. “Well, I guess in that case…maybe we should go over—”

“Peach Valentine.”

And almost as if you spoke him into existence, that familiar voice finds you. Cutting right through your conversation as chills fly up the back of your neck.

You almost don’t want to look. Want to pretend that this is merely a subconscious projection of the very last man you want to see.

But you can feel his presence behind you. Can smell his cologne and can see the surprised look on Max’s face.

Of course he’s here.

Slowly, you turn around, letting your eyes find the tall figure looming only a foot or two away.

He’s wearing an expression you know all too well. The one that tells you exactly what he’s thinking without him having to say a single word.

And your stomach sinks.

“Sir,” you whisper, voice oddly timid before you clear your throat and straighten up. “Hello.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. Offering nothing more than a blank stare. Then, he looks at Max. He looks at you. And nobody speaks.

Finally, his jaw sets, and his hands bury themselves deep within his expensive pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m meeting with Max,” you reply, shooting a smile toward your new friend.

Mr. Styles frowns. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting him.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you retort, lowering your voice as you send him a pointed look. “Seeing as we’re not partners anymore.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re still my assistant. And your well-being is my concern.”

“Oh? I thought what I did with my personal life didn’t concern you.”

“It does when it has to do with him.”

Your glare begins to mirror his. “Well, since I am in need of a new business partner, I figured Max would be the perfect one to ask.”

Mr. Styles rolls his shoulders back, regarding you carefully. “And since when are you in need of a new business partner?”

“Since my old one walked out on me.”

This does it. His features twist into an unforgiving and rather harsh look of disdain as he steps closer and drops his tone. “I told you, I needed to explain—”

“No, you don’t need to explain,” you correct. “I’m not upset. I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. But that doesn’t change the fact that our agreement is over.”

His teeth grit. “Just because I left doesn’t mean I was ending our deal—”

“It does in my book. I don’t have time to wait for you, Sir.” You sit up, leveling the playing field. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

His fingers suddenly wrap around your upper arm, tugging on you until your feet hit the floor, forcing you to stand. “I need to talk to you.”

A bit surprised, you blink rapidly and attempt to pull yourself free. “Mr. Styles—”

“Now, Peach.”

You want to argue. Want to fight him on this. Want to stay strong, stay with Max. Send the mean man away.

But you know him, no matter how belligerent he’s being. And there’s something in those eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in that persuades you to nod and follow him to the hallway.

The moment you’re alone and the loud music has been dulled to a quiet hum, you step away from him. Put the necessary distance between your bodies as he watches you go.

“You shouldn’t be talking to him,” he says simply, almost as if it were obvious. “In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

You scoff, rearing back to stare at him incredulously. “I’m sorry…you’re joking, right?”

“It’s a work night,” he replies, still infuriatingly cool. “And we agreed you wouldn’t do business with him—”

“We agreed?” Your eyebrow raises. “No, we didn’t agree on anything. You ran him out of the room without so much as checking with me first. And since when are we a we at all?”

He’s far too calm for your liking. “I told you, I’m still your boss. And partner. I want what’s best for you—”

“Really? Is that why you left?”

Once again, he scowls. “I told you, I had things to do—”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you snort. “Look, I don’t care why you left. I don’t even care that you left. But you did leave. So if I want to film with Max, I have every right to do so—”

“You do,” he agrees. “But you’re much smarter than that, Peach. And you know it.”

“Yeah? And what makes me so smart, hm? Sleeping with you?”

His expression twists into something you don’t recognize. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Sleep with you? Or point out that we did?”

“Peach—”

“No, you know what?” You take a brave step forward. “You have no right to come in here and demand that I leave him. Max is a good guy. In fact, of all the people that I’ve messaged on OnlyFans, he’s the only one that hasn’t said something skeevy or inappropriate.”

His expression falls. “Are you being harassed?”

“Not if I don’t respond. The block button exists for a reason. And that’s not even the point. The point is that you told me to do this. You told me it would be good for my channel to collaborate—”

“But not with him.”

“Then who? You?”

The hallway stills as Mr. Styles leans back. “This was never about me.”

“No. It wasn’t. It was about me,” you agree. “That’s what you promised. That this would be about what I wanted to do. And I want to meet with Max.”

The glare returns. “If you’re trying to punish me—”

“Punish you?” You laugh but it’s void of all humor. “Punish you for what? For being exactly who I thought you were?”

“You shouldn’t be here with him,” he says again, and your eyes roll.

“Then where should I be, huh, Sir? Should I be at home? Like a good little girl?” You take another step forward. “Should I be on my knees, waiting for you? Should I be fucking myself with that toy you bought? Pretending it’s you?”

You notice the muscles in his jaw constrict as he steels himself and throws you a look of warning. “Peach—”

“Because if I can’t fuck Max, and I can’t fuck you, then what do you want from me?” Another step. “You’re never happy. I can never make you happy—”

“Peach—”

 “I get that this meant nothing to you. I get that.” You’re only inches away now. “But…you’re so confusing. You’re so goddamn confusing, and I never know what you really want. Sometimes I think I do, and other times…”

His lips purse shut but his eyes are soft.

“I feel like we used to want the same thing,” you admit quietly, heart in your throat as you stare up at the beautiful man before you. Your rage dwindles down to a contemplative annoyance. “And now we don’t. So…excuse me for trying to find somebody who does want me.”

Suddenly, he surges forward. Stepping up to you so quickly, and with so much power that it forces you to stumble back into the wall.

He cages you there, his broad chest brushing against yours as he peers down, features hard and unmoving.

“And you think that somebody is Max?” he sneers, almost as if mocking you. “You think that he wants anything more from you than the money you’ll make him?”

“Who cares?” you argue, but it’s weaker than you’d like. “It’s an investment, you said so yourself—”

“I am your investor. Not him,” Mr. Styles nearly barks, practically chastising you. “How could it ever be him—”

“Because he’s everything you aren’t.”

He doesn’t even flinch, instead cocking his head to the side as he smirks. “So that’s what this is? You’re trying to replace me? Trying to find somebody better?”

“Well it’s not hard.”

The Cheshire-like grin grows. “Fine, Peach. Let me ask you this…do you like who you are with him? Do you like the role he puts you in?”

Your lashes flutter. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean—”

“Yes, you do.” His head dips until he’s fully in your space, making it impossible to know anything else but him. “Do you like how he treats you as though you’re nothing more than a means to his end?”

A breath catches in your throat. 

“Do you like how it’s never about you? Only him?”

You squirm back into the wall, once again attempting to create a bit of distance, but failing miserably as he places a hand next to your head.

“Do you like how insignificant he is?” His voice has dropped to a dangerous purr, like silk that slips across your cheek. “Or did you like it better with me?”

A question meant to trap you and you can do nothing more than stare at the buttons on his shirt as you will yourself not to gasp.

“Because I think you like yourself better in my reflection,” he murmurs, his other palm now smoothing across your hip, subtly tugging you into his body. “The way I make you beg for me. The way I touch you. Kiss you. Fuck you.”

The words weigh heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe as his nose softly ghosts against yours. 

“Everything is better with me. And you know it. So why are you wasting your time with him? Hm, Peach? Who are you really trying to punish? Me…or you?”

And you could just slap him. You really could. Could fucking slap the dimples right off his face for being so smug.

“I’m not punishing anybody,” you whisper, nails curling into your palms to brace yourself. “I’m just doing what you told me to.”

“Well now I’m telling you to leave him.”

“Why?”

His eyes flick between yours. “Why do you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I want to hear you say it.”

The frown returns. “Peach—”

“Say it, Mr. Styles,” you repeat. “And maybe I will leave him. Maybe I’ll walk out of this bar, and never look back. I’ll delete his number, I’ll block him, I’ll never think of reaching out to him again. I’ll leave. With you.”

You can see the way he internalizes this. Can feel his grip tighten, can see the muscles in the arm beside your head flex.

“Just say it,” you mumble again, reaching out to brush your fingers down his chest. “Tell me what you really want. Because maybe I want it, too.”

Everything moves around you. The world, time, this moment.

But neither of you move.

And as the seconds pass, you can’t help but silently will him to finally be honest with you. To finally succumb to what he really needs. To make everything that’s happened mean something.

Then, his eyebrows weave together, and his lips turn down. “I want you to go home,” he finally says, and your heart drops so fast, it makes your head spin. “You’re drunk, and you shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“I’m not drunk,” you retort, now shoving on his sternum to create that space you so desperately need. “I’ve had one drink. And I’m not alone. You’re here.”

And maybe it’s too dark in this hallway to be sure, but you’re almost positive you see something painful flash behind his eyes.

“I won’t be for long,” he replies as he pushes off the wall and steps back. “I have other things to do besides babysit you.”

And that is your slap to the face.

Your hands ball into fists by your side. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never asked you to babysit me. I didn’t even want you here—”

“Clearly you need it,” he argues. “Since you aren’t capable of making decisions on your own. Even when you’re sober.”

You scoff so loud, it makes your throat sore. “I was doing just fine without you—”

“You were scraping by,” he corrects. “And you could do so much better if you realized that he’s nothing but a waste of time and sperm.”

Your nose crinkles as you make your way to the end of the hall, ready to rid yourself of him. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t…I can’t argue with you over the same goddamn thing. Okay, Max is nice to me. He tells me what he actually feels, and that’s something you could never understand.”

You think you see the briefest hint of disappointment, but it’s replaced just as quickly by a look of unamused indignation. “Fine. If you’d like your sex life and your career to be as mediocre as his cock…by all means. The choice is yours.”

“It is,” you agree coldly, ready to turn on your heel and run. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles.”

With that, you exit the hallway, leaving him behind.

And he lets you.

The following day, things aren’t as awkward as you expected. Mr. Styles doesn’t mention your run-in at the bar, nor does he attempt to restart the conversation about Max.

He treats you the way he did when he first hired you. With nothing but professionalism and distance. 

At first, you’re thankful. There are no more sly comments or lingering stares at your chest. He follows your terms to let you make your own decisions. He lets your business be yours.

And he’s nothing more than your boss.

But as the days progress, you can’t shake the nagging thought that something bigger is afoot. Almost as though something is wrong. Off.

Maybe it’s just in your head. Maybe you want to believe he’s more affected by this little falling out than he pretends to be.

But you’ve known him for over a year. You know what it looks like when he’s upset, and this…this is not it.

However, you decide to push away the inclination altogether, and carry on with your work as usual. Because even if something is wrong, it’s none of your concern anymore.

That is until Nadia mentions it over lunch.

“Listen, he’s a very complicated man,” she says when you comment on his odd behavior, waving her salad fork through the air. “He tries so hard to appear uninterested, but I know it’s just an act. Nobody is that heartless.”

You swirl your French fry around in your ketchup, mulling this over. “I don’t know. He doesn’t…I don’t think he’s heartless. I think that’s just…who he is. He has a one-track mind.”

Nadia snorts. “Please. You should have seen him before…”

Your little lunch corner goes oddly silent as she suddenly presses her lips together and winces.

“Before…?” you repeat curiously, head tilting.

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reply, dismissing the comment with a flutter of her hand. “No, nothing. He just…he was more open when he first started the company, that’s all.”

You know there’s more to that story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. Instead nodding your head as you return to your burger, letting the inquiry rest.

However, the subject is changed for all of three minutes before she sighs, and finally says, “Okay, look, it’s none of my business. And I don’t even know all of details, but maybe this will help make your job…easier?”

Once again struck with curiosity, you motion for her to continue.

“He had an assistant before you,” she begins. “His first assistant actually. I don’t know too much because I was working the mail room. But I do know that they were really close. Maybe friends, maybe more. I don’t know. But they were close.”

You lean back in your seat, endlessly intrigued as you wait for the rest.

“And everybody loved them together. She made him so happy. He was always smiling, always laughing, always walking around the office talking to everybody. Engaging in chit chat and catching up on everyone’s lives.”

It’s odd to picture your boss so open. So…infatuated. In fact, this fantasy she’s painting doesn’t sound like the man you know at all.

You have to wonder how different things would have been if he were still the same.

“Anyway, I don’t know what happened exactly, but something bad,” Nadia sighs. “The rumor was that she was seeing somebody he didn’t like. He got crazy possessive over her, and it drove them apart. She quit, and he became this sullen, hollow version of himself. And now that’s just who he is, I guess.”

“That’s…so sad,” is about all you can offer, frowning some as she nods.

“Yeah. It was,” she agrees. “After her, he didn’t hire another personal assistant for quite some time. Until you, actually. Which was kind of surprising, and I think we were all a little worried for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seem to be handling him just fine, which is great. But…I don’t know. He just became very…cold. Distant, I guess. Doesn’t really create personal relationships anymore.”

You have to admit that this makes sense, although it doesn’t exactly help make things any clearer for you. “That must have been hard for him.”

“Yeah. And maybe he taught himself not to care, but…I think he hides who he really is because of her,” she admits with a shrug. “Which sucks. ’Cause he’s such a good guy, deep down. He just…he’s afraid, I guess.”

You hate the way your heart breaks for him. Hate the way this humanizes him. Hate the way it makes you second guess every interaction the two of you have ever had.

“Does he ever talk about her?” you ask next.

“No, never. I don’t even remember her name, to be honest. It was forever ago. Five or six years, at least.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm. As far as I know, he doesn’t date, either. I think he fucks around a bit. I mean, he’s a guy, after all,” she teases. “But he doesn’t really do anything…meaningful. Maybe he doesn’t know how anymore.”

Your stomach twists around an invisible knife. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” she hums, digging back into her salad. “I don’t know. If he’s being rude, just tell him to fuck off. That always works for me.”

You laugh as the subject is dropped and the two of you carry on with your lunch.

But you think about it for the rest of the day, the information following you back to his office where you’re quick to find that he’s left for the afternoon. 

So, you sit with this discovery as you go through your tasks. Unable to stray from the thought for very long before your throat constricts, and you feel a wave of disappointment.

You text him as you’re leaving for the evening. A simple, “Finished prepping the presentation. Hope you’re okay,” before you tuck your phone away and head home.

Hours go by without a response. Not that you really expected one, but you can’t help feeling slightly guilty for the role you played in pushing him to open up.

And no matter how out of line he was, or how justified you were in asking for his honesty, you know how hard it must be for him to be honest with you.

Especially if what Nadia said is true.

After messaging Max for a bit about your upcoming video, you decide to run yourself a bath, letting the bubbles fill the tub as you watch the water rise.

You’ve barely slipped out of your socks when your phone vibrates on the porcelain sink, making you jump some at the sudden noise.

The familiar name flashes across the screen, making your heart skip as you hesitantly hit the green button and bring the phone to your ear. “…hello?”

“You did it, didn’t you?” Mr. Styles says, but even through the static, you can hear that there’s something off. 

“Did…what?” you ask hesitantly.

“You fucked him,” comes the reply. Blunt and void of any civility. “Max. You fucked him, didn’t you?”

With narrowed eyes, you turn the water off and step out of the bathroom. “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern—”

“So, yes,” he answers for you. Then, you hear him chuckle to himself. However, there’s something chilling about the way he laughs. Bitter, almost. “You’re very easy to read, Peach.”

You can feel your expression fall into one of annoyance as you lean against the wall in the hallway. “Mr. Styles—”

“Was he good?”

You glower. “Mr. Styles—”

“I already know the answer is no,” he continues. “Even your own fingers would be better, but…maybe I just wanted to hear you say he wasn’t.”

You contemplate this for only a moment before you cautiously ask, “Are you drunk?”

You can hear the subtle slur slip through the speaker, and your eyebrows raise as he snorts.

“No, I’m curious,” he retorts, but it makes your heart pound. “And I’m still a subscriber. So I want to know what to expect.”

Your stomach wrenches. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Why are you avoiding my question?”

“Mr. Styles—”

“You like to torture me, don’t you?” he interrupts, and there’s a hitch in your breath. “You always have. From the first day I met you. You were wearing that really nice dress. And your hair was up in that pretty ponytail. And you walked in like you were trying to walk into my life and ruin me.”

Your head falls back into the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “Sir—”

“And I let you,” he carries on. “I let you ruin me. I let you do the one thing I promised I’d never do, and now what? Now you’ve gone and strutted your way into somebody else’s life.”

And maybe he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you feel this overwhelming rush of emotion, anyhow. “Mr. Styles, where are you?”

“Where would you like me to be?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Says you.”

You huff. “Mr. Styles—”

“Tell Max I said hello,” he says instead. “And then tell him I don’t mean it.”

“Mr. Styles—”

There’s some sort of loud noise on his end before the line suddenly beeps three times and the call goes dead.

And you can only stand there, flabbergasted, as you stare at your phone. Wondering what the hell just happened.

You’re frozen for a good minute or two, running through your options. He normally doesn’t reach out when he’s drinking, at least not to you, and definitely not this late.

Maybe it’s a silent cry for help or maybe he just wanted to bother you one last time.

Either way, it breeds something unnerving in your gut as you groan to yourself and head back to your room to retrieve your shoes.

You don’t imagine he’s out. He has to be at his apartment, so at least you know he’s probably safe. But you don’t know what he might do. You don’t know what that sound was, and if he’s managed to hurt himself, but you don’t think anyone will be there to help for quite a while.

You grab the key he’d given you a few months ago. It was meant only for emergencies, although you’ve never needed to use it.

Tonight, however, you decide that this is as good an excuse as any.

You call an Uber to take you to his place, the lavish apartment building smack in the middle of downtown, quite a bit away from you.  

Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad this late at night, and you’re grateful for the quick trip as you’re brought to a stop just outside the sidewalk in under thirty minutes.

You jump out, greet the doorman, and book it for the elevator before hitting the button for his apartment at the top of the building.

It’s a good three-minute ride before you finally reach his floor, and once those doors open, your heart leaps into your throat.

Even the hallway is exquisite, and your dirty Vans squeak along the newly waxed floors as you approach his apartment, and fumble with the key.

You unlock it as slowly and quietly as you can, hoping not to startle him if he is in fact inside, and the moment the door is cracked, you call, “Mr. Styles? Are you here?”

Everything is dark as you enter. Not a single lamp to be seen, only the soft glow of the city lights outside of his many large windows, and the pale shadow of the moon cascading across the floors.

You see silhouettes of furniture, walls, and a few appliances. Enough that you manage not to trip over anything as you make your way into his living room. 

And then, you see him.

The shape of his body is outlined by the window to your left. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall as he stares out at the tall skyscrapers before him. 

Your heart sinks as you pocket the keys and approach slowly. “Mr. Styles?”

He’s still. Deathly still, in fact. As if he hasn’t even heard you. He doesn’t even bother to look over or investigate your presence.

And then, he murmurs, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Your breath hitches.  “Maybe not,” you reply quietly, taking another cautious step. “But I was worried about you.”

He snorts, arms slung over his knees, a crystal glass in one hand that’s only got a few drops left. “How nice.”

“Mr. Styles,” you try again, “are you all right?”

Now close enough to catch a glimpse of his profile, you see the sweaty hair matted to his forehead. The strain in his jaw and the red rim around his eyes. 

“M’fine. You can go,” he calls.

You take another step. “You didn’t sound fine—”

“Well I am, all right?” he suddenly sneers, turning to face you as you lean back. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s concern,” you correct briskly. “You’re drunk, and upset—”

“Yeah? What was your first fucking clue?”

You shoot him a look of warning as you bridge the gap and hesitantly crouch down to his level. “Why are you drinking?”

“Because I fucking can,” is his reply, his normally soft green eyes now as sharp as the edge of a sword. “Is that a problem?”

“Maybe. Do you remember calling me?”

“Of course I fucking do. But I don’t remember asking you to come here.”

“You didn’t,” you agree. “But I wanted to. Because I was worried.”

“Why? Don’t you have better things to worry about now?”

You’ve never heard him sound so insecure, and you’re reminded again of Nadia’s story as you glance over his expression. “I haven’t slept with Max.”

This is the only thing that seems to reach him, his lashes fluttering as he leans back, although his scowl remains put. “Why not?”

“We just haven’t yet. We’re still planning the video.”

“So you’re going to?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You think so.”

“I plan to.”

He scoffs beneath a quiet breath and looks back out the window. “And you needed to come here to tell me that?”

“I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you tell him again. “And to set the record straight.”

“Why? You were right, it’s none of my fucking business.”

“It’s not, but you still seem to care.”

He snorts. “I don’t fucking care who you sleep with, Peach.”

“Sure, okay. Is that why you tried to keep me from doing it?”

“I was trying to help.”

“You’d help me a lot more if you were honest.”

“I am honest. I’m always fucking honest.”

“Not about this.”

His eyes return to yours. “I told you, you can do better. That’s my honest opinion.”

“Fine.” You take a moment to study him. “Then why did you offer to help me?”

His head drops back against the wall as he mulls this over, but his gaze never leaves you. “Because you needed the help. I knew you could make more money if you just did things a little differently, and I was right.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“What else would it be?”

Your head tilts. “Why did you agree to be in the video with me?”

“You said you didn’t have anyone else.”

“Why did you get me custom jewelry with your initials?”

His teeth begin to grit, the grasp on his glass tightening some. “What?”

“The peaches would have been fine. My initials would have been fine. But you wanted me to wear your name,” you remind him. “Why?”

“I already told you, I wanted him to know who your real partner was—”

“Yeah? Then why did you leave?”

His lips press together. “I thought you didn’t care—”

“I do now. Why?”

“I had somewhere to be—”

“Where?”

“Where?”

“Yes, where? Where did you have to be?”

He seems to fight himself on the answer before finally admitting, “The gym.”

You lean back, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry, you rushed out of there to go to the gym?”

“Yes.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff as you shake your head. “Wow. No, I should have assumed as much. Makes perfect sense. Clearly that was so much more important than just telling me I made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t,” he suddenly interjects, shooting you this look like he’s disappointed in your response. “I left because I knew I couldn’t stay.”

“You couldn’t stay? And why the fuck not?”

“Because—” He stops himself, once again clamping his jaw shut as if wrestling with the truth. Then, he drops his head, eyes finding the floor as he glares at the marble beneath. “Because I couldn’t.”

And you want to scream because you don’t know if he’ll ever be honest with you. Don’t know what to do to reach him.

“You know what I think?” you finally huff, and he looks up. “I think this is about her.”

Confused, he glances over your expression. “Her who?”

“The girl who used to work for you. Your first assistant. The one who left.”

Instantly, the atmosphere changes, his entire demeanor shifting on a dime as he presses his back into the wall and shoots you a venomous look of intimidation. “Oh you do, do you?”

“Yeah.” You hold your ground, keep your shoulders stiff. “I think you loved her. I think you were honest with her. I think you let yourself trust her, and I think…she broke that trust.”

You can tell he’s not quite sure what to do with this, furrowed brows still knitted together. “And where the fuck did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s true, isn’t it?”

His finger taps the edge of the crystal in thought, but his contemplative expression remains. “Even if it were, what does this have to do with us?”

“Everything,” you say simply. “She broke your trust, and you chose not to get close to anyone again. But then you started helping me. And we got closer. And created a bond—created trust. And the second you realized, you ran for the hills.”

He snorts again, but he doesn’t rush to deny it.

So, you carry on. “Max coming along only made things worse for your fragile little ego. And maybe you were trying to keep it from happening again, but you did a really shitty job of it. And now here we are, sitting on your floor, saying everything but what we really mean.”

He’s angry. He’s so very angry, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, fighting himself on what he really wants to say.

You scoot closer, gently reaching out to take the crystal glass from his hand so you can place it on the floor. Then, you rest your palm atop his arm, and meet his eye.

“Harry,” you whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath, tensing beneath your touch. “I’m not her. And maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But I have only ever wanted it to be you.”

He’s quiet but you have his full attention. And the intrigue in his features urges you to continue.

“Even before you told me that you watched, I imagined you,” you admit quietly. “I’ve always imagined you. Your voice, and your hands, and your face. And yeah, I didn’t mind keeping things…professional. Strictly about the content and nothing more. But…you have to know I wanted more.”

Once again, the back of his head meets the wall, as if bracing himself from your honesty.

“I wanted more,” you repeat. “And I thought you did, too. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard, and maybe that’s why I tried to use Max to move on. But I never wanted Max. I only wanted you. I just…I wasn’t sure I could have you.”

He looks down at your hand, gaze softening when he sees the way it looks on his arm. Like he’s mesmerized by your touch.

“And I need you to tell me right now what you want,” you say softly. “I need the truth. I have to know if we’re running around in circles for no reason, or if…maybe we can get off this ride together.”

He’s silent for quite a long stretch, letting himself ponder a response as the apartment fills with a solemn quiet.

You study his face in the soft glow of the moonlight, wonderstruck by the sharp curve of his jaw in contrast to the soft curls near his cheeks.

Even now, he’s breathtaking.

Finally, he clears his throat. “Ellie.”

“What?”

“Her name,” he says, “was Ellie. And you’re right, I did trust her. But I ruined it. Not her.”

Now it’s your turn to listen as he recalls this memory to you, nodding gently for him to continue.

“She didn’t…she loved somebody that wasn’t me. That was her only fault,” he murmurs, once again staring at your hand as your thumb strokes his tan skin. “And it wasn’t even a fault. But I hated it. Because I wanted it to be me. And it was never going to be me. We both knew that.”

Slowly, his arm turns over, allowing your gentle touches to dance along the more sensitive skin.

You smile.

“I crossed so many fucking lines,” he admits quietly. “As her boss, as her friend. I pushed her away only to drag her back and try to keep her close. I suffocated her. I let myself need her in ways I shouldn’t have. She had every right to leave. In fact, she should have left sooner.”

You feel the tips of his fingers brush against you as he subtly grabs on.

“And then you,” he whispers, eyes still locked on where you’re connected. “I’d been doing so good. Didn’t let myself slip again, and then you came along, and everything was fucked. Because I knew I couldn’t do to you what I’d done to her. But I let myself think about you anyway. Even when I shouldn’t have.”

You can feel tears crawling up the back of your throat, and the wounded look on his face is like a fist to the heart.

“And for some fucking reason, I thought offering my advice would allow me to know you without ruining anything,” he sighs, tugging you a bit closer until your knees collide with his. “Which obviously didn’t work. And then I was looking for excuses to be with you. To have you. To touch you. Even though I knew better. Even though I had to know better.”

He takes a deep breath. Holds it. 

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he eventually exhales. “And I got scared that the only reason you felt like you wanted more was because I somehow tricked you into it. I confused you, I manipulated the situation. It wasn’t real. And I wanted it to be real. But then Max, and I got so fucking angry, and I knew I was doing it again. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you.”

He won’t look up. He won’t meet your eye, and the hard set of his jaw makes you take hold of his other arm and squeeze it tight.

“Harry,” you whisper, but his head shakes quickly.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he barrels on, fingers wrapping around your elbow, keeping you close. “Because I can’t have it. I can’t have you. And you were right, I can’t be your partner anymore. I can only be your boss.”

You frown but it’s sad. “Harry—”

“Mr. Styles,” he corrects, finally shooting you a look of warning that breaks your heart.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you release him so you can wedge yourself between his legs and take hold of his face. “Harry,” you repeat, urgent but gentle. “This? It’s not the same.”

He struggles a bit in your grasp, tensing up as he tries to pull away. But it only lasts a second before he’s settling into your embrace, allowing you to guide his attention to you.

“It’s real,” you whisper. “It’s so fucking real. It was real even before you called me poor and badly dressed.”

This earns you your first smirk of the evening, and the butterflies that explode in your gut nearly make you dizzy.

“You’ve tried to push me away over and over. But I’m still sitting here, on your floor, begging you to talk to me.” Your thumbs delicately brush across the bags under his eyes, and he seems to nuzzle into your palms. “It’s not the same. You’re not just my boss or my investor. You’re my partner, Harry. And I can’t do this without you.”

His arms slowly slip around your middle, encouraging you onto his lap as his legs drop.

And you eagerly oblige, straddling his hips with ease as you look down at him.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” you murmur. “So don’t make me. Please.”

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’ll do. What he’ll say or feel. He’s still somewhat tense, and far too quiet.

Then, he tugs, crashing your lips into his.

And it’s the most honest thing he’s ever done.

“Turn around.”

The strong command leaves no room for argument as you quickly spin on your heel, eager to obey.

Your ass is revealed to the camera. Bright red from the many spanks Mr. Styles has landed to it. It complements the dark black lingerie set he recently purchased for you, something you’re both rather proud of, and perhaps the main feature of this video.

You hear him hum his approval as he approaches, large hands slipping over the curves of your hips. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs before shoving you onto the bed. “Think it’s time we show them what a wet little whore you are, hm?”

You feel his finger hook into the crotch of the panties before he’s ripping them aside, allowing your swollen cunt to glisten for the lens.

You gasp as the cool air hits you, but it quickly melts into a desolate whine when you feel his touch ghost up the back of your thigh.

“Look at you,” he muses, palms pulling on your cheeks to spread you open, giving your audience a firsthand glimpse of your mess. “So fucking pathetic, aren’t you, Peach? And all I’ve done is spank you.”

“Can’t…can’t help it, Sir,” you pant, steadying yourself on your hands and knees as your eyes flutter shut. “Just want you.”

“Oh you do, do you?” He kneads your bruised flesh with admiration. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You squirm a bit as you whimper, desperate to lean back into his touch before he lands another smack to your thigh, reminding you to stay still.

“Yes,” you finally answer, chin meeting your chest. “Wanna deserve it for you.”

You hear him chuckle under his breath as he allows his touch to travel toward your dripping pussy, large digit pushing through your folds just to make you mewl.

“I bet you do,” he replies, running up and down your cunt to collect you. Tease you. “But we have a deal, don’t we, honey?”

You want to kill him and kiss him all at the same time.

“Yes, Sir.”

“We do.” He pats you again, this time gently. “Go on and grab it, all right?”

With a nod, you outstretch your shaky hand for the object sitting on the bed only a few inches in front of you.

Already tender and slightly swollen from the way he played with you earlier (casually and much too cruel), you feel a rush of excitement as you hand him the chain.

After taking hold of it, he moves to sit in front of you, allowing him better access to the front of your body as he motions for you to sit back on your ankles.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking between yours as he looks for your consent.

You nod. “Always.”

With that, he reaches for your exposed tits and begins preparing your nipples for the clamps.

You swallow a dozen whines and whimpers as he works them shut, the subtle ache quickly dissolving into an immeasurable type of pleasure.

And he’s smiling so big, like he’s so proud of you. Proud of the way you look, proud of the way you feel, proud of the way you obey.

It makes the yearning in-between your thighs that much worse as he travels the other end of the chain down to your clit.

Once again, he plays with you. Drags his fingers up, down, and through to make you writhe, and make sure you’re ready.

Then, with great care but devious intent, he slips the clamp along the base of the sensitive nerves and secures it.

You choke on a gasp, body stilling as the sensation becomes a bit more familiar. It’s quite thrilling. Not painful, but prominent. Taunting you with its power as you glance down at the way it holds you.

Harry leans back to study you, carefully observing every pull of your brows or hitch in your breath. “You okay, Peach?”

You nod, lip sliding between your teeth.

He frowns. “Color.”

“Green,” you say quickly, nails digging into your thighs as you release a heavy exhale. “It’s just…new.”

His expression softens as he reaches out to grasp onto your chin and squeeze once. “I know, my love. But you’ll take it for me, won’t you?”

And you say, “Yes,” with so much adoration and excitement that it returns those dimples to you.

His eyes drift toward the computer, checking the status of the livestream you assume before he leans forward and presses his lips to yours. 

You know your faces aren’t in the frame, but it makes your heart pound nonetheless as he offers you a moment of his affection. 

“How’s your ass?” he mumbles between kisses to your bottom lip.

You nod gently and sigh into his mouth. “Good. Sore.”

And he chuckles as he sends you a devious wink. “Good.”

With that, he stands, and begins to undo his belt as he returns to his spot behind you. He doesn’t plan to be gentle today. Not for your first live appearance, and you’re grateful for his punishing hand as it ghosts down your spine, guiding you.

It travels between your thighs, tapping them briskly as a reminder to keep them spread as you bend back over.

And once you’ve braced yourself against the mattress, you feel those long, skilled fingers nudging at you again.

“Sir,” you whisper, desperate for the friction as he keeps his touch light, merely tracing patterns along your folds while humming to himself.

“Yes, Peach?”

You swallow thickly. “Please?”

“Please?” His thumb moves up to brush over your tighter hole, and you gasp again as you await any sort of contact. “Please what?”

“Please…please touch me?”

“Touch you,” he repeats thoughtfully, as if considering it. “I don’t know. Have you disobeyed any of my rules?”

With a quick shake of your head, you glance down at the duvet beneath you, the expensive fabric soft beneath your clenched fists.

“Have you used any naughty language?” he asks, the tip of his middle finger lowering to circle through your arousal. 

“No,” you breathe.

He begins to push in, leaving your other opening alone. At least for today. “Have you called me by the wrong name?”

Not aloud, you think, biting back a smirk as you murmur, “No, Sir.”

The digit travels a bit further, the feeling of him pushing past your tight walls like heroin as you reel.

“Have you taken your punishment like a good girl?” he inquires next, and you chew on the inside of your lip as you nod.

“Yes.”

And you can’t exactly see him, but you can practically hear his smirk as he suddenly adds a second finger in beside the first, just to surprise you.

“Yes,” he agrees. “You have. Been my perfect peach, haven’t you? Guess you’re showing off for them, hm? Letting them think you’re actually an obedient little cock-whore?”

And maybe you are showing off, at least a little, but it’s hard not to obey this man. He just makes it so…worth it.

“Yes,” you call again, desperate to please him. “Only for you, Sir.”

Suddenly, you feel his fist against your scalp, scraping through your roots as he furiously yanks, forcing your head up.

“Only for me,” he nearly seethes, dipping down to press his lips against your ear. “Want you to fucking say it. Every time I touch you. Every time I make you come. Want you to say it. Remind them who you really belong to.”

Apparently, having his initials glimmer from your nipples isn’t enough, but that’s more than all right with you.

You’ll happily vow your life to him as many times as he needs. Because there’s something empowering about having a man beg you to be his.

And for the first time since you’ve met him, you realize…you’re on the same ground. Equal partners. Equal power. 

You and him.

One.

With that instruction, he curls, now stroking and thrusting into you with a fervent need to force you up the mountain. 

“Only you,” you whisper between salacious moans for relief. “Only, Sir.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, smacking his other palm against your ass before groping at the tender skin. Soothing it and stimulating it at the same time.

The pace increases, faster and faster until you feel as though you can’t breathe. Until you’re trying to meet his rhythm by rocking back into his touch, but the hand on your hip holds you steady. Makes you patient. 

“Only you.” It’s almost inaudible, released through quivering lips as you begin to slip into your first. “Only you. Only…”

He plunges in to the knuckle, beckoning you toward your release as it hits you hard. Fireworks go off behind your eyes as you keen, sweat beading around your hairline, and chest heaving.

“God, only you,” you barely manage as you fight for air. “Just you, Sir. Always.”

He takes his fingers out, allowing the world to see your come drip along the insides of your thighs. And the loss of contact makes your chest ache as you whimper and peek over your shoulder for a glimpse of his face.

He’s smug. Because of course he is, endlessly pleased with the way you’ve come undone so quickly.

Wet digits quickly outstretch for your cheeks, pushing on your lips to accentuate your already obvious pout.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns darkly. “You know better.”

You glance up at him with remorse and desperation, hoping your tiny hum will be enough to sway him. “M’sorry, Daddy.”

It’s the first time today you’ve used the nickname, and you watch the effect it has on him as he tightens his grip and scrapes his teeth together.

“Peach,” he grumbles, “don’t fucking test me. Not today.”

“I’m not. Promise. Just wanna feel you.”

And that’s the truth. It’s all you ever want. Want his cock, his time, his attention. Anything he’ll give you, and he knows this.

Because he wants you just as bad.

And maybe, if he had the strength, he’d punish you for this little game. He’d waste hours just making you wait for him. Tying you up, leaving you to beg, taunting you with something you can’t have.

But today, that would punish him, too. And you can see that he doesn’t have the capacity to go without you, not even for show.

So, he releases his hold on you only to land a very firm and sharp smack to your cheek. And it stings but it feels so good, forcing another groan as you lean back. 

“And you will,” he finally decides, settling behind you again as he begins to tug his pants down. “Gonna feel me for days, honey. Make sure you can’t fucking sit without thinking of me.”

Just the image of you in one of those boardroom meetings, legs still bruised and clenched tightly together as you sit for hours on end makes you gasp.

He’s gotten braver recently. Normally, he’s tame. Making you rest on his lap in the privacy of his office while he absentmindedly runs circles over your clit. Answering emails as he plays with you. Like it’s just an average workday.

But now he tries to tease you in public. In meetings, at lunch, when you’re apart. Making you sit with a remote-controlled toy deep inside your cunt during a meeting with the board of directors. Changing the tempo over and over again while forcing your silence. Leaving you to squirm in your seat as you silently beg him for mercy.

Sometimes he gives it to you. Most times…he does not.

You imagine this week will be no different. Especially after today. He always gets a bit more insatiable after the two of you have posted a video together. 

He’ll make you watch it in his office. His now favorite tradition. And the comments and response will encourage something in him that makes you giddy. Possessive yet proud. Like he wants to outdo himself next time. Make you come harder, longer, faster. Make everyone watching eat their fucking hearts out.

You feel the tip of his swollen cock brush down your folds, lazily rubbing against you as he alerts you of his presence.

Just the feel of him makes you breathless, back arching as you silently plead with him for more.

He won’t give it to you, at least not yet. Not until he’s had a chance to watch you soak him.

He presses his hand against it, trapping it to your cunt while gliding it through your arousal. Gentle thrusts that have you clenching around nothing until you hear him curse to himself.

“Beg me,” he calls, grasping onto your ass cheek to pull it apart, allowing him a better view. “Beg me to fuck you, Peach. Beg Daddy to make it better.”

“Please,” you comply instantly, a subtle quiver in your voice. “Please, Daddy. Need you. Need to feel you. Hurts.”

“Oh, honey,” he coos, finally circling the rim of your aching hole and pushing in only an inch just to pull back. “Bet it does. Know I’ve been teasing you all day, haven’t I?”

You whine again. “I deserved it. Always love it when you tease me.”

He chuckles under his breath, and you know you’ve made him proud. “That’s right. Know you do, my love. Because you know I just wanna make it better for you, hm?”

“I know.” You attempt to wiggle back into him, but his unrelenting grip keeps you frozen to your spot. “Always do, Sir. Always make it better.”

He slides in again, further this time, allowing your body to stretch for him. Then, he slides out, leaving you to wilt as you swallow a groan.

“And I always will,” he answers, knee knocking into your inner thigh as an instruction to spread your legs a bit further. “Just have to behave for me. Think you can do that, Peach? Think you can be good for me?”

And you’ve never wanted anything more, head nodding quickly before he finally thrusts into you with such power and dominance that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Truth be told, you never know what you’re going to get with him. What rhythm will drive him. But you’ll take anything he offers. Because hard and slow or fast and eager…it’s perfect. Sets your nerves on fire and leaves you desperate and depraved.

The sounds of him pushing through and pulling out are sure to be captured by the microphone. You can’t see the computer, but you imagine the audience is loving it. They always seem to enjoy sounds as much as you do. And Harry’s sounds are the best.

Your quick breaths intertwine seamlessly with his unforgiving grunts. Like a melody for the soul, and you slowly slide down until your chest meets the mattress, although your ass stays up.

He seems to like this angle, nails scraping down your spine before he lands another smack to your cheek. “There she is.”

Both sets of clamps are stimulated as you’re pushed against the bed, making your eyes roll back every time he drives himself to the hilt.

The pain is delicious. Exactly what you’d needed, and just when you think it can’t get any better…he slips an arm around your stomach and forces you back up.

Instantly, his hand is on your throat, tugging your back into his chest as he settles you down on his cock. 

Dominant fingertips press into the sides of your neck, playing with your airways as you gasp. And for a moment, you are nothing more than his toy. Just a body for him to use, and the idea makes you clamp down on him until he groans and nuzzles his nose into your shoulder.

But you know it’s more to him than that. Know that you’re not just this thing for him to abuse and ruin. He wants to worship you. Treat your body like the divine gift it is, and even though this display of aggression is uncouth…it’s meant for you. To make you feel good. Everything he does is always for you.

“So good, baby,” he whispers, just quiet enough that only you can hear. “Fucking love the way you feel, Peach. Always so warm for me. So wet. My perfect hole.”

You shudder, nails reaching for his arm to scratch down his skin. Desperate to be even closer to him. 

His hand then drops to your chest, finding your breast and groping at it mercilessly as you cry out. The clamps are tugged, stimulating the rings, and forcing your back to arch. So many sensations are being exploited that it’s nearly impossible to think straight. Your mind is mush, focused only on one thing to keep from drowning:

Him.

“Wanna come, don’t you?” he taunts, now louder so the audience can hear. “Wanna come on my cock, so they see what I do to you?”

You nod quickly, unable to vocalize your agreement. But he doesn’t need it. He knows. Can read your body like a book, and it makes him smile into your heated skin.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before reaching down to undo the clamp around your clit. “Go.”

The moment the pressure is released, it hits you. Your toes curl, your eyes roll back, and you make so many noises, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people below Harry’s apartment can hear you.

He works you through each ripple and aftershock, perhaps hoping to send you into a third, but your body needs a moment to recharge. 

And this is more than fine with him because it gives him a bit more time to watch himself disappear into you. His favorite part.

You collapse in his hold, held up only by his strong arm that’s thankfully bare, allowing you to glance down at his tattoos.

He takes his shirt off for almost every video now. He knows that nobody will be able to recognize his tattoos, but he especially knows how much you love them. Love to lick them, trace them, stare at them.

Your perfect pastime, and you think this now as you grip onto his wrist and squeeze. 

He exhales into your shoulder before he’s suddenly cursing and pulling out, the sound of his slick cock slipping from your cunt making you whimper.

With a single pat to your hip, he growls, “On your back.”

You nearly throw yourself down onto the bed, finally able to face him fully as you’re met with the sight of his flushed cheeks.

He’s so beautiful when he’s turned on, and you feel nothing but grateful to be able to witness this sight firsthand. Even your audience is denied such a pleasure, and it makes it feel that much more special to you.

He pushes your legs apart and settles between your thighs, grasping onto his cock before guiding it toward your chest.

He never comes inside you on film. He claimed it was because they don’t deserve to see it, and you didn’t argue. You like the idea. Occasionally he’ll capture a short clip of the way he leaks out of your pussy, but it’s never posted. Instead saved just for the two of you to watch whenever you need.

So while you’ll miss feeling him inside of you today, you know that it’s worth it. You like that you get to keep something for just the two of you. You like this possessive side of him.

Love it, in fact.

Nodding at your breasts, he silently instructs you to grab them, to which you do, pushing them together as he brings his swollen and soaked cock closer.

Slowly, he slides between your tits, disappearing beneath the supple flesh as you both groan your approval.

He’s already seconds away from his own release, but he edges himself by fucking your tits for as long as he can. Staring wordlessly at the way he looks beside his initials on your nipples.

“Fuck, Peach,” he breathes, brows knitted together as his jaw clenches. “Like it like this, don’t you? Like it when I come like this?”

And you do, a soft sough of agreement all you can offer as you look down at the way his tip pokes through the valley you’ve created. The contrast of his pink flesh against your skin is beautiful. Artful, even. And it makes you smile, wider than you have all day.

His pace is slow, allowing you to feel the slickness paint your chest before he’s suddenly tensing, the muscles in his stomach contracting quickly.

You await his offering eagerly, practically panting as you watch him run his palm along his cock before he’s releasing all over your torso and chest. 

He falls forward, bracing himself with a hand beside your head while you throw your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper as he milks the last few drops. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You feel a shiver roll across his body at your comment before he’s smashing his lips into yours, dancing his relieved sighs across your tongue. 

It takes a good minute or two for you both to find your bearings, but once you have, he reaches toward the nightstand where the remote lies.

Aiming it at the camera, he clicks a couple of buttons, and the red light turns off, signaling that the livestream has ended.

Now alone in his massive bedroom, he grins down at you. “My sweet fucking girl. Did so well for me, honey.”

You bask in his praise, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That was fun. Like it when you fuck my tits.”

“Yeah?” He’s smirking again, palm now smacking against your breast just to watch it jiggle. “Good. ’Cause I don’t plan to stop.”

Your arms snake tighter around his neck until he’s forced to lay his chest against yours. “Think they liked it?”

“I know they did,” he murmurs, face disappearing into your neck as he breathes you in, sweaty or not. “They love you, Peach. You’re so good to them.”

You press your lips into his hair.

“You’re good to me, too,” he adds quietly, sliding his hand across your body until he can hold onto you. “Always so fucking good. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

A sort of flutter happens in your stomach as you squeeze him tighter. “Ditto.”

You stay there for a few minutes at least, teetering on the verge of sleep before Harry declares you need to get clean. 

He scoops you up and carries you to his large bathtub, dipping you into the warm water once it’s ready and settling himself on the other side to face you.

You talk for what feels like hours, until you’re pruned, and the bubbles have disappeared. You go over the scene, go over what you think the comments will be, and even go over his schedule for the upcoming work week.

It’s weird the way you’ve managed to balance the relationship of boss and lover. You’re able to distinguish the two and create the appropriate boundaries. Making it easier to work together without driving each other nuts.

 Something else you’re grateful for.

You stare at his wet abs as he talks, smiling to yourself as you admire every curve of his stomach, and every nipple he has to offer.

He splashes some water at you when he realizes before grabbing hold of your ankles and sliding your closer.

You kiss until you can’t breathe, and life feels really good.

Really fucking good.

Once you’re out and dried, you make your way back to his bedroom to make sure everything from the livestream is in order.

You scroll through a few of the responses together, making mental notes of what to do next time. And once you’re both in agreement that everything looks good, he adds it to your shared profile.

Appropriately titled,

Peaches and Cream.

I have no excuse for this or explanation, I'm just gonna blame it on the sick meds I took 🙃

I already miss them but I'm absolutely going to be doing some extras and maybe that'll make it not hurt so much 😭💞

Thank you to everyone who's read and been so kind and supportive!!! You have my entire heart forever and ever, I cannot tell you how appreciative I am 🥹♥️ This has been so fun!!

Peaches and Cream forever!!

Previous Part:

~ Four to Go*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @likeapplejuicenpeach @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @finelinesss

[vamph00n]

question,

who in enhypen you think would be into older girls (I'm talking like maximum 3 years!!) tbh my bias is jake I wanna hear about that do you think he is ??!!

older fem reader ❌ enha mdni!!!

₊˚⊹ᰔ oh my, when thinking how to answer this question i have a lot to say….

(heeseung, jay, jake, jungwon)

₊˚⊹ᰔ smut tags under the cut

thank you for the ask @simhinata 😘

smut tags: riding, suggestive words, masturbation, pnv, nudes, corruption etc.

enjoy!!

heeseung: he’s open to it, but it’s not the first thing that comes to his mind when he describes who he’s attracted to. but, an older woman with profound sexual experience? sign him up. the type of guy to be controlling in bed, as i do see him as the dominant type; to meet a girl who knows what she wants in bed? an older one at that. he’d have a field day. he’d watch as you’d sit atop him, your gorgeous form casting a shadow as you bounce up and down in his cock. he’d grip your hips and look at you in awe with his big doe eyes, letting out timid moans you didn’t know you wanted to hear. being at the mercy of you, he’d try his best to sound a little less pathetic when praising you but fails. “mhm, i love the way your ride my cock.” he’d say, and you’d tilt your head a small smirk forming on your face, as you ride faster.

jay: i feel like if you look at his track record of women he’s been with, the majority are older than him. i think he has an older women complex. it doesn’t help that a lot of people he’s dated have thought he was older than he actually was. not that he looks old, but he acts so mature. one instance i think is a big tell tale sign is when we saw he collected alcohol (reference to this video). he feeds into the fantasy of wanting a man who can take care of you regardless of his age. but i definitely think he’s not actively looking for an older woman, he attracts them. i imagine you’re taking guitar lessons from him, and you were a little shocked when you found out how old he was, but he’s a good mentor nonetheless. he’d show you how to strum, in which he focuses on how your fingers move along the brass strings. he’d strum the instrument, grazing his calloused fingers in such a erotic way you can help but stare. you’d feel yourself go crazy at the sight, thinking you’re being perverse. in reality this is his game, jay knows what he’s doing.

jake: similar to jay, i think he has an older woman complex but like in a different way. he actively looks for them. in dating apps he scrolls past the girls who are his age, and looks for the one, two, or three year age gap. maybe you two attend the same college and he’s your physics tutor, and you do feel a little embarrassed that your two years his senior. grimacing at his attempts to pursue you, you secretly like that he chases after you. you’d tease him saying “no, i’m too old for you.” and he’d still press on about turning your cafe study session into a date. as soon as he gets home back to dorms, he smiles at the brightness of his phone in the dark, looking at your number. he’d pull down the waistband of his pants and snap a pic of his long hard dick with his hand holding it. he’d then record a video of him stroking his length, and you can hear the little moan, followed by him uttering the words “fuck” with his melodic accent. then, he’d accidentally send both videos to you, and follow up with a text saying “oops, my bad. are you too old for this?” needless to say, you answered with, “send me your address, i’ll be over to help in a bit ;)”

jungwon: dude, the corruption kink goes strong with this one. i full heartedly believe jungwon fits the ‘friends younger brother’ archetype so well. i definitely think an older woman would be his first sexual awakening, then he’d go on to date exclusively older women for a while after that (lmfao). i imagine the first time he actually felt these feelings towards a person is you, his older sisters friend. you’d often go swimming in their pool during the summer break and jungwon would watch off to the side as you and his sister would swim late into the night. one evening, you had wore a particularly skimpy bikini that looked like it was going to fall off. jungwon felt like he was an absolute pervert for hoping it would, and the sight of it got him a little too excited and he had to go inside to calm himself down. in his room he palm the hard mess over his slightly damp swim shorts, and his body would recoil at the sensation. poor wonie’s cock ached, and he had to drop his shorts to let it breathe. he had started to pump it with one hand and tried to keep quiet. after maybe one or two full movements, he totally prejacks and cums all over his shorts and chest. it’s a memory he thinks about fondly, and unbeknownst to him, one you think of fondly as well. cause little did he know, you had excused yourself to use the bathroom a few moments after he had went inside, and you watched him through the little crack in his bedroom door.

a/n: if you read all of this pls reblog and tag, they are very appreciated 🫶

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part two)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.5k summary: your night with eddie continues to haunt you. and now you have to work together — what could go wrong?

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: smut with a plot, oral (fem receiving), aftercare, suggestive & mature themes, other mentions of sex (nothing graphic), adult language, use of pet names, mutual pining, emotional hurt / comfort, topics of guilt / regret — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Eddie Munson hurt your feelings.

Granted, you were just as much to blame. Rockstars are always nothing but trouble and you knew that when you jumped into bed with him.

‘Cause why would Eddie Munson be any different from all the other musicians you’d slept with in the past? He gave you no reason to think otherwise. He never promised you anything.

Letting him occupy your heart and mind after only one night together was your own damn fault, though it was easier to blame him. And you could make a list of excuses, reasons as to why you did what you did, but it really came down to one simple thing: Eddie seemed… different. Almost as if he also wanted to continue this past some single fling.

You asked to stay over. He immediately agreed.

Why? If he was only going to say the night meant nothing to him, why did he agree? Why did he pull you under the silk covers and wrap his arm around your bare shoulder, placing a gentle kiss to your crown? Why did he hold your hand close to his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat as he opened up about his past? Why did he let you trace your fingers along his scars?

If it was just about having sex with you, why did Eddie act like he cared what you thought of him? He could have kicked you out the second you came down to earth following your orgasm, not kiss you again with a feverness that made you believe he was silently begging for more — which foolishly, you gave him.

Then you didn’t call immediately, like you said you would. Again, only you were to blame here, but in your own defence, you didn’t think he’d act so coldly towards you. It was just one delayed phone call and he knew better than anyone how plans often change when you’re in the limelight.

Proof was in the pudding. Eddie didn’t like you nearly as much as he led you to believe he did — as much as you liked him. 

And it was fucking foolish of you to fall for him the way you did. Holly thought so too. She actually had a lot of opinions after you told her why you bailed on her at the party.

“Boys are all the same,” she stated while applying the finishing touches to your makeup. “They have one thing on their mind and when they get it, no matter how sweet they act towards you, you’re unfortunately disposable.”

“Eddie doesn’t seem like that,” you defended, which only caused Holly to roll her eyes.

“Hate to be the one to break this to you, but Eddie Munson is exactly that type of guy.”

The cherry on top of this godforsaken mess was your Nana who somehow caught wind of your salacious activities with the Corroded Coffin frontman. She confronted you at her charity luncheon of all places and was actually the main reason you had called him with such a delay, meaning she was also partially to blame for how things turned out in the end.

“You’re not to go anywhere near that boy again,” it almost sounded like a threat. “He’s no good for you or your image. Can you imagine the news? America’s sweetheart canoodling with a devil worshipper. You would be ruined.”

“He’s not a devil worshipper—”

“I don’t want to hear you defending him,” your Nana interjected and looked around, probably to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. “Honey, I’m just trying to protect you. You’re still a little young to understand just how long our mistakes can follow us around for.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “But I guess you have experience in this area.” And with that you walked away. She didn’t follow.

A few days later, after your brief conversation with Eddie, you showed up at her apartment with tears in your eyes, repeating how she was right — not necessarily the devil worship stuff, just the “not being good for you” piece.

Mid-September 1992, Eddie was supposed to be in New York with his band to perform on Saturday Night Live. He told you that in between trailing kisses down your jawline: “Just in case it’s hard for us to find time to see together,” where his exact words, “This one is a guarantee.”.

You half-debated going to the after party. It wouldn’t be hard to get your name on the guest list, just one simple call from your management team. You even knew what you could wear. Chanel had sent you this gorgeous little black blazer-dress from their Fall 1991 collection, gold buttons at the front creating a v-neck that perfectly accentuated your chest. It was tame enough to keep in style with your image, but bold enough to hail the attention of the Corroded Coffin frontman.

As you stared at the dress however, you knew going would be a mistake. He’d likely view it as an act of despair and the last thing you wanted to do is give him any more power in this situation. So you opted to watch the show from the comfort of your own sofa. Your younger sister Valentine, named after the most romantic day of the year (according to your parents), Val for short, came over to watch with you.

Turns out Val is a big Corroded Coffin fan. Luckily, she remains blissfully unaware of what had gone down between you and the lead singer of her favourite band.

Val ended up being the person who pushed you to do the feature on Corroded Coffin’s upcoming single. She is the person who actually got you to listen to the demo in the first place.

The opportunity first presented itself around January of 1993. After weeks of trying to forget about Eddie Munson, and the way his touch made you feel, your team flushed all that hard work down the toilet in one short meeting. They presented an idea you really wanted no part of — a quick feature that was gonna cost nothing, but make you (and them) five times as much, if not more.

Your initial reaction was a plain and simple no. You had brushed it off as their music not being within your wheelhouse and for a second, they agreed. Only Val had come to the meeting with you. She was only supposed to be a silent observer and take notes for her Business Management module. Of course, she didn’t listen.

“Oh my god! Your voice blended with Eddie Munson’s would make for an automatic hit,” she exclaimed and you swore then you were going to kill her. 

“Their sound is just not my thing,” you explained calmly.

“At least listen to the demo before you make any final decisions,” Val reasoned, earning herself nods and yeses from your management team.

Losing the battle, you made your way to the nearest empty recording room with the CD in hand. Knowing this was already hard enough, you asked to go alone. Val was the only one to put up any sort of fight, but older sister rules and she quickly changed her tune.

When the first few notes began to play through the speakers, you felt gratified because the song was totally opposite of what your fanbase enjoyed — just like you rationalised. However, then the melody slowed down. The heavy guitar from the intro was instead replaced by a more acoustic sound, and the loud drums, reduced to a simple beat. They were a mere decoration to the main event. Eddie and his hypnotic vocals.

“Honestly, you got me fallin’ to my knees It’s like ecstasy, this feelin’ inside of me Let’s call it honesty

You’re a devil in disguise No, that’s what I want you to be ‘Cause in reality, hon’, you’re a hypnotic dream An angel for sure To a non-believer like me Oh honesty, what have you done to me, honestly”

You’re not sure at which point of listening to the demo you started to cry, but you did. The tears are slow, trailing down your cheeks as you clutch the empty CD case tight to your chest.

Was it egotistical to think he’d written this song about you? Most definitely. Yet the sheer emotion in Eddie’s voice, not to even mention the lyrics themselves, made it quite hard to say otherwise.

“Why do they want me?” You asked once you had returned to the room, after listening to the demo three times in a row and taking an additional ten minutes to compose yourself. “They can have any female singer on this, why me?”

“The request came from someone above the band.”

It wasn’t the answer you had secretly hoped for, but you agreed to do the feature nonetheless. There was no denying, the track had huge hit potential, especially as a duet. And Val was right, your vocals mixed with Eddie’s were going to make history. Your reasons for saying yes, however, were a little different. You really just needed to be a hundred percent sure Eddie wrote this song about you.

March 1993 and the day you’d been stressing about since you agreed to do the song had finally arrived.

You had put on the most comfortable yet sexy outfit you could find and done your makeup differently to what Eddie would have seen you in. sprayed on some rose-scented perfume and plastered on a big smile, the fakest sincere shit you had become quite the expert at over the years — your trademark.

The band's manager, Marianne, greeted you on arrival. Holly and your bodyguard, Hank, had come with you to the recording session. You asked Holly to be there as emotional support and Hank was there just to get his paycheck. Either way, you were quite glad not to be facing this alone.

Everything’s fine, you told yourself as you followed Marianne across the building and to a studio where the producer and a handful of sound technicians were waiting for you. Finn, Jane, Kit, and Gavin — in no particular order of importance, their own words. Happy to be working with you, can’t wait to make some magic, big fans of your work, etc. You just smiled. Then Marianne opened the door to the room behind the sound-proof glass and a shiver ran down your spine once you walked through.

Although you did your best to not look his way, Eddie’s presence was instantly known to your senses. As though no one else was ever here, all you could feel was his eyes on you and it caused your heart to rattle inside your ribcage. The sheer fact of being in the same room as him again, after all this time apart, was infuriating yet exciting at the same time. You wondered what he was thinking, was he happy to see you? Surprised? Annoyed?

Holly was on your heels, saying her charming hello’s to everyone you had just introduced yourself to. She actually met Jeff at Eddie’s party so the two of them hugged like old pals and within a split-second, they were off to the side, catching up. You lost your protector quite possibly at the worst time.

“And our frontman, Eddie Munson.” Marianne introduced, one hand hovering over your back while the other extended in the direction of the curly-haired man,

You focused your attention on her arm, refusing to look up and meet Eddie’s chocolate gaze. From the corner of your eyes, you could see as he wiped his palms on the pleather of his pants and held out his right hand in your direction. You glanced at it briefly, the smile on your face faltering.

Suddenly, he was right there. Right at your fingertips. Just take his hand, you thought to yourself, it’s not that big a deal, just take his hand and look at him.

“We’ve met before,” you said with little to no emotion, and without meeting his gaze, then quickly turned to Marianne. “Should we just get started? I listened to the song, I have no notes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Marianne seemed to be taken aback by your abrupt change in attitude. She glanced at Eddie then back at you. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course. Right this way.”

The two of you silently left Eddie’s side, though you continued to feel his eyes burning into your frame. This whole situation was honestly nauseating. Not only were you forced to face the memories of this one magical night you shared with the famous rockstar, you were also about to sing a duet together, a song he most likely wrote about said night. All while pretending you don’t care about him or the night in question.

Marianne propped you in front of a microphone and handed you a set of headphones and shortly after the band had taken their places. You glanced across the room at Holly who gave you an encouraging thumbs up before hurrying out to re-join Finn, Jane, Kit, Gavin, and your bodyguard, Hank.

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. This was so beyond fucked, you almost wished it wasn’t too late to back out. The only thing making this just a little bit worth it was Eddie’s clear discomfort. He was the last to take his place at the microphone placed only a feet away from yours, his movements reluctant. You still refused to look at him, focusing instead on the carpet between your feet, hands now on your hips.

“You know what I’m gonna say,” Marianne’s voice echoed through the room, “The day I don’t say it though is gonna be the day we make a shit piece of art so, here goes, good luck and have fun.”

An unsettling silence filled the air as soon as she closed the door behind her. 

You weren’t sure how their band sessions really went, who took the lead and who followed. You hoped someone would speak so you wouldn’t be the first, but no one did. Eddie’s eyes were burning into the side of your head. At this point you were starting to think the universe was playing some sick joke on you. So you glanced upwards, first behind the glass to where you located Holly who gave you another thumbs up, and then you tilted your head in the direction of the man next to you.

You exhaled softly and leaned in closer to the microphone before saying, “Honesty, take one.”

-

Eddie had thought about you every single day since that fateful night in August. The memory of you, your smile, the colour of your eyes, how you felt to the touch, the pretty sounds you made just for him, it had occupied his mind permanently. And he tried to get over you, really, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Not the drinking, not the weed, not losing himself in music, not even hooking up with strangers after the bands’ shows.

He was a goner, yet too fucking stubborn to call or try contact you in any way.

But now here you are, a mere arms-length away, and you’re singing the song he wrote about you, harmonising with little to no effort as you stare right into his big eyes. Eddie is staring back at you, holding your gaze ‘cause he’s afraid if he’d look away, you’d never look at him again. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He’s trying to decipher the angry sadness behind your eyes. Not like he deserves anything from you, but he wants to know how you’ve been. Most importantly, he wants to know if you even like the song?

“Okay,” Marianne pops her head in as the track ends, “Let’s break for lunch.”

Everyone starts to gather whatever they might need for the next hour — bag, bottled water, smokes — before following Marianne out of the recording studio. You’re still staring at Eddie and he’s thinking now’s his chance to talk to you. However, just as he’s about to open his mouth to start perhaps the most awkward conversation, you drop his gaze and hurry out the door.

“Shit,” the curly-haired rockstar curses under his breath then proceeds to follow you down the long hallway until you disappear into the ladies toilets. “Shit,” Eddie swears again as the door closes in front of his face. He runs a hand through his locks, debating whether he should continue his chase, though, eventually, he decides going inside would be a total breach of privacy. Instead, he leans across from the entrance, lights a cigarette, and waits. You’re bound to return at some point and when you do, he’s going to be here and you would have to talk to him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long.

The door opens slowly and you emerge, wiping your hands on your denim skirt. Attention solely on fixing your outfit, it takes you a second to realise Eddie’s there ‘cause honestly you didn’t even know he followed you. As you take a step forward and his worn-out converse sneakers come into view, you swallow.

Closing your eyes momentarily, a desperate attempt at some kind of composure in this situation. Ultimately, there’s no use in continuing this childish game of cat and mouse so you gaze upon him.

“Hi Eddie,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

He exhales a puff of smoke, then replies, “Hey, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at the moniker and you can’t help but wonder if it’s a nickname solely reserved for you, or if he goes around calling everybody he sleeps with. After all, with the way things turned out to be, you were simply a number on his undoubtedly long list of conquests. You weren’t special.

“It’s nice to see you,” Eddie admits, though his words only twist the imaginary dagger he had jabbed into your heart. “You look… great.”

This makes you roll your eyes. Truthfully, you didn’t have high expectations for your first conversation with the Corroded Coffin frontman, but there was something about him casually flirting as if nothing had happened, that made your blood boil.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

He’s taken aback by your words and the harshness behind them. Obviously he messed up, treated you with an indifference no one deserves to experience, especially someone with a heart as pure as yours. To hear you say that though, mixed with the pure agony behind your eyes, it makes him feel sick.

About to walk away, you turn on your heel. Eddie puts out the half-finished cigarette against the wall, letting the bud drop to the floor, and reaches out to grab your arm. Surprisingly, you don’t flinch at his touch, not at first anyway, which gives him enough time to step in front of you and lift his hands to cup your cheeks.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie begins in a whisper, thumbs caressing along your cheekbones. Your skin is softer than he remembers and it only makes his heart ache more, mournful for the time lost.

“Let me go,” you plead quietly and shake your head, fingers attaching themselves to his wrists, digging at the dips in his knuckles and the valleys of space where his hold met yours, in an attempt to separate the two of you.

Eddie doesn’t budge. He’s stood firm as you claw at him, trying to break free from his grasp. If anything, he inclines closer and in the space of a single heartbeat, you can feel his hot breath as he dips his head to your level, forcing you to meet his gaze. There’s a sense of despair behind his brown eyes and you almost stop fighting.

Almost.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

His words, although an apology, didn’t sound like one. To you, it seemed like Eddie wasn’t actually sorry for his actions, he just hated the fact that you were giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to be in your good graces not ‘cause your night meant something to him, but because he had a bruised ego. A cruel joke really. 

So you clear your throat and call on the only person guaranteed to get you away from his situation.

“Hank,” there’s very little power behind your voice and Eddie furrows his brows a little confused at first, but then you move your head to the best of your current ability past Eddie’s shoulder and say his name louder, “Hank!”

“Please—”

“Hank!”

Eddie drops his hold on you then and runs a hand down his face as you take a single step forward, arm brushing against his a little too steadily to be called an accident. Seconds pass and neither of you moves, each staring in a separate direction while your bodies continue to press together. Eddie extends his fingers. You feel the metal of his rings and the air hitches in your throat.

How come one second you cannot wait to get away from him and the next you’re aching for his touch? One second you’re pushing him away and the next your fingers are intertwining themselves with his. It was fucking messed up, hating him yet caring for him at the same time, and you didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

When your army-veteran bodyguard appears at the end of the hall, you snatch your hand away from Eddie’s grasp and plaster a fake smile on your face.

“Everything okay, miss?” Hank asks, glancing between the two of you.

“Can you call the car? I’m not feeling well.”

He nods. “Right away.” Then disappears just as fast as he rushed to your aid. 

You’re once again left alone with Eddie. Only this time, the Corroded Coffin frontman makes no attempt to reach out for you. Instead, he slides his hands in the pocket of his jacket and tilts his head in your direction. You can see him from the corner of your eyes and it takes all the strength you have to not look his way.

“I am sorry,” he says in a defeated tone, “Whether you choose to believe me or not.”

With that, he walks away.

-

The world hadn’t stopped spinning since your earlier interaction with the Corroded Coffin frontman.

You felt sick while recounting the moment on loop. The sad look in his eyes, the defeated sound of his voice. His body language was screaming I wanna be closer to you, unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out if he was being sincere, if this whole situation really weighed on him as deeply as it did you.

Holly had berated you for even indulging in a conversation with him, to which you huffed and puffed ‘cause she’s the one who left you alone in the first place for “not-a-date” lunch with Jeff.

“Hope you at least got some,” you tease, rummaging through your half-unpacked suitcase for the box of smokes you carefully hid in there, for emergency situations only.

Holly laughs from her spot on the sofa. You can’t see her face, but you can tell she’s smiling. “Shut the fuck up,” she deflects with a giggle, “We went for some friendly burgers. I wasn’t looking for anything else.”

“Was Jeff?” You quip, placing a cigarette between your lips and reaching for the ashtray. You carry the item towards one of the hotel windows before lighting the tip, slowly inhaling.

“You’re unbearable, you know that?” Holly jests, shifting in her spot to look at you. “Just ‘cause you’re sexually frustrated.”

You smirk, exhaling some smoke. “What gave you that idea?”

Holly raises a brow, an amused look spread across her face, and points to the cigarette you’re holding onto. Before she can make her point of you only smoking when you’re stressed or craving some action — and in this instance, it’s clearly both — there’s a knock on the door. The two of you glance in its direction then back at each other.

“Where you expecting—”

“No,” you answer before Holly can finish her question, “You?”

She shakes her head in response. There’s another knock, louder this time. You quickly put the cigarette out and waved the curtain around, your best attempt to somewhat ventilate just in case this was a surprise visit from your Nana who, despite being a heavy smoker herself, would kill you for indulging in the cancer sticks.

While you spray some perfume on, Holly walks towards the door. She shoots you one last glance, making sure you were presentable for whoever was on the other side of that door, then opens to reveal someone you both were least expecting.

Eddie fucking Munson.

“Oh,” he breathes, brows up, “I didn’t think—”

“What are you doing here, Munson?” Holly interrupts, holding onto the door so he knew he wasn’t welcome inside.

“Shit, if you just let me finish.” Eddie grumbles back. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here. I came to see her.” He looks at you then and your heart twists the second your eyes meet his.

Holly tilts her head in your direction and a sigh escapes her lips. There’s a reason she’s your closest friend. She can read you like a book and the expression on your face right now, gaze not leaving Eddie’s even for a second, is telling her to let the rockstar in — whether she agrees with that or not. 

So she drops her arm and pushes the door wider before stepping to the side. Eddie looks at her then back at you. He walks inside, not wanting to waste this opportunity since he didn’t know how long it would last, as Holly approaches you. The girl places her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to focus on her just for a moment.

“If you need me, I’m right next door, ‘kay?” Holly whispers and you nod. “Shout, scream, do whatever. I’ll come runnin’. I’m here for you, this time.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“Always,” Holly affirms then lets go of you. She straightens her top before turning around and walking back to where Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets. She sizes up the curly-haired man, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shuts the door with a timid bang.

Silence settles in the air. Once again, it’s just you and Eddie staring at one another with immense longing yet sadness. Only, unlike earlier today, you don’t want to run away.

There are approximately three pieces of furniture between the two of you and the longer he continues to look at you with his doe-eyes, you’re calculating how exactly to manoeuvre around them to hug him, putting an end to this entire charade.

Something is still holding you back, however.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?”

He swallows and proceeds to hesitantly walk towards you, past the sofas you were debating jumping over mere seconds ago. He stops about an arms-length away, careful not to totally invade your personal space in fear of you pulling away again. Instead, he leans against the back of one of the couches and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you think of my song?”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asks, but doesn’t give you enough time to answer, “I’m thinking you do since you agreed to be on it, but then again maybe you don’t and your reason for doing the feature is to mess with my fucking head.” His fingers are at his temple, pointing to emphasise his words.

There’s an ache in your chest. “You really think that low of me?”

Eddie’s face falls at the deflated tone of your voice and he’s cursing himself for hurting your feelings again. He didn’t mean to. Word vomit, is how his uncle Wayne described it back when Eddie was still living in Hawkins, it’s as though Eddie’s mouth and brain didn’t connect.

He sighs, running a hand through his locks. “I gotta get something off my chest, just in case you kick me out and we never get a chance another to talk alone,” he says then takes in a deep breath, “You probably don’t wanna hear this, and you probably won’t even believe me, but I genuinely cannot stop thinking about you.”

Your face softens at his confession, though you remain in place, arms crossed.

Eddie continues. “And I’ve never experienced that with anyone. I certainly didn’t expect to feel these things for you, especially after spending only one night together. Which is why I acted like a dick when you called. I was hurt that you hadn’t reached out sooner considering how near perfect that night was.”

A timid smile circles your features. Briefly, you’re cursing yourself for giving in to his charm so easily. Very briefly.

“Mr. Rock ‘n’ Roll isn’t used to having someone else’s life take priority over his, huh?”

That’s when Eddie laughs, and the second the melodic chuckle falls from his lips, you drop your arms and take a step towards him. Your fingers reach for his instinctively and he takes your hand gladly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Totally not, no.” He admits. “But I am willing to change.”

“Hmm,” you hum, lifting your other hand to brush a loose strand of his brown locks away from his face. “Hope you’re a man of your word ‘cause I’m booked and busy. Can’t have you throw a fit every time I don’t call you.”

The smile on Eddie’s face widens. His right arm makes its way around your waist and he pulls you in, effectively closing the gap between you. His gaze drops to your lips, if only for a split second as he licks his own, then meets your eyes once again.

“I wanna do this right,” he mutters, his grip on you tightening. “I don’t want us to just jump the gun again and leave things lost in translation, so before we do anything else, I’d like to take you on a date, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat ‘cause who knew Eddie Munson was such a damn romantic — definitely not you.

“And where would we go on this date?” You muse, “Since we can’t really blend in with a crowd.”

Eddie purses his lips together, pondering your question. He lets go of you and places his hands on his hips as he walks around the room. You’re following him with your gaze, the smile ever-present. Then his eyes twinkle. 

“Well, how about right here, baby? We can order some room service and watch MTV in bed.” The rockstar announces, pointing to the California King and wiggling his brows.

So that’s exactly what the two of you do. 

With a tray of overpriced hotel food between you and the current top tracks blasting through the television speakers, the evening was perhaps the most normal you both have felt in a really long time. Eddie, of course, gave his opinion on every song that played in the countdown while stuffing his face with french fries. Most were unsurprising, like Whitney Houston’s I WIll Always Love You, well Dolly Parton’s is miles better in his humble opinion, or Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses, the guitar makes the song. Then came number three on the list.

You visibly grimace while moving the now empty tray to the floor beside the bed and Eddie chuckles lightly.

“Not a fan of your own music?” 

Shaking your head, you sit back although closer to him since there was no longer anything between you. “Just not my best song, is all.”

Eddie nods, resting his hand on your thigh and turns his attention back to the TV. Suddenly, you’re feeling nervous. For one, he’s touching you, thumb gently rubbing circles into your bare flesh. Then there was the music video which, as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, Eddie seemed to be totally hypnotised by.

And full transparency, he was. How could he not be? It was a one-shot type video of you singing while walking down the street as it poured rain. The outfit you had on was sticking to your skin as a result, hair wet and makeup smudged. Raw, is the first word that came to Eddie’s mind. Not to mention completely different from your usual vibe.

“You gotta give yourself more credit, sweetheart.” Eddie says after a minute and tilts his head to look at you. “Personally, I like this a lot more than your other shit.”

You meet his gaze. “You don’t think it’s too… desperate? Like yeah, the song is making rounds and charting in all sorts of places, but it’s so—”

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” He interrupts, scanning your eyes for the answer he already knows.

“Yeah…” You exhale. “Like I said, desperate.”

He squeezes your thigh before effortlessly throwing your legs across his lap and pulling you in even closer. One hand remains in your lap while the other makes way around your lower back, settling on the curve of your ass — all without breaking eye contact.

“There’s nothing desperate about you, sweetheart.” He mutters, face now inches away from yours. “I wrote a song too, remember? One we’re actually performing together, which is arguably way worse.”

That makes you chuckle lightheartedly as Eddie continues, “Plus, you look fucking hot in that music video. Anybody that says differently is stupid and/or blind. If anything, I’m glad I inspired all that.” His voice fizzles into something darker for the end of that sentence while his eyes snap to your mouth.

You can feel him under your legs as he presses his forehead to yours, all of him. It doesn’t help that he’s so pretty from this angle. The curve of his jawline. The dips in his cheeks. His doe-eyes focused solely on yours, dimming by the second with longing. And just like that, almost as if no time had passed, you’re back where you both started. Hearts beating in tandem. Eagerly waiting with anticipation for the other to make the first move.

“I really wanna do this right, baby.” He repeats his earlier statement, but the way he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, dragging it down till it bounces back gently in place, betrays his words.

“We don’t have to do anything right now.” And although you mean it, you hope he doesn’t give up too easily.

Eddie exhales. Eyes closing momentarily. He’s fighting every urge ‘cause he doesn’t want to fuck this up again. For once in his life, he wants to see where things can go. But the feeling of your skin, the smell of your perfume, and the memory of you moaning his name so sweetly, well it’s got his heart racing and his dick harder. 

The hand on your thigh tightening in grip, causing you to whimper delicately. And that’s when he loses the internal battle.

“Fuck it.”

He wastes no more time, slamming his lips to yours in an eager sloppy kiss. You immediately kiss him back, hands settling on his neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin. He’s groaning against your mouth at the contact, pushing into you further so that you can feel his cock twitch against your leg. And you’re convinced that if you were standing, it would make your knees buckle.

Heads rotating side to side, nose grazing against one another with each wet kiss, Eddie adjusts your positions so that you were now fully resting on your back as he lingered over you. One of his hands was now on your waist, holding you firmly in place as he starts to grind his hips into yours.

“Eddie…” You moan against his puffy lips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.” Eddie affirms quietly, trailing hot kisses from the dip of your lips down your jaw. And he desperately wants to stay true to his word so before you get a chance to react, he’s removing your underwear then slides down until his head is between your thighs.

You let out a tender giggle as his facial hair grazes against your skin. Eddie shushes you and after adjusting your skirt for easier access, he begins to place kisses along your inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to his desired destination. Aching for his touch, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at his curls. He smirks against your flesh and proceeds to spread your lips with his fingertips, revealing how wet you truly are, then blows several cool breaths over your hot clit. 

He proceeds to gently slide his tongue up and down your pussy, so slowly, you feel every moment of pleasure. Then he flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking and licking the sensitive area until you’re a panting mess. And when you moan his name, Eddie works a little faster. Then continues to increase his speed as his tongue darts in and out of your dripping cunt. 

Just when you think you’re on cloud nine, he forces two fingers into you, his lips focusing on your clit. They arch up to reach that sweet spot he didn’t have a hard time finding the last time and you clasp your hand across your mouth, muffling a scream. He’s relentless in his movements and you find yourself grinding into his face, meeting the pace he’s set with overwhelming frenzy. 

Faster and faster, his tongue licks up and down, spreading your pussy lips further as his fingers dig deep within your cunt, sending you over the edge with every thrust. Your legs start to shake and thighs clasp hard against his head, trapping him in place, while he continues to sucking till you go limp. 

It takes you a moment to recover and Eddie’s feeling mighty proud as he places a tender kiss to your cheekbone before moving to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips and it’s enough to drive you crazy all over again.

But Eddie’s got other plans. He’s decided this night is all about you, so despite the desperate hard-on currently concealed by his trousers, he cleans you up before asking where you keep your pyjamas. Your heart soars as he helps you get changed and eventually settled under the covers. 

“Stay with me.” It’s a request he’s happy to oblige. Throwing off his t-shirt and jeans, he joins you in bed briskly. The two of you fall asleep shortly after that, MTV still playing in the background. As first dates go, this one was pretty perfect and you were starting to feel like everything with Eddie was going to be this way. 

Unfortunately, the serene moment was short lived, which, in hindsight, you should’ve known people of yours and Eddie’s stature weren’t privy to normality. 

The following morning, you were both abruptly woken up by a frantic Holly. She doesn’t say anything about Eddie being in your bed, for which you’re grateful, just chucks a newspaper into your lap while you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

Slowly, you sit up then reach for the paper. Glancing between your friend and the guy in your bed, you unfold it. Eddie rests his chin on your shoulder and you both focus on the front page.

“Shit,” he expresses exactly how you’re feeling at that moment ‘cause gracing the front page, with a rather raunchy headline, is a photo, taken yesterday, of the Corroded Coffin frontman towering over you, his hands cupping your face.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - Bulletproof .001

Summary: A series of bureaucratic catastrophes left you, the daughter of two oligarchs, a prime target for attack. With the threat of assassination imminent, the need for a strong security detail was critical. And the woman hired to oversee your personal safety was – well, easy on the eyes, to start, but nothing short of a lethal enigma.

Without her, you’d be six feet under. [mature]

Warnings: gun-violence

Word count: 3712

AO3 link here.

Return to Bulletproof masterlist here.

Minors, men and ageless blogs DNI. You will be blocked immediately upon interaction.

Quite honestly, if anybody other than the chief of police had introduced Kassandra to you as your new head bodyguard, you would have laughed. She had no air of sternness about her. Nothing about her screamed ‘I will give life and limb to protect you’; she greeted you with a lopsided smile, leaning against a doorframe, unfolding her arms to wave at you with two fingers.

Physically, however, you had no difficulty believing that she was a security hire. The Greek was exceedingly tall, her sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, corded forearms, leaving little to the imagination about the rest of her build, especially with her suspenders straining against the broadness of her shoulders. With her flawless olive skin, you might have believed she was a model for an athletics wear company who stumbled into the wrong job, if it wasn’t for the revolver holstered to her belt.

Sceptical, you offered her a smile and your gratitude for her service, knowing full well that there was a sizeable target on your back. She simply shook her head and laughed, “No need to thank me. The pay is a-ma-zing.”

From that encounter alone, you knew immediately that Kassandra was going to be nothing like anyone previously employed within your security detail. Initially, you had mixed emotions about such a realisation. While her casualness made her breathable to be around – which was welcomed, given how much time you’d be spending in close proximity to her – you couldn’t help but fret over how well she’d perform if someone was to make an attempt on your life.

Hopefully, of course, that would never happen.

After a few days under her protection, your queries about her professionalism were swiftly resolved. Kassandra was anything but lackadaisical, despite her laid-back manner of conversation with you. She didn’t see the merit in formality, reasoning that it would only make things uncomfortable with the amount of time you spend together. You warmed to her very quickly, for two reasons: her amicability, and her lack of concrete rules to your protection. Listen to her when she tells you there’s a threat, and don’t look inside her briefcase.

Naturally, the latter request warranted some curiosity from you. But she justified it with the fact that she kept an automatic firearm stowed inside at the very top, and she wouldn’t want you handling it to get to the files underneath. Reasonable enough, you thought, although her words sparked an interest in the contents of those files.

When she wasn’t contacting security organisations between your public appearances and meetings, she spent her time chatting to you as though you were a close friend, or working out, using the heaviest objects she could source in your temporary accommodations as weights, and fuck, if that wasn’t a sight. Oh, and offering you flirtatious remarks. Luckily for her, you couldn’t hope to resist that kind of attention from a woman matching her description. For your comfort, though, she never escalated things to a level that placed any pressure on you.

Asides from a couple of impromptu relocations, for three months, Kassandra never had to take an active role in your protection. That is, if one was to exclude the nights where she mysteriously excused herself from your company, never elaborating as to why beyond “it’s a security matter.” After the first few instances, this became the norm. You stopped giving your role as her principal much thought, except for that burning curiosity pertaining to the files in her briefcase.

Said curiosity was somewhat satiated one night. A sleep-disturbed night, for a reason you couldn’t quite place, holed-up in a safehouse. Kassandra had left on one of her security matters an hour before you retired to bed. But when you groggily trudged to the kitchenette to pour a glass of water, you noticed a folder spread out on the counter.

Quizzically, you inched towards the compilation of documents, observing a red sharpie left uncapped on top of the paper. A series of greyscale photographs of faces were messily stuck to the two-page spread on display, all of which had a name scrawled underneath them in biro, some accompanied by arrows and notes hastily scribbled in Greek.

Most interestingly, each portrait was annotated with a mark in bold red ink. Some had a large cross over them – you recognised a few as oligarchs whose deaths had been somewhat recently announced via the news – whereas others were marked with ‘INCARCERATED’. Two had a question mark by the corner. One had a series of numbers, separated by periods. “An IP address…?” you mused under your breath.

Frowning, you flicked through the folder, finding pages upon pages of the same contents but with different faces. The dreadful notion that all these people had it out for you made a lump form in your throat, one that was exceptionally difficult to swallow.

You flinched away from the folder when you heard the titanium door to the safehouse click open, followed by a resounding beep, signifying an authorised entrance. Eight smaller beeps sounded as the relocking code was punched in, followed by a sigh you recognised as Kassandra’s.

Rolling her shoulders, your bodyguard strolled into the kitchenette, pausing in her tracks when she saw you standing there. “Maláka,” she cursed softly.

Fumbling over your words, you rushed to form an apology. “I’m sorry, Kass. I know it’s none of my business—”

She simply smiled at you. In an instant, that guilt melted away.

“Of course it’s your business,” she shook her head. “You have a right to know about my sources, and the people who want you, well…”

“Dead,” you finished, having to steady yourself at the admission.

“Yeah,” she grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck. Taking a careful breath, Kassandra continued, “I only kept this from you because of how many people there are. I didn’t want you panicking.”

You forced a small laugh. “Probably easier to keep me in one piece if I’m calm, right?”

She gave you a sympathetic glance. “You,” she pointed at you, “are perfectly safe, okay?”

Nodding, you picked up your glass and twisted the faucet, focusing on the trickling of cold water to try to quell the newfound nausea you were feeling. “I trust you,” you said instinctively, just loud enough for Kassandra to hear over the tap.

Turning the faucet off, you spun on your heel to face your protector, taking a small sip. “Have a good night, Kass,” you bade, headed off to bed, despite being almost certain that you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep with this new knowledge of just how many people wanted you killed.

Thankfully for her, in your sleep-deprived state, you failed to notice the splatter of crimson decorating the sleeve of her shirt. Nor did you distinguish the sound of the sharpie being dragged in two lines across the portrait annotated with the IP address.

The two of you had a silent, mutual agreement to try to reinstate normalcy after that incident. The banter resumed full-swing, which served as a pleasant distraction from the paranoia clouding your judgement. Kassandra received the all-clear to escort you out of the safehouse after a few excruciating days, just in time to transport you cross-country to an important meeting.

Part of you found the usual extravagance of being welcomed into a fancy hotel ahead of your meetings exhausting. Another part found the high-society ordeal rather enjoyable.

At the present, though, with so many metaphorical rangefinders aimed at your forehead, extravagance was out of the question. You were covertly ushered into a room in a dingy single-story motel that Kassandra checked out, urged to keep your silhouette hidden from view as she swept the place and drew the curtains shut.

Ignoring the automatic rifle your protector left on the vanity for ease of retrieval, nothing seemed extraordinary within the cramped motel room. Two cup noodle pots sat empty on one night stand, your small suitcase unzipped and open on the other. Kassandra sat, resting her elbows on her knees, thoughtfully on the vanity chair, staring at the conundrum before her.

In each hand, you held a dress, having just posed the question of what to wear to your business meeting tomorrow.

“Well?”

“This is hardly my area of expertise.”

“You don’t need to be Anna Wintour to help me here,” you smiled, rolling your eyes light-heartedly. “Does the red one come across as a bit…much?” A car’s headlight illuminated the room from behind the curtains; with rehearsed ease, you stepped into the shadows of the room.

“A bit much as in ‘ooh-la-la’, or…actually, I don’t know what else you could mean,” she shrugged, leaning back into the chair, glancing at the window, eyes lingering until the lights shut off.

Eyes widening, you gave the garment a tenth once-over. “So your first thought was ‘ooh-la-la’?” Pouting, your gaze zeroed in on the bust. “I didn’t think the cleavage was dramatic.”

“The cleavage? I was talking about the skirt.”

“Oh, god, really? Is it that distracting?”

Kassandra grinned slyly. “I would be very distracted.”

Fighting off the warmth settling into your cheeks, you giggled at her implication. “Okay, the yellow it is, then.” Alas, your smile faltered as soon as a realisation dawned upon you. “Shit, wait, this was a gift from a rival brand. I can’t wear this.”

She feigned a dramatic gasp. “Scandalous,” she tutted, making you snort. “What a shame. I guess you have no choice but to wear that lovely red—”

A shriek pierced the night air from down the corridor.

Ice flooded your veins. You froze, mouth running dry. “Kassandra—”

Kassandra stood up immediately, her face void of any prior trace of amusement. Her expression hardened, her posture straightened. Without hesitation, she moved to the side of the bed, bending down and hooking her fingers under the frame. “Put your vest on and stay low,” she ordered. Authoritative. Methodical.

Unable to even blink, you remained deathly still.

Sternly, she repeated herself, eyes dark with lethal focus, “Vest. Now.”

A tremor set into your hands as the gravity of the situation began to dawn. Nodding, you shakily reached for the bulletproof vest in your suitcase, fumbling as you pulled it over your head while lowering yourself to the floor. Grunting, Kassandra quickly repositioned the bed, tugging the frame until it occupied the diagonal between the door and the window.

Sets of footsteps thudded through the hall. The violent rapping of fists against doors grew louder as the aggressors neared the room you resided in.

She dropped to her knees, reaching for the rifle on the dresser. “Is it on?”

Your fingers struggled to secure the velcro straps in your anxiety, the borderline arrhythmic hammering of your heart against your ribcage all but deafening. The fabric slipped from your fingertips every time you pinched it between them.

Steeled with concentration, she pulled you behind the bed. Momentarily, she let go of her gun, forcing your heart into your stomach. Deftly, she worked at the last couple of straps on the vest, unflinching when the car headlights filled the room with bright light once again. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered. Hearing the weakness in your voice only heightened your fear.

The Kassandra you were acquainted with would have offered you a few words of reassurance at the meagre apology.

This wasn’t her.

“Keep your back to the mattress and tuck your head into your body,” she instructed, resecuring her grip on her rifle. You wordlessly followed her order, making yourself as small as possible. “Don’t move until I tell you to. Don’t make a sound.”

A gunshot echoed from the room next door. You cried out in fear, quickly muffled by her hand. She didn’t move to shush you, nor did she remark about the teardrop colliding with the side of her palm.

When she removed her palm, she withdrew her phone from her pocket, punching in a few numbers, keeping her tawny eyes glued to the door. She dropped it the second she hit ‘dial’, army-crawling with the gun until she reached the vanity table, firmly out of your sight.

The world felt cold. Eerily cold. Cold, quiet, cold, cold—

Glass shattered as a tumultuous round of bullets soared through the window, effortlessly penetrating the mattress in an ear-splitting sweep. Lead speared itself into the wall in front of you, either side of your trembling, curled form. You clutched your head, forcing it further into your body as some of the bullets thumped against the Kevlar of your vest, dull pain bursting at across your back at the points of impact. You sobbed, obscured by the sound of open fire, too paralysed by fear to flinch.

Bile had reached the hollow of your throat by the time the bullets stopped. You didn’t know if Kassandra was hurt. You couldn’t tell if you were hurt. Teeth clamped down on your tongue until it bled to fight off the instinct to scream for her.

Petrified, you remained perfectly still.

The door swung open.

Two men’s voices muttered something unintelligible. You heard footsteps cross the boundary into the room.

Shattering the silence, a second round of lead ripped through the air, this time fired from within the motel. A shorter round. More precise. The moment it ceased, you could hear the sound of corpses crumpling to the floor.

You couldn’t, shit, you couldn’t fucking breathe. Not with a man’s silhouette peeking through the holes in the curtains, the murky shadow projecting itself partially onto the wall in front of you.

One-Mississippi.

Two-Mississippi.

Three-Mississippi.

Four-Mississippi.

Five-Mississi-

A short burst fired through the destroyed window from inside the room, the thunderous sound ricocheting from the vanity.

Kassandra.

The disjointed shade on the wall dissolved into blanket light.

You couldn’t have counted the next few seconds if your life depended on it. Time slowed, then rapidly sped up, then froze altogether when you heard the quiet call of your name through the nauseating fog in your brain.

“Are you hurt?” came the soft voice of your bodyguard.

You cried when your mouth wouldn’t open out of terror.

There was a panicked edge to her tone when she repeated the question.

Please, please, fucking talk.

Finally, some sound escaped the tightness of your throat. “I-I don’t know,” you stuttered weakly, mouse-quiet. But that was enough for Kassandra, even if she didn’t vocally acknowledge it.

Sand poured endlessly from the world’s hourglass, forming a dune large enough to host a desert before the sound of a helicopter sliced through the night. The chopping of the blades drew closer and closer to the motel. From a distance above, a loudspeaker boomed, “All clear.”

Faintly, over the roaring blades, you heard Kassandra shuffle out from under the vanity. Her shadow loomed over the mattress as she made her way to your side.

Leaning down, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, her other hand still maintaining a vice-like grip on her rifle. “Stand up for me, angel,” she whispered, a familiar warmth now present in the syllables.

At first, you couldn’t shift from your position, the petrification having yet to wear off. But after a few murmurs of “you’re okay” spilling from her lips in a mantra, you uncurled yourself and found your footing.

Kassandra shepherded you over to the window frame, helping you through the jagged pane, ensuring you didn’t slice yourself on the broken glass. Following suit, she eased you onto the lower rungs of the airborne ladder, shielding you with her body from the air whipping at you. She held on with one hand herself, sweeping her sights for any lingering traces of your assailants as the ladder gradually ascended.

Two pairs of old hands helped pull you into the body of the helicopter. You blinked up, vaguely registering the face of the police chief through your shock. He ushered your trembling self towards a bench while his uniformed associate placed headphones on your ears, drowning out the blades with a painful ringing as Kassandra joined you inside.

Slowly, your hearing returned to you, albeit substantially muffled and coupled with a shrill tinnitus. The helicopter’s hatch closed, and after a short while, the headphones were lifted from your ears.

A paramedic approached you with a first aid kit, moving to kneel by your side, only to wind up face-to-face with the barrel of a rifle.

“Kassandra, what the fuck are you doing?” hissed the chief.

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” she spat, unrelenting. You had never heard her with utter anything with such venom before.

“Stand down.”

She forcibly positioned herself between your body and the chief’s. “No. Someone fucking tipped us off. I’m not trusting anyone, and that includes you.” Heart still pounding erratically, you hugged your knees, wincing at the sting in your back as you closed in on yourself.

“Christ, Kass, be reasonable here.”

She laughed bitterly, “Oh, I’m being unreasonable, am I?” The chief reached forward, and the direction of her aim shifted towards him. “One task force knew where she would be staying and what vehicle would transport her. You have a fucking mole, Jameson!” she snapped, thrusting the weapon forward until the barrel was flush against his chest.

The chief – Jameson – retained his composure. Hell, you were more disturbed by her performance than the person with a firearm digging into his ribcage. “And you have enemies. Lots of them, in case you forgot that you’re a hitwoman.” Your heart stopped. What? Before you were able to process the statement, he continued, “You may have been the target, not—”

“Bullshit, those were Verduci’s thugs. I recognised the watches. Family sigils on the straps, same blue-dyed Italian leather. I’ve been tracking that cunt for weeks. Trust me, she wants her dead.”

He sighed irritably, but nodded nonetheless. In the brief silence that followed, you mulled over the sinister elephant in the room.

Hitwoman?

In your post-traumatic state, the idea seemed initially implausible. Kassandra was a bodyguard. She was a kind woman, who diligently worked to secure your safety. As alarming as this…this violent side of her was, she operated on the defence, not the offence. She fired reactively, not proactively. At least, from what you saw of her.

Out of your sight, though, there may have been a different story. As your pulse settled into a rhythm once again, the puzzle pieces began to weave themselves together. The disappearances into the night. The folder; the name she gave, the one beginning with ‘V’ – that was familiar to you, having popped up a few times underneath various photographs. The red crosses. The IP addresses.

Kassandra was disposing of your assassins before they even had a chance to load their guns.

That terrified little part of your brain screamed for you to cower from her, but you were fortunately able to rationalise it into disappearing. Whatever her job description entailed had just saved your life, and she showed no signs of betraying that commitment.

Jameson’s was the first voice to cut through the uncomfortable quiet. He took a step back from you, flattening his palms in the air. The rifle remained poised in his direction. “I’ll contact central intel when we get to the hospital about your suspicions,” he breathed out. Pensively, he rubbed his chin, before turning to you. “She won’t let the medics near you, so I’ll ask now, are you in need of immediate medical attention?”

“I think I’m just bruised up,” you declined, forcing a small smile.

He nodded. His head tilted towards Kassandra, no longer fazed by the gun. “She’s in deeper shit than we thought.”

“I can take her off-grid,” Kassandra suggested, exhaling through her nose. Finally, she handed over the rifle. “Get me clearance to relocate her overseas. I can’t trust anyone in special forces with the location.”

Your tongue darted out to moisten your lips as you glance up at her. “Why would you need additional clearance?” you asked shakily.

She softened slightly, morphing back into the Kassandra you were better acquainted with. “I won’t be taking you anywhere traceable,” she explained. “And your parents can’t know about where you’re hiding. Nobody can. Without clearance, this would be an abduction. Especially since I’m outsourcing the pilot.”

“You’re what, sorry?” Jameson blinked.

Anxiously, you scratched at your wrist. Kassandra leaned against the curved shell of the helicopter. “You have a mole. I can count my contacts on one hand, and I trust Barnabas explicitly.” She challenged him, sighing, “Look, you can get me clearance, or it’s going down as an abduction. Her safety is paramount – I couldn’t give a shit about what the bureaucrats think.”

“Alright, alright. Do what you need to do. Just keep her in one piece,” he relented, throwing his hands up in defeat, making for the cockpit with his associate. The paramedic had long since left your side, leaving the two of you as alone as you could get.

Kassandra took a seat next to you on the bench, gingerly rubbing your upper back. “How are you feeling?”

Shrugging, you relaxed into the warmth of her palm. “Disoriented, I guess. Still processing what happen–ow—” you winced as she accidentally put pressure on a tender part of your spine. She swore, immediately retracting her hand, apologising. Smiling, you waved it off. “I’ll be fine, though. You seem to have a plan in mind.”

“My plans aren’t exactly orthodox,” she admitted, pulling a face. “But this is the safest option for you. We’ll get you somewhere off the map – somewhere warm. See it as a hopefully uneventful vacation.” Her hand found purchase on your shoulder.

“And if it becomes eventful?” you frowned.

Kassandra squeezed you reassuringly. “Then all you’ll need to do is what I tell you to, just like you did tonight. I won’t leave your side. You’ll be sick of me by the end of the week.” A laugh escaped you, slightly hoarse, but genuine all the same. “You will be. I’m insufferable,” she grinned.

Without realising, you leaned into her half-embrace, comforted by the weight of her hand and the notion of her remaining firmly at your side. Truly at ease, with the whistling of bullets miles in the past, you spoke in earnest.

“I find that very hard to believe.”

[the-phantom-author]

Hasan Piker Lawyer S/O

Long time comming, dedicated to @gaytoadwithapopsicle and that one anon from a while ago. So, thank you for your paitence and much love.

Request are open, reblogs always welcomed

Hasan’s controversially younger girlfriend, and by that i mean you're like 25-26 years old, so like 6-7 years younger than him. And meet while you 're finishing Law School.

While you were in school he’s so helpful, he;s constantly making sure that when you're studying, you're eating and drinking enough, and that you’re not keeping yourself cooped up too much.

Hasan is a master of scheduling things, if you ever feel like you need help figuring out how to balance your work/life relationship don’t be afraid to ask him. When/if you do ask him, he also adjusts his schedule to make sure that there is time for the two of you to hang out one-on-one, and spend time together without either of you worrying about work.

Once you do work in an office and are out of school, he starts having a day where he just doesn’t stream. Mostly to make sure that the two of you have time together, but also because it helps him make sure that the both of you have a good place to be able to relax in.

If you ever have a case that is bothering you that you can’t really talk about, Hasan is trying everything that he can to help de-stress you.

Also Hasan is like, super interested in the research you do for your cases. If you ever want to ramble for a while about the different subsets of laws and how they apply in different scenarios, he is so invested. He’s asking any and all questions that he can think of.

Even when you’re not actively explaining things, if he ever thinks of a law related question he immediately goes to you, he just puts so much trust in you. I can imagine him totally just messaging you in the middle of streams questions that he has while going through an article with chat. When you respond, he’s always going on and on about how much you know and how impressive you are before he actually talk about the information you gave him.

On stream is a bit different. There is a lot of comments about the age difference, but neither of you let it get anywhere. Hasan sees the most of it, but he also just takes the punches, very “Both of us are grown adults and you’re weird for implying that she’s incapable of making choices about whose appropriate for her to date.” while you are the one who will go on tangents about “You're such a fucking idiot. I'm a full grown adult, I'm not a social media personality, I'm not going into politics. Me being with Hasan brings me absolutely no social or career gain.” or  “I’ve been working on my career longer than I’ve been with him and no one in a damn court room cares who im dating. I could be dating Barack Obama and that doesn’t affect my ability to fight a case or argue a point. The fact that you equate a woman’s success to a man she didn’t gain that success from is disgusting. The fact that you think Hasan would do that is disgusting. The fact that your opinion as a jury member could be swayed by who a lawyer is dating, is disgusting. And since you wanna treat me like I’m still in highschool I’ll have you know I was 10 times more mature in freshman year then you will ever be.”

Those few chats that fo get through and you see, usually just result in you ingorign them or lecturing them, however if their ever is one that actually gets to you, to the point of you leaving the room completely. It’s not good. X X

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 270, Replies Part 2

1) “We- We`re inside Shigaraki`s mind or something? It must be, since he`s there and there`s a, quite frankly, concerning number of disembodied hands floating around.

we`re about to go down a fucking weird trip, aren`t we?”- We’re going on an inception trip into shiggy-boy’s braincase….in fact, we’re not even the first ones taking up residence inside his cracked mindspace…

2) “Fuck if I know Shigaraki, you have quite the interesting imagination, I wish my dreams were half that abstract. Then again, I was never comatose, as far as I know.”- And as a side-effect of his awakened/ascended mentality, Tomura’s ‘ethereal’ white hair has become almost negative space around his head, almost looking like Horikoshi simply didn’t draw the pages around him. 3) “OH OKAY FUCK FUCK FUCK I KNEW THINGS WERE GOING TO GET WEIRD

WE`RE GONNA DEAL WITH A BIT OF THAT LINGERING TRAUMA FROM THE PAST, AREN`T WE?

I AM NOT READY FOR IT

NOT AT ALL”- Hard to call it ‘lingering’ when AFO actively cultivated Tomura’s mentality to keep it first and foremost inside his emotional core, always pushing him forwards even when he’d repressed the hell out of it. His mind is nothing but trauma, and he’s only now recently started to mature enough to start owing that damage as being what he thinks of himself as. He sees himself through the broken mirror of his mind, each piece a cracked reflection of the boy he started as and what he could have been. 4) “OH IT`S STILL HER, AND SHE`S REMINDING US AND SHIGARAKI OF THAT PARTICULAR MOMENT”- If this broken landscape is what makes up his mind, then tragically, the pieces of it that allow him to hold his ‘self’ together and avoid floating away in the chaos are the very ones that relate to his childhood trauma- the thing that breaks him inside paradoxically holds him together even beyond what other people could endure. 5) “I wonder, do Shigaraki even remembered that she apologized for what she had done? He wasn`t paying much attention at the time, but did he ever recalled that she regretted making him suffer like that?”- Being that this seems to almost be like Shigaraki’s memories of his family overlapping with that night and what he’d think they would say to him now, it sorta implies that he does remember – like, this whole sequence is a little unclear if it’s all in his head, or if him being technically dead means that he’s communing with his family’s lingering ghosts, or if he’s using the memories of his family to talk to himself through their images, putting the words in their mouths to converse with himself as he processes his current situation. Nana herself seems to be the anomaly here, but that itself might also be because of her lingering vestige preserved within OFA…which itself has some undefined link to AFO, as shown by him likewise sensing the changes to the twin Quirk within Tartarus when the additional Quirks started awakening. 6) “AGAIN, DID SHIGARAKI EVER THOUGHT ABOUT HIS DREAM SINCE THEN? EVEN IF ONLY TO SAY “FUCK THAT, HEROES SUCK”?”- I think he’s thought about it by not thinking about it – like the answer is one he already known deep down on an emotional, instinctual level, but it’s all wrapped up underneath the layers of trauma and pain involved with that night, and he finds it easier to think about the hurt that motivates him more than the uncomfortable answer lurking underneath all that sorrow and lashing out. Eventually, he will have to give a voice to that answer, but at present, his current situation means he can focus on attacking the heroes rather than wasting time navel-gazing and considering whether it’s even a possibility to turn back anymore. 7) “SOMETHING TELLS ME HE DIDN`T, CONSIDERING HIS EXPRESSION TOWARDS THE GIANT IMAGINARY MILF. OH GOD, EITHER THIS WHOLE SHIT IS GOING TO GO REALLY BAD, OR IT WILL GO REALLY, REALLY BAD”-Considering that the ‘itchiness’ is tied thematically to Tomura’s apparent longing to ‘destroy’ things, she’s as good as telling him that his revenge on the world that denied him will only lead to him wanting to destroy more and more until he has nothing left, but AFO has groomed Tomura so thoroughly that he’s convinced himself that existing in this miserable situation of his own violation is what makes him ‘him’ now, like he’s felt this pain for so long, it’s warped around to being comforting. Like Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader, Tomura has immersed himself in the role of the villain, even if it’s in opposition to his childhood dream, because he feels like he has nothing else left outside of it, and can only make the best of his situation by embracing the perks it provides him, even if he’s unsatisfied with it all at his core.

8) “FUCK FUCK FUCK IT`S BABYGARAKI AGAIN

OH GOD OH FUCK THIS IS REALLY SPIRALING OUT OF CONTROL”-He says he’s ok, but only because he’s gotten so used to the misery of his current existence that he can’t imagine a life where he’s not the villain anymore, where he’s not the outsider rejected by society who can only destroy. His body reverts back to the child he was when he first found the photograph, showing that the desire to be a hero is still deeply wrapped up in his core identity, even if he’s convinced himself it’s impossible, and his eyes aren’t quite focused and full of emotions like they were when he was idolising nana’s image. He claims he’s fine, but it’s clearly deflection on how he really feels- and given this may be part of his own mind speaking to him through his memories, it could also be seen as him burying the last shreds of his conscience before he awakens to bring misery to all, reaffirming that this is what he wants to himself.

9) “OH OKAY IT SEEMS LIKE WE HAVE REACHED A CONCLUSION TO THIS WHOLE SPIRITUAL TRIP TO THE PAST, AND THE RESULTS ARE IN:

EVERYBODY RUN THE FUCK AWAY, SHIT`S GONNA OBLITERATE THE FAN”- As he affirms that he’s fine with being the destructive villain, the memory of his father attacking him surfaces- the first time he used his power maliciously, and thus the first time he experienced the pleasant joy and satisfaction that came with using his powers to hurt those who oppressed him, essentially the part of his mind that  revels in the joy of being a villain reminding him of the origin of that desire.

10) “WELP, THE TRAUMA PUT HIM ON THIS TRIAL, AND SHIGARAKI DECIDED ON HOW TO DEAL WITH IT. THE ONLY WAY HE EVER KNEW OF DEALING WITH IT”- It’s tragic, but Tenko’s confidence and fearlessness in facing what would normally be a traumatic memory that repressed him and destroying it with his own willpower and the strength he now possesses is somewhat inspiring as well. You can’t help but wonder how he’d have turned out if he was given some positive learning experiences instead of a troubled upbringing before he massacred his family.

11) “OH, NOW IT`S YOU. RIGHT. YEAH IF WE`RE TALKING ABOUT TRAUMA OF COURSE YOU WOULD SHOW UP IN HIS HEAD. THE FUCK YOU`RE GONNA SHOW HIM AS WELL?”-Well, he did help plant the bad thoughts of Tomura being an inherently destructive monster in his head in the first place- it gave him an easy way in in more ways than one… 12) “WAIT WAIT THEFUVKX THAT IS NOT AN HALLUCINATIOLN

THAT IS NOT

FUCK

THAT`S THE REAL ONME ISN`T IT

OH GOD WHAT THWE FUCK

HE`S TALKING TO HIM

AND HE`S TELLING HIM TO COME TAKE HIM OUT OF HIS CELL”- Not quite- the devil can’t take your soul entirely unless you willingly sign the contract of your own free will…. (MHA ch 246)

13) “Now, the doctor just wants some clarification before he gets started, and I’m wondering how many quirks he’s gonna shove inside his twink frame. He still needs to leave some room for the cherry on top of the cake, the quirk of All for One, that one is still behind bars, but soon he’ll be back…

Soon™”- Or he’s prepping him for All For one’s quirk all along, because it’s better long term for him to just finalise his body right from the start and have the ability to stockpile unlimited power already in him, rather than building up to it gradually by adapting his vessel pieces by piece to handle multiple quirks. All For One does seem to have some kind of innate resistance against the natural devastation that would result from containing multiple quirks at once, a trait shared with its twin, much to Deku’s benefit, so rather than toughen Tomura’s body up by adding increasing numbers of quirks into his modified frame one by one, it’s easier for Ujiko to just prep him to handle the entirely of All For One all at once and let the quirk’s natural abilities handle the blowback of gaining so much power in one go. Granted, the process isn’t pretty by a long shot, but Tomura’s made it quite clear he doesn’t give a damn about winning any beauty competitions, which is good, because he was looking worse off than even Dabi on that operating table. @thelreads

[nriacc]

From The Ritz To The Rubble | NRIACC: Part 28 |

Plot by @imagine-that-100​ and @ghostlightqueen

Written by @imagine-that-100​

Description: | Here |

Word Count: 21.2k

Warnings: This series contains mature content and themes throughout

A/N: Besties it’s here. The last drama filled chapter before the enddd! We’re getting closer now! I’m still so grateful that everyones still reading alone and sticking with me. Also I get to see both The 1975 and Arctic Monkeys next weekend and I’ve never been happier in my life!!!! The biggest thank you to @alovesreading​ for your help with this chapter, I got this to everyone this week because she was endlessly encouraging me to write so thank you so much! Also there’s a bit of French in this chapter but don’t be going to google translate, the translation is there next to it. Thank you to @red---moon​ for making sure the French is decent for me! Also a reminder that this is fiction and I treat all of these people I write about as characters so do not be giving me shit in my asks. Thanks again for reading, hope you enjoy the drama xx

| Series Masterlist | N’s Masterlist | NRIACC Playlists | The Band’s Info | Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3 |

~*~*~*~ 14th February 2019 ~*~*~*~

George.

George Daniel.

George fucking Daniel.

The forbidden love of your life.

Your soulmate.

Your long haired, man-bun perfectionist, gentle giant, lovable tree, George motherfucking Daniel… Cut his fucking hair.

And were you prepared for this? Absolutely not.

And this is because you found out when you walked into a restaurant in North London on Valentines Day and were met with your George, sitting there waiting for you, looking all dapper in his suit, with freshly buzzed cut hair.

“What the fuck have you done to your hair?” The words slipped from your mouth before you even made it to the table.

George snorts as he gets up to greet you, pulling you into a hug as he grins, “Hello to you too Baby.”

“Why have you cut your hair?” You ask him, unable to stop yourself from looking at his now very short hair.

It’s actually unnerving looking at him without hair. Since you were 17 you’ve known George to have long hair and yes everyone in your Manchester group of friends has been making jokes about the giant’s receding hairline for the past five years, but God you loved the man-bun so much you hoped this day would never come.

But it seems it has. RIP hot man-bun George Daniel era. Gone but certainly not forgotten.

As you take your seats at the table, your soulmate grins as he says, “Well apparently you shag people with buzzcuts, so I was trying for this to finally be my day.”

“Shut up.” You shake your head at him, your cheeks heating up a little at the mention of your activities with your best friend more than a fortnight ago now. You correct him, “And I shagged him before it was cut off.”

“Sure it was.” George chuckles before picking up the menu in front of him.

Dinner with George is amazing, as it usually is. The pair of you together just ooze sexual tension mixed with unmatched adoration for each other so you both flick between flirty and sweet the entire time.

Of course though, George brings up Alex again saying that you ‘cheated’ on him with ‘one of your many best friends you sleep with’ and you just end up laughing at that. Your soulmate then asks if it's continuing with Alex or not and you tell him the whole truth.

That things between you and Alex are fine and back to usual. There was obviously the odd flirty comment after what happened and the both of you maybe had that phone call you promised him a few nights after he left you littered with bruises. But you didn’t tell George that part.

But other than that, you’re quite happy for things to be normal again. The only regret you have is that you wish you cut the live stream short a little earlier because after watching the end of it back, everyone definitely heard what Alex said and they all clearly knew you shagged after the 1975’s gig that night.

Nothing else is a regret about that 24 hours. You’re very glad it happened and now you feel better than ever heading back into your single life.

Everything feels harmonious for once. You feel at peace with everything and you’re excited for life just to take you wherever it wants.

Does that mean you forgot about what happened though? Absolutely not.

You remember the night fondly, just like you’ve remembered past encounters with other people, like Matty and Y/B/F. But you have found yourself spacing out and thinking about it from time to time because it’s so fresh in your memory.

And because you’d only just finished talking about it before the waiter came to serve both you and George your desserts, you’ve started eating whilst your mind is in the dirtiest depths of the gutters.

“So…” George gets your attention away from the chocolate cake you ordered for your dessert. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, “Will you do me the honour?”

“Of what? Splitting the bill?” You ask, actually having no idea of what he just asked you.

Stop thinking about the way your best mate fucked you, Y/N!

“No, it’s always my turn on Valentines.” George shakes his head, bringing you out of your thoughts again, “I was saying will you do me the honour of being my date at this year's Brit Awards?”

You almost snort out loudly in this otherwise civilised quiet restaurant.

“You’re joking, right?” You ask him, the humour clear in your eyes as you pick up your glass of wine and take a sip.

“No, I’m being serious.” George shakes his head with a genuine smile on his face, “I really want you to come with me.”

You reach out to take his hand as you let him down easily. “Whilst that’s really cute of you G, I vowed many years ago that the 2017 Brits would be my last.”

“Please Baby.” George then pouts as your hand slips from atop of his so you can pick up your fork and start eating your cake again.

“No don’t ‘please baby’ me with your sex eyes.” You shake your head, not letting him get to you with him looking at you all suggestively. You will not break. “Nothing will make me go to another Brit Awards. Especially one where you and the Monkeys are up against each other for Best British Group.”

When those nominations came though, you genuinely wanted to jump out of the closest window. Twitter stans were having a field day tagging you in the post asking you who you wanted to win and that’s initially how you found out. You sent the screenshot to Y/B/F instantly and she phoned you up laughing.

“Come on,” George pleads, “That just makes it even more fun.”

‘HA. For who, George? Because it’s certainly not me’ Is all that you can think.

You just shake your head again, and eat your cake before saying, “Absolutely not.”

“What if I go down on you?” Your soulmate offers and you almost choke.

“George!”

“What?” He tries his best not to laugh as he continues, “We are both up for it, are we not? Or should I say down for it?”

You give him a warning glare as you take a sip of your drink. He’s just grinning at you like he fully means it though and it makes you so flustered. You struggle to turn him down.

“You know Matty would have to be six feet under before we could even think about getting together?” You remind him, “And even then, I think he’d haunt you.”

“Okay maybe sack the Brits off then…” George grins, “I’ve gotta figure out a way to get away with murder.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You laugh but George just takes your hand and intertwines your fingers.

“In bed?” He smirks then winks, “So I’ve been told.”

You smack his hand away from yours and warn him again, “Stop it.”

“Only if you come to the Brits with me.” George raises his eyebrows at you in another attempt to get his own way.  

“Sorry.” You let him down again, “The plan has always been for me and Y/B/F to watch it at my flat before she gets on her plane to Perth for the next leg of the Monkeys tour.”

This news just makes George look even more deflated. But he seems to think his last method of persuasion will work.

“Please.” He pleads, “James Cordon won’t be there. Jack Whitehall is hosting this time and I know you fancy him.”

You hate how well everyone knows you at this point.

“As much as I would love to meet Jack Whitehall, I’m not going.” You stand your ground and both of you end up going back to your desserts. George now with a pouty face that you’d love to kiss back to normal, but alas, you chose Matty not George back in the day.

Silently you know that you can’t even think to begin to change your mind, especially with what happened a few weeks ago. You’ll be the talk of the fucking nation if that gets mentionned.

Once you take the last bite of your cake, you sit back in your seat and grin at your soulmate until he looks over at you. “Did you really think Jack Whitehall being there would be better than you going down on me?”

The grin that comes to his face is the best thing you’ve seen all day. You got your George back from then on out and the rest of your date was just as stunning.

~*~*~*~ 20th February 2019 ~*~*~*~

You are fucking fuming.

There’s a few ways you could put it. Livid. Outraged. Furious. Infuriated. But none of these words quite fits the emotions that are running through you like adrenaline.

You’re ready to punch Matthew Timothy Healy in the fucking face.

It’s Brit Awards day and you don’t know why you led yourself into the false sense of security that all would be okay. But when you found out that the Monkeys weren’t even going because they had the early flight the following day to Perth with Y/B/F, you thought it’d be fine.

You and Y/B/F were a bottle of wine down before the show even started and you were in a great mood. An in even better one when the show first started because as Jack Whitehall was giving his opening speech the camera panned over to Matty and George who had been caught eating and licking their fingers on live TV.

Both you and Y/B/F started cackling when that happened and you texted the group immediately, telling them what just happened on the screen and you also asked what they were eating. George immediately replied saying they had a Nando’s delivered which just made the thought even better.

You found it that funny that you went on twitter to find a clip a fan had put on just so you could see it again. You even went as far as to save it so you’d always have the memory.

Of course, you retweeted it as you think as many people as possible need to see it. Whilst you’re on Twitter though, you see the first reply come and it makes you giggle.

Y/N who do you want to win best british group????? x

And you can’t stop yourself, you reply to the question boldly.

Gorillaz xx

When you show it Y/B/F the both of you start giggling. The tipsier you get the more funny it becomes but it seems to make people on twitter though too so it’s not the end of the world.

Of course, you would like the award to go to one of your favourite bands. But to avoid the drama of it all, you truly wouldn’t mind if Gorillaz, Little Mix, or Years and Years took the title.

Despite the joking, you knew that both bands would like to win the award, and considering you’ve just been texting Alex to ask if he’s needed to do a video to accept the award and he replied that he didn’t, you’re fairly certain they aren’t going to win. It’s unfortunate but Alex said he was expecting it considering the mixed reviews everyone’s given Tranquillity Base.

After assuring him that you and Y/B/F loved the album, you started hoping The 1975 were going to win. It seemed things were going to go that way anyway because someone in their PR team had accidentally released an advert for A Brief Inquiry with ‘Brit Award winning album’ on it, so there was a fairly good chance they were going to win the Mastercard Album of the Year.

But you and Y/B/F just watched happily along anyway. Whatever the outcome, you still support and back your friends 100%.

When the time comes for Best British Band to be announced, Vicky McClure and Natalie Dormer are the ones to make the announcement and you find that your eyes are glued to the screen.

A smile makes its way to your face when you hear, “The 1975!” being announce as the winners. Seeing the grins on Matty and George’s faces when they show the band and when they reach for each other and embrace in the biggest hug its so lovely to see.

Seeing Ross in his suit, your jaw drops at how good he looks when he hugs their manager. But you grin like a fool seeing Adam and Carly in the background. You’re so so so proud of your cousin.

You're grinning like a fool once they make it up to the stage but then you find yourself holding your breath almost scared for what’s about to leave Matty’s mouth. You don’t expect him to stick two fingers up and say ‘fuck arctic monkeys’ but you’re a little worried.

But as it turns out, you were truly worrying about nothing. For his speech, Matty reads out a few lines that his friend Laura Snapes had said about misogyny in the music industry which you think is a really good use of his platform. Because what is the point in having a voice on a stage and not using it to strive for something better?

You calm down after that, knowing that you’ve got through the award where they were against the Monkeys and it went fine. You and Y/B/F sent them a congratulations WhatsApp and about 5 minutes after you both did, you saw that Alex sent them a congratulations in the Two Bands, One Lesbian Couple chat.

Alex’s congratulations to The 1975 were followed along by the other Monkeys showing that there are clearly no hard feelings about it. Obviously The 1975 are busy at the O2 so they don’t reply to any of you but you like that the Monkeys are watching along to support regardless.

The rest of the show is rather uneventful. Jack Whitehall embarrassing Shawn Mendes about his recent Calvin Klein shoot was funny though but you and Y/B/F were just eager to see if your Manchester boys were going to win Mastercard Album of the Year.

It was the last award of the night, as it always is, and you and Y/B/F have now finished 3 bottles of wine and are feeling quite jolly. It really was a shame that was all about to change.

Jared Leto is reading out the winner of the album of the year, and you hold your breath, hoping and praying with every fibre of your being that your boys win. And you’ve never been so happy to hear someone say, “And the winner is… The 1975.”

You and Y/B/F actually stand up cheering for them this time, absolutely ecstatic for them. You’re squealing when they show Adam kissing Carly as the camera moves to them, and you melt when you watch Matty and George hug each other.

When they get up to the stage, your heart fills with the most pure love for them all. They all look so happy and when Matty hugs Ross in front of everyone you want to cry. You know how hard they all worked on this one so you’re really thrilled for them. And you and YB/F sit down to watch their speech.

“Thank you, this is amazing.” Matty says once he’s given the microphone. He’s clearly shell shocked to have got the award, anyone could see that from the way he’s wide eyed and most definitely unprepared.

“Thank you so much, we’re humbled by this award. Erm, thank you everybody.” Matty begins to ramble. “Thank you Jamie Oborne, our fifth member. Thank you to the Brits.”

But then it stops being adorable a second later.

“Thank you to everyone involved- to Arctic Monkeys, for still being such an inspiring and relevant band in 2019.” Matty says patronisingly with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips after he says it. “I know how hard that is.” He adds sarcastically.

You gasp out loud, shocked stiff in your seat as you say, “He didn’t.”

“No. Fucking. Way.” Y/B/F confirms it was reality for you though.

The both of you share a silent look which speaks volumes. You know the both of you just silently yelled to each other, I can’t believe he’s just fucking said that.

You’re fuming from this already because there is really no fucking need for it, but turns out you can reach new levels of anger by the next seven words that leaves the curly haired brunettes mouth.

“Thank you to my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N, for letting me write that stuff down.” Matty continues and you’re sure your brain short circuits and you don't hear the rest of it.

You did notice the other boys' shocked reactions on stage to Matty’s words though and even you at home can read the silent looks they were sending each other. But you don’t even hear Matty finish his speech. You’re absolutely seething.

Y/B/F watches on as Matty finishes off by saying, “Thank you to all of our partners… Thank you erm… Yeah this, this is mad. Thank you so much, we love you… Thank you very much, thanks, cheers.” Matty rambles on before he lifts their well-deserved award up into the air and they are ushered off the stage.

But you’re watching absolutely horrified. As much as they deserve the award for the album that was not needed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You yell in your flat which should surprise Y/B/F due to the volume at which you said it, but it doesn’t.

You’re ranting and getting yourself worked up for the 10 minutes that's left of the show then. That includes them playing Sincerity Is Scary to close the show.

You feel so fucking embarassed and stupid. You feel so many emotions at once it all gets to you very quickly.

Even worse when you start getting texts from Alex and the other Monkeys the separate chat you have that Y/B/F is also in. They are shocked as to why Matty would even mention them in the speech, let alone be as patronising and sarcastic as he just was because it was clear to see it wasn’t a compliment, it was the most petty thing you’ve seen from Matty in a long time.

Your mood worsens when you can’t get in touch with Matty after the show ends. You’re sure that in the following hour, you try to call him at least 20 times and he doesn’t answer.

None of the other boys respond either which just makes your blood boil even more despite knowing it’s not their fault. You could see from their reactions that even they thought Matty was going a step too far.

You made a point of sending a tweet out saying, Just for clarification, I’m no ones girlfriend. I don't know why that shit was said.

You just feel so fucking embarassed. Everyone who pays attention to either of the bands knows that you shagged Alex a matter of weeks ago and now Matty’s saying you’re his girlfriend. It makes you look like a slag, when you’re so far from one it’s a joke.

You’ve been doing so well with not caring about what anyone thinks of you, and maybe it’s because you're drunk, but it feels like a massive setback. You hate the thought that people could have heard what happy said tonight and they could think you were a slut. It just brings back so many bad memories, you really hate all the old feelings that are being dragged back through your system.

It’s almost 2 hours later when one of the four of them picks up the phone, and unsurprisingly it’s not the person you actually wanted to pick up. So you really have to mute your anger when your soulmate answers his phone.

“Baby, hey!” George greets you loudly and clearly quite cheerfully down the phone.

“I’ve been calling you.” You say bluntly, not having quite enough softness in your voice that George deserves considering he’s done nothing wrong.

It seems to go unnoticed by the drummer though, as you hear him very chipperly say, “Sorry we just got to the after party. Barely any signal in the O2.”

“G I need to-” You just about get out before George starts talking over the noise you can hear in the background of the call.

You can hear his sexy grin that’s definitely on his face when he interrupts and asks, “You calling to congratulate us, Baby?”

“Something like that.” You brush the comment off, “Listen I-”

“Who’s that?” You just about hear Ross ask on the other end of the phone.

“It’s my Baby.” You can almost hear his grin as he says it, and any other night it would leave you weak at the knees but tonight is not that night.

“G.” You try to get his attention again but it doesn’t work.

“Wheels, we won!” You hear Matty yell in glee in the background.

You’re about to say something back, as hearing Matty so unbothered by it all just fuels your anger. As if he doesn’t know he’s done wrong.

Before you can say anything George is very excitedly rambling to you. He’s clearly had a few drinks and of course you think he’s entitled to celebrate. But you’re fucking fuming now you have Matty only a person away. You end up cutting into George’s cute ramblings.

“George,” You interrupt him, frankly needing to yell at the person who deserves it now. “I’m really happy for you and that you’ve won the awards n’all, but you need to put me on the phone to Matty right now before I blow a fucking fuse.”

You hear your soulmate sigh then and he hesitantly starts saying, “Baby, please don’t do-”

“George, I’m fucking fuming.” You interject again, not taking no for an answer, “I saw your reactions on stage when he said what he said. Put me on the fucking phone to him now before I lose my shit at you when you don’t deserve it.”

All you’re met with is a sigh then, and you’re thankful when he doesn’t argue again.

“Good luck mate.” You hear George say as he hands the phone over to Matty.

“Sweetheart, hey!” You hear your curly haired brunette say excitedly down the phone.

But you ignore the greeting completely and ask, “Have you taken anything?”

“What?” Matty asks, entirely confused and you believe him when he says, “No.”

“Then how much have you had to drink?” You interrogate some more, with anger clear in your voice.

“I’ve not had anything,” Matty tells you, sounding a little defensive. “Have to be up early to do a podcast tomorrow, so I’m a sober boy all around tonight.”

“Matty, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” The news just makes your blood boil more, because there’s no excuse for his behaviour. “You said all of that shit sober! Are you fucking insane?!”

You’re sure you hear a dry scoff or sigh from him before he says, “Wheels, just please don't start right.”

“No, you don't get to dismiss my feelings on this, Matty,” You say loudly down the phone as you’re pacing your lounge with Y/B/F watching you. “I’m entitled to be feeling how I am after the shit you just pulled.”

“What shit, Y/N?” Matty tries to play dumb, “I’ve done fuck all wrong.”

“Fuck all?” He’s just made your blood boil even more, “Are you joking?!”

Considering his lack of memory on the subject, you point out his mistakes, “You called me your girlfriend!”

“Sorry Wheels, it’s an old habit.” Matty says and it sounds like he means his apology but you’re too upset let that be it.

“It’s really fucking not! We've not been together for six years!” Your words are like razors, “You did it spitefully to try and cause shit. I’m not your girlfriend Matty, I haven’t been for a long fucking time and you really need to get over this.”

Y/B/F is already a little worried about this interaction, you’re already raging and you’ve only just started. And you being drunk as well, this isn’t a good combination. So despite her agreeing that what Matty has done is wrong, she’s apprehensive about the situation being blown out of proportion.

“Don’t be like that, Wheels, it's a slip of the tongue.” Matty tries to diffuse the situation before it begins.

“Like fuck it was!”

“Genuinely didn’t mean it Y/N/N. It was a slip in the moment.”  Matty  “I was caught off guard and I was just trying to thank you very sincerely for being a muse Y/N, I've done nothing wrong.”

“Yeah, you have. You shouldn't have called me that.” And you just get angrier when you remember what else he did, “And your saying you’ve done nothing wrong, what about sarcastically slagging the Monkeys off in your speech when there was no fucking need for it.”

“Oh, it's really not that deep.” You can picture Matty pulling a face and shaking his head.  

“It is though!” You yell back, “It fucking is, Matty, and you know it is! You're good with them. There was absolutely no need for that when for the last year, you've been fine with them.”

“I’ve been fine with Matt, Jamie, and Nick, Y/N.” Matty corrects you, “When have I ever been fine with Alex?”

And then it’s like a lightbulb goes off in your head. A dry scoff rips through your throat, “Oh my god! Is that what this is about?!”

“Have you really just slagged the Monkeys off to the fucking nation because you’re jealous I fucked Alex last month?!” You’re fuming now you’ve pieced it together, “Is that really why you just did that?”

“Y/N.” Matty tries to interrupt but you’re having none of it.

“Are you really that jealous?” You ask, absolutely seething, “If so you need to grow the fuck up, it’s a fucking joke. And espeically after calling me your fucking girlfriend, when you know full well that Alex accidentally outed what happened between us on the live stream.”

That seems to anger Matty though because he backchats with, “First of all Wheels, if that was accidental, it was about as accidental as Helders cheating on his wife.”

Your jaw drops, “You didn’t just s-”

“And Second!” You’re interrupted this time, Matty telling you with annoyance in his voice now, “No, I’m not jealous that you fucked him, Y/N. We’ve fucked more times than you’ve fucked him, but that’s not the fucking point… I don’t need a souvenir that we’ve slept together Y/N, I'm not a horny teenager. I don’t need a video saying “I fucked Y/N Y/L/N’ to know that’s something that’s happened between us. Jealousy plays no part in it.”

Matty tells you with utter conviction in his voice, “I don’t like Alex because he’s been a colossal dickhead to you and he made you feel like utter shit for months on end last year.”

“I know I’m not a saint, and you were probably the same after what happened with us, but like you keep pointing out, that was years ago. I’ve grown up, he clearly hasn’t.” Before you can scoff Matty continues, “He did it one year ago, he did it when you were twenty one, and he did it when you were seventeen. I said what I said because I don’t likehim.”

You get all that you really do, because to anyone who knows your relationship, it must look absolutely insane. You don’t think there will ever be a day where they are on good terms with each other. That would take something earth shattering. The world would have to go into some sort of apocalyptic style epidemic for Alex Turner and Matty Healy to like each other, but you can’t see that happening anytime soon.

But that doesn’t mean Matty can go around saying this shit he did tonight. Matty’s feelings about the situation shouldn’t be making you feel like you do tonight. He could have just talked to you, not on TV.

“Do you not understand how fucking embarassing that is for me though Matty? You can dislike him privately. We don’t need to relive 2014 and have articles about the three of us flying round again.” You say sternly, your frustration completely taking over now.

“I have enough to deal with when you release songs about me, basically telling everyone about the weird dynamic between me, you, and Alex. And now you’ve just embarrassed me on live TV when the whole of fucking Instagram and Twitter knows I fucked Alex last month.” Your almost crying, you’re so annoyed and upset by the whole thing, “You’ve made me look like a whore Matty, when I’ve not been with anyone for a long fucking time.”

“I’ve not made you look like a whore at all, Wheels!” Matty sounds upset you’ve even suggested that, “What are you talking about? All I did was look out for you.”

There’s emotion in your voice now, and Matty can hear that along with the disbelief as you ask, “You call that looking out for me?”

“You’ve been my best friend, for what? Almost twenty years, Wheels!” Matty fights his own corner, “I’m not just going to stand by and not comment when I’m trying to protect you from someone who could ultimately hurt you.”

“I don’t need you to do that for me, Matty. And I certainly don’t need you to protect me on live TV.” You yell, “Send me a fucking text!”

“I fucking did.” Matty almost yells back at you, “I sent you a fair few that night and you didn’t reply to them, even afterwards.”

You dryly laugh, “Sorry Matty, please forgive me for not replying to texts whilst I was sleeping with your archnemesis. Forgive me, it was on silent and I left my phone downstairs. Your jealousy wasn’t a priority to me at that moment.”

You’re pacing around your lounge back and forth now, not even aware of anything you’re really seeing. Y/B/F might be there still, but you honestly don’t know. You’re just so upset and angry at Matty down the other end of the phone.  

“I wasn’t fucking jealous, Wheels!” Matty starts yelling now, “Stop with the fucking jealousy speech because I couldn’t give a shit... I want you to be happy, I truly want nothing more. But after what you said at your gallery and how you said sleeping with other people made you think what he said about you was true. I'm not sorry to say that I think you deserve better than that.”

Before you can comment on that, your curly haired brunette continues, “If he’s endgame for you that's honestly fine, yeah maybe I shouldn’t have just said that on TV. But considering he’s yet to prove himself, I won’t apologise for trying to look out for my best friend.”

You wish it was that easy to just forgive him like that. But you’re too irritated now, you scoff, “Well if you’re not going to apologise for it, I’ve got nothing else to say to you Matty. I don’t want to fucking speak to you again if you think what you’ve done is acceptable. We’re not kids anymore, grow the fuck up!”

You continue, “I’ve wasted enough time dealing with everyone else's shit and I’m fucking done with it. I’ve given up too much in my life, always trying to appease both of you and I'm through.” You want to pull your hair out when you say, “If it’s not one of you hurting me, it’s the other.”

“You can’t for a second believe what I've done tonight is anywhere near the same as what Alex did to you last year?!” Matty sounds shocked and upset as he argues, “What he called you was fucking awful, I just thanked you for letting me write lyrics about you!”

You’re too focused on your last points to even hear him though, “I’m through Matty! I thought you’d leave this petting shit about me and Alex in the past. I’m sick of being in the middle.”

“Oh dear, such a common crisis for you, Sweetheart.” Matty says dryly and sarcastically adds, “Such a hard life.”

“You seriously don't wanna start comparing shit right now Matty, you really don't.” You’re grinding your teeth trying to keep your rage in. “Carry on and your narcissism will be showing… But realistically when isn't it, right? It's always all about you.”

There's a loud groan then before Matty shouts, “I’m trying to look out for you! What aren’t you understanding!”

“That's not how you should have gone about it!” You yell back, “I’m a grown woman and I can make my own decisions. I don't need your jealousy to take centre stage on TV and broadcast it there!”

“Why aren’t you fucking listening? I’m not fucking jealous!”

“Oh piss off Matty,” You shake your head, not believing a fucking word. “You’re just lying through your teeth at this point.”

“I’m lying?” Matty almost laughs, “You’re lying to your fucking self, Y/N!”

“Grow the fuck up!” You yell.

Matty backchats, “Take your own fucking advice.”

“I’m fucking sick of you. Just piss off Matty.” You’re fuming at this point, “Like piss off for good.”

“Fine!” Matty is entirely serious as he says, “Don’t come crawling back to me when he’s upset you again because I will just say I told you so.”

“I dont want to fuck him again, Matty! Is that what you wanted me to say?” You just don’t understand what he’s not fucking understanding. But you’re fuming as you dryly reply, “Sorry that your jealousy cant handle it, but I dont want to fuck you either.”

“Fuck right off calling me jealous! It's not what this is about!”

“You fucking are! Just fucking admit it!”

“Y/N.” Y/B/F shocks you as she steps in front of you and sternly tells you, “That’s enough. Hang up the phone.”

But you don’t pay attention to her because Matty shouts down the phone, “No because I'm not.”

You turn away from Y/B/F and start giving Matty your attention again, “If you’re not jealous, then the earth doesn't revolve around the sun.”

But this just annoys Y/B/F now. You don’t hear her as she tells Adam on the other end of her phone, “She’s not hanging up.”

“Then we take the phones off them.” Your cousin tells her, not wanting to let this continue any longer.

“Yeah.” Y/B/F turns towards you again, planning to stop this argument entirely, “On three.”

“Shut the fuck up Matty, why it always about you?!” Y/B/F watches as you yell down your phone again.

But she starts the count, “Three.”

You start again, “Oh please, you think-”

“Two.” Adam says on the other end of the line.

Y/B/F says, “One.” before she walks up to you, snatches your phone out of your hand and ending the call.  

Turning towards her, you direct some anger at her, “What the fuck Y/B/F?!”

“You can talk to him when you’re both not screaming down the phone.” She tells you unforgivingly.

She thinks you’ve had too much to drink for this and clearly neither of you are actually listening to the other. Nothing good could have come from the conversation and after listening to just your side of it, she wishes she never let you call Matty in the first place.  

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon Ads, love you. Byeee.” Y/B/F ignores you and says cheerfully to your cousin but when she hangs up on him.

She only looks back at you to say, “You can talk it out tomorrow. You’re not achieving anything by getting each other aggravated.”

“Absolutely not.” You get the last of your anger out of your system now as you say, “He can fuck off if he thinks I’m going to listen to him justify his shitty fucking behaviour. I’m fucking through with it. Like fully sick of it.”

“You need to calm the fuck down.”

“No!”

“Y/N.” She warns you, but you’re still agitated.

“Don’t order me about Y/B/F.” You yell.

Your best friend takes no offence to it. You're clearly drunk, probably tired, and very emotional. But she’s just trying to diffuse the whole situation now.

A little more softly, your best friend tries again, “Y/N/N, I-”

“I’m so tired.” You shake your head, running your hands through your hair and pull on it a little you’re so annoyed. “I’m so fucking tired of this happening all the time. I just want my life to be easy for once… I want my friends to be just that, my friends.”

“Seems like you just lost one Y/N.” Y/B/F breathes out as she sits back down.

You almost laugh, “And who’s fault is that?”

But you don’t expect her answer.  

She’s truthful as she says, “Both of yours after that screaming contest.”

“You can’t be siding with him right now?” You look at her like she’s just betrayed you, “Not after the shit he pulled earlier.”

“I’m saying you need to calm down.” She looks at the TV instead of you then, opting to change the channel as she tells you honestly, “I don’t think screaming at each other helped and I think you’ve made it worse. You can fix it tomorrow.”

Before you can even think to respond, Y/B/F orders you, “Now please, come and sit down and pretend this never happened for a few hours before we go to sleep. We can squeeze in a few more episodes of Drag Race if we start now.”

So you do as you're told and slowly your anger and hurt starts to dull down, but it doesn’t go away despite the distractions. Nor does it the next day, so needless to say, neither you or Matty fixed it.

~*~*~*~ April 23th 2019 ~*~*~*~

Alex got a girlfriend.

And you’re really happy for him. Apparently he met her as they were all on tour back in the beginning of March and they hit it off really well. Y/B/F, being on tour with them, had obviously let you know when this started happening and Alex told you when it was made official a little after a month.

You’re currently living your best life, absolutely drama free for the past 2 months due to not being in contact with Matty so you’re over the moon for Alex. Up until a few days ago, you’d yet to give her the seal of approval as you’d yet to meet her, but now you’re taken a bit of a holiday and you’ve come to Paris to see your best friend for the first time after his tour.

Pauline, Alex’s new girlfriend, is French and you’re very excited about this because it gives you an excuse to go to one of your favourite cities to see your best friend. Alex invited you over to the house he was renting whilst he was staying over there for a while and you’ve been over for a few days.

You met Pauline the second day you were in Paris, after Alex went to pick her up from the train station as she’d just been away to visit her parents, and you must say, you really liked her. You didn’t expect that you wouldn’t though, not after hearing good things from Y/B/F and the band. And you know Alex doesn’t have bad taste.

Talking to her was really easy and you found her very easy to make conversation with, and seeing just how happy Alex was with her sitting beside him holding her hand, you’re truly so happy for him. On the day that you were on your own with them, you found out that Pauline uses her middle name - louise - as her stage name, but goes by Pauline to her friends and family, and that she aspires to be a musician.

She’s honestly really lovely and she’s been more than welcoming to you as she shows you and Alex around to somewhere even he hasn’t been yet. And last night you all had a wine night after you went and picked Matt and Y/B/F up from the airport as they were coming to stay until the end of your holiday too.

Last night you all got fairly drunk before heading to bed and it was so much fun because it felt just like old times again. The four best friends plus a new addition who held a place in Alex’s heart. It was honestly such a lovely night and you all had the best time.

What you were excited about though, was sleeping in and relaxing in bed like you were meant to have on holiday. But that didn’t quite happen, and that’s not because you were now sharing your bed with Y/B/F.

It was because you could hear your other best friend shagging his girlfriend through the wall behind your heads at seven in the morning.

And you only find this out because Y/B/F nudges you when you turn over in your sleep and she asks, “Please tell me you can hear that and I’m not hearing things.”

It takes you a few seconds to open your eyes and regain some sort of consciousness before you hear the thudding. And when you do your eyes go wide, and your hand goes over your mouth as you gasp.

“Nooo.” You shake your head, you must be hearing things.

It’s a creaky old house that Alex is renting. It’s beautiful, but it’s ancient. Surely it’s just a pipe filling up with water or something.

“They can’t be.” Y/B/F has some wishful thinking too as she hears the steady thudding.

You hear a whine through the wall and you both look at each other with even wider eyes, you whisper, “I think they are.”

“Holy shit.” Y/B/F laughs but she puts her hand over her mouth.

Both of you lie there facing each other, the rhythmic thudding continuing with faint sounds accompanying it on occasion that makes the both of you laugh into your pillows.

After a few seconds though, Y/B/F takes your attention away from the activities happening on the other side of the wall and she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Y/B/F, yes of course I am.” You swear.

She gives you a pointed look then, clearly wanting to double check that you are okay but you genuinely are fine. You’re really not in a place where you want to be with anyone at the minute and certainly not your best friend again.

That fun night in January was just that, fun.

You promise her, “I’m honestly really really happy for him. I think they really suit each other and she clearly makes him happy so what’s not to like.”

Y/B/F smiles at that, actually fully believing you now so she says, “Yeah, he does talk about her like he talked about you. Was the same on tour as well.”

“And it’s super fucking adorable.” You smile, really happy your best friend is with someone who makes him as happy as he deserves to be.

Y/B/F nods, agreeing with you but then you see her try and hold a smirk after a few seconds and you know she’s just thought something that she shouldn’t say out loud. But it makes you want to know, so you ask, “What?”

“Can I be nasty for one second?” She whispers.

You shake your head, “No, don’t be mean about her.”

“I'm sorry but how can you moan the name Pauline and it be sexy? Especially with a Yorkshire accent.” She tries not to giggle the whole time she speaks.

“Stop it.” You try not to laugh at her so you scorn her instead, “You’re so nasty.”

“I'm just wondering!” She whisper-shouts as she laughs, “Your name rolls off the tongue and I like the way you moaned mine, but I can't imagine saying that… It’s like moaning the name Alan. It's not sexy.”

“He probably calls her a nickname or something.” You defend her entirely, and you hit her arm when she starts quietly laughing which in turn makes you giggle too, “Stop being nasty, she’s really lovely.”

“I know she is-” Y/B/F says but she cuts herself off when the both of you hear a loud moan through the wall but then it’s muted half way through which has you snorting with laughter, quietly though.

Y/B/F shocks you by saying, “That's his thumb going into her mouth to keep her quiet.”

You slap her arm a few times then as you hold in your laughter silently. You can’t believe she’s just connected the dots from what you told her about that night with Alex to what she’s just heard now.

Regardless though, the both of you are silently laughing, almost crying, on this bed listening to Alex getting a shag.

You slap her once more as you whisper, “I didn’t tell you that so you could try to use echolocation to watch them shag.”

She raises her hands in innocence before making you laugh again when she says, “I’m just trying to gauge how kinky he can be at seven in the morning.”

“Stop it.” You warn her, but your attention moves your other best friend again.

Another creak of the bed and a moan of his name can be heard through the wall and you feel mortified for her. Not that you’d be bringing it up but you know what it’s like to be the one heard through the wall, it’s the worst knowing you’ve been caught.

“I don't think she wants him to stop.” Y/B/F makes herself laugh again.

Subsequently, you start laughing too and both of you lie there giggling. The both of you chat amongst yourselves for a few minutes, only laughing when you hear a faint moan or something through the wall. But you tune the headboard thudding out as you talk about what you vaguely recall the plan for today that was mentioned last night.

You got as far as remembering that Alex said he wanted to take you to a spot he found. And you remember Pauline said she was going to show you around the niche parts of the city that tourists don’t know about and that her friend was going to join you all before they were going to the airport this evening as they were going to Italy on holiday.

But before you can continue discussing your day, at the same time you and Y/B/F notice that everything falls silent. The thudding from the other room has stopped. And both of you can’t help but silently laugh at each other.

“Damn that boy draws it out,” Y/B/F chuckles, “That was a solid ten minutes and they were going before we woke up.”

“Well at least he can make a girl finish.” You stick up for your best friend in the other room, “That’s more than half of the men out there can do.”

“We don’t know she finished…” Y/B/F grins as she teases, “They could have just stopped because he made her cry.”

“Fuck you!” You half laugh as you throw your pillow at her with the trace of a smile on your lips.

~*~*~*~

“Morning.” Alex calls as you and Y/B/F walk down the stairs an hour later to find Alex cooking scrambled eggs on the hob.

“Morning Shakespeare.” You grin, walking over to him wondering if you could help with anything.

Y/B/F smiles, “Morning Al, where’s Pauline and Matt?”

“Matt’s on the settee still. And Pauline’s in the shower.” Alex informs you and then asks before Y/B/F heads out the room to see Matt, “How’d you both sleep?”

“Yeah, alright thank you.” She smirks at him before looking at you to take over before she disappears into the other room.

“You had a nice wake up alarm, didn’t you big boy?” You grin up at your best friend as he cooks and you see the realisation dawn on him.

Alex blushes then and smiles looking back to the eggs in the pan. He tells you, “Don’t embarrass her.”

“We would never.” You promise, as you reach over him to steal a piece of toast that’s just popped up out of the toaster so you can butter it, “Just funny.”

Y/B/F comes back into the room, clearly having heard what you were talking about, and says, “I just wondered if you moaned in French or not, Al.”

You snort as you finish buttering your toast and your best friend giggles at her own joke. But Alex is clearly the tiniest bit embarrassed and has had enough of you for the moment.

“Piss off both of you,” Alex shakes his head, nudging you to head to the table as he says, “Breakfast will be ready in five minutes.”

~*~*~*~

Today has been really lovely. Breakfast was so lovely this morning and being in Paris and walking round the unknown bits of the city surrounded by your friends for the rest of the day has been insane.

Pauline and her best friend Sophie had been giving you the grand tour of all the quirky shops that they love and you must admit this has been the best day of your holiday so far. From all the vintage shops you’d been in filled with an abundance of clothes and random decor, you fully love everything about the small back alley stores. You got the nicest lunch from the bakery and when you went to the markets just afterwards, you and Y/B/F got the most gorgeous leather bracelets engraved with, ‘amour de ma vie’ which translates to love of my life.

Alex takes you to the place which is the entire highlight of your day though. He takes you to the most stunning street you’ve probably ever seen in your life.

Either side of the quiet road is lined with cherry blossom trees that are in full bloom and the mere sight of it as you turned the corner onto the street had your eyes tearing up. Your heart fills with pure joy as you had a short walk up and down the road but of course you made Alex take a picture of you in the middle of the road when there was no oncoming traffic.

Y/B/F, Matt, Pauline, and Sophie watched on, none of them understanding why you were so happy other than Y/B/F. But you’re beaming as you get Alex to take a picture of you in your cute pink sundress under the stunning pink trees. And when you make Y/B/F take a picture of you and Alex under the trees she obviously gets jealous so after taking one she makes Matt get one of the three of you under the trees.

Today you’ve actually not had a single care in the world. You’ve felt amazing about yourself and who you’re around and you truthfully don’t want the day to end. Pauline and Sophie have been really lovely with you all and you’re quite sad that you won't see them for the rest of your trip because they’re going on holiday later.

You’re a little jealous they are off to Italy but you’re absolutely loving your time here so it won’t be too hard to not want to leave and go travelling somewhere else. Everything’s just so peaceful but also vibrant and full of life.

You’re currently in a stunning section of the city, sitting outside at a table at a restaurant as the weather is amazing, having such a lovely evening with your friends. You’ve just eaten an early dinner and you’re so full you could fall asleep at any given moment.

It’s reached that time in the day where you’re all having separate conversations or you’re not really feeling the need to talk. That was what you and Y/B/F had just been like as she’d brought a book with her on the trip and she was already half way through it because she’s abnormally fast at reading.

Matt and Alex were chatting about everything and nothing and Pauline and Sophie were the same, but every so often they were chipping into Matt and Alex’s conversation. As were you and Y/B/F but then both of you got distracted talking about what you wanted to do with the rest of your trip whilst you’re all together.

But all of a sudden you tune into another conversation that makes you stop listening to Y/B/F entirely as she’s still talking to you.

“Mon dieu, tu aurais dû la voir en tournée ! Elle ne les a jamais laissés seuls une seconde.” Pauline says, which you know roughly translates to, oh my god, you should have seen her on tour! She never left them alone for a second.

Curiosity definitely killed the cat because you carry on listening and you hear Sophie ask her, “Pourquoi? Que faisait-elle?” Why? What did she do?

‘Bien, c'est leur tour manager, donc elle est autour d'eux à toute heure de la journée et je suis presque sûr que c'est parce qu'elle a un faible pour Matt.” Well, she’s their tour manager, so she’s around them all hours of the day and I’m almost sure it's because she has a thing for Matt, Pauline tells her and you almost scoff in disgust when she continues to tell her, “Je suis sûr qu'elle a encouragé Matt à tromper sa femme juste pour qu'elle brancher avec lui.” I’m certain she encouraged Matt to cheat on his wife just so she could get with him.

She’s got to be fucking joking… Surely? But with a quick glance through your sunglasses you can see that they seem to be having a very serious conversation. There’s no hint of joking at all.

“Wow. C'est fou.” That's insane. Sophie looks bewildered, so she asks, “Pourquoi l'emploieraient-ils?” Why would they employ her?

“Ils emploient l'autre aussi.” They employ the other one too. Pauline responds, sounding disgusted after she shrugged her shoulders.

“Vraiment?” Really?

“Ouais… On pourrait penser que si les gars les payaient, ils pourraient s'offrir de meilleurs vêtements.” Yeah… You’d think if the boys were paying them, they could afford better clothes. Pauline has the audacity to laugh and then nod over at you and Y/B/F and continues to say, “Voir. Dans le faux haut Gucci et je sais pas où elle a acheté la robe, mais putain ça a l'air bon marché.” Look at them. In the fake Gucci top and I don’t know where she bought the dress, but fucking hell, it looks cheap.

You’re upset but at the moment it masks itself as anger and confusion. You just don’t understand where any of this is coming from.

You’ve been staying with them for days and you’d told her time and time again that you think that she and Alex look really good together. She makes him happy so there’s nothing more that you want for him, and you really wanted to get on with her.

Honestly, you thought that you’d made a new friend whilst you’ve been here. The past few days she’d been lovely to you. But all of that is slowly washing away as you understand everything the gossiping pair say to each other.

And you’re royally pissed off about the shit that’s being said about Y/B/F. She’s fucking amazing at her job for a start and that shouldn’t be being questioned by her friendship with Matt that’s always been strictly platonic.

And Y/B/F was fucking mortified when everything came out about Matt cheating on Breana. You can’t believe someone would think the worst of her and spread nasty lies about how she’s trying to fuck her best friend when she was so angry and against Matt for the longest time.

Y/B/F must clock on that you’re staring into space because she leans closer and breaks your thoughts as she whispers, “What’s wrong?”

You don’t even try to form a lie, you just turn to her a little more and let you hair fall across your face so they can’t see or hear you whisper back, “They’re saying shit about us. Nasty shit. About you earlier but now about me.”

Immediately defensive, “If they wanna start I’ll fucki-”

“No, just let me listen.” You interrupt before she can essentially ‘blow your cover’. Clearly in this case being bilingual is a benefit and you’d rather hear just what they think of you before announcing you can speak their language fluently.

You nod to the book in her hand and say, “Pretend to read or something and I’ll text you what they are saying.”

And both of you do that. You settle in your seats, Y/B/F leaning back pretending to read her book with her phone stuffed between the open pages with the message app ready and waiting to be informed about what's been said.

And after quickly summarising what shit has already come out of their mouths, you tune back into their conversation.

“Ouais,” Yeah, Pauline nods, “il l'a baisée en janvier.” He fucked her in January.

Ah, so they’ve clearly moved on to the subject of you and Alex now.

“No.” Sophie looks wide eyed in clear disbelief.

“Oui il l'a fait. Elle a baisé la moitié de ses amis.” Yes, he did… She’s fucked half her friends. Pauline tells Sophie, and she seems to know a lot about you considering you’ve never told her any of this. “Son amie lisant à côté d'elle, elle a pris son pied avec elle il y a quelques années. Bien sûr, elle était occasionnellement avec Alex. Et tu connais le gars de ce groupe, The 1975 ? Ouais, ils sont sortis ensemble aussi, et elle le dérange aussi bien qu'Alex.” Her friend reading beside her, she got with her a few years ago. Obviously been on and off with Alex. And you know the guy from that band, The 1975? Yeah, well he was with her too and she’s been messing him about as well as Alex.

“Quand tu racontes tout comme ça, elle a l'air d'une pute.” Sounds like a whore when you put it all out like that.Sophie shakes her head, sounding disgraced to even know you.  

“Je sais.” I know. Pauline nods, “Vraiment, je sais pas ce que l'un d'eux voit en elle si je suis honnête.” I really don’t know what any of them see in her if I’m honest.

“Moi non plus. Regarde la.” Me neither. Look at her. Pauline must gesture towards you because you can feel their gaze burning your skin.

And you’re rapidly typing all of this out in multiple texts over to Y/B/F and from her replies you know she’s furious. But you know that is’s best not to say anything, at least night now anyway.

“Y/N/N?” Alex breaks your attention and you look towards him in a little bit of a fright, worried that you’ve been caught.

“Yeah?” You question, but settle yourself when you know that he definitely can’t have read what you’re typing.  

“Are you alright?” He looks from you, and over to Y/B/F beside you and adds, “Both been quiet for a while.”

“Yeah fine, honestly.” You nod, lying through your teeth as you say, “I’m just replying to some emails whilst Y/B/F reads.”

“Ah fair enough,” Alex smiles, “You can take a day off though you know.”

“I know,” You smile, thankful for the small gesture in the middle of this that makes you not want to punch his girlfriend here and now. But you’re sure when you promise him, “I’ll turn on out-of-office emails tomorrow.”

Your best friend smiles at you then from the other side of the table before Matt pulls him back into the conversation they were just in. Leaving you to earwig again.

“As-tu vu ça?” Did you see that? Pauline rolls her eyes, “Comme une chienne en chaleur. Son cou a failli se casser en tournant.” Like a bitch on heat. Neck nearly snapped looking over to him.

“Elle l'a déjà baisé, que veut-elle d'autre?” She’s already fucked him, what more does she want? Sophie asks her best friend as if you’ve not been smiling at her and being kind all day.

But nothing can prepare you for the way your heart sinks to the very bottom of your chest when you hear the next statement fall from Pauline’s lips.

“Je sais pas si vous avez vu. Elle a des cicatrices sur la main et une grosse sur la cuisse.” I don’t know if you’ve seen that she got scars on her hand and a big one on her thigh.

“No.” Sophie shakes her head, but then she must clearly look over at you and see your scars because a second later its like she’s disgusted but enthralled in Pauline’s story when she asks, “Putain, comment c'est arrivé?” Fucking hell, how did that happen?

Pauline informs her best friend, “Quand elle était avec le gars de The 1975, il a eu un accident de voiture et elle a eu la pire des blessures.” When she was with the guy from The 1975, he crashed the car and she got the worst of it.

Your hands start to shake a little as you try to tell Y/B/F everything that’s being said when you hear Sophie say, “Ceux-ci font baisser sa valeur. Pas étonnant qu'elle soit célibataire et qu'Alex ne la veuille pas.” Well, those bring her price right down. No wonder she’s single and Alex didn’t want her.

But you want to sob when you hear Pauline start to laugh, “J'aurais aussi eu un accident de voiture si j'avais été avec elle.” I’d have crashed the car too, if I were with her.

“Probablement écrasé la voiture pour la faire taire, tout ce qu'elle fait c'est bavarder avec tout le monde. C'est un miracle qu'on ait un moment de paix.” Probably crashed the car to shut her up, all she does is chat everyone's ear off. It’s a miracle we’re getting a moment's peace. They giggle and your heart fucking breaks.

How anyone can joke about an almost fatal car crash that you - or anyone - has experienced is beyond you. How someone can act like they have been your friend for the past few days but then think and chat all this shit behind your back has you speechless. And frankly, you find it utterly disgusting.

You feel Y/B/F take your hand after you send her the text of what’s just been said and you do everything in your power to keep your emotions in check.

You see in your peripherals that Pauline flicks her hair as she smiles, “Regarde nous deux, ce n'est pas une surprise qu'il m'ait choisi.” Well look at the two of us, it's not a wonder he picked me.

"Qu'est-ce que diable Alex a vu en elle?" What the hell did Alex see in her? Sophie asks, completely bewildered.

You’re not sure, maybe that you’re not a two faced bitch like these motherfuckers seem to be? But you bite your tongue a little longer.

“J’sais pas.” I don’t know. Pauline says like she’s known you for years and loathes you.

Sophie chuckles a little when she says, “Soyons juste heureux qu'il ait fait tester ses yeux.” Let’s just be glad he got his eyes tested.

"Ouais, il l'a probablement fait, et a vu ses cicatrices et s'est dit, mon Dieu, quelle erreur j'ai commise." Yeah, he probably did and got one look at her scars and thought, Christ what a mistake I’ve made. Pauline laughs and when Sophie joins in, you have to take a moment for yourself.

You get the text sent off to Y/B/F who you can feel is fuming beside you just as Alex interrupts the french girls conversation. You’re shaking as you put your head down, letting your hair cover your face for a moment as you say, “Are you okay with heading back towards the house in like twenty minutes?”

You tune out the prepping for the airport talk and as you look down you can’t help but pull your dress down in hopes it’ll cover your knees. Your dress only makes it down to your mid-thigh though and when it rides up again immediately, you hate that you can see the last few inches of your scar showing.

And even seeing the ones on your hand as you try to adjust your dress triggers you. So you just feel the awful sinking feeling reside in your chest and you need to distract yourself.

You need to get up and stop focusing on them before you spiral. And you’re thankful you know exactly how you can do that.

“I’m just going to go to the loo.” You briefly tell Matt as you get up from your seat.

Y/B/F tells you immediately, “I’ll come with you.” but you’ve already scrambled up and headed inside. Instead of heading to the toilet though, you walk towards the bar and ask the lady who looks around 25 for assistance.

You walk up to the bar in front of her and say, “Excusez-moi?” Excuse me?

“Oui?” Yes?

You ask her, “Où est le magasin de vêtements le plus proche? ” Where’s the nearest clothes shop?

“Il y a un petit magasin vintage au coin de la rue ou il y a un magasin à environ trois minutes sur la route.” There’s a small vintage shop around the corner or there’s a store about three minutes down the road. She informs you, and you’ve never been so thankful to someone you’ve spoken to for less than a minute.

You’ve never wanted to be out of a dress more than you do right now. You feel disgusting, and your skin feels like it's crawling as you’re paranoid that everyone's eyes are on you.

You know it's irrational. But you’ve not spiralled this much since 2014 and you just need to be in clothes you feel comfortable and covered in and hopefully that will make this feeling go away.

“Merci beaucoup.” Thank you very much. You smile before you turn to go out of the door again,

“Y/N, are you alright?” Rushes over to you as you’re about to head out of the side entrance.

“Not really but I’ll be okay.” You assure her, really just needing to be on your own for a few minutes. “Please just give me ten minutes. I just want to go for a walk, I promise I’ll be back in ten.”

There’s sympathy in her eyes and you know she doesn’t want to let you go on your own, but she respects what you asked and nods, “Okay, but be careful.”

“Ten minutes, I promise.” You swear before pushing the door open to the other entrance and heading in the direction the bartender pointed out.

You’ve never gone shopping in such haste. The first pair of trousers you saw in your size were a pair of army green cargo pants and you found a dark grey, long sleeveed, distressed, baggy top that you quickly purchased and changed into.

There were a few tears as you were getting changed but you forced yourself to not look in the mirror and sit down for a few minutes to get ahold of your emotions. You know you shouldn’t let what they think about you get to you, but you can’t really help the sinking feeling in your chest.

It lingers as you manage to stop the tears from falling anymore and get ahold of yourself enough. But even as you silently tell yourself in the mirror, ‘You are enough’, ‘You are loved’, ‘You are beautiful’, the words taste bitter on your tongue.

You just put your sunglasses back on and get your acting head in order as you walk back. You’re not going to make a big deal out of this now, you don’t know if you really have it in you today to do.

Besides, you’d be interested in hearing if anything else is said about you before you make it known you can understand exactly what they’re saying.

“Oh, new outfit?” Matt smiles, looking you up and down as you walk back to the table and you smile and nod as you walk around him.

“When did you get that?” Alex asks, looking at you with genuine interest as you take your seat beside Y/B/F again.

“Just now,” You smile, “I saw a vintage shop on the way here and wanted to go in before we left.”

Alex looks a little upset that you went on your own as he says, “We could have all gone on the way back, you didn’t have to go by yourself.”

“It’s fine, fancied a walk.” You assure him.

Your best friend is sincere when he says. “Looks good, Angel.” after looking at your outfit.

“Thanks Al.” You give him a short smile, but you turn to Y/B/F and you start having a silent conversation where you know she’s asking you if you’re okay.

“You all ready to go now Y/N’s back?” Your best friend looks to his girlfriend and then around to you all and after everyone nods, you go back to your conversation with Y/B/F as you all gather your things.

When you start to walk back, you and your best friend link arms and walk ahead of Alex, Matt, and the two-faced twig bitches. She’s making sure you’re alright which you assure her you are, but you’re just in the mood to go back to the house and go to sleep at this point.

You’re just trying to take your mind off it, and you do that by walking around admiring the view and you and Y/B/F share an airpod each listening to Pale Waves’ album My Mind Makes Noises. It’s not turned up too loud, but it’s just enough to keep your attention off the heavy feeling that resides in your chest.

The people watching and the view of the stunning cities leaves you to get lost in your imagination for a little while. It’s a pleasant walk back towards the rented houses and quite peaceful with only you and Y/B/F chatting every so often and the dull chatter of the other behind the both of you. But of course, the peace is disrupted.

“Damn Cupcake, your arse looks good in those pants.” Matt calls from behind you which makes you laugh.

You carry on walking and just glance back at him and the others behind you, “You’re never not looking are you? Staring at my arse this whole time.”

Matt smirks at you, “Absolutely.”

Next to him Alex chuckles at his best friend as his arm is linked with the bitch of a girlfriend he has, but you ignore both Pauline and Sophie.

Y/B/F stop walking though so she can get a look of your arse and her eyes go wide, “Christ, he’s right though your arse looks great.”

You snort at her then, shaking your head but she’s making you smile so it’s definitely worth the tiny scolding. You stop and flirt back with her, “Says you? Those jeans are so hot.”

“Don’t stop walking.” Matt interrupts and ushers you forward as you all stop for a moment, “I need to commit this to memory.” He says as he shamelessly looks between your arses.

“Just take a picture Matt.” You laugh before you start walking again pulling YB/F with you.

Your best friend has no shame though. She slaps your arse right in front of them all, leaving it stinging and Alex and Matt laughing and you gasping slightly before she takes your arm and makes you link her as you walk.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” She says, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You just smirk and cock your head to the side, shrugging slightly because given the right context you really do. And you think absolutely nothing more of it as you carry on walking, but you can never have a joke about that apparently.

“Voir? Salope.” See? Slut. Is the next thing you hear fall from Pauline’s mouth then, followed by the two girls laughing.

Your smile falls from your face, and Y/B/F can tell it’s something bad straight away. “What?”

You shake your head but Y/B/F persists, “Tell me now.”

“She’s just called me a slut.” You sigh.

“Oh that’s it.” Y/B/F goes to turn around but you hold her even tighter.

You shake your head, “No, I’d rather hear what else might be said before they fuck off to Italy.”

And with that you move on from the conversation and the peace is kept until you’re saying goodbye. Y/B/F and yourself just stuck to each other for the rest of the evening, and the only other time you really interact with Pauline and Sophie is just before Alex takes them to the airport.

You’ve just said a half hearted goodbye to Sophie and you’re left to wait for your what’s found to be a fake one with Pauline. But first you watch her hug Y/B/F.

“Nice to see you again Y/B/F.” She says as she hugs her, before pulling back and saying, “I’ll see you soon.”

Y/B/F bites her tongue and says as nice as she possibly can, “See you soon.”

“Y/N, so lovely to finally meet you after being told so much about you.” She grins as she traps you in a hug that’s clearly forced and her words are fake but sound so sincere. You almost laugh when she says, “You’re just as amazing as your best friend makes you out to be.”

“Well, he’s a gooden.” You smile, once again stopping yourself from wanting to have a fight that you know you could easily win.

“He is.” Pauline smiles as she lets go of you. And she thinks she’s fly because when she takes one step away from you, she whispers under her breath, “Dommage que tu sois une pute.” Shame you’re a whore.

Quietly scoffing, you move back over to Y/B/F and you, her, and Matt follow the other 3 outside to Alex’s rented car that he’s driving the girls to the airport in. Your blood is bubbling with rage at this point, and you know you’ll forever regret not saying something.

So when it’s your turn to say goodbye to them after the three get in the car (Alex driving, Pauline in the passenger seat, and Sophie behind her), you lean down to Alex's window to say your final ‘goodbyes’.

“Alex, drive safe.” You smile at him, and you know you’ll remember the following moment for the rest of your life. You maintain your smile as you look over to Pauline and Sophie and say, “J'espère qu'il n'écrasera pas la voiture parce que quelqu'un est trop bavard. Peu importe la force de la tentation.” Hope he doesn’t crash the car because anyones being too chatty. No matter how strong the temptation may be.

And that is the moment you see the girls' faces fall completely. And it’s even more satisfying when you hear Y/B/F let out a short laugh from behind you, probably at the sight of their now gawking faces as you continue.

"Et puis-je dire que le haut de Y / B / F n'est pas un faux Gucci. Elle est aussi pratiquement fiancée et elle méprisait Matt pour ce qu'il a fait à Breana, alors ne répandez pas de mensonges désagréables qu'elle essaie d'obtenir avec lui.” And can I say Y/B/F’s top isn’t fake Gucci. She’s also practically engaged and she fucking despised Matt for what he did to Breana, so don’t spread distasteful lies that she’s trying to get with him. You defend your best friend entirely, but you make sure the sickeningly sweet smile is still on your face so Alex takes no notice of you as he carries on his short conversation with Matt as you talk to the girls,

In a cheery voice, you contradict your tone with your words, "Vous savez le strict minimum de ce qui s'est passé dans chacune de nos vies, alors ne parlez pas de nous comme si vous étiez là depuis plus de deux mois." You know the bare minimum of what's happened in any of our lives, so don’t go around talking about us like you’ve been around for more than two months.

You’re never felt such joy seeing such mortified expressions on two people's faces. But nothing could stop you as you continue on to mention the things that they said about you.

There’s a hint of sympathy in your voice as you smile and lean in a little more to say, "C'est vraiment triste et désespéré de ta part d'utiliser ma vie sexuelle, et l'accident qui m'a presque coûté la vie, comme un moyen de dire de la merde sur moi. C'est franchement dégueulasse. Grandis putain de merde.” It’s really sad and desperate of you to use my sex life, and the accident that almost cost me my life, as a means to talk shit about me. It’s frankly disgusting. Grow the fuck up.

And finally, your smile is making your cheeks ache and your voice is full of amusement as you say, "Et puis-je suggérer que la prochaine fois, vous devriez savoir si quelqu'un parle couramment votre langue avant de décider de commencer à s'en prendre à tout le monde." And can I suggest, next time you should find out if anyone can speak your language fluently before you decide to start slagging everyone off.

You’ve never been so happy to see two girls look almost scared for their lives and turn white as sheets. And you feel no remorse at all, they deserve it for how they’ve made you feel today, and for chatting shit about your friends.

“Are you okay?” Alex draws your attention back to him as you push yourself away from the car a little bit.

Your rant is finished now, no need to look at them any longer than necessary.

“I’m perfectly fine.” You smile at your best friend, “Have a safe drive.”

“Oh and I hope you enjoy Italy.” You duck back down to smile at the girls in the car again. This time you give them a wave as you tell them to fuck off in italian in a sing song drawn out voice, “Vaffanculo.”

And with that, you turn back to Y/B/F with a wicked smile on your lips and you grab her hand and pull her back into the stunning French house. At least you can end this short holiday entirely bitch free now with your true friends by your side.

~*~*~*~ May 16th 2019 ~*~*~*~

“For fuck sake Ross, why didn’t you blow his brains out?!” You yell down your headset.

Playing Call of Duty absolutely never got old with Ross. You found him the easiest to play on the PS4 with by a mile as the other 1975 boys were either shit, or got too annoying when something didn’t go their way, or was just a shite shot.

And when you and Ross play, you just have the necessary catch ups that you always love and need with him. And you know that anything said between you on these calls stays between you and him.

“Sorry, I was just shocked by the fact you said you’ve just declined George’s request to join the party.” Ross apologises but his response makes you laugh.

It’s true, George’s PS4 username just popped up saying he was active and because you’re connected to each other on the console, he requested to join your’s and Ross’ call. But you denied the request and went back to your game.

You chuckle a little as you tell Ross sincerely, “That’s because this is our time and we never get to do anything just us two anymore. I miss you Ross. I need my McDonald time.”

“I miss you too Y/N.” You can practically hear his grin.

As both of you wait for the next game to start, you sit and reminisce for a while. Ross asks, “Do you remember back up North when you were over our way, and there was that afternoon that everyone was busy so it was just us two and I showed you how to play Mortal Kombat so you would stop feeling left out?”

“Course I do. Sparked my love for nights like these.” You grin at the memory.

You and Ross got so involved you were playing for hours. So long that everyone had come back around to the Hann Household to find you and Ross playing away, and neither of you really took any notice of the others coming back. You were always bullying each other for the other’s good attack or swearing at each other when you won or lost.

Even though Matt was the one with the Mortal Kombat tattoo, Ross was the one you thought of when you heard that iconic ‘Finish him’ line as you were playing the game.

“You know another memory I really loved from back up there?” You smile as you think back to another memory of you and Ross, “That day you took me to the Macclesfield Town game.”

“That was such a good day.” Your adorable friend says with a grin.

“It really was. Probably one of the best football matches I've ever been to.” You're smiling like a fool at the memory, “I’m so glad your brother let you down last minute.”

“I’m so glad you could drive and even wanted to come.” He sounds so grateful even still when he says that.

“Course I did. I’ll never pass up a ticket to a football match.” You wish you could see the blush that’d bound to come to his cheeks when you add, “And pretending to be your girlfriend wasn’t a hardship.”

“Oh my god yeah, forgot about that.” Ross chuckles, “The dickheads in front of us were being sly, weren't they?”

“Yeah and they were making jokes and saying that you could never manage to pull a girl and that I must have been your sister or something,” You scoff thinking back to the day when the lads were all jealous of Ross. But you smirk when you say, “But when I kissed you, they shut up pretty fucking quickly, didn’t they?”

“They did.” Ross laughs, “God, that was so funny.”

“It was.” You wish you could squish his cheeks when you say, “You blushed so hard.”

“That was like my first proper kiss Y/N,” Ross scolds you a little, “What did you expect?”

Your jaw falls open hearing that, “No way was I your first proper kiss?”

Your heart fills with even more love for your McDonald. You can’t believe you didn’t know this. It happened like a week before you first started shagging Matty so he would have been 18.

“You were.” Ross tells you, “No one paid attention to me Y/N. Why do you think I wanted to move out of Cheshire and into the City?”

You can’t help but chuckle a little at that, “Oh my god, has ‘The City’ been about you all along?”

Ross just starts laughing, and after it died down a little, you ask, “How are my boys?”

“George is alright, been going to the gym a little more before we go on tour and between rehearsals.” Ross informs you and you have to stop yourself from drooling at the thought.

Maybe you should go to the gym with him a few times before they go away on tour. Yes, you make a mental note to get that in your calendar sooner rather than later.

Ross continues to tell you, “Adam’s alright, but you know what he’s like before a tour. He always gets dead stressed out about the set and the stage production even though we’ve already done a leg of the tour and everythings going to be fine.”

“God yeah,” You laugh, knowing exactly what a stress head your cousin can be. “He needs to chill out.”

Ross hums in agreement before moving on, “And Matty is-”

“Don’t waste your breath Ross,” You interrupt, “I'm not that fussed about how Matty is.”

You’re still got pent up anger about the Brits night, and it comes back whenever he’s mentioned it just comes back to the surface. You’ve still not spoken to him and you don’t plan on doing so either.  

“Right Y/N/N,” Ross sighs, “Are we going to talk about this?”

You shake your head like he can see you, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yes there is.” He says in a stern tone, “We’ve been ignoring the elephant in the room for months.”

“You’ve not spoken to one of your best friends in over three months.” Ross points out and you’re a little surprised at how long it’s been. Certainly didn’t feel that long.

You tell him, “And you know exactly why that is Ross.”

Ross already wants to pull his hair out though, “God, you’re both too stubborn for your own good.”

“What's your opinion on the matter then?” You ask him, wanting to know his point of view before you explain your own.

“I think that you’re both idiots.” Ross gets the bold statement out of the way first, “I think you were both right and you were both wrong. Yes, Matty went about it in the wrong way but I understand why he did it.”

You’re about to cut in then, but he surprises you when he says, “I wanted to do the same… Not in the calling you my girlfriend respect because thats fucking weird, but he wanted to thank you and defend you in his weird way.”

And you start to argue then but before you can get a full word out, Ross once again cuts in, “Before you start Y/N, I know him calling you his girlfriend was the way he dug his own grave. I'm not defending him, he could have just said thanks to you and said nothing more. I agree that's where you’re in the right.”

That at least makes you feel a little better about where this is going. But Ross’ next question takes you aback a little.

“But if you knew that Gabby was just going to run back to Australia before she actually did it, you would have gone and warned Matty whether he believed you or not, wouldn't you?”

Little thought goes into your answer, because of course you would have. “Yeah,” You nod, “If I knew he was going to get hurt, I'd have wanted to protect him from that.”

“You would have wanted to scream it from the rooftops to warn him before he got hurt by her, right?”

“Of course I would.” You nod.

“That’s just what he did. He just did it on TV.” Ross spells it out for you, “And I know it's so very far from the smartest idea he’s ever had, and he clearly didn’t know if you were sticking to the ‘it was just one night’ thing… It’s far from right, but that is why he did it. In his own weird way, he wanted to protect you from Alex possibly hurting you again.”

“Yes,” Ross continues, “It’s not his place but I’ve seen him when he’s been jealous over you, Y/N… He really wasn't this time. And I love you to the moon and back but you were drunk Y/N and you pushed it too far which made him go too far.”

Well shit, if Ross of all people is saying this, it definitely means something. Maybe you should have listened to Y/N that night.  

“It doesn’t excuse the shit he said about Arctic Monkeys.” You say, not wanting to comment on what was just said but getting at least the last anger out of your system by saying that outloud.  

“I know it doesn't. And believe me, we’ve spoken to him about that… But I know the Monkeys’ comment isn't what has upset you... It’s the fact that you slept with Alex two weeks before Matty called you his girlfriend on TV and I know that must have dragged back up insecure feelings.”

Damn, how is this man hitting the bullseye every damn time.

You’re silent until he checks, “Am I wrong?”

“No.” You sigh, and you don’t hesitate to be honest and say, “I’m hurt by it still, Ross.”

“I know, and I know that must be because of what you think people say or think about you… And believe me, Matty understands that now.”

You shake your head a little as you quietly say, “He can understand it but it's not like he’s called to apologise.”

“Because you’re both too proud.” Ross states the obvious. “And he really didn’t like the way you were speaking to him. Especially calling him jealous, and I'll repeat, he definitely wasn't and you know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’re right he never once has and you don’t think he ever will. Shit, you really need to have a think about all of this.  

“You’d have protected him from Gabby if you could, right? Because that’s what you do for your best friends?” Ross asks again to reaffirm his point.

You nod, like he can see you, quietly saying, “Yeah, I would have.”

“That’s all he was trying to do for you because he thought that Alex was going to hurt you again.” Ross gets his message through loud and clear, “He just went about it in the wrong way.”

He adds on, “The whole situation was just a shitstorm but I'd reconsider cutting him out of your life if I was you. Because you’re not quite the same without each other to annoy every now and again.”

That makes you smile a little. You do miss Matty. But this silent treatment between you was meant to make a point. But if you’re both making different points, it might not be doing anything beneficial.

But that's for you to think about another time. Not when you’re having your games night with your friend.  

You give nothing away as you say, “I’m not promising anything, Ross.”

“And I can’t force you to. I’m just here if you want to talk about anything.”  

“Thank you.” You smile, really grateful to him for that offer.  

You know he’s probably smiling in the moment of silence between you as the next game starts to load. But he remembers to tell you, “Oh by the way. George has put you down on the guestlist for Reading and Leeds.”

Oh fuck, you almost forgot they were headlining. And that was only a few months away at this point. You can’t believe how fast time has gone.

“I don't know Ross…” You trail off, not really knowing if its the best idea to go if Matty doesn't want to speak to you.

You’re angry at him, but wanting to taint his dream day by you being there with him is not what you want.

“Y/N, it’s Leeds Fest… You can't miss this.” Ross states seriously.

You almost stumble over your words as you say, “With how things are with me and Matty, I can’t imagine-”

“Who gives a fuck?” Ross is serious now as he says, “I don't care if you come and you stand in the crowd Y/N, but you have to come.”

“I-”

“Don't argue with me on this one please.” He pleads and you can feel just how much he means what he says.

“Ross with things being the way they are, I can’t listen to Matty sing at the minute.” You’re entirely honest with him, “A song comes on and I just get so angry about it I can't deal with it.”

You feel bad when you say, “I’ll ruin your day.”

“You can wear earplugs. Please Y/N, we want you there.” Ross adds, almost begging at his point, “I want you there.”

You don’t want to give him an answer, so you just dismiss the conversation by sighing, “We’ll see.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you at Leeds.” Ross changes your words to what they should be to try and manifest it happening.

You hold back your, ‘Don't hold your breath.’

~*~*~*~ 25th June 2019 ~*~*~*~

It’s your 33rd birthday today.

You’ve had a lovely day. You’ve come back up North for the occasion as Y/B/F and Charlie said you could happily stay with them again in your old flat.

This morning you were greeted by a visit from your Aunt, Uncle, and your Mum. It was a little emotional but it was okay. Your Aunt had found another picture of you and your Dad which you had been showing everyone for the rest of the day.

You sent it to your group chat which had The 1975 boys in it (because you couldn’t show them in person as they had all flown to America for their US tour) and all of them, even Matty, had reacted to it with a love heart and they sent you a happy birthday message each. Despite sending one to Matty when it was his birthday, you didn’t expect to receive anything from him today.

But you got the text through about 5 minutes after you sent the picture to them:

Picture is lovely Sweetheart, Happy Birthday xx

Whilst that was a nice addition to your day, you just said thank you and nothing more had been said between the two of you. You’d been mulling over what Ross had talked to you about but you’d yet to do anything.

Today though, you were so beyond excited to show Alex this picture. You’d been restraining yourself all day from sending it over to him knowing you’d be seeing him tonight at your birthday meal.

You’d invited the Monkeys out along with Y/B/F and Charlie. Despite loving Katie and Kelly to pieces, you thought it would be best for wifes and girlfriends to stay at home purely because you didn’t want to make Breana awkward if she was to come. You know her and Matt are doing a good job at co-parenting but you don’t want to push them too much.

But last week, you got a message from Alex asking if he could bring Pauline to your meal. And because you and Y/B/F had never told Alex about what happened in France, hoping he’d realise she's a cow on his own, he is still with her and you accepted his request for her to join you.

You didn’t plan on sitting near her or talking to her apart from greeting her and saying goodbye. But you’d just bite your tongue like you did in Paris and if she said shit today you’d fully call her out on it. You don’t think she’d be that stupid as to do anything like that again though.

But turns out, you didn’t even need to be worried about it. Because you invited the lads out to meet for the meal at 7 and within the space of 15 minutes, Jamie, Nick, Matt, and Miles all showed up.

But Alex is nowhere to be seen.

You all waited as long as you could, phoning and texting Alex from your seats in the restaurant, just to get nothing back. The longer it went on and the more times the waitresses and waiters came over to see if you were still waiting made your heart sink more and more.

It just reminded you of when he stood you up on your date. And that’s not something you ever hoped to relive.

So when the waitress comes over again, over an hour after you should have been sitting down to eat,  asking, “Are you still waiting or can we take your orders?”

You say, “Yeah, we’re ready to order. The others aren’t coming clearly.”

Everyone has a glum or annoyed expression on their face as your orders are taken. And when the waitress leaves, everyone looks around to you and you can see the sympathy in their eyes because clearly you’re hurt that your best friend isn’t here to celebrate with you.  

“It’s okay,” You shake your head, trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel. “He’s probably just forgotten we were out of the meal.”

“Has he even wished you happy birthday?” Jamie asks you and that is when your heart sinks.

“Um, no.” You realise, and your face falls entirely.

Your best friend hasn’t even wished you a happy birthday. Even Matty had sent you the obligatory birthday text and you weren’t even on speaking terms with him.

And that's when you realise that your best friend hasn’t kept his promise to you this year of always being with you on your birthday to make sure you’re okay. It sours your mood a little, not really understanding why today of all days he’d ghost you, and everyone else trying to get in contact with him.

“He’s a fucking prick,” Matt doesn’t hold back his anger any longer after hearing you say that. “I spoke to him two days ago about coming here today. He knows it's your birthday, he should be here.”

You go to brush it off, “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not, it’s far from fine.” Matt shakes his head, and you can see just how fuming he is. The other lads, even Miles, start nodding as they agree with him entirely.

He looks like he’s in a debate with himself for a few seconds before deciding to just air what he’s thinking out loud. Matt takes you by surprise when he looks you dead in the eye as he says, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something Y/N/N. Didn’t really want to do it today but considering more shit has happened because of it today, I feel like we should just ask you.”

“Ask me what?” You question curiously.

Matt states bluntly, “If you would maybe have a private conversation with Alex about his bitch of a girlfriend?”

Y/B/F can’t stop the shocked laugh that leaves her throat hearing Matt say that. And to be honest you’re surprised too. You’ve only been slagging her off to Y/B/F, and you only told Matt what happened in Paris on the flight home.

You’re a little confused for a second as you don’t know how you’re meant to help any of this, “What do you mean? What can I even say?”

“We just think if you have a talk with him and tell him all the shit that she said about in Paris and the things that we've noticed about her, he won’t blow up at you.” Jamie takes over for a second, sincerely adding, “You have a knack of getting through to him and he actually listens… You’re his best friend after all.”

“Why?” Y/B/F asks your next question before you can get to it, “What have you noticed about her?”

“Well after you told me what was said in Paris, I started keeping an eye out. Because that's a massive red flag if I've ever heard one.” Matt informs you, “But since we came home, he’s been in the studio with her almost every day to make her first album and that shit is expensive. I don’t even think she was signed before Alex got with her.”

Jamie jumps in now to say, “She’s always with him too, like he’s never on his own anymore. She’s always got to be with him, it’s like they’re joined at the hip… And when you just want to bring your mates round and watch the football and you have someone scoffing every few seconds that she’s not getting his full attention it’s really fucking annoying.”

Clearly he’s irritated by it because he finishes with, “Like it’s 2019, you’re allowed to be independent from your boyfriend. Put him down.”  

“Yeah because didn’t he message you last week to ask if she could come here today?” Y/B/F asks you and you silently nod.

“And they didn’t show… How classy.” Nick shakes his head, sarcasm thick in his voice. “I really dislike her. I think she’s fake and she’s with him for publicity. But after Matt told us what she said in Paris, I wouldn’t be surprised if it's her fault he’s not here.”

It’s Miles who chips in next and you’re assuming all of their anger is stemming from the fact they can probably see on your face that Alex not being here has upset you. Even if you’re trying not to let it show, it clearly has.

Miles takes everyones attention when he agrees with Nick saying, “Yeah wouldn’t be surprised. And it’s so fucking clear she’s with him for publicity. She puts him on her instagram story all the time, but makes it subtle but it’s easy to tell it’s Al when you know him.”

“Not to mention the shit her friends post about him. I’ve got the videos of what her friends were posting of me and him when we went to a few clubs with them over the space of a week.” Miles continues, “They were tagging me. But because Al doesn’t have instagram - or one that they know about - they were tagging arctic monkeys in the videos and using the alex turner hashtag.”

Miles looks annoyed as he says, “I don’t know why he can’t just be Alex when she’s with him. He’s always Alex Turner from Arctic Monkeys or The Last Shadow Puppets. She was introducing him to her friends like that, saying, “This is my boyfriend Alex. You’ll recognise him from Arctic Monkeys and this is his mate Miles who Alex is in The Last Shadow Puppets with’. Like just fuck off and give it a rest… I don’t know how Alex isn’t seeing it. He looked uncomfortable in the videos, I’ll send them to you, but I’ve never seen him look like such a show animal and then he doesn’t say anything because of it.”

Jesus fucking Christ. This is a lot.

A lot to process on your birthday. A lot to even think about somehow getting this all across to Alex at some point because the last thing you want to do is make him feel uncomfortable.

Seeing your internal struggle, Jamie assures you, “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to, but we just thought that maybe you could get through to him because he would just blow up at us.”

You nod understanding that completely, but you say, “Well, it’s clearly got out of hand at this point. I don’t mind saying something gently to him if you’ll all back me up if he talks to you about it afterwards.”

Matt notices the look of worry on your face as everyone agrees that they will do. But Matt soon realises that this isn’t the time or the place anymore. This can be talked about another day.

“Let's just forget about this prick, yeah?” Matt smiles, and gives your hand a quick squeeze, “We’ll have a nice night without him.”

“Yeah.” You nod and you do just that.

You do end up having a lovely meal and everyone at the table found the picture of you and your Dad really lovely to see. They commented on how you looked just like him when you were younger which made you smile and it brought the happy gooey feeling of somehow being that little bit closer to your Dad.

It’s just soured when you’re all still drinking after your meal Y/B/F says, “Wow, what a fucking twat.” and shows you all what Pauline has put on her Instagram and her story.

On her Instagram, the first picture in the post that you’re greeted with is a picture you never thought you would see in your life. It's taken from above and it’s a picture of Alex’s hands playing the piano, but what makes every single one of you want to roll your eyes is that there are white knickers lying on top of the piano which are embroidered with Pauline’s last name, Verneuil.

The second picture in the post is of what is very clearly a table for two at a restaurant and you can just about see Alex’s brown leather jacket that you bought him for his birthday years ago now. It’s only Alex’s arm that’s in the picture, but you know for a fact it’s him and the caption just breaks your heart:

Had the best day x

Personally that feels like a ‘fuck you’. She’s posted that on her instagram on your birthday when both Alex and her were meant to be out with you. You’re absolutely seething.

But the icing on the cake is her Instagram story. You’re met with a picture of her and Alex’s bare legs tangled in bed, in Alex’s flat and you can see your smaller cherry blossom painting that you made him for Christmas in the background. The caption on that was, Best way to end the day 💖

“Wow, nice to know my birthday means fuck all when you can play the piano and get a shag out of it.” You scoff before you can stop yourself but no one defends Alex in the slightest because it’s clear to see he’s just blown you off for a day with his girlfriend and a shag.

All of them can’t believe that Alex has gone out for his own meal with his girlfriend, clearly as you have all been waiting for him, and he just

“He bought her that piano too.” Matt informs you, sounding absolutely done with his best friend. “At least five grand for a Wurlitzers but I’m sure he got it custom for her so it’ll have been more.”

“He’s known her since March. What the actual fuck? Y/B/F scoffs, “I’ve known him since I was five and I’d never dream of accepting something like that from him.”

“He’s fucking pussy whipped.” Miles shakes his head. “Somehow worse than he ever was for you Y/N.”

“Probably because I only shagged him on three separate occasions and she’s probably gone three rounds today.” You shake your head, “I just can’t believe he’s posed for her to take a picture of her underwear on a piano.”

“Fucking weird that she wants to take that picture in the first place.” Charlie says with concern clear on his face.

Y/B/F doesn’t seem to mind slagging Alex off at all when he boldly states, “She’s clearly trying to get across that she’s his and she’s shagging him and desperate is not a good look from her.”

“I just see Alex getting hurt, that’s the only reason why I even mentioned talking to him before. Because I know none of us want to see him get hurt.” Matt ends the subject with you all agreeing.

And when you think about everything that’s been mentioned about Alex and Pauline when you get back to the flat, you can’t help but be reminded of the conversation you and Ross had last month.

“But if you knew that Gabby was just going to run back to Australia before she actually did it, you would have gone and warned Matty whether he believed you or not, wouldn't you?”

Little thought goes into your answer, because of course you would have. “Yeah,” You nod, “If I knew he was going to get hurt, I'd have wanted to protect him from that.”

“You would have wanted to scream it from the rooftops to warn him before he got hurt by her, right?”

“Of course I would.” You nod.

And that’s what makes you realise that you’ll regret it if you don’t say anything to Alex. He doesn’t have to do anything with the information you tell him - as you’ve not taken his relationship advice over the years - but as long as he believes you and takes what you say on board so he can be cautious, you know you’ll have done the right thing.

So you promise yourself, when the opportunity arises you’ll talk to him. Because the last thing you want is for Alex to get hurt.

~*~*~*~ 19th July 2019 ~*~*~*~

It started off with a gentle, “Alex, I need to talk to you about something.”

And it has all gone to complete shit.

You’re in his flat in Sheffield, as you thought telling him in his own space might help a bit. But when you warned him that he wasn’t going to like what you had to say and that he would sit down, you could see the defensiveness build from the moment you started speaking.

You’ve mentioned everything that Matt, Miles, and the other boys had told you, but you said it as if you’ve noticed everything yourself. The last thing you want to do is make Alex feel like he’s being ganged up on and that you’ve all been talking shit behind his back even though you have.

You’re as gentle as you can be with everything and Alex sits and listens to everything not really giving you much to gauge his reaction. When you finish initially, he asks if you can tell him what was said when you were in France and you don’t keep anything from him, you explain it all the best that you can remember.  

As soon as you told him what happened in Paris, he shook his head, “She wouldn’t say that.”

“Are you saying I’m lying?” You frown a little when you ask.

You understand he could be in denial for a little while, but to point blank refuse it shocks you a little.

“I’m saying you must have misheard her, or you got it translated wrong in your head because she wouldn’t say that.” Alex defends his girlfriend completely.

“Alex,” You’re still calm as you continue, “You saw me come back in a completely different outfit because I had an anxiety attack about my scars.”

But instead of accepting that, he just shuts you down again, “You didn’t look upset.”

“Because I went away to compose myself.” You can’t really believe what you’re hearing. He’s not even accepting that you were upset now, “Why would I lie about having an anxiety attack about what Pauline said about my scars?”

“Because why would she even say that?” Alex says wide eyed.

“I don't know,” You shrug, “She was saying a lot about me, Alex.”

Anger floods out now, as he goes even more defensive, but his tone is confrontational when he asks, “What’s that meant to mean? Are you having a go at me for telling her about you? If you’re annoyed about me telling her about the accident, I only did that so she wouldn’t ask you and make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, that’s not what I was upset about.” You can feel all of the hurt fill your chest again as you have to try to explain, “I was upset about her and her friend calling me a slag, saying that my scars ‘bring the price of me down’, and them laughing saying that they would have crashed the car if I was in it with them just to shut me up.”

“I just don’t believe they’d say that Y/N.” Alex shakes his head, running his hand over his buzz cut hair. “It doesn’t make any sense…”

He’s quiet for a second when he asks genuinely with no anger in his voice, “Are you sure you didn’t translate it wrong?”

“Alex, I’ve been fluent for years.” You back yourself 100%. There’s a bit of sympathy in your voice as you say, “You know I’ve never gotten it wrong before.”

“You just seem like you’re never yourself around her Al. You always seem like you’re a circus animal for her to have on show.” Your voice is full of hesitance and concern for him.

But now you’re talking, and you seem to be getting through a little bit, you add, “And it worries me that she wasn’t a musician before you got with her. And now she’s suddenly got you making an album with her.”

You want to bring up the demo that Alex sent in the group chat the other week. The start of one of Pauline’s songs is identical to Mad Sounds, and it just worries you even more about their relationship. It just feels like she gains so much more from Alex than he receives back.

“Just say what you’re trying to say…” Alex says, and you try not to react to him saying, “Come on, spit it out.”

“She’s using you.” You state the point, like ripping off a plaster.

Your best friend just stands up and shakes his head, “I can’t actually believe you’re saying this bullshit.”

But what shocks you most is when he looks you dead in the eye and demands, “You can’t expect me to just pine for you for the rest of my life and then when I do move on - like you’ve been asking me to for five fucking years - you can’t be happy for me.”

“This has nothing to do with me, Alex.” You swear, getting defensive yourself now and you stand up to follow him to the kitchen, “I’m not saying this out of jealousy or spite I’m telling you the truth because you’re being blinded by her.”

There’s hurt in your voice as you try to say, “You didn’t even come out on my birthday because you were with her all day. I got a new picture of me and my Da-”

Alex cuts you off, “I told you that was an accident. I couldn’t find my phone the whole day so I didn’t know the date.”

That has to be the worst excuse you’ve ever fucking heard in your life. And it just

“Funny that because Pauline had her phone on her all day, and you didn’t think to phone me or Matt from it?” You scoff, “You went out for your own meal instead of coming to mine and I told you that you could bring her with you.”

“How was I meant to know when I didn’t know what day it was?”

“Because Matt spoke to you two days before. And I’m fairly certain I texted ‘see you tomorrow’ the day before because we were both back here in Sheffield.” You tell him, not backing down from the eye contact at all. You’re not letting this go now, “It doesn’t matter anyway. This isn’t about my birthday.”

You just want him to believe what you’ve said. You want nothing more.

“No,” Alex’s laugh is venomous, and it lingers as he says, “It’s about you trying to split me and my girlfriend up.”

“I’m not Alex,” You swear, “I just want you to know so you can be cautious.”

Your best friend looks at you and nastily corrects your words, “You want me to know about your lies.”

Your chest sinks, and your eyes search his as you ask, “What lies?”

“Everything you’ve said, Y/N/N!” Alex sounds both upset and hurt as he continues, “She’s just different from how you are, from how we have been.”

“Yeah, we are different. Because I don’t go around taking pictures of you and using your name as a hashtag.” You keep your voice calm as you point out the obvious again, “She’s using you for publicity Alex.”

“No she’s fucking not!” Alex shouts at you now, “She takes pictures because that’s what going out with fucking models involves Y/N.”

“Oh yeah,” You dryly laugh, “And her putting her fucking knickers on your piano whilst you’re playing it to take a picture is normal model behaviour.”

“I don’t recall seeing that done before. Don't think I saw Alexa do that once and she's far bigger than Pauline is.” You make your point harsher than you ever initially wanted to but considering he’s just shouted at you; you don’t give a fuck.

Especially when Alex enrages you by shaking his head like he’s disappointed in you as he states, “You’re just fucking jealous.”

You scoff, “Are you joking right now?”

“No,” Alex goes on, “You’re clearly jealous because I’ve moved on from you and you can’t hold a relationship.”

You’ve never wanted to slap him more in your entire life.

“Wow. Just wow.” You deadpan, before walking closer to him and drilling into him. “You’re so fucking self-centred that you haven’t even fucking realised that I didn’t want to be in a fucking relationship right now, Alex... And don’t try and change the fucking subject, this is about you and your current relationship.”

But your best friend takes no notice. He ignores what you’ve just said and corrects his statement from before, “Well you’re jealous because you can’t shag me again then.”

You laugh. You laugh in disbelief because you don’t know what else to do.

“Alex, I’ve shagged you Hun.” You shake your head, really not believing he has the nerve to even say that, “I’ve been there done that. I certainly don’t need a picture of your hands and my knickers to know I’ve had sex with you.”

You don’t hold back as you continue arguing, “She’s your girlfriend. Every fucker knows you’ve shagged her. She doesn’t need to be posting shit like that to boost her account and her music.”

“She’s not boosting it.” Alex unsurprisingly dismisses you straight away.  

“Alex, are you so behind on technology that you can’t see what she’s doing?” You genuinely wish you could take a peek inside his brain and see which screw had come loose because he’s being a fucking idiot.

“She’s using you to promote herself!” You tell him, raising your voice to try and get it through his thick skull.

But never in your life would you expect Alex to yell back, “Like you do with your art then!”

Your jaw falls open, “You’ve got to be fucking joking?”

“No,” He shakes his head, “You’re the one who designs our stuff so how’s that any different?”

“You’re the fucking one who asked me to design your logos!” You raise your voice with each statement you make, absolutely fuming he has the audacity to say that to you. “You came to me for Favourite Worst Nightmare and looked through the others I made. You kept coming back looking for more for the next albums. You wanted me to do the show posters. You wanted me to do the merch.”

“I’ve never posted all of that on my account.” You’re honestly hurt he would ever think that you use him how Pauline is doing, “I posted your album covers to promote you, not me. I have never ever used you in the way that she’s using you. How dare you say that to me.”

“So you posting pictures of us together on your account isn’t promoting your work then?” Alex backchats, with fire in his eyes.

But you have an answer ready and waiting, “I post them on my private account that a grand total of one hundred people follow.”

But then you seriously ask him, “Is me posting a picture with Adam promoting my work too?”

“That’s different, he's your family.” Alex shakes his head.

“You are my family!” You shout back, “I have never used you Alex. Never. I would never want to and I don’t want to. And if you dare say that you’re the one who gave me my art career you can fuck off out of my life for good.”

It’s the hurt at what he’s just said that’s running through your system now, your eyes almost going glossy as you say, “I’ve sold out at three of my own gallery’s and they had nothing to do with either of your bands or anything to do with music in general. So if you’re even thinking that, you can fuck off.”

“I’m not saying that.” Alex shakes his head, trying to defuse the situation now, “All I’m trying to say is that Pauline’s not using me like you’re trying to get at.”

You push your own hurt away to ask him calmly, “How much have you helped her? Music wise?”

“What?”

You push on, “Answer my question.”

“I don’t have to tell you that.” Alex shakes his head almost acting like he doesn’t want to see you.

“But we both know you will.” You narrow your eyes at him almost like it’s a silent bet.

Alex tells you with a lot of hesitation, “I give her tips on how to make a song better.”

“Have you sat in the studio with her and recorded?” You press on.

“Yeah but-”

You interrupt, “She posted about it?” knowing full well that she has.

“Yeah, but that was to promote the music that she was making. I’m not cred-”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re credited Alex,” You interrupt again, not wanting this to go on for much longer, “That's just taking advantage of you being a nice person.”

Before Alex can even think about a comeback, you move on again to another concern of yours. “She was a fan before she got with you, yeah?”

“Like you were.” Alex narrows his eyes.

Your dry laugh tears through your throat loudly. “Alex, you couldn’t get all of our school friends to come to your gigs when you first got together, so that point is invalid.”

“She’s used the riff in Mad Sounds on one of her songs for a start.” You keep your points coming, “And when she initially got with you, she posted a shit load of you on her and her friend’s stories all the time.”

“Seems like you were paying very close attention to her.” Alex narrows his eyes at you.  

You don’t let what he said phase you. You just give it him straight back, “Because it was being brought to my attention what was happening. And I was trying to tell you in the nicest way I could until you got nasty and started gaslighting me.”

“I’m just defending my girlfriend Y/N.” Alex shakes his head, “You know it’s the respectful thing to do when someone starts on your partner.”

“Oh right, like she was being that respectful toward you and your privacy when you went out to those clubs with her and her mates who didn’t stop filming you all night.” You get another point in, and now after seeing the videos Miles sent you, you can say with confidence, “You looked so uncomfortable, Alex. I’ve never seen you like that when you’re meant to be having fun.”

But your best friend doesn’t see it how you do. “She was just posting videos of us on a fun night now. It wasn’t to get any views or whatever.”

“Alex, she tagged it!” You yell, just wanting to get through to him at this point, “There were Arctic Monkey hashtags and of your name all over the fucking shop. She wants people to know that you are hers.”

“And what? You think that because you and Matty aren’t bum buddies and you're not speaking to him you can come and try to destroy my relationship to get some action out of me?” Alex shouts back at you, his cheeks going pink with anger at this point. She shakes his head, “No Y/N. That’s not how this is going to work. You can’t have everything yourway all the fucking time.”

“This is not about me wanting your dick, Alex! Believe me, I really couldn’t give a fuck!” You’re fucking fuming now, surely he could see just by your reactions to what you were telling him earlier were sincere. You don’t want to be telling him this but you’re just trying to protect him, “This is about me trying to make you understand what you’re clearly not seeing. She’s using you and her friends are too.”

“Classy of you to not only go for her throat but her mates too.” Alex sarcastically applauds.

“Well forgive me,” Your apology is just as thick with sarcasm, “The shit they were posting of you was nasty. You never like being filmed Alex, you never have unless you’re on stage so don’t lie to me and tell me that you felt comfortable with being used for promotion like that.”

The way Alex looks at you then breaks your heart. He raises his eyebrows at you, as if to say ‘like you do’. And you know he means ‘like you do’ with your art and that really upsets you.

Your eyes flood with angry tears that you don’t let fall when you point at him and say, “Don’t give me that look.”

He’s fucking lying to himself at this point and he knows it.

“If you really think that of me, then you can find someone else to make your stuff for next time.” You tell him, but when he shows absolutely no remorse, your decision is set in stone. “In fact, no, you can definitely do that.”  

You walk back towards your lounge where you left your bag and you try to stop yourself from telling any angry tears fall. And thankfully none do as you say, “I’m not being treated like I’ve not been looking out for you for the last thirtyyears… I’m through.” and you start walking towards his front door.

“Fine.” Alex shakes his head, as if not fussed at all but he’s clearly still fuming, “I don’t fucking care.”

When you hear that, you spin back around to look into his eyes and ask seriously, “Do you really think I would lie about someone laughing at the fact that I almost died and make up that someone said my scars lower the price of me, and that her and her friend were laughing saying they would crash a car just to shut me up?”

You can hear all of the emotions you’re holding back in your voice as you simply ask, “Do you really think those are the things I’d come up with to get you to split up with her?”

Alex’s pissed off face doesn’t change. He takes a step closer to you and says, “I think you’ll go to any lengths to get the hold on me you like having because you’re jealous that I’m not dedicating every second to you anymore… It’s pathetic Y/N. Grow up.”

You want to laugh in disbelief. You’re so hurt and pissed off at the entire situation.

“Right, fine.” You scoff, you don’t let his hard gaze break you. You tell him with the same hard tone he used for you. “Nice to know you believe someone you’ve known five months over your best friend who’s known you since you were five years old. We’re fucking through, Alex.”

“Fine!” Your best friend yells and points to his door, “Fuck off Y/N! Get the fuck out!”

You certainly don’t need telling twice. You turn around and start walking as you tell him, “You come and talk to me when you realise exactly what I’ve said is going on, is true. Because I’m not a blind love-struck puppy and you should know better by now.”

“Get out!” Alex shouts pointing to the exit again.

“Happily,” You pull the door open with more force than needed, and you turn back to look at him to say, “I’m not doing this again. When you see Miles, Matt, and the other lads tell them that I’m not doing their dirty work again because it seems like I just lost my best friend in the process.”

Alex spitefully asks, “And whose fault is that hey?”

“Yours.” You say before you slam the door shut.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: Well then... That was a lot! How we feeling? What team are we on? How is everyone going to redeem themselves? How we feeling about a George ending? Let me know what you think is going to happen and I really hope you enjoyed this chapter x 

Thanks so much for reading! x

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[justauthoring]

nemesism.

*nemesism: frustration, anger or aggression directed inward, toward oneself and one’s way of living.

a/n: can you tell im in a naruto mood? :) also, i find itachi hard to write for because i don’t know if because of what happened to him he’d ever would’ve been capable of love. i do, however, think he was an incredibly kind man and thus, this was born.

word count: 1,308

“Is being partnered with me that daunting?”

Huffing, you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.

You wished he’d just, quite honestly, fuck off.

“For your information,” you curtly reply, head whipping over your shoulder to send a nasty glare his way. “It is.”

“Why?”

There he goes again.

What other response was possible, for a man like him than a completely calm, level-headed, void of any emotion at all? Itachi was always like this and he had been the day he recruited you to the Akatsuki, to now--right in this moment as he followed you back to your room, refusing to just fuck off.

Always so rational, never ever had you seen him lose him cool or say something he didn’t mean. Words and actions didn’t seem to surprise him, and sometimes it felt like he was always ten steps ahead of you--ahead of everyone--because everything he did was done in stride without a second of doubt in his own skills. 

He was infuriatingly logical, and what probably pissed you off the most was he had the skills to back up his confidence.

Since the day he recruited you, you’ve actively avoided him. You’d been sought after by the Akatsuki, by Pein, because of your stealth skill. You were good at getting around without attracting attention, and knew how to infiltrate villages and enemy territory without ever being caught. You’d figured, years back, that Pein had wanted you because you’d never failed a single mission you’d been assigned and when you’d defected from your village, it was almost impossible to find you.

The only one who had had been Itachi.

Almost immediately he’d left a sour taste in your mouth.

You didn’t like people, and you most certainly didn’t like him and so your one saving grace had been the fact that Pein had granted you your one wish--to have no partner. You didn’t have to suffer someone who’d slow you down, or get you caught and rather, you did what you were told in exchange for being left alone otherwise.

Until Orochimaru left the Akatsuki and Itachi was left without a partner.

No amount of arguing changed Pein’s mind, and you weren’t stupid enough to think you could beat him. You were a skilled ninja in combat, yes, but you were better at stealth and Pein knew that. You couldn’t defy him because he’d crush you, and you couldn’t run because he did everything to make sure you couldn’t escape his grasps.

And so, here you were, now stuck with Itachi as your partner.

Him of all people.

“Is it so hard to imagine someone might not want to be partnered with you?”

Your words come out sharp, a low hiss in response to Itachi’s refusal to simply have the decency to leave you alone. Your first mission together wasn’t until early tomorrow morning and you’re not sure why it was so necessary for him to bother you now--you’d rather just go to bed.

Maybe whine about it to yourself for a while.

But you certainly didn’t want him here.

“I don’t much care for others opinions on myself,” Itachi responds softly, grating your nerves further. “I am, however, curious as to why it bothers you so much.”

Eyes clenching shut, you feel your jaw hurt from how hard you’ve been clenching it. It’s taken all of your strength not to burst out your anger and seem like an absolute petulant child in front of a man who exuded such maturity and confidence.

But your patience was wearing thin.

“I was perfectly fine on my own!” You cry out, spinning to face him as you wave your arm before yourself. “You’ll just get him my way.”

And in a fit of rage and a lack of rational thought, you race forward, your hand slipping from underneath your cloak to send a kunai directly through Itachi’s neck. Damn if it’d get you killed--you never even wanted to join the Akatsuki in the first place! Every damn decision in your life has never been made from you, and now you were stuck in a organization that prayed on innocent people with no escape.

You don’t make it far. In a second, your wrist is clasp by Itachi’s hand, slightly pinching, as he halts your momentum, leaving you stood before him, breathless.

Itachi doesn’t seem annoyed or even angry that you’d, quite literally, just attempted to kill him. Instead, you see the first incline of any sort of emotion from his as the corners of his eyes pinch and a small smile curls onto his lips.

“I assure you, I am perfectly capable of completing my missions.”

You barely register his words. You’re so completely caught off by his smile, by the odd softness in his eyes that you’re stunned silent. It’s not just the fact that you’ve never seen anything other than a blank expression on Itachi’s face, but the fact that such a soft, warming glance is directed at you.

You don’t think anyone’s ever look at you that way.

“I--”

His grip turns gentle, and the kunai slips out of your hands, clattering to the ground as Itachi gently pulls you forward. The two of you close, not intimately, but you’re sure you’ve never once stood so close to Itachi, or another human like this in a long time. Not without the intent to kill.

As he lowers his hand, yours follows, falling by your side.

“I understand you didn’t want to join the Akatsuki.”

Brows furrowing, you glance up at Itachi.

“That you were forced to.”

“Yes,” you breathe, “by you.”

Itachi’s eyes fall shut, and he nods. “It was I who requested we be partnered, and Leader was forced to listen.”

You’re confused; beyond confused. Forced to listen? Was Itachi so strong that he’s able to control Pein himself?

“I understand you don’t want to hurt innocents either.”

“Uchiha, I don’t know--”

“I won’t make you,” he cuts in, sharply, words confident. “You’ll never have to hurt another innocent again if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head. “How...” You want to ask how he can promise that, what he’s done to make it possible. But really, the most important question that appears in your mind is; “why? Why would you do all of this for me?”

It doesn’t make sense. Itachi was the one who recruited you for the Akatsuki in the first place. He was the one who’d brought you here, who’d forced you to wear the cloak and bow to Pein. 

And beyond that, the two of you have never spoken a single word to each other.

You’ve avoided him, glared at him, cursed at him... 

Why would he go so far for you?

“It’s because,” Itachi speaks up, voice quiet, a mere whisper. And you notice he shifts, the grip on your wrist still there, but he pulls your eyes on his own, that same soft, oddly reassuring gaze looking back down at you.

And his words that follow shock you, leave your lips part and your mind blank with a lack of how to respond.

“When I look in your eyes, it’s like I’m staring back at myself.”

But somehow, they make your heart hurt and your eyes water. It’s like you’ve lost all control of your own emotions and you feel yourself being swallowed up by the emotions you’ve so desperately ignored, so desperately pushed to the back of your mind, desperate to forget.

His words are so odd, so... baffling; and yet, they’re so warming, so reassuring... so kind too.

“I want to help you.”

You’ve never liked Itachi. For years you’d blamed him for bringing you here, thinking he was the sole reason for your suffering.

And, yeah, maybe he was...

But still, strangely enough, you trust his words completely.

[sadaveniren]

First off I love hearing your thoughts and I’m so happy you unearthed that pink dress photo! I did want to add a little of my perspective on how much Freddie might understand, as a person raising a child Freddie’s age in LA. I agree with you that 5 is about the age a republican white parent from Calabasas would let their kid stay with family friends in the UK. But I do think Freddie understands a lot about what’s going on around him. It always surprises me the depth of conversations my kid and I have even though they’re a bit younger than Freddie. I certainly wasn’t capable of understanding so many adult things when I was their age, and I was a precocious millennial oldest daughter.

Even if Freddie and his parents don’t have a lot of trust or respect between them, I’ve witnessed many kids his age already having basically figured out how to run circles around the adults in their life. These kids have been using voice to text to google things since they were toddlers without their parent’s knowledge while the world literally implodes around them. Some of them already have the type of existential angst that a lot of us didn’t get until our 20s.

My biggest concern as a parent is trying to protect my kid’s innocence for as long as possible, but there’s only so much I can do once they go to school. A lot of my work is accepting how different their world is from mine and focusing on what I can control. All of this to say, I can easily imagine that Freddie already understands a lot about the world he’s growing up in.

Thank you so much for your insight! I haven’t worked with 6 year olds since 2018 when I left teaching and now I’m only waist deep in a damn almost threenager so I’m not completely up on what it’s like for a 6 year old post covid (Well 7 now cause he either just turned 7 or is turning 7) I will say that in teaching kindergarten from about 5-8 you can find a very WIDE range of maturity and development (I’ve had 5 year olds who barely spoke and I’ve had 5 year olds who have sat me down and tried to give me lectures on why whatever activity is NOT for them)

I definitely understand what you’re saying about him probably understanding more than we might think, but we also don’t know what Brett and Tammi are telling him. It’s LA after all. Maybe they’ve told him he’s an actor. Fandom has always talked about the idea that Tammi wants to be famous desperately. She tried herself, failed. Tried with Briana. Failed. Tried with Austin. Failed. Trying with her third kid? It’s something to think about when people do. Maybe he’s being told that occasionally he has to go act. We don’t know. And ultimately… that’s not OUR problem as fandom to worry about. And high key it’s also not Louis’. Brett and Tammi are his parents. I wouldn’t be surprised if when Briana fucked up Brett and Tammi were told “you either do things our way or you get nothing” and they made the selfish choice to do things Louis’ way because they sure didn’t want to get nothing.

Louis is trying to protect his closet. I think in 2020 if Brett and Tammi had said “you know what we’re not gonna be shitty parents there’s a lot of talk now about exploiting kids on social media let’s call it even now that Briana fucked up” LTHQ would have made it work and found a way to make it end with minimal damage to Louis. It would have probably cost Brett and Tammi a chance to ever monetize anything involving Freddie again though. I don’t think from what we have seen and learned about them that they would make that choice. Again. That’s not on Louis. He’s working with what he’s got.

[pastxlscorp]

Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.3)

Chapter III: Abidance

✿ Word Count: 3.2k

✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Hakkai POV, Y/N POV, Mitsuya POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, minor manga spoilers, slight angst

Awakening from his slumber, he found that the woman was no longer taking up space in his bed. He heaved a sigh of relief, only to, unfortunately, see a message from an unknown number on his phone saying “Text me when you’re free ;)” Ignoring the text, he found he had a message from Hakkai and remembered that he had abandoned him to sleep with that damn woman. However, Hakkai didn’t confront him about it, but instead acted as if nothing happened.

🗨️ Hakkai: Is the party still on for today? (Sent 2:00am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Yeah, sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t feeling my best, I should have let you know. (Sent 10:00am)

🗨️ Hakkai: No hard feelings. Ya feeling better now Taka-chan? (Sent 10:01am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Not really, but it’ll pass. What’d you end up doing yesterday after I left? (Sent 10:02am)

Picking up on the subtle curiosity of Mitsuya’s text, it became clear to Hakkai that he did see him with you. As much as he admired Mitsuya, the anger building inside of him got the best of him. Therefore, in response, he chose a reply that he knew would get Mitsuya boiling.

🗨️ Hakkai: Caught Y/N outside of your class, had a wonderful lunch with her! She’s so nice, Taka-chan! Why are ya so mean to her? (Sent 10:04am)

Vigorous fingers typed in reply.

🗨️ Mitsuya: Why the fuck were you hanging around that slut? She’s just gonna try and get in your pants. What did she say to you? (Sent 10:04am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Hakkai? Hello? (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Sorry Taka-chan, I’m back. She didn’t say nuthin bad, actually she was so sweet. She saw I was alone and we both had some tea together back at her place. Ended up sleeping over, I’m still here actually! (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: BACK AT HER PLACE? I told you, she’s just trying to get in your pants and you let her win! I can’t believe you let a whore like her win you over, Hakkai! Where the fuck is your brain? She probably was enjoying every minute of your sorry ass. (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Who said we slept together, Taka? (Sent 10:05am)

Silence enveloped the room.

🗨️ Mitsuya: Sorry… I just assumed that’s what you meant by sleeping over. (Sent 10:07am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Awh, it’s okie Taka, I know you were only looking out for me. (Sent 10:07am)

Absolutely, looking out for Hakkai. That’s what this was, that’s what he was doing. There couldn’t have been any other reason why he was so upset at the thought of you sleeping together. He was just being a good friend.

-----

┃ “Y/N!” the hoarse voice spoke to you, feeling the smooth cloth of his jacket pressed against your face as you bumped into him.

You looked up only to recognize Hakkai, kind thoughts flooding your mind, diminishing your anger stemming from your interaction with Mitsuya moments before. He grinned at you giddily, eyes relaxing any sort of tension left in your body. You slowly began to forget why you were mad and allowed yourself to indulge in his presence.

┃ “Good afternoon Hakkai! Waiting for Mitsuya?”

┃ “Mhm, you takin’ Designer 101 too, right?”

┃ “Yup! How come you aren’t taking it? You’re very fashionable, y’know?”

┃ “You’re too kind,” He giggled, his grin beginning to somehow grow wider on his cheeks as he raised his hand to pat your head.

┃ “I’m serious! Why don’t you join the class? It’s not too late, the second semester is about to start!” You eagerly pushed on, rejoicing in the positive energy he emitted.

┃ “ ‘m not really into making clothes, just showing them off...” He let out a hefty chuckle before getting cut off by you.

┃ “You don’t have to be good at making them! Some students choose to learn how to stylize different clothing and patterns, it’s all about the latest trends.”

┃ “Really?” He went silent for a few moments, smile morphing into a straight line as he contemplated your words carefully. Not to fret, as his smile quickly returned as he said: “Well then, might have to ask Taka-chan to help me sign up!”

You both shared a laugh and began to discuss the enrollment process in order for Hakkai to join the class-- if he were to drop another class, what class would he drop, or would he simply add it to his current schedule? While your conversation was nothing more than an innocent developing friendship, unbeknownst to you, Mitsuya had witnessed it all and declared it once more another betrayal. You were such a slut, flirting with anyone and everyone. Irrationality began to consume him-- instead of seeing your interaction with Hakkai for what it truly was, a genuine developing friendship, his brain refused to comprehend your behavior with other men. He never got to the level of comfortability you had with Takemichi, and he had lost the sense of ease you had with him to Hakkai and god, god did it piss him off. Unfortunately for that kohai, she was just another doll for him to play with just until he could get your attention again. Even a single drop of your attention, your attachment, it was enough to drive him for weeks just to be able to be near you again. Your kind words squeezing his heart tighter and tighter the more you spoke, your laughter ringing in his ears at a corny joke he told you during club meetings, it enveloped him into infatuation which later developed into a larger feeling. Such a large feeling over the progressing months that when he began bullying you, when your lack of presence and absences during meetings began to grow, an emptiness began to root in his heart, waiting for you to touch it once more and let it grow.

He could go on and on listing things about you-- the way he loved your sense of fashion, the way he loved your sense of humor, your compassion to helping others, your intellect that allowed you to read everyone like a book, everyone except him. Why couldn’t you see that he didn’t hate you? Oh, but that jealousy, the first time he’d admit that it was jealousy, it gripped him so tightly around his neck that it felt suffocating. Every shove, every clasp of your hand, your wrist, your chain, your chain, it made his heart shutter seeing that dead watery look in your eye, but your attention was like a drug that he just had to keep getting more of. It would never be enough to satisfy him, not until he could call you his and you would call him yours. He pitied using them, he really did, but he needed someone to satiate his needs. He was a womanizer, after all-- if one left he would just charm another into his bed. They all had high respect for Mitsuya, his intellect, his charm, his skill, and his kindness. Yet no matter how hard he tried, all those women, they were never you and they could never try and be you. He found that he no longer sought sex for his own pleasure anymore, but for your own, pretending so desperately that the one trembling out of pleasure beneath him was you. Imagining, no, fantasizing that he was making you happy and leaving you satisfied.

Upon seeing your interaction, he quickly left with his kohai for their own exchange, leaving Hakkai unfortunately confused as he waved you goodbye, patiently waiting for his friend to meet him. You were still on campus because you had taken additional extracurricular activities to build up your transcript to make up for your absences in Mitsuya’s Home-economics club. At first, you attempted to make it through the club meetings but he made every single one as unbearable as possible. The second semester, could it come any sooner? Hakkai, too focused on organizing his schedule with you previously, had failed to notice Mitsuya leaving with a woman. He waited, he waited, and he waited, coming to a good hour until he realized Mitsuya wouldn’t have left him waiting for this long without a heads up. He looked at his phone, expecting some sort of contact-- a phone call, a message, anything. All that awaited him was several unread messages from group chats and friends, none of them from Taka-chan. He sighed, placing his phone away just as he noticed your presence once more, planting a fake smile on his face to disguise his obvious disappointment. Unfortunately for him, his smile only instantly alerted you something was wrong.

┃ “Hakkai? Why are you still here, weren’t you supposed to be meeting Mitsuya?”

┃ His phony smile stood in place as tears began to fill his eyes. He croaked: “T-taka-chan left me. Do you think he’s mad at me for sumthin’, Y/N? I don’t ‘member doin’ anything.”

You instantly rushed over to comfort him, witnessing what appeared to be an intimidating giant become undone into a fragile teddy bear at the thought he had upset his best friend. Your disdain only kept growing for Mitsuya, first it was his lack of maturity during class, and now he had abandoned his best friend for whatever reason it was. Hakkai was a sweetheart, you couldn’t imagine what he may have done to upset someone. Therefore, you came to the conclusion Mitsuya had thrown a tantrum of sorts and took it out on him. It irked you, however, Mitsuya always remained respectful and loving to his best friend in addition to Yasuda-san, so you couldn’t help but raise your brow wondering what got him so upset for him to entirely ditch his friend. Pushing those thoughts aside, you placed all of your focus on bringing a smile back to Hakkai’s face, gently rubbing his back and placing your forehead against his temple as he crouched over in defeat. You desperately attempted to think of anything to cheer him up.

┃ “Ah, how about some tea?”

┃ “...Tea?”

┃ “Listen, I have absolutely no idea what you like and I want to calm you down so-”

┃ “Tea sounds good.” He said softly, a small smile returning to his face.

You escorted Hakkai comfortably back to your dorm, located on the east wing of the campus. Women and men could go to each other’s dorms, they just had gender-separated wings because it was just easier to contain the chaos if everyone was allowed to sleep with their girlfriend or boyfriend. The boys had their dormitory on the west side, thus you noticeably got some glances as you strolled with Hakkai. Mitsuya was always surrounded by Hakkai and Yasuda-san, so obviously most of your classmates were shocked to see you hanging out with his right-hand man. Were you both sleeping together? Ooh what a scandal (not). Although you didn’t mind the glanes too much, Hakkai on the other hand made sure to shoot down them all with a nasty side glare, quickly causing them to turn their cheek. It was a cute sight after all, seeing how you subconsciously had reached for his hand and began to rub gentle circles on it in order to ease him, which succeeded in doing so. Once you arrived at your dorm, you opened the door and gave him a show of jazz hands as you toured him around your dorm. Your dorm wasn’t the largest compared to his and Mitsuya’s dorm, which made him realize the privilege of not having a financially aided dorm. Your queen bed comfortably rested on the right side of the room, covered with a curtain and fairy lights on the wall behind it. Your desk was not too far away, maybe a good 15 feet across your bed, not too messy but not too neat. It was obvious you were working on something, as there were papers still out and scattered but the rest of the desk had the pens, pencils, and stapled papers sorted in a clean pile. Your pinboard was half-covered with your calendar, cluttered with small sticker reminders while the other half was your schedule, nicely decorated with washi tape sticking it to the board. Next to your bed was a wooden closet and you led him into the cramped kitchen that made him gasp, seeing how you make such a tight space so comfortable and presentable. You had a small glass coffee table in the middle, a small fridge cramped in the kitchen underneath a cupboard and next to a cabinet holding the sink on top. Next to that was a stove with a microwave on top, both color-coordinated black, contrasting the white of the room. You guided him over to the table and motioned for him to sit and he obediently did. Walking over to the countertop holding an old-school kettle, you used it to strain and brew the tea. Gleefully, you dropped a few ice cubes in his glass and carefully poured his tea and then your own, sitting across from him at the table. He took a sip of the tea you had placed in front of him, smiling not at the delightful taste but the awaiting face you had fixated, putting your hands under your chin waiting for a response.

┃ “This tea is delightful, thank you Y/N.” He said warmly and you basked in his praise.

┃ “Ah, sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the staring. I don’t… really get visitors. It’s nice to have someone over.” You replied, your face beginning to glow a light pink as your lips formed into a slight frown, embarrassed to admit how you had no friends.

┃ “Mm, I should be the one thankin’ you,” The softness in his voice made your crouched posture fix itself as you looked up to him. “You made me sum tea, opened me to your home, all ‘cuz I was sad and overthinkin’. You ain’t hafta do that, but you did anyway. I appreciate ya!” His iconic grin was now back where it belonged as his eyes glazed over you in pure adoration. You smiled in return, both returning to take a sip of your tea.

Hours passed and he was still at your house, you both gossiping and talking like old friends. You discussed your classmates, praising them and disapproving of the behavior of others. He began to confide in you about what he witnessed during his time as the second-division’s vice captain. You eagerly listened to him as he described to you his tales with his brother and his amazing sister Yuzuha, anything and everything was up for debate. At least, almost everything. Despite being the main reason he was so upset, you and Hakkai had not discussed Mitsuya’s treatment of you. He was mentioned in a few gang stories, but it seemed as if Hakkai was opting out of speaking about him out of respect for you. However, his head began to slump, implying he was tired. You grabbed your phone, which had been placed upside down on the coffee table, and looked at the time and saw it was well past midnight. You leaned over to rub Hakkai’s shoulder and you gasped when his head turned back upright, alert as if he just remembered something. Drunk on drowsiness, he began to speak:

┃ “Mmh, y’know Mitsuya used to talk about you a lot. Always went on about this pretty girl who was awfully sweet, really smart…” He trailed off, fighting off the sleep that clung desperately to his eyelids. “He never gave me a name but after club meetings when I woulds wait for him, he would tell me about his conversations. I always saw him looking at ya. What did ya do to make him so pissed off?” Although he had no malicious-intent in his questioning, it was enough to cause goosebumps all over your body.

┃ “I didn’t do anything, ‘kai. Really, nothing different happened that day. All of the sudden, the next day during his club he humiliated me in front of everyone and then made me stay after hours to yell at me even more.” You went silent for a moment, before your curiosity got the best of you and you questioned: “He used to talk about me? Are you sure?”

┃ Ignoring your question, he replied to your initial response. “You didn’t do anythin’ different at all that day?”

┃ You contemplated his question carefully, before realizing the one event that was an outlier to the rest. “I was waiting for my friend outside campus gates that day. He offered to wait with me but I insisted he didn’t, mainly because my friend had said Mitsuya wasn’t very fond of him so it was better if he didn’t see him.”

┃ “Who’s the friend?”

┃ “Hanagaki Takemichi.”

┃ The tired man in front of you took a full minute to process your sentence before bursting out and crying of laughter a few moments later. You looked at him, pure confusion coating your body as he continued to sob. Finally, after a few minutes, he wiped his eyes and sat back up, gleaming at you. “Well that’s your problem, Mitsuya fucking hates Takemichy. Probably spied on ya because he was worried, saw Takemichy, and boom-- he got jealous AHAHA!” He went back to crying of laughter, leaving you a few moments to yourself to process his words.

It was embarrassing to admit how Hakkai was half-asleep in front of you and somehow managed to put together your puzzle of confusion together months after said incident had happened, in under 20 minutes. However, you couldn’t find yourself disagreeing with his theory. Suddenly, Hakkai stopped laughing and looked up at you, all serious.

┃ “Now wait… that’s not funny! He’s been pushing ya around all the time just cuz he’s jealous of you being with other guys?! That’s fucked up! ‘M gonna beat his ass, Y/N! Just for you!”

You now began laughing, taking Hakkai’s hand in yours over the glass countertop and tapping it gently.

┃ “That won’t be necessary, ‘kai. How about we come up with a solution?”

┃ “My solution is beating his a-”

┃ “A non-physical solution.”

┃ He went silent for a few moments, looking away from you to the window to think. You could tell he thought of something when a smirk began to plaster itself on his face. “How about we test our theory?”

┃ “Elaborate.”

┃ “If that pain in my ass is done with whatever it is he’s doing, there was supposta be a party tomorrow. Not at our dorm, but our friend’s. You might have heard of him, Manjiro Sano?”

You responded with silence.

┃ “Mikey. The Invincible Mikey.”

┃ “Not ringing any bells.”

┃ “Brother of Emma Sano. Brother of Izana.”

┃ “Emma Sano is so nice!”

┃ “Captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang, Y/N.”

┃ “Oh.”

┃ “Point is, he’s having a party tomorrow. We could get some revenge, I bring you as my date~”

┃ “Won’t that make him angri-

┃ “That’s what revenge is.”

┃ “Why don’t I just talk with him?”

┃ “Has he tried talking to you?”

┃ “...no.”

┃ “I rest my case.”

Silence enveloped the room once more. It wasn’t an awkward silence, no, it was quite a comfortable silence actually as he patiently awaited your response and allowed you to process and think.

┃ “When is the party exactly?”

✿ tags: @haiq-trash @blackmysticalsimp @the2ndl @bren-heron @delicatejudgecopcowboy @skiwalkers

✿ a.n. // First of all, thank you so much for 102 followers <3 I appreciate the support being given to me! I would like to address one thing, however, please don't rush me to write! I've gotten very kind messages of support but others have been demanding more of me and it's important to remember that I have classes, chores, a social life, and many other things happening. I love writing but rushing me makes it unenjoyable and it won't be my best work. My goal for this ongoing fanfic is to post weekly. Just a little ted-talk there, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter though! I had such a fun time writing it :)

[kookieskiwi]

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!Reader x Suguru Niragi

Summary: The borderlands were already dark, they made you numb to death so long as you survived. When you become the object of desire for two psychopathic and sociopathic men, one of which is your ex lover, you find it harder to drown out the emotions you’re feeling and demons you're facing. Do you give into the dark desires and madness? But...aren’t we all already mad here?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual situations, murder, death, manipulation, psychoanalyses, drugs, alcohol, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, more to be added as I write.

Genre: Alice in Borderland, very dark romance, angst, smut, a little fluff if you squint

Rating: Whoever is mature enough to handle the warnings above but recommended to ages 15 and older. DO NOT read if you are triggered by any of the things listed above.

Word Count: 5k

[Taglist] @bonnyskies @mylifeisafxingmess @kasaikawa @mercipourleslivres @dragoneye01 @bubb1ee-gum@nocturne181 @somegirl29 @pajerita19 @ddaenysus @imagine-t-h-a-ttt @queentorresstuff @rebirth-of-destruction @celestiacq @ryreads @beeissleepy

A note from your author — I’m so sorry this took so long, I just got out for summer vacation after an extremely stressful year so I’ll be way more active now. I have decided (with much hype from @imagine-t-h-a-ttt ) to post this in parts so I could give y’all something in appreciation for dealing with me. Expect more soon!! (It might not be AiB exclusively but I will be writing more)

The borderlands was a place where anyone and everyone was alone for themselves when it came to survival. “It’s every man for themselves,” you’d often tell yourself after a game since you walked away, sometimes alone, and others didn’t. After participating in your first heart’s game you learned that, and it was forever engraved into your mind. When you were cruelly taken from the real world you were alone in your room after your nightly shift as an SDF officer. All of a sudden the lights went out whilst you were changing out of your uniform before a shower which you never got to take. Deciding to investigate the outage, you threw your uniform back on and unbuttoned the jacket revealing your black sleeveless undershirt while keeping your green cargo style uniform pants and combat boots on. After grabbing your knife and placing it into your thigh holster, you explored your neighborhood to find that everyone was gone, cars were randomly in the street as if they had been stopped out of nowhere, and you were in fact alone.

“What the fuck is this?” You whispered to yourself as you were pulling out your phone to contact your friends only to see that it was dead. “Fantastic,” you grumbled, rolling your neck to the side to crack it and relieve the tension. Venturing back to your home you thought over what this could possibly be; an evacuation drill? Maybe a nightmare? Were you daydreaming again? No, this was too real and too strange to be any of those things. You needed to get out of this area, inspect and observe other parts of Tokyo to see what was going on. You thought you could find answers before it turned dark since it was only morning so you rushed home to pack a few things before heading out.

While at home, you grabbed your backpack and in it you put; a change of clothes, three water bottles, pain pills and a few snacks as well as your phone and charger in case you could figure out a way for it to work. In a haste you also threw on your side holster which held your nine millimeter handgun and two packs of ammo for extra precautions. After that, you set out on your search of the city. The first thing you thought of was to get in one of those abandoned vehicles however even though they were full of fuel, they wouldn’t start. “So phones and vehicles don’t work, neither does anything powered by electricity. Great.”

With that newly found information, you stepped out of the vehicle and began the long walk across Tokyo. Along the way you inspected stores, homes and even government buildings but found no trace of anyone but yourself. Where did everyone go? It looked so desolate without the constant buzz of people around walking, the tourists, the neon billboards. Everything was...dead. You spent the entire day walking further into the abandoned city which was once lively yet found nothing other than a restaurant with food which you took the liberty to eat at.

Upon nightfall, you were looking for a place to stay when a billboard lit up drawing your attention to it immediately. “This way to the game arena,” it read with an arrow pointing to the left. Turning your head in that direction you saw an area in the distance brightened by lights while everything else was still surrounded in darkness. “Game arena?” You whispered in confusion. Looking around at your surroundings you didn’t see any other lights other than that building which looked to be about three blocks away. You followed the arrows leading you to the designated arena which looked to be a botanical tea garden from a distance. You slowly approached the building while keeping your hand close to the blade strapped on your thigh in case someone or something appeared. As soon as you stepped across the final set of stairs leading up to the entrance, a line of red lasers appeared and quickly turned blue when a sound similar to that of a confirmation resonated in the area. “What is this?”

“It’s the threshold of the arena.” Turning in the direction of the voice, you saw a familiar face step next to you with the same sound chiming at her entry. “Holyn? How did you get here? Are you okay?” You asked quickly before hugging her out of relife, you were more than happy to see a familiar face in this apocalyptic place. She was your childhood best friend, the only reason you hadn’t seen or heard from her in a while was because of both of your working lives.She hugged you back even tighter as she was feeling the same way you were, scared, alone and confused. When the two of you released each other she began explaining everything she knew to you as the both of you started walking into the garden.

“I got here a few days ago and since then, I’ve asked around to see what others know about whatever the hell is going on. No one knows how we got here or what exactly this place is but everyone is made to participate in games of survival. You must participate or you’ll die. After winning a game, you keep the phone you had and you’ll be supplied with a visa. The visa tells you how long you have until you’re out of time here which is why you have to participate in games to renew it before it runs out. You must win each game, there is no other way to survive if you don’t. Do everything it takes so you live and move on. Anything with an electric circuit board or IC chip does not work whereas analog equipment like radios work and so do older vehicles.” She explained quickly as more people came into view. Your mind fogged with all of the new information, it was so much to take in. Then you realized you were just thrown into a game of survival and like she said; you HAD to win to survive. “But-” you had just begun when she silenced you, “pretend you’ve been here and done this. I know you’re confused and probably scared shitless but just pretend.” She instructed as you both entered the arena and quickly added one thing, “I don’t want to continue playing after this, I killed someone Y/n.” But before you could respond she shook her head and you did as she said, silencing yourself and putting on the facade you had mastered over the years.

Upon entry, you almost immediately noticed the two groups of people to the right each containing about six people and consisting of both males and females and the other group of six men. Gauging their distance to and from each other you could conclude the individuals in each group had played together previously and probably had strategies to compete with. As you and Holyn approached the area the others stood around, you glanced down to the table in front of all of you. ‘One per person’ the sign read with approximately twenty phones laid out beside it. Each of you grabbed a random phone and stepped away from the table into your own spaces, you and Holyn sticking closely together. If everything with a circuit board was destroyed, then why did these phones work? In the middle of your questioning the phone screen lit up with the text ‘facial recognition in progress’ before switching to another screen as you looked at the others subtly to see they were looking around as well.

“Registration has closed,” the phone chimed causing each of you to glance down at the small screen. “There are twenty participants. Game: Queen of cards.”

“Rules,” the automated voice said, “After putting on the designated collars you will be divided into two teams, one team will be the Jacks while the other is the Queen of Hearts. Find the Queen of Hearts, take her phone and find the safe zone. If the Queen is not found, it is game over for the Jacks. If the Queen is found, it is game over for her.”

“Does this mean it’s one girl against the rest of us?” Holyn asked with a small crack in her voice, making hit her as a sign to be quiet and do exactly what she told you to do. The two of you grabbed the collars they had laid out on the table, placing them on your neck after close inspection. You needed to seem like you had done this before, the last thing you needed was to be seen as the weaklings or newbies. “It’s a Hearts game, of course that’s what it means. We are supposed to turn on each other and play with others minds. It makes sense.” A male with his arms crossed over his chest said. He had played before, you could tell. The group of men he came with looked like they had been here for a while based on their appearance and calmness towards the situation.

“What do you mean ‘It’s a heart's game’?” A girl who looked to be about seventeen asked. It was obvious she was new to this like you, however, you weren’t letting anyone know that. “When you see the game card, you know the type of game and the difficulty of it. Heart games are those of psychological torture and betrayal where you mess with your opponents or friends minds and emotions. Diamond games are ones of minds and intelligence, often including solving riddles or puzzles. Clubs are by far the safest there is given they are teamwork and unity games. Spade games are physical, they test your stamina and endurance. The number of the cards tell you the difficulty levels; one being the easiest and ten being the hardest.” Another man explained to the girls. You listened attentively while looking down at your phone noticing this was a six of hearts game. Hearts. There had to be a way to do this without betrayal. But before you could think of anything further you were interrupted by the phone which spoke once more.

“The Queen will have one minute to hide before Jack's time starts, but she wont know she is the Queen until Jack's time begins.” The feminine AI voice instructed once more. The girls were to be hunted by the boys and even if they weren’t the Queen the males wouldn’t know. Even if it was a best friend. You noticed when the others came to the same realization as you as one guy started profusely apologizing to a girl who was shaking. This is a game of survival. “So that means-”

“You girls better run.” It came from one of the men and said with a sinister smirk. All the guys had to do to ensure survival was take our phones and get to the undisclosed safezone. However this was more than that. You saw the weapons on a board in the distance and you knew you weren’t the only one who did. Without a second thought, you grabbed Holyn’s hand and ran as fast as you could to get the farthest from any other person, vividly aware of the knife you still had on your thigh. She quickly followed behind although she didn’t have much of a choice with your iron-like grip on her wrist. After running a sufficient distance from the others you ducked into the shrubbery and crawled towards a dark corner to hide from anyone’s sight. She sat across from you as you both tried to calm your breathing while keeping yourselves hidden from anyone who might pass by. The phone chimed again, “Hiding time is up,” the voice said while a new timer appeared on your phone. “Ten minutes,” it read. An alarm sounded throughout the arena echoing off the walls of the indoor tea garden. “The game will now commence,” you heard just before seeing your screen turn balck temporarily with your role on it.

“Thank goodness, I’m a Jack. You are too right?” Holyn asked as you turned off your phone and looked at her with a smile as her voice echoed in your mind, “you must win each game, there’s no other way to survive,” so you pushed away the dread in your chest and replied “me too.”

No. You were the Queen.

The two of you sat still for about five minutes listening to the shouts and screams of the others until you heard sets of footsteps coming in your direction causing the two of you to duck down onto your stomachs out of fear. In the distance you heard a feminine scream echo off the glass walls followed by shattering sounds and more screams of “I’m not her” or “It’s not me” followed by the sounds of struggles. “Come out come out wherever you are,” one of the men closer to you called. You could tell he was near and if you two didn’t move, he'd find you.”We found the safe zone but none of the girls were queens,” you heard one say, “damnit, if they were still alive they could help us,’ the other commented making your stomach drop. “We need to run,” who whispered to Holyn knowing those men would have no issue killing you to survive. “Three minutes remaining,” the time was announced but you could hardly hear it due to your pulse thudding in your ears.

“Now,” you called quietly queuing the both of you to jump up and run, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the men. “There they are!” One shouted followed by the heavy stomps of footsteps behind you as they set in on the chase. “It’s only the two of you, just give us the phone and you’ll live.” You ignored him and kept sprinting towards the place you knew there were weapons. Without another thought you grabbed two weapons and handed one to Holyn to defend yourselves with until she came to the realization you loathed. “You’ve been the queen this entire time!?” She shouted at you as the stomping sound got closer and closer. “I’m sorry! You said to do anything it takes to survive.” You responded with tears clouding your vision. Never in your life would you have thought you’d be choosing your life over your best friend’s, not when the two of you had gone through everything together. “Two minutes remaining,” the voice announced reminding you of your impending fate. Holyn looked at you with emotions you couldn’t decipher, but you saw the way she relaxed even if it was slight. Why was she glad you chose yourself over her?

“Come on, let’s hide.” She said grabbing your hand and this time, she was the one dragging you along. She veered off to the right pulling you behind a fountain and kept running until the two of you collapsed onto the ground. “Remember when you turned fifteen and we decided to sneak out?” she reminisced laying between your legs against your chest. “Yeah, our parents almost killed us, we were grounded for months.” you giggled despite the tears falling from your eyes. As memories of you both flooded your mind you acted without control and shouted, “Over he--” to let the men know your location but you were interrupted by her hand clasping over your mouth tightly to silence you as she yanked you backwards into the shadows. “Shh,” she whispered, calming you while you sobbed into her hand, “I want you to live on for me, okay? Beat this game, we both know you are the only one who can. I know you can. I’ll be helping you from above if I can.” She soothed laying her head on top of yours.

“One minute remaining”

The tears wouldn’t stop as you moved to hug her tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’m so sorry.” you choked out in between gasps for air. Everything was too much, too loud, time was moving too quickly, you heard the men rapidly shouting and searching for you two as you clung to your best friend. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, the seconds flew by while you were holding the only person you had left before she was to die. “I’m not. Thank you Y/n, I wouldn’t have made it any further anyways, I’m glad I can help you move forward. Don’t let me die in vain.” She told you kissing the top of your head before roughly pushing you off to get you away from her. “Holyn!” You shouted trying to latch back onto her when suddenly the collar around her neck exploded and her blood splattered everywhere. Your eyes and mouth opened wide in shock at what you had just seen. You could feel the specks of blood all over your face and body while you stared at her now decapitated one lying in front of you. She had just died, and it was because of you, because you were selfish and confused all while being scared.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there in total silence until you just collapsed onto the cold, hard floor beneath your feet. The silence was interrupted by your blood curdling scream of pure agony that echoed throughout the enclosed building. Your head came into contact with the ground when you curled over your knees and screamed once again while grabbing at your hair and banging your forehead against the cement. Tears flowed out of both your eyes as you cried out in horror, unable to rid your mind of the events that just occurred. You screamed until your throat was raw and your voice hoarse, you could feel the clumps of hair you pulled out of your scalp as your fingers dug deeper into your skull and worst of all, you knew you were alone now.

For days, you were numb. Five days to be exact. You didn’t do much but sleep, cry, eat, walk aimlessly to a new location and then repeat it all again the next day. You couldn’t shake the immense feeling of guilt you felt when you woke each morning knowing Holyn wouldn’t because of you. It wasn’t until you played your next game, an eight of spades, that you snapped out of the haze your emotions put you in. During the game, you had to climb a tree fast enough to avoid the arrows being shot at you from below as the height the arrows were shot increased each minute as you ascended the tree. You were ahead of the others until one man decided to start pulling at your ankles to hold you back which eventually turned into him trying to make you lose your grip and fall. In the moment he yanked your body down, you almost completely lost your grip on the branch keeping you from falling. It was then that you realized you weren’t going to let Holyn die in vain, you’d survive and push through everything to honor her memory.

After that, the “acquaintances” you made between or during games never meant much to you because in the end, you could only count on and rely on yourself to ensure your survival. You stopped moping around and became the version of yourself you had always wanted to become, the one that allowed you to turn off your emotions and step away from your chaotic thoughts. You now lived for yourself and yourself only, but even then, you never killed anyone intentionally.

A few days passed by but you couldn’t tell exactly how long you had been in this hell hole. You only played games when it was necessary which was only about two days before your visa expired. After overhearing someone in a two of Spades game talk about a place called “the Beach” and the people there “knowing how to get out here,” you started observing those who played games when you didn’t. It only took a few nights to see the connection between the group of people who entered games with tag numbers on their wrists being the ones who walked out. After you played a couple games with people with the tags on their wrists, you were convinced they knew something about the strategy of the games. Lingering in the shadows, you watched the participants of the game walk out of the arena and head down the street while you quietly followed behind. You must’ve walked for five minutes before you noticed where exactly the group was headed; a vehicle. “But I thought..” you whispered to yourself in confusion seeing them jump into the four seater 1970 cadillac while you stood still in your hidden position wondering what they were doing. Upon hearing the ignition of the engine you remembered Holyn telling you only older modeled vehicles were able to work here, but where did they find fuel? Not once had you seen an operable fuel station. “There must be fuel at the beach, there has to be,” you thought to yourself, watching as they drove off which only made you more determined to find this place and get the answers to your questions. And with that thought in mind, you set out on a journey to find this so-called “beach.”

As the vehicle drove further from your sight, you started jogging in order to tail them to their location while still keeping yourself out of sight. You ran for around fifteen minutes before you saw a building in the distance, a building which had power unlike everything else in the city. Seeing the destination, you stopped running and took a while to slow your breathing and regain your energy. “So this is the Beach,” you sighed observing the structure and its surroundings. The building itself seemed to be four stories tall and included a large pool in front where people partied as if they weren’t fighting for their lives everyday. You approached a fence which seemed to outline the perimeter of the area and carefully leaned over it as if you were watching a child’s game. You saw the vast amounts of people give into the pleasures of ignorance while deafening music thrummed in the background, even from the great distance you were, you could slightly feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest.

“Ah who's this?” you heard a cynical voice ask rhetorically from behind you. At the sudden and unexpected presence you jumped, turning around and swinging your fist to punch whoever it was out of instinct. When your right hand came in contact with a face your left twisted to grab the knife you still carried on your thigh in a holster. Just as you grasped ahold of the handle one of the two people delivered a knockout-blow to the side of your head just behind your temple which caused you to instantly lose consciousness.

When you awoke you were sitting in a chair with your hands tied loosely behind your back onto the chair with what felt like a burlap bag over your head. You let out a small groan of discomfort feeling your head pulse due to your new injury, one you would have to repay later on. Upon hearing your groan, the bag was swiftly removed from your head allowing the bright lights of the room to flood your vision which hadn’t adjusted making you shut your eyes with a silent wince. After blinking a few times you get adjusted, you were finally able to scan your surroundings. In front of you stood a man with shoulder-length hair, blsck sunglasses, an open kimono and red swim trunks, to his left stood a man with buzzed hair, a black muscle shirt and green military pants who you instantly recognized.

“Aguni?” You asked with confusion seeing the man you used to work with. He was here too? You weren’t surprised he was still alive, the man was invincible when you worked with him. And just like back then, he was silent, he only gave a small nod of his head to you as a response before reassuming his statue-like stance. To his right was a man with silver hair, a white Nike hoodie and blue swim shorts who looked at you in an inquisitive manner with tired yet sharp eyes. Two women who had black hair were standing to his right and a man covered in tattoos stood further off to the side holding a sword long in length, possibly a katana. A few other people were staggered around the room but none of them seemed to be as ‘important’ as the few that you noticed immediately.

“Aguni-san? You know her?” The man in the kimono asked the latter with creased brows showing obvious confusion. “We worked at the SDF together. She was my partner before we were assigned to different segments, she’d be a good addition to the executives or militants.” He responded while putting in a good word for you. “Someone like her? An SDF officer? If you hadn’t told me, Aguni-san, I would have never known.” The man remarked crossing his arms over his chest while walking over to a desk which he leaned on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned with a scowl in his direction as your fingers fiddled with the ropes binding your wrists. You would be able to get out of them in a matter of minutes if no one noticed what you were trying to do, but it seemed the man in the white hoodie already noticed as he raised his brow in your direction with an impressed smirk on his stoic face. “A pretty, small woman like yourself...I would’ve thought you’d be tagging along with someone and not alone. Actually I would’ve thought you’d be dead by now, much less an SDF officer.” He commented with a wry smile fanning out all your cards which contradicted his statement.

“If my cards tell you anything, you should know you’re wrong,” you hummed, resuming your attempt to loosen the ropes. “Ah yes your cards,” he began while pushing himself off the desk and slowly pacing around the room, “we want you to become a resident at the Beach after seeing the cards you’ve gathered. And after learning of your pastime, you would be a great addition to the team either way.” Of course he would want you once he saw the games you had played, you were good at surviving meaning you’d also be efficient in getting him the rest of the cards. “And if I don’t want to become a resident?” You questioned poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue out of habit. You were doing just fine on your own and definitely did not need this place, however, it seemed like they needed you. Or they needed your cards more so than yourself.

“Well if you choose to stay, you’ll be able to get out of this game quicker. We have a theory that once we collect all the playing cards, one person will be able to go back to the normal world. And if you choose not to stay, well, you can walk away from here but we will keep your cards. We have gathered all the weapons in the city, we regularly gather rain water and food which the game makers seem to replenish once a week, you’ll be taken care of here.” He explained pausing directly in front of you waiting for a response. Did no one else see the problem with him? How he was manipulating everyone to get the cards under the false security that they’d get to leave too? Or was everyone here really THAT ignorant? “It seems like you take my cards either way hm?” You suggested in a hum cocking your head to the right slightly in question. “You’re correct. However, now you would be higher in the rankings and an executive after making such a great contribution and having the skill set you supposedly possess.” He told you in an attempt to persuade you into staying while adding a bit of sweetness to the word ‘contribution’. When you simply looked at him with a bored gaze, he sighed and continued speaking.

“If you decide to stay there are only three rules. 1) "always wear a bathing suit". This is to be sure no one is hiding any weapons which is why our militants don’t have to wear them if chosen to do so. Rule 2) "be free to live your life exactly as you wish including alcohol, drugs and sex" and the third and last rule: "death to traitors".” He enlightened you on the standards they lived by to help you make your decision. It didn’t seem like it would be a bad choice if you chose to stay here, you’d have food, shelter, and people you didn’t know in case you had to play another game of hearts.

“I’ll stay but I want my knife back, if I have to wear a bathing suit you’ll be able to see it anytime since I wear it on my thigh.” You compromised whilst completely freeing your hands from their bound position but still holding the rope to hide suspicions. You hated the fact you’d have to wear a swimsuit because your scars would be visible but if it meant you could have your knife, you’d be more than willing. Hearing a few chuckles resonate around the room at your demand you brought your attention to one of the men in the back of the room who had a bandage on his cheek and a black eye. It was easy to come to the conclusion that he was the one you punched earlier, and the thought of that made you smile with pride while looking at him.

“You are in no position to make demands, sweetheart,” he practically snarled at you. You hated being called sweetheart, it not only made you cringe but it infuriated you beyond measure. With a deadly glare, you let go of the rope and stood from the chair in a swift motion and threw the ropes at him without a word which said everything you needed to. However, just as he caught the ropes you could hear the door being slammed open followed by a voice which was all too familiar.

“The traitors are dead,” the unknown man announced in a tone of pride, kicking the door closed behind him. His voice instantly brought back memory after memory causing you to turn your head in shock in order to make sure you were hearing things correctly. The man you were looking at looked nothing like the one you once knew. This one had piercings on his nose and eyebrow while he sported an automatic rifle on his shoulder and a psychotic smile on his face. “Niragi?” You whispered in shock, still unable to believe your eyes. Was this the same boy you stood up for in high school? He looked so....different. What exactly happened to the sweet, shy boy you once fell in love with? “Y/N?” He questioned letting his mouth fall open the slightest but before he regained his composure. It was him, Suguru Niragi, the first and only man you’ve ever truly fallen in love with, but also the man who disappeared without a trace three years ago. You knew he had left you, it wasn’t hard to figure that much out, but you never knew why and quite frankly, you didn’t care anymore. You had moved on.

“Fantastic! Another one of our own knows this charming young woman, this will make things a lot easier. Niragi, you may take her to the locker rooms so she can change into some fitting attire then you can get her an ID bracelet and take her to her room.” The man who you noticed had a bracelet tagged 001, exclaimed with a clap of his hands as he was instructing Niragi to get you settled in. “She can do it on her own,” Niragi scoffed with a roll of his eyes which had you throwing your head back in a sarcastic chuckle. “I’ll take her,” someone insisted from the side. Glancing in the direction the voice resounded you noticed the short pale man with the silver hair stepping out towards you. He seemed oddly familiar as well but you couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s settled then. Now, my knife?” You quipped raising a brow at the ‘leader’ in the kimono just before someone came from behind you pressing a cold piece of metal to your throat while their other arm was holding your arms in place by your waist. The room went silent as everyone watched what was about to unfold in front of them, Aguni simply rolled his eyes with a sigh knowing what was about to happen. “You mean this knife?” The man teased, his voice was one you recognized from one of the two men that brought you to this place and all you wanted in that moment was to stab him for that. So, naturally, you settled for the next best thing. Pushing your head forward a little while trying not to move your neck, you watched Niragi’s expression as you threw your head backwards with all your force resulting in hitting the unknown man’s nose.

When the back of your skull came into contact with his face he immediately lessened his grip on you which allowed you to slip out of his grasp and take your knife from his hand. With your knife in hand, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it and bending his arm behind his back while your other arm placed him in a chokehold. You leaned in close to his ear as he was fighting your hold before pulling him back harshly, putting pressure on his windpipe, “Never, and I mean NEVER, touch my knife again. Got it?” You growled and if you were being honest, you would’ve intimidated yourself. You didn’t wait for a response as you pushed him forward only to watch him fall onto the ground with a soft thud. “Now,” you sighed looking up with a smile which could’ve been seen as both innocent or sinister, “let’s go,” you said slipping your knife into the holster on your thigh. The man with the white hair stepped forward with his hands in his pockets and came to your side, briefly looking at Niragi before turning his attention to you. “Let’s go, shall we?”

[gamergirl929]

They Hate Each Other (No They Don't, Not Really)  (Alex Morgan x Reader)

All would agree, your arch nemesis showing up absolutely anywhere you were would ruin your day, but that’s EXACTLY what happens to one veteran USWNT player, Alex Morgan, when she runs into her arch nemesis at the USWNT camp.

Alex Morgan’s eyes widen, pure rage running through her when you strut towards her, bag in hand.

“You shouldn’t look at your soon to be teammate like that Morgan, frowning gives you wrinkles.” You wink, the forward’s lip curling in a snarl.  

“What’s she doing-

“I DON’T KNOW.” Alex yells, nearly making Kelley jump out of her skin.  

Alex was absolutely livid, seeing you at the USWNT camp had been a surprise, and not a wonderful one.  

The second Alex spotted Vlatko Andonovski she advances angrily on the man, who’s looking at her as if he expected this reaction.  

“Alex-

“What the hell!? We’re you going to tell me? To tell US?!” She yells, louder than intended, but you’d riled her up in way no one had before.  

“I didn’t know you were the coach this year Morgan, if I did, I would’ve stayed home.” You snark, your smirk making Alex growl.  

“Shut UP!” She yells and you laugh.  

“We should room together Morgan, I think we’d make GREAT roommates.”  

Alex growls, mumbling under her breath.  

“It’ll be easier to smother you in your sleep then.”  

You smirk cockily.  

“Kinky.”  

Alex snarls angrily.  

“Listen.” Vlatko holds a hand up, glancing your way before turning back to Alex.  

“Y/N is one of the best players in the world, having her at our camp, and possibly on the team brings our team up to the next level. I saw a chance, and I took it.”

Alex shakes her head.  

“But-

He shakes his head.  

“I’m sorry Alex.” He pats her on her shoulder before turning away and walking off.  

Alex meanwhile is standing stock still, her mouth agape.  

Her biggest rival had just joined the USWNT camp, and would PROBABLY join the USWNT.  

She growls.

“Fuck.”  

                                                            ***

If you were being honest, you absolutely hated Alex Patricia Morgan, the woman knew how to push your buttons and she did so whenever she could.

You’d met during college, of course, on rival teams, ultimately where your rivalry began, a rivalry that seeped into your NWNT career, and when Alex came overseas, donning the Tottenham Hotspur’s jersey, you were there, wearing a red and white Arsenal’s jersey.  

Needless to say, when the two teams squared up, your rivalry continued.  

Alex hated you just as much as you hated her, making the competition between the two of you even more fierce.

It surprised literally EVERYONE that the two of you hadn’t killed one another yet.

At this current moment in time though, you were currently literal moments from killing one another.  

“I didn’t mean to step on your cleats Morgan, just go to the store when practice is over and buy another pair.” You snort.  

Alex lets out a feral growl.  

“You are SO fucking infuriating!”  

You blow the woman a kiss, which only infuriates her more, the woman stomping her foot before she trudges off.  

“Fuck off!” She yells over her shoulder and you scoff.  

“You too!”  

                                                            ***

Vlatko rubs the back of his neck watching as you and Alex hurl insults at one another. He’d known about your rivalry, but he wasn’t aware that it went to the extent of actual hatred.  

Alex was absolutely fuming as you walked past her, moments after sinking a goal in her team’s net.  

“Don’t look so mad Morgan, we both know I’m better than you could ever dream of being.”  

Alex stomps passed you, the woman’s shoulder slamming into yours.  

You flip around, eyes full of absolute fire.  

“Body check me again Morgan, I fucking dare you.” You growl in her face, so much so that your nose brushes hers.  

Alex pushes you backwards.  

“Nobody tells me what to do on MY FIELD.”  

You snicker.  

“Your field?” You throw your head back, barking out a laugh, though when you stop laughing you lean towards her, smirking.  

“Let’s see how much longer this field is yours, you numpty.”  

Alex growls as you walk towards the nearby benches with a confident strut.  

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!?”

                                                            ***

“I don’t get why you hate Y/N so much ANYWAY, she seems nice...”

The second the words leave Emily’s mouth she feels as if she’s about to burst into flames from the absolute fiery glare she’s getting from Alex.  

Kelley immediately slips in between Alex and Emily, her hands held up in surrender.  

“Jan, please don’t kill Emily, who else will carry on the Frat Daddy legacy!?” The defender asks, pleading for her child’s life.  

Alex snarls, stomping away from the two of them, all the while mumbling angrily under her breath.  

“Y/N NICE?! How could ANYONE put her and NICE in the same fucking sentence???” She snarls, deciding that some time on the field would clear her mind.  

                                                            ***

Though what Alex DOESN’T expect when she gets to the field is to find you there, the field between you and the goal littered with soccer balls.  

Alex ducks down when you turn her way, an aggravated snarl leaving you.  

“BLOODY HELL!” You yell, Alex’s eyes widening at the thickness of your accent.

She peeks out from her hiding place, watching as you drop down onto the pitch, sitting in a cross-legged position.  

Alex frowns when she sees your face is buried in your hands.  

“Fuck that shite.” You sigh as you move to your feet, wiping the sweat from your brow with your bare arm.  

Alex isn’t sure what possess her to stay for so long, but nearly an hour later you’re still on field, sinking ball after ball in different angles, it’s when you miss one that you angrily snarl.  

“Nothing but a right, cock-up!”  

Alex shakes her head, her brows furrowed.  

Why were you so hard on yourself after you’d done so well within an hours time?

Alex’s eyes widen when she sees you glance her way your brows furrowed.  

“Oi! Is someone there?!” You shout, standing stock still.

When no one replies, you give your head a rapid shake, unaware that Alex is currently sprinting away from the scene.

“Must’ve imagined it.”  

                                                            ***

Alex had seen how hard you were on yourself that day, but that in no way quelled her anger entirely considering you were at each other's throats after the fact.  

“You did that on fucking PURPOSE!” Alex growls as she’s helped to the bench, her leg injured from an accidental cleating by yours truly.  

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you jog over to the bench.  

“I didn’t!” You growl as you drop to your knees in front of her, the forward’s eyes wide and brows furrowed when you gently slip her cleat off her foot, along with her sock, now noticing the hints of blood dotting the fabric.  

“Shite.” You mumble, swiping the nearby first aid kit from the team’s doctor.  

“Yeah, I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t make you purposely bleed.”  

Alex watches in something akin to disbelief when you begin to clean her injury with a delicacy that she hadn’t seen from you in, well, ever.  

Your touch sent a jolt from her leg through her entire body, a warmth spreading throughout her from a delicate brush of your fingertips.  

Moments after you finished dressing her wound, you glance up at her.  

“This doesn’t mean I hate you any less.”  

You move to your feet, sending the woman a glare before you head back on field.  

“Don’t use your leg as an excuse for the shite way you’re playing, you know it’s just because I’m better than you.” You smirk cockily.  

Alex’s eyes narrow.  

“Better my ass.”  

                                                            ***

The first person who finds out about you making the USWNT, well, besides yourself, is Alex Morgan, considering you actively sought her out, a cocky smirk on your face.  

Alex sighs in annoyance.  

“I know you made the fucking team, go away.”  

You grin grabbing an apple from the table in front of you and take a bite, the apple crunching loudly.  

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be actually. Isn’t this where the USWNT members sit?” You grin, earning an eye roll from the forward.  

“Yes, but your seat is over there.” She nods towards the trash and you laugh, sucking a piece of apple down your windpipe, garnering no help from the woman beside you.  

“Blimey, let one of the ONLY reasons you’ll be winning any and all major tournaments this year die, real dull mate.”  

Alex growls.  

“I’m not, ‘dull mate.’” She says, doing her best to mock you and your accent.

Your eyes widen.  

“Oh my god, that was rank awful. That actually hurt to hear. My nan is rolling over in her grave right now.”  

Alex blows a raspberry at you.  

“Real mature love, real mature.”  

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” She growls.

“I’m busy bothering you right now.”  

Alex snarls, jumping to her feet and storming off.  

“See you later teammate!” You yell, waving over exaggeratedly at her as she marches off.

                                                            ***

Where your feelings for Alex, at least off the field, were based more off of annoying her until the point of insanity, your feelings for her on the field was a competitive hate, something Alex mirrored, but her hate for you off field?  

Well, it was complete unbridled hate.  

“Seriously, if you’re going to play like that, then stay off the field, England needs you more than we do.” Alex shakes her head and you smirk.  

“You over shot it! Not me!” You shake your head in disbelief.  

Alex lets out a mock laugh.  

“Maybe you should’ve actually ran faster.”  

You throw your head back with a groan.  

“If I was in your position, we would’ve scored.”

Alex stomps her foot, the look in her eyes something you’d seen before, but never to this extent.  

“You’re not made for the USWNT and you’re NOT made for soccer at a national level, you sucked in college, and you still fucking suck now.”  

The field goes silent, everyone turning to look at Alex, their eyes wide.  

Meanwhile, Alex’s blue orbs are locked on your face, a face that holds literally no hints of the cockiness it TYPICALLY holds, instead, it holds what she reads, as a hint of sadness.  

You clear your throat, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you nod.  

“Th-Thanks.”  

Alex reaches out to you as you turn your back on her, the woman frowning as you make your way towards the bench, grabbing your things hastily before you head towards the bus.  

Alex’s head hangs in shame, the looks of her teammates burning holes in her back.  

“Alex-” Megan starts, only to be cut off by the forward moments later.  

“I KNOW! OKAY!?” She yells, sending the rest of the USNWT a look.  

Her shoulders hunch.  

“I know.”  

                                                            ***

The second she steps on the bus you turn away, unwilling to look at the woman as she walks past, though, unfortunately for you, she doesn’t walk past, she instead sits right beside you.  

“Are you lost?” You ask, voice rough.  

Alex shakes her head.  

“No, I’m not.”  

You move to your feet.  

“Well, if you’re not lost, then I’ll get lost.” You say, frowning when Alex doesn’t move so you can get out of your seat.  

“Move Morgan.” You growl angrily.  

She shakes her head.  

“No can do, Y/L/N.” She shrugs and you growl, about to climb over the seat, but the look on Alex’s face stops you, causing you to flop back down into your seat in annoyance.  

“Why are you holding me against my will Morgan?” You huff.  

She sighs, rolling her eyes.  

“Look, I’m sorry, I took it too far.”  

Your eyes narrow, brows furrowing as you lean back, away from the woman.  

“There’s no WAY that you’re Alex Morgan, she never apologizes, especially not to ME.” You bark out a laugh and she shakes her head.  

“As much as it PAINS me to do so, I shouldn’t have said what I said on field, you do deserve to be on the team, and you don’t suck... That much.” She shrugs, and you can’t help but smile.  

You begin chuckling, the woman looking at you in confusion.  

“What’s so funny?”  

“Yeah, you still suck.”  

Alex growls.  

“Fuck you Y/N.”  

You grin.  

“Right back at you love, right back at you.”  

                                                            ***

The lineup for the first match against Portugal was rather surprising, you weren’t expecting to start, not when players like Megan Rapinoe, Tobin Heath and Christen Press were on the team, but you were named to the starting lineup.  

You wouldn’t show your surprise to the team, but you’d been sure to ask Vlatko multiple times if the lineup was correct, and he of course, told you repeatedly it was.  

You did your best to not look nervous when standing in the tunnel, a number of Portugal’s players were glancing your way worriedly, everyone knew who you were, and everyone knew what you could do.  

The crowd cheered as the USWNT and Portugal made their way onto the field, everyone excited to see the new editions to the USWNT and what they had to offer.  

You completely blank out the National Anthem, standing stock still your eyes darting around the sold-out crowd.  

It isn’t until you’re taking your place on field that you snap back out of it, your eyes unconsciously darting to the woman with a big 13 on her back.  

You smirk.  

“Show time.”  

                                                            ***

You can feel it, the moment you’re about to make your first goal with the USWNT, your entire body shaking with excitement.

Alex can’t help but smile when you expertly slip the ball passed the Portugal player who’s on you and fire it in on goal, the ball with a bit of a spin on it.  

You still, the ball looking like an overshot, but thanks to the spin on it, gravity pulls it downwards, passed the goalkeeper’s fingertips and into the back of the net.  

You throw a fist in the air with a massive grin, a grin Alex mirrors when she walks over to you, patting your back, her reaction tame considering Tobin was currently hanging off your back, along with Kelley and Emily.  

Alex shrugs.  

“Lucky shot.”  

You snort.  

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”  

Alex snorts even louder.  

“I mean, I DID assist.”  

You roll your eyes.  

“Didn’t need your assistance.” You smirk, the forward’s eyes narrowing as she sends you a glare, receiving only a wink in return.  

Alex growls.  

“Still so infuriating.”  

                                                            ***

By the end of the first half the score is 2-0, and by the end of the game, it’s 4-0, one of those goals being yours, and another belonging to Alex Morgan.  

It’s when you’re heading to the bus that you turn to Alex with a smirk.  

“Had to copy me, huh Morgan?”

Alex scoffs.  

“Copy? You got a goal before me, big deal.”  

Tobin shakes her head as she takes a seat beside Christen on the bus.  

“Do they argue about everything?” She asks and Christen giggles, watching as you and Alex bicker, though instead of sitting far away from one another, Alex sits right behind you.  

“I mean, I guess that’s how they say they’re into each other.”  

An incredibly loud laugh makes Christen jump, the woman turning to her bus buddy who is looking at her in shock.  

“They literally want each other dead.”  

Christen rolls her eyes.  

“No, they don’t, they like each other.”  

Ali turns around in her seat towards Christen and Tobin.  

“I mean, it’s obvious.”  

Ashlyn scoffs.  

“Obvious that Y/N would poison Alex’s food if she could.”  

Kelley, who comes in from out of nowhere snorts.  

“Yeah, I mean, they’ve hated each other since college, Jan talks about it all the time.”  

Christen and Ali share a glance, the two shaking their heads.  

“They’re totally into each other.”

“Oh, I know.”  

                                                            ***

“Wait, there HAS to be a mistake...” You say as Vlatko turns to you, Alex’s eyes wide and filled with absolute horror.  

“No, the two of you are rooming together. It seems.” He shrugs, knowing full well that it was he who decided the two of you would room together, and it wouldn’t be a onetime deal either.

The two of you glance at one another, eyes narrowed.  

“I get the shower first.” Alex mumbles and you smirk, swiping the key from Vlatko before sprinting to the elevators.  

“The FUCK you do!” You yell, Alex sprinting after you.  

“Y/N YOU GET BACK HERE!”

Everyone watches as Alex chases after you, their eyes wide.  

Tobin turns towards Christen.  

“You call THAT being into each other?”  

Christen turns towards Ali, the two yet again, shaking their heads.  

“Oblivious.”  

                                                            ***

“DON’T USE ALL THE HOT WATER!” Alex yells, smacking the bathroom door and you growl.  

The door swings open moments later and you walk out, wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of boxers.  

“Morgan, we’re in a hotel, that’s impossible.”  

Alex watches as you head to your suitcase, riffling through its contents.  

She can’t help but stare, the wide expanse of flesh and muscle usually hidden beneath your uniform now on display for her to see.  

You turn around, holding a wad of clothes, your brows furrowed.

Alex jumps when you reach out, poking her in the forehead with your index finger.  

“Hey!” She growls, slapping at your hand.  

“I just wanted to see if you were still alive.”  

Alex’s eyes rake down your front, stopping on your very prominent abdominal muscles.  

You turn away and step in the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind you.  

Alex stands there for a moment before she glances around.  

“Yeah.”  

                                                            ***

Alex had TRIED to tell herself that she was in NO way ogling you like a horny frat boy, but when you walked out wearing basically the same thing to sleep in, she knew she was, for a fact, ogling you like a horny frat boy.  

She’d made a quick retreat to the bathroom moments after, but she couldn’t avoid you forever.  

You meanwhile were completely sprawled out in bed, Nintendo Switch in hand. You briefly wondered if Alex had drowned, but when the bathroom door swung open you sighed.  

“I thought you might’ve drowned, I was going to see if you wanted to smash.”

Alex stops mid-stride, dropping her clothes on the floor.  

“WHAT!?”  

Your brows furrow as you hold your Nintendo Switch up.  

“Smash...?”

Alex clears her throat, her cheeks blood red.  

“O-O-Oh...”  

You snort.  

“Christ Morgan.” You shake your head and she rolls her eyes, stomping to her bed.  

“What?”  

You shrug.  

“Get your mind out of the gutter, at least now I know you want in my trousers.” You smirk and she snarls, a pillow flying from her bed and smacking you right in the face.  

“Fuck you.”  

“SEE!” You grin, throwing the pillow back on her bed.  

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

You shake your head.  

“Get over here and we’ll smash.” You hold a controller out to her and her eyes narrow.  

“Sure, you’re okay with losing?” She asks cockily and you grin.  

“Are you?”

Alex scoffs.  

“I’d never lose to you.”  

“We’ll see about that.”  

                                                            ***

“Why do you look so tired?” Kelley asks Alex the following day and the forward yawns.  

“Y/N and I were Smashing.”  

Kelley’s brown orbs widen, as do Alex’s the forward punching her friend in the arm.  

“Super Smash Brothers you bitch.”  

Kelley hums.  

“I mean I could see you and Y/N hate fucking each other.” She shrugs and Alex’s cheeks flush bright red.  

Alex punches Kelley in the shoulder, the defender groaning.  

“Jesus Christ, Jan. You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”  

Alex turns her attention towards her breakfast and away from the pouting defender beside her.  

Though you were absolutely irritating and Alex thought about killing you a total of 48 times last night, she enjoyed spending time with you.  

You yawn as you make your way towards the table, sitting across from Alex.  

“You have to get used to losing if we keep smashing every night.”  

Suddenly a plate falls to the table, hard, the sound making everyone jump.  

Tobin is standing beside you, her eyes wide, Ashlyn meanwhile is smirking as she sits down beside you.  

“Who’s smashing?” Megan asks and you roll your eyes.  

“Smash Bros.” You shake your head and Megan rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Boring, there’s only one Smash that’s actually interesting.”  

Tobin gasps dramatically, her hand on her heart.  

“I beg to DIFFER.”  

You shake your head, watching with amusement as the two bicker, leading to Ashlyn chiming in.

You glance at Alex.  

“You just HAD to tell everyone we Smashed.”  

Alex rolls her eyes.  

“Of course, I did, because I won.”  

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you sip your orange juice.  

“Like one time, Morgan.”  

Alex growls.  

“WELL, WE’LL SMASH AGAIN TONIGHT!” She yells, every single one of her teammates turning her way.  

Alex clears her throat, rubbing the back of her neck.  

“Are we talking about the SAME Smashing?” You smirk and Alex sends you a glare.  

“SHUT UP.”  

                                                            ***

Alex rubs her temples angrily.  

Playing in the rain had always been a hassle, but playing in the rain against SWEDEN was a nightmare.  

Sweden was the USWNT’s rival and the fact that the USWNT were currently down by 2 of COURSE, didn’t sit well with Alex Morgan.  

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half and Alex sighs in relief, she needed a break, not only for her tired legs, but to quell the irritation inside of her.

Someone bumps into her and she snarls.  

“Watch where the FUCK you’re going.” She turns towards, who she now realizes is you, you who looks as equally pissed as she does.  

“Listen Morgan, I’m seriously not in the fucking mood, I’m just as mad as you are, so don’t start your shit with me.” You snap, your USWNT teammates stopping to stare at the two of you with wide eyes.  

“Fuck you.” She snarls turning to walk away and you sneer.  

“Yeah? We’ll fuck you too!” You yell before you follow after her and into the locker room.  

“Why are you following me!?” She yells and you scoff.  

“WE SHARE A LOCKER ROOM.” You deadpan, flopping down on the nearby bench.  

“Well, you can still sit away from me.” Alex gripes and you shake your head.  

“I’m not moving Morgan.”

Alex, being purposely annoying sits down behind you, rather closely in fact.  

“Well, I’m not either.” She mumbles and you snort.  

“Mature Morgan, REALLLL mature.”  

                                                            ***

By the time the game ended the USWNT had a comeback, winning the game 3-2, much to Alex’s elation, as well as your own.  

That elation didn’t erase the fact that the two of you had argued during the match, the two of you cold, wet and incredibly angry.  

Alex is pulled out of her trance when the bathroom’s door in your and her hotel room swings open, a rush of steam flowing out as you leave the room.  

Alex glances away from you, not only because you’re, yet again, barely dressed, but also because she’s ashamed of her behavior earlier that day.  

You flop onto your bed without even looking at her, choosing to fall face down against its plush surface.  

You remain silent, the air within the room incredibly heavy.  

The silence is broken by Alex’s soft whisper.

“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”  

You remain silent as you roll over, your hand slipping into your suitcase.

You search blindly until you find what you’re looking for, holding the Nintendo Switch out to Alex.

“Smash?” You ask and Alex smiles.

“Smash.”  

Alex flops on the bed beside you, taking the controller she’d used a few nights prior.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m sorry too.”  

Alex’s brows arch, the woman unable to bite back a smile, something that makes you send her a glare.

“Enough of this shite, ready to lose Morgan?”  

Alex scoffs.  

“I should be asking you that.”  

                                                            ***

You grimace as the body beside you shifts, a pair of arms wrapping tightly around you from behind.  

“I’m not the little spoon.” You growl, attempting to wiggle free from the hold you’re in.  

“Get over it.”  

Your eyes flash open, as do Alex’s the two of you abruptly sitting up when you realize you’d in fact fallen asleep together the night before.  

You turn to face her, the two of you looking at one another in absolute horror.

“I was just-

Alex leaps out of bed, the woman making a beeline towards the bathroom the two of you share.  

You nod, your cheeks flushed.  

“Ye-Yeah.”

You clear your throat, turning away from the bathroom to instead look at the alarm clock beside you.  

3:13 AM

You grumble, annoyed at the fact that you’d woken up so early.  

If you were honest with yourself, you were also annoyed that Alex wasn’t currently beside you, but you weren’t really in the mood for honesty at the moment.  

You flop backwards, rolling towards the center of the bed where it just so happens Alex had been laying moments later, the smell of the woman’s perfume left behind on the sheets.  

You attempt to resist temptation, but find yourself failing when you bury your nose into the sweet-smelling fabric, the smell clouding your senses.  

The bathroom door creaks open sometime after, the sweet-smelling fabric lulling you to the cusp of sleep, as you fight your eyelids you watch as Alex tiptoes to her bed, the woman glancing over her shoulder at your ‘sleeping’ form with a smile before she makes her way to her own bed.  

She falls down onto the cold sheets with a frown, thoughts of what the following day would bring running through her head.  

                                                            ***

Much to everyone’s surprise at practice the following day, neither you nor Alex had been at one another’s throats, in fact, you’d been ignoring each other as if the other had contracted the Black Death.  

Even when you slip a ball passed Alex and into goal, you don’t gloat, instead choosing to just jog away as if you hadn’t scored.  

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Kelley asks, her eyes narrowed as she stares inquisitively at Alex.  

“What?” Alex asks dumbly.  

Kelley scoffs.

“THAT, Y/N didn’t even gloat! She didn’t rub in your face that she scored passed you!” Kelley points at you and Alex shrugs.  

“Beats me.”  

Kelley’s eyes narrow even further as Alex walks away, the defender’s eyes burning holes in her back.  

“I WILL FIND OUT WHAT’S GOING ON JAN!” She yells across field, drawing the attention of each and every one of her teammates, including you.  

You clear your throat, your cheeks flushing when you realize Alex’s blue orbs are on you.  

The two of you abruptly turn away from one another, thoughts of the events that transpired that morning running through your heads.  

You clear your throat as you rub the back of your neck, your cheeks flushing further when you think about Alex’s arms around you, and how much you’d liked it.  

                                                            ***

That night was even worse considering the two of you were still rooming together.  

Alex refused to look in your direction and you refused to look in hers, making the situation even more awkward.  

“Look.” Alex started, causing you to turn her way, when your eyes locked, she fell silent.  

“This was easier when you weren’t looking at me.”  

Your eyes widen momentarily before you turn away.  

“Alright Morgan, go ahead.”

Alex huffs.  

“I’m sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to, ummm...”  

You chance a glance her way, smirking when you see how flushed her cheeks are.  

“What?” Alex asks when she sees the smirk on your face and you shrug.  

“Nothing.”  

You fish your Nintendo Switch out of your bag and nod towards your bed.  

“Let’s go Morgan, or are you too shy to Smash now?” You ask, a brow arched and Alex scoffs.  

“Not a chance.”  

                                                            ***

It’s an hour into playing that it happens, though neither you, or Alex realized it was happening until your shoulders brush.  

You both stiffen, your eyes widening, though neither of you dare look at the other.  

Something else neither of you do though is scoot away from one another, your shoulders still brushing.  

You clear your throat, your body untensing as you settle back against the pillow behind you, the feel of Alex’s blue orbs boring into you making goosebumps sprout on your flesh.  

“Come on Morgan, head in the game.”  

You miss the tiny smile that adorns Alex’s face as she focuses on the screen before you, though what you don’t miss is the brush of her leg against yours.  

The inevitable of course happens when you feel Alex’s head rest on your shoulder, the woman fighting her fluttering eyelids.  

You glance at the nearly unconscious woman on your shoulder and snort.  

“Lay down Morgan.” You smile, the forward grumbling.  

“But I don’t want to get up...”  

You roll your eyes, taking her controller and laying your Switch on the table between your beds.  

You wiggle until your head hits the pillow behind you, which results in Alex’s head falling onto your chest, the forward’s eyes widening.  

You remain silent, waiting for her to make the next move, when she cuddles into your side, your cheeks flush, that flush spreading to the tips of your ears.  

“Is this, okay?” Alex asks in a hushed whisper and you smile.  

“It is.”  

                                                            ***

The two of you sharing a bed becomes a regular thing, so much so that Alex’s bed remains untouched 95% of the time, usually housing your luggage instead of Alex like it should be.  

The rivalry you had on the field soon disappeared, something that came as a shock to literally everyone, even Vlatko.  

You knew what you felt for Alex wasn’t friendship, it went well beyond that, your hatred for her turned into something you never ever expect, and that was love.  

You loved Alex Morgan and there was no going back.  

                                                            ***

You were pissed, absolutely pissed, and how could you not be when no fouls were being called against Canada?  

Fouls that were currently being directed at #13, Alex Morgan.  

You snarl when yet again, Alex is taken down in the box, but YET AGAIN, the foul isn’t called.  

“COME ON!” You yell, stomping towards the downed forward whose hand you take before you pull her to her feet.  

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly as you scan the forward who nods.  

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She smiles and you nod.  

“She better call the fouls or I swear-

The whistle blows and you growl.  

“Nothing but a right bitch that one.” You mumble before jogging away, missing the snort that Alex lets out, the forward shaking her head.  

Her cheeks flush from more than exertion when she realizes your anger that’s directed at the ref is because the fouls have been directed solely on her, considering she was the only one being fouled.  

And that was about to happen yet again, but this time, Alex wasn’t going to get up.  

                                                            ***

The look on your face was one of pure horror when Alex went down with a cry, the Canadian player’s cleats digging into her skin, soaking her socked ankle with blood.  

The whistle blows loudly, the ref finally carding the player who’d fouled Alex with a red card, but that wasn’t good enough for you, not when Alex was currently bleeding.  

Alex watches from her place on the ground as you advance on the player in red, landing a right hook that would make any boxer jealous, the woman falling to the ground with a thud.  

Time literally stands still, your knuckles throbbing in pain as the player cups her cheek, her eyes wide as she stares up at you in shock.  

“OFF THE FIELD! NOW!” The ref yells, the woman producing a red card immediately and holding it high above her head.  

“Bugger off, wanker.” You mumble as you make your way towards Alex, who’s currently surrounded by the medical team.  

“What the hell did you do that for!?” She growls at you and you frown.  

“I-

You glance around, watching as the Canadian player, you were so angry you didn’t know her name, is aided off field, the woman still clasping her cheek.  

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue.  

Deep down, you knew why your reaction had been so visceral, but you couldn’t tell Alex that could you?  

So instead, you decided to do the only thing you could do, and that was turn on your heels and sprint towards the nearest exit.  

                                                            ***

Alex frowns as you sprint towards the exit, leaving her and the team behind.  

The medical team hoists her to her feet, the woman limping off field, the fans clapping in respect for the USWNT player as the final whistle blows.  

The second Alex gets off field though she pulls away from the medical team, choosing instead to limp after you, the forward hoping she wasn’t too late and was able to catch you.  

Alex limped down the tunnel and rushed towards the nearest exit, hoping it was the exit you’d went through in your haste to put distance between the two of you.

She rounds the corner, a sigh of relief leaving her when she sees you marching down the sidewalk, away from her.  

“Y/N!” She yells, causing you to stop in your tracks.  

The dark clouds overhead that had been teasing rain all day had finally opened the proverbial floodgates, the soft sprinkles becoming somewhat of a downpour in literal moments.  

Slowly, you turn around to face the forward who’s advancing on you, the woman limping as quickly as she can, closing the distance between the two of you.  

You swallow hard, unable to look the woman in the eye as she tries catching your gaze,  

“Y/N?! What was that!?” She yells, pointing back at the field and you shake your head.  

“What was that!?” She yells again and you swallow hard.  

“She was on your ass the entire game Al, and no one was calling the fouls! I had to do something!” You yell over the heavily pouring rain, the nickname slipping unknowingly off your tongue.  

“That’s not your job, Y/N.” She frowns and you scoff.  

“So, I’m just supposed to watch her hurt you? Watch her make you bleed!?” You cry, the feel of frustrated tears welling up in your eyes.  

“Why does it matter so much to you!?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“Because I love you!”  

Alex stiffens, as do you, your eyes widening in horror when you realize what you’d just said.  

Your mouth opens and closes, the taste of bile on the back of your tongue as you take a step back from the injured USWNT forward.  

Alex reaches out for you, her fingertips brushing the back of your hand.  

“Y/N...” She whispers, taking a step towards you.  

You’re about to take a step back when she grabs your wrist, effectively holding you in place, you weren’t about to jerk away, fearful that you may hurt her.  

You swallow hard when she steps even closer, the distance between you closing as her chest brushes your own.  

“Say it again.”  

You shake your head as you turn away, though when Alex’s fingers intertwine with yours, you turn back towards her, the woman’s blue orbs focused on your hand in hers.  

“Say it again...”  

You shake your head, a lump forming in your throat.  

“Alex-

“Please Y/N.” She whispers as she tucks a strand of hair, that had been stuck to your face, behind your ear.  

You blink rapidly, Alex’s fingers tracing your jawline before she cups your cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you find your voice.  

“I-I...” You stammer, your eyes shutting as you swallow.  

“I love you, Alex, and I think I always have I just-

You stiffen, your eyes wide and hands hovering in the air as Alex’s lips meet yours in a tentative, first kiss.  

Just as your eyes flutter shut the team rounds the corner, their eyes widening before they turn Christen and Ali, the two smirking as they bump their shoulders together.  

“We told you.”  

Meanwhile your hands find purchase on Alex’s waist, the woman pulling back only to lean right back in, the brush of her lips sending a jolt throughout your entire body.

A crack of lightning makes the two of you jump, though neither of you pull back, your lips brushing as the two of you smile, toothy grins on full display.  

Alex’s forehead rests against yours, her hair stuck to her face thanks to the water entirely soaking the two of you.  

The reasonable members of the team usher the chaotics back into the arena, leaving you and Alex alone, the two of you so wrapped up in one another you hadn’t noticed them anyway.  

Your tongue swipes at your lips, your Y/E/C orbs focused intently on Alex’s.  

“When did you know?” Alex asks, her voice pulling you out of your trance, your cheeks flushing.  

“Know what?” You ask dumbly, earning a look that says Alex knows you’re just playing dumb.  

You sigh.  

“The first time you yelled at me during a match in college.”  

Alex’s brows arch.  

“It was cute.”  

Alex scoffs.  

“It wasn’t meant to be cute.”  

You shrug.  

“Well, it was to me, and I was right smitten.”  

Alex’s lips split into a massive grin, the woman leaning in to bump her nose playfully against yours.  

“Your nose crinkles up when you’re angry.” She giggles and you bite your bottom lip, your cheeks dusted pink.  

Alex tilts her head back, kissing the tip of your nose, your lips splitting into a grin.

“I guess we better get back in there...” Alex sighs and you huff.  

“I guess so.”  

Alex reluctantly takes a step back before she turns around, the two of you walking back to the door that led back into the arena.  

Before Alex can make her way through the tunnel, you grab her wrist, giving her a gentle tug until she’s back in your arms again, your nose brushing hers.  

“I never ACTUALLY hated you.” You whisper softly, giving her wrist a squeeze.  

Alex smiles, the forward closing the distance between you with a feather light kiss, her lips feeling as if they barely brush your own.  

“And I never ACTUALLY hated you either.”

You cup Alex’s cheek, the woman’s blue orbs disappearing behind her fluttering eyelids as she leans into your touch.  

It’s in that moment when you spot them out of the corner of your eye, a snort sounding in the back of your throat as you watch your teammates scramble to make themselves scarce.  

Alex follows your gaze, the woman rolling her eyes in annoyance when she spots your nosy teammates.  

“Idiots.”  

You wrap your arms around her from behind, pulling the woman close, your chin resting on her shoulder.  

“So, you yell at them, and I watch? I bet it’s even cuter when you’re yelling at someone else.” You grin, grunting when Alex elbows you in the stomach.  

“It’s not cute when I’m angry.” She pouts and you grin, shrugging.  

“Actually, it’s adorable.”  

Alex growls, a furrow forming between her brows as she tries, and fails to scowl at you.  

“Still so infuriating.” She grumbles, the woman about to turn away, but before she can you catch her lips, unable to bite back a smile as the two of you kiss.  

“I’m so infuriating, but you still smitten, aren’t you love?” You ask and she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushed red.  

She gives your shoulder a playful slap and you snicker.  

Looking into the pools of blue that are Alex Morgan’s eyes, you knew coming to the US was the best decision you’d ever made.  

You lean in, tilting your head back to press a kiss to her forehead.  

“What do you say we go kill our nosy teammates now?” You ask with a grin and Alex takes your hand, intertwining your fingers.  

“Lead the way.”  

[dammitolly]

Loki Imagine: "Starting Now"

tw: rather large age gap, swearing, major angst

fluff, angst

Loki x Stark!Reader

You were seventeen when you met Loki Laufeyson. And you must admit... you had a bit of a crush on him. He was being kept prisoner by S.H.E.I.L.D, his power too great and his blood lust overpowering. You found him... interesting.

It only took a couple of tries before Nick Fury found out you were spying on Loki. You would study his mannerisms. For a god, he was quite... human. But, that was before there was a code put on the door, one that was made to keep you away from him.

It had never been explained to you in detail exactly what Loki had done, and you were too busy doing other 17-year-old things to turn on the news. So, Banner kept you as distracted from the trickster god as possible, showing you anything and everything he could in the lab. But, you would occasionally see Loki being escorted to and from his cell, peering into the lab... grinning at you. You couldn't help it, you wondered what he was like... you'd also wondered what those beautiful black locks felt like through your fingers. But those thoughts were just fantasies... ones that would never come true.

You had never been close to anyone capable of that before, capable of killing. Let alone someone who had wanted to do it. But you were a fool... a child. You didn't understand Loki, you didn't understand what he'd done. Not that anyone had bothered to clue you in.

After things got out of control, Tony, your father sent you back to New York where you would stay with Pepper and train for the next three years. Where you would learn how to help your father. Learn how to be an Avenger.

You were nineteen when you saw him again. His hair had gotten longer and his face had aged, but the biggest change was that he was no longer considered an enemy of the Avengers. Now, he was simply accompanying his brother to the compound.

It was almost noon when you first woke up and began making breakfast. It was your day off and you were going to do your favorite activity: sleep.

"My, my" a velvet voice said from behind you, "look who grew up."

You didn't need to turn around to know who was speaking. You grinned and continued to smear butter on your toast. "For the God of Mischief, you really aren't very good at sneaking up on people."

You turned and threw the butter knife, it pierced the wall right above his head. He stood with his eyes wide, his shock was unjustified. For one, if you had wanted to hit him you would; two, he had to have known what you had been doing all these years, what your father required of you.

You took him in as he sauntered through the kitchen, leaning against the bar. He was in desperate need of a haircut, the black locks fell to his shoulders. He wore his traditional solid black suit, not a hint of color. Not even his signature forest green.

He looked tired... as if it had been not two years but twenty. Age had gone well with him though. He looked mature, as though the youthful pranks had stopped a long time ago, like the power-hunger had disappeared.

You smirked, "You've gotten old."

"Two years isn't that long, Y/n." He reached over his head and yanked the knife out of the wall, leaving a small hole. Pepper would kill you for that later. Worth it.

You took the knife from his hand. "It is when you're getting old and fat," you retorted.

Loki chuckled, "You are your father's daughter."

You rolled your eyes, "Did you need something? Or do you enjoy seeing the mental agony you inflict upon me?"

"Actually, I was looking for your father."

You pointed your knife towards the elevator at the other end of the room, "Lab. Lower level. You should be familiar with that wing." The wing he had been kept prisoner in. The wing you had strolled down almost every day when you were seventeen just to catch a glimpse of the handsome prisoner.

"Thank you, darling," he replied as he strolled over to the elevator. He smiled and gave you a wink before the doors slid shut. You rolled your eyes.

Darling? Absolutely not.

Dinner was the most awkward thing that you've ever been forced to sit through. The fear of Loki and his manipulation loomed over the table like fog. Steve was watching him like a feral animal that would attack at any second. As if he were a venomous snake ready to strike at any given moment.

"So," Thor cleared his throat awkwardly, "Y/n, your father tells me you've been training in New York. How's that going?"

"It's a lot of work but it's a nice way to spend time," you said through a bite of mashed potatoes. "Right now I'm focusing more on science so I can help Bruce and dad. But Natasha is really wanting to do more combat training with me."

"Y/n fights now?" Loki asked, grinning at you.

You shrugged, "Not much, but I could definitely kick your ass."

"Could you now? I suppose we'll have to put that to the test, won't we Miss Stark?" Loki said with a wink.

Natasha laughed, "Y/n is a bit too soft right now. Once she gets over her fear of actually hurting someone I think she'll be an excellent fighter."

"The knife she threw at me this morning must have been an expression of that fear."

"Y/n Stark!" Pepper said from the other end of the table, "You did not put that hole in my wall."

"He was annoying me!" You said defensively.

"He annoys everyone, you don't see Tony throwing silverware at his head."

"No he just blasts him to hell with his suits," you deadpanned.

Pepper looked at Tony. "You see where she gets it? I told you seventeen was too young for training. I told you that the violence would rub off on-"

"Can we not argue at the table, please?" You said, looking back and forth between your father and Pepper.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. But you're going to fix that wall young lady."

"Fine," you sighed with a roll of your eyes. You caught Loki grinning at you from across the table and went back to picking at your food.

"Here I was thinking we were going to have a civilized dinner," Loki chuckled.

Cap scoffed, "Civilized?"

"Cap," your father said with a warning tone.

"What?" Steve said defensively, "I'm just wondering where a murderer gets off saying anything about being civilized."

"That's rich coming from you," Loki retorted. "Do I need to remind you of all the innocents you killed in Sokovia? So many lives sacrificed in the name of doing the right thing."

"Brother!" Thor snapped.

"I'm just trying to level the playing field," Loki grinned. "If I'm going to be put on trial, perhaps everyone else should get off their high horse as well?"

"We have never been on the same level, Loki." Steve snapped, "You tried to conquer this planet. You lied, manipulated, stole, killed innocent humans. All because you wanted a power trip. That wasn't Sokovia, we thought we were doing the right thing, all you wanted to do was the wrong thing. All you wanted to do was kill."

"You speak as though I don't have the ability to change," Loki leaned his elbows on the table. "Isn't that what being on this planet is all about? Second chances?"

"Not for murderers," Steve spat.

You didn't know Loki well... but to the extent that you did know him, you knew that when he was embarrassed he also got angry and violent. But not this time. Loki was the picture of serenity and calm as he stood from his spot at the table. "I see how it is," he muttered, "I suppose I should have just stayed... gone."

With that... he left.

It was 3 AM by the time you left your room again. For no other reason than to break into Thor's cookie stash. He was convinced it was your father that had been stealing from him... wrong Stark.

You prayed that nobody would find you digging in the pantry for two reasons. One: Thor would kill you for stealing his snacks; two, you were in your underwear and a tank top. Anyone other than Pepper seeing you in this state would be humiliating.

But, of course, you can never get what you want. Behind you, you heard soft footsteps padding their way into the kitchen.

"I didn't realize you'd be awake," the masculine voice said from behind you. You turned and saw Loki, shirtless in low-hanging black sweatpants. You did your best to force your eyes away from the dark trail of hair below his belly button and into his pants.

As your eyes met his, you could see the light blush on his cheeks. Fuck, he'd caught you staring. He cleared his throat, "I just thought I'd make some tea. For some reason, I don't sleep well in Midgard."

"Perhaps it's all the memories," You muttered as he stood next to you at the counter.

"For christ's sake, Y/n," he slammed his mug down onto the counter, "I am not that person anymore, you know that."

"Do I?" You turned to face him, "You killed innocent people, Loki. You killed children-"

"I know what I did," he sighed, putting his head in his hands, "I'm trying to fix it. I want to be better than I was."

"Loki we can't just trust you," the tea was long forgotten at this point, the water had probably gone cold, "not after what you did."

Loki huffed and yanked the butcher knife out of the block, placing it in your hand. He wrapped his hand around yours and put the knife to his chest, only a little pressure would need to be applied in order for it to tear his skin.

"Loki, what are you-"

He shushed you, "I am literally putting my life in your hands. I want you to see that I am done hurting people, and if you killing me is how to prove it, then so be it."

You tried to pull away but he pulled you back in with enough force to make your knees buckle. You weren't looking at the knife against his pale, muscular chest. But his blue eyes that were begging you to acknowledge his sincerity.

Your grip on the kitchen knife loosened. It clattered to the floor as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his warm chest. "I don't want to hurt you," you whispered.

You felt him sigh in relief, "I don't want to hurt anyone either. If anyone here is willing to trust me, I want it to be you."

"Why me?"

He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands, "Because you are the first truly good person I've met on this planet. You give me hope, Y/n." He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"You don't have to be that person ever again, Loki," you kissed his Adam's apple gently, "I promise I will help you through this."

You felt him lean down slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you up to meet him. You immediately felt your breath hasten. You had been fantasizing about this moment since you were in high school... and now it was about to happen. Loki, God of Mischief, was about to kiss you at 3 AM in the kitchen of the Avengers compound.

Before you could take another breath, his lips were against yours. His lips were soft like you'd always imagined they'd be, and his mouth was hot like the rest of him. He groaned into the kiss when your tongue brushed against his. You raked your fingers through his hair.

He parted his lips from yours in order to lift you onto the counter, standing in between your legs, his hands trailing up your sides.

"Wait, wait," you gasped as you pulled your lips from his, "How do I know you're not about to use me?"

Loki smiled and tucked some stray hair behind your ear, "I'll never lie to you, my darling. I'll be good for you... starting now."

You pressed your forehead against his and kissed the tip of his nose, "Starting now."

[literaila]

sweet sweet relief

spencer reid x reader

request: do a Reidxreader where the reader is hotch’s younger sibling? They’d be new to the bau and hotch is over protective and reluctant to let them do anything. Due to their young age they get super close to Reid, maybe fluffy or angsty? Thank you!

Warning: angsty (kinda), BAU stuff...

The first time Y/N had met the team they could barely tell the two of them were related. 

They were nothing alike. 

It wasn't even just outside appearances, they were different, in character, in shape, in every form possible. 

Aaron Hotchner was calm and quiet, he was known to be stern and sophisticated, he worked actively to stay in control. He was cautious and careful. He was the epitome of undisturbed.

Y/N Hotchner was not. 

She was feisty and stubborn, and she would rather argue with someone than submit to them, and she was lively and sarcastic and known to be impatient. 

There were barely any similarities between the two. 

But they were both smart, and they both had a mindset for justice, both believe that everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, that everyone had a right to feel safe in their world. They both believed that by removing just a little bit of the darkness within the world, just a little bit, it would make everything brighter.

But besides that, they were two completely different people. 

It was a surprise to everyone that they were related. 

That two people so completely different could share the same DNA. 

So when Y/N walked into the conference room, a little later than Hotch had requested, all of his team members shared confused glances at the smirk Hotch had on his face, at the almost-hug he had given this girl. 

She looked far too young to be his girlfriend. 

Hotch turned around to 6 pairs of confused eyes, 6 people with questions, 6 people who looked very very intimidating to Y/N.

 She’d heard all about Aaron's team, she’d heard about the lovely technical analysis, the eldest profiler who had a kick for jokes, she’d heard about Derek, the strongest member of the team, she’d heard about Emily and her history in crime, JJ who’d been the top in her class, and the genius who was only 3 years older than her. 

She’d heard about all of them. 

That didn't mean she was any less nervous to meet them. 

And with the way they were looking at her like they already wished she was gone, her nerves shot through her body. 

She couldn't help but turn to her brother, her eyes cast downward, and hope that he knew she needed help. Hoped that he knew her just enough to know when she was nervous. 

“This is Agent Y/N Hotch. Strauss assigned her as a new addition to our team.”

There was more collective confusion around the room. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asked, Y/N looked up at him, to see him frowning at her, she wondered why he cared that much, wondered why he was bothered by her, why he looked like he could tell exactly what she was thinking.

“Yes.” she answered back quickly, and sternly, like she was telling him as a favor, “Aaron is my brother.” 

There was a gasp from across the room. 

A blonde woman, with bizarre earrings and questionable clothes, walked over to Y/N, a wide smile on her face as she looked at Hotch with hopeful eyes. 

“Sister?” she asked, almost like she was being given a gift Y/N thought. 

Hotch only nodded. 

Her smile got wider. 

She embraced Y/N, pulling her into a quick hug like they’d known each other forever. Y/N felt some nerves escape her at the hug, at least one person didn't hate her already. 

“Hotch didn't tell me he had a sister, it makes sense though, you’re so pretty.” She pulled back to smile at Y/N, she had bright energy, one that reminded Y/N of a friend back home, her smile was contagious. 

“Y/N, this is Penelope Garica, the technical analyst I told you about.” 

“It's lovely to meet you.” Y/N said laughing, as Penelope pulled her into another hug, she already had a special place in her heart for the blonde. 

“You have a sister?” Derek asked, and Y/N looked over Penelope’s shoulder to see his face much more relaxed, less threatening, she immediately placed him as the man Aaron had told her about, the strong one. 

“Yes, I do. I never told anyone for security reasons, and there's never been a need to bring it up.” Hotch looked at his little sister with pride, he was glad she was there, glad he was going to get to spend some more time with her, glad she had made it so far so early in her career. 

“Plus, he didn't want to brag.” Y/N teased, making eye contact with Derek as a way to say she didn't mean any harm, as a way to let him know she wasn't going to be a problem. 

He smiled at her. She smiled back. 

“I’m Derek Morgan.” 

After that, three other people came up to her, with warm smiles, all introducing themselves, JJ who seemed warm and paternal. Emily, who looked to Y/N like a rebel at heart, she smiled a little extra at that. And Rossi, who immediately told her she was a part of the family, “Any family member of Aaron’s is a family member of ours.” 

It felt strange to be accepted by all of them so quickly, strange to feel so comfortable so quickly. 

And then she was introduced to Spencer. 

It took her heart a moment to force her to move. 

She’d heard about Spencer, the man who was closest to her age, the smartest man Aaron had said he’d ever met, the Doctor with three PhDs. 

He was utterly attractive. 

Nerves shot up and down her body, reminding her of the fear she had prepared herself for, though this time it was a different type of fear. 

She had not prepared for soft brown eyes and messy hair. 

She had not prepared for him to be anything like he was. 

Fuck. 

He was exactly her type. 

She shyly smiled at him, and he waved, just waved, unlike the handshakes she had gotten from everyone else, something in her mind was telling her not to question it. 

With a blush on her cheeks she looked away, she looked away and reminded herself that she was there to work, that her boss was her brother, that even if she did immediately want to know everything about the doctor only ten feet away from her, that this was work. 

She stayed silent for a couple of moments. 

Her brother announced it was time to get started on the case.

***

It had taken a couple of weeks to get used to the job. 

Aaron had warned her as much. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he’d asked as soon as she’d announced she was moving out to Virginia, moving to work with the FBI. Y/N had taken it as judgment, she thought he didn't think she could do the job, didn't think she was strong enough, didn't think she was mature enough to handle the BAU. 

She’d immediately run to her own defense, “I’ve been sure for almost 3 years Aaron.” 

“No, Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. It's just… this job takes a toll on a person. Are you sure you want to do it?” 

There hadn't been a doubt in her mind, had not been a moment of hesitation, a moment of wondering if she was really strong enough, if she really dared to do what her brother did every day, there was never a question of if she thought she could do it. 

It hadn't even taken her a moment to answer yes. 

But, this time, Aaron had been right. 

Seeing dead bodies, learning about different methods of insanity, diving into the mind of people who were sadistic, not saving everyone. It was all heartbreaking. 

And exhausting. 

Y/N was starting to understand what her brother had meant, what he was thinking of when he said it took a toll on people, she was starting to wonder how he dealt with it, how he went every day being the boss and not breaking down while dealing with what they dealt with. 

She was starting to wonder how they all dealt with it. 

Most days, none of them seemed bothered, none of them seemed to mind any of it. She tried to remind herself that they had all been doing it a lot longer than she had, that they had seen everything a million times, that they had gone through the worst things she could imagine. It didn't help her feel any better. 

She wasn't going to quit though, she could feel it in her blood, in her heart, that she was doing the right thing. That this is what she was meant to do, that no matter how many people died, no matter how many terrible people there were, she was saving someone's life. 

And she was good at it. 

She kept her head held high and tried not to show any hesitancy. 

The night right after the case, one that had been particularly different from the others she’d seen, she felt practically dead on her feet. She wondered if she’d have to get used to the constant sleep deprivation. 

It was late that night when she overheard Spencer talking to JJ, who looked about five seconds away from becoming the next unsub. 

Y/N laughed behind them and wondered what he was talking about. 

In the 6 weeks she’d been there she’d gotten close to most of them, she’d learned about their lives, about the way they worked best, she learned how smart they all were, how amazed she was by them. But she hadn't gotten the chance to speak that might to Spencer. 

Maybe she didn't want to. 

Maybe she didn't want to feel herself slip under the coworker crush that she was familiar with, maybe she didn't want to learn about him, things about him that she would think about constantly, maybe she didn't want to get close to him in fear that someone might notice how taken back she was by him, maybe she didn't want her brother- and her boss -to find out about the crush she had on him. 

Maybe. 

Maybe all she wished for was some relief from the overwhelming feelings she felt for him.

She was thinking about him, thinking about ways to accidentally eavesdrop on the two of them without looking suspicious, when JJ noticed her. 

“Oh hey, Y/N” JJ looked exactly how Y/N felt. Her eyes were practically closed. 

Y/N pretended not to notice the way Spencer looked away from her. 

“Hey,” she said quietly, giving a little wave as she walked to the elevator doors. Home. That's where she wanted to be. 

“Spencer was just inviting me to a movie he recorded at his apartment that he was going to watch-” JJ said, as Spencer tried to interrupt her, she just gave him a stern look when he tried. “-but I need to get home to Henry, so maybe you could go with him instead?” 

There was a gleam in her eyes and a smirk on her mouth, if Spencer and Y/N both weren't so obvious they would’ve known what she was doing.

The team had been trying to set them up for a month. 

Y/N just stared confused, nerves running up and down her spine reminding her to breathe. She suddenly felt wide awake. 

Spencer just looked conflicted. 

‘Um- yeah” he cleared his throat, running his hands over his hair and down to his neck “yeah- you could come... Yeah.” he said, moving to glare at JJ for a moment, JJ who was smiling wide, knowing that Spencer would never take back the invitation- especially not for a pretty girl. 

“Oh.” Y/N jumped in surprise, her heart was beating faster at the prospect of going with Spencer, and while she knew that he had not technically invited her, she still felt her body practically shout with excitement. “Yeah, of course, I’d love to.” she stopped for a moment trying to collect herself, trying not to look as surprised as she felt, “if it's alright with you.” 

They all stood there in the elevator, listening to the quiet hum of the machinery, two of them looking awkwardly at the ground, both of them full of nerves, one of them smiling between the two of them. 

As the elevator finally came to a stop Spencer spoke up again. 

“Yeah, if you want I could- you could just- follow me… if you want.” 

Y/N nodded quickly, not used to Spencer talking to her directly. 

JJ smiled just a little bit wider, just a little, and waved them both goodbye, turning around before saying “I’ll let you both deal with that.”. 

She couldn't wait to tell Penelope. 

And then there were two.  

Two, very socially inept, nervous, people. 

***

Spencer's apartment was just as Y/N had expected it to be, it was small and warm, and there were a million lamps all around the space. It was filled to the brim with bookshelves, at least 5 of them all around the room making it look smaller than it was. In the corner of the room there was a small couch and a tv, Y/N could see books spread all over the coffee table, and multiple mugs sitting around the room. 

It felt like his home. 

Y/N adored it. 

Though Spencer looked around nervously, his eyes uncomfortably noticing all of the things he’d forgotten to pick up, all the books he’d left out. 

“So um- this is it.” 

Y/N giggled a little at that. 

Her car ride over there had been filled with doubts and insecurities, she had noticed how distant Spencer had been with her, how little effort he had made to get to know her. Out of all of her new friends he was the least welcoming. 

She still felt drawn to him. She still felt like she needed to get to know him. 

It was the craziest feeling. 

On her way over she had decided she would get to know him, just so she could count herself as a friend, just so she could start looking past him, start looking at everyone else instead of constantly being focused on him. 

“Okay. Do you have popcorn?” Y/N said breaking the silence they had been surrounded in. 

It earned Y/N her first smile. 

She was amazed. 

She wanted to keep making him smile. 

Spencer gestured for her to follow him to the kitchen while he put a bag of something- which she assumed was popcorn as she had asked -in the microwave. It felt just a little bit more comfortable now, almost like they weren't going to have the worst time together.

“So uh- how are you um-” Spencer cleared his throat, clearly out of his bounds. “How are you enjoying the BAU? I knew that- um- when I first started I was really nervous.” 

Y/N felt a bit darker at his words. Did she tell him how she really felt, about the doubts she’d been having? Or did she lie through her teeth? Lie to the man who had given her his first smile, lie to the man who had invited her over? 

Turns out she didn't have to answer that question, as Spencer answered it for her like he did most questions. 

“Oh no. Did I- um… Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry I didn't mean-”  

“What?” she said quickly “No you didn't say anything wrong…” 

Spencer stared at her, waiting for her to continue, he felt like she had more to say. 

“It's just I… I don't know I’m just not-” she threw her hands up and sighed, surprised by her own reaction, she didn't want to throw all of her problems at Spencer, especially when it was their first time even having a full conversation out of work. 

“Is there something wrong?” he said quietly, trying to read her body language to gauge her reaction. 

“I just-” she sighed again and put her head in her hands. “I can't explain.” 

Spencer nodded. He just stared at her a little bit longer, he had read somewhere that if you leave silence between conversations, most of the time the question would be answered all on its own. 

After a couple of seconds waiting he could clearly see this wasn't the case with Y/N. 

“Okay. What if I ask questions… and you answer?” 

Y/N looked up, “like an interrogation?” 

Spencer smiled a little bit and nodded, he was glad she seemed open to the idea. 

“Okay.”. 

They spent the night like that, Spencer had learned all about Y/N just through asking questions. 

The movie was forgotten. 

Y/N had come clean about her worries, about her hesitations with their job, Spencer had practically pulled the truth out of her after seeing past all the empty answers she gave his questions. 

It was infuriating how much he could read her. 

Eventually, they had switched, and Y/N had asked the questions for a little while. 

She had learned about Spencer's mom, had learned about his love for all things sweet, had learned about his favorite books, and had learned a lot more about practically everything than she ever had in school. 

It was almost addicting. 

They switched back and forth for hours, eventually moving to the couch, asking each other questions and laughing. 

It was almost two in the morning. 

Earlier Y/N had felt like she was going to fall asleep standing. 

Now she felt wide awake. 

She thought about how the morning would turn out, how much they both needed sleep, and eventually said, “I should probably go.” 

The smile Spencer was wearing fell just a fraction of an inch, and Y/N immediately felt terrible. 

“I think we both need some sleep.,” she said, trying to communicate that she didn't actually want to go, but she definitely didn't want to fall asleep at her desk the next day. 

Spencer walked to the door and smiled. 

He smiled. 

She wondered how hard it was going to be to stay away from him now. 

***

“Aaron she was going to die!” 

“Y/N, you can't throw yourself into situations like that.” 

A year later she had no doubts about her job. 

No hesitations. 

Nothing but the need to save as many victims as possible. 

Cases in Virginia were always the most stressful, with Strauss breathing down their necks, the media wanting to know everything about the FBI that was located in the state. 

They all hated it. 

They much preferred to go out of state, somewhere with none of their families, none of their problems constantly chasing them down. It was always so much calmer when they weren't home. 

Always so much easier. 

And maybe running directly into danger wasn't the best way to relieve stress. 

Y/N knew that. 

But she also knew how scared that girl must have felt, she knew how deadly the gun in the unsubs hand was, and she knew that it was her job, not just as an FBI agent, but also as a person, to do something. To do anything to save a little girl's life. 

She wasn't going to stop to think about her own life in a moment like that. 

She had rushed into the house, rushed into the place where so many other little girls had died, rushed into the place with a man almost three times her size, a man who was holding a gun. She wasn't going to risk that little girl's life. 

And she was fine, and that little girl was alive.

To her, that was worth more than a million praises from anyone. 

It wasn't enough for Hotch though. 

The minute they had gotten back to the office, the second Y/N had tried to sit down at her desk, the minute she had tried to say anything to Spencer, that was the minute Hotch pulled her away, furious, into his office. 

She already knew she was in trouble. 

He had sat her down, he had repeated exactly what he had said when she arrived at the unsubs house, alone, he repeated his exact orders to her, repeated the orders that she had deliberately disobeyed. 

“Aaron. She needed my help!” 

“Y/N you can't risk your life! And you definitely can't ignore a direct order.” 

Both of them had scowls on their faces, and at that moment they looked exactly like siblings, looked so similar it was hard to tell them apart. 

The rest of the team was sitting in their desks, listening to them fight, pretending to be filling out late reports, but mostly listening to the two siblings fighting. 

Garcia was standing outside the door, waiting for something to happen. She didn't want anything bad to happen to her best friend. She didn't want them to fight at all. 

Spencer nervously looked from the door to his desk over and over, waiting for one of them to walk out, waiting for the yelling to continue. He knew that his girlfriend was probably freaking out internally, trying to control her anger as she had to do many times with her brother. He knew that what she needed right now wasn't a reprimand, what she needed was reassurance. He had no idea how he could get that to her. 

“Aaron. I am good at my job. I got her out of there. Safely.” Y/N said sternly, refusing to back down, even for a moment, refusing to admit that what she did was reckless, refusing to admit her life meant anything more than that little girl. 

“But at what cost Y/N? What if you had gotten hurt-” 

“I didn't.” 

“Or died? What would that mean for us?” He asked, looking at her, his eyes hard and unmoving. 

Their stubbornness was always something they had shared. 

“Aaron. I knew what I was doing. I had to save her.” 

“It was reckless Y/N.” 

“Maybe it was. Maybe, it was. But I’m fine, she's fine, we’re all fine.” she reassured him by gesturing to the door, why didn't he understand that she couldn't not go in there?

“I can't have you acting like that. I can't have you not listening to my orders.” 

“Is that what this is about? Me disobeying you?” Y/N asked in shock, shock because it almost felt like he was trying to control her, trying to show her that he was still older than her. “Because news flash Aaron, I’m not some little kid you’re in charge of anymore.” 

“I’m your boss.” 

“I had to do it!” she said finally. 

“It was stupid. It was stupid and reckless, and I have no idea what you were thinking.” His words were final and stern. His face was angry, and he was clenching his fists. It looked like he wanted to say more but Y/N wasn't going to let him. She wasn't going to let him call her names, and treat her like she wasn't an adult.

Y/N was done, she was done trying to be calm, done trying to keep all her feelings hidden deep in her chest, done trying to pretend she didn't want to throw something at him, she was done. 

“I’m not a little girl Aaron!” she yelled at him, walking away. “I can take care of myself, and I know what I’m doing. Maybe that's not good enough for you, but it's good enough for me.” 

And she threw open the door, too angry to care about Penelope who was standing shocked in front of her. She rushed to her desk and started throwing things in her bag, mumbling under her breath. 

“Y/N?” Someone said from behind her. 

She sighed. 

“What Spence?” she said quietly, feeling like giving up. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, grabbing her arm and trying to get her to look at him. If she looked at him he would know how she was actually feeling, without having to guess. 

She looked up and studied his eyes. 

“He's being ridiculous!” she whisper-yelled looking back down at her desk. “I did the right thing and I’m fine. He's just mad because I didn't listen.” 

Spencer watched her for a few moments. 

“Maybe he's right,” he said quietly, his eyes looking worried and surprised, surprised because he hadn't meant to say the words out loud. 

Y/N’s head snapped up. Her eyes looked deadly. 

“What?” she said quietly, more quietly than she had been in the past 10 minutes. 

“Y/N I just think that-” 

She cut him off. “No Spencer. You’re supposed to take my side. You’re supposed to have my back. Jesus-” she said sadly grabbing her bag from her desk and throwing it over her shoulder. “You’re my boyfriend and you’re supposed to support me.” 

“Y/N I do I just-” 

He couldn't get anything else out. 

“You’re supposed to support me,” she said desperately, giving him one last look, one filled with anger and doubt and sadness, and all the feelings she had no idea how to express, she gave him one last look and 

She walked out the door. 

***

Driving was a helpful coping mechanism. 

Driving helped Y/N ease her mind. Helped her think things through. 

She knew she shouldn't have yelled at Aaron and Spencer like that, she knew she had overreacted. And she knew that to some degree they were right. 

She hated how protective both of them were. 

She loved how protective both of them were. 

It was a difficult car ride, she was doubting herself, doubting her instincts, doubting her efficiency as an agent, doubting if her brother and boyfriend believed in her. 

She knew she overreacted. 

But Aarons words had hurt, he had insulted her, and even if he’d had reason to, it still hurt her feelings. 

Spencer was a different story. She’d automatically assumed he would agree with her, would agree that the little girl's life was worth more than any risk, would agree that Hotch was being harsh. 

She’d forgotten how angry he could get when she ran right into danger. 

She was driving and her palms were sweaty, and her stomach was being attacked by anxiety, and she had no idea how to talk to either of them. 

All she knew was that she had to. 

She had to get over her feelings, she had to think about them.

So she drove back. Slowly. As slow as she could go, but she drove back. 

When she parked her car she felt like turning around, she felt like a little kid again about to go tattle on her brother to her mom, felt like she was the victim and the abuser all at once, and felt an overwhelming amount of emotions fill her to the core. 

She walked inside. It took her a moment to remember how to get back to her desk. 

It was irresponsible for her to leave in the first place. 

When she walked through the doors of the BAU you noticed Spencer's absent desk, she noticed her other coworkers staring at her, their eyes a bit hopeful. She looked at them confused. 

“Reid went to the bathroom. Don't worry pretty girl, he didn't leave.” Morgan said, reading the question in her eyes, watching her exhale in relief. 

She smiled at him and walked towards Hotch's office. 

She had been gone almost 2 hours, and technically she knew that everyone could have leftover half an hour ago, but she also knew all of them, and she knew how late they’d stay. 

She knocked on her brother's door, regret pooling at her stomach, air filling her head. 

There was a quiet “come in” from the other side.

She peeked inside his office, saw him scribbling on a piece of paper, and as soon as he looked up Y/N felt a million times smaller. She always felt smaller when she was in trouble. Though when she looked at her brother's eyes all she could see was relief. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, looking back down at his papers, clearing his throat, clearly a sign that she could come in. 

So she did. 

She walked over to his desk and sat in one of his empty chairs. She watched him write for a minute, thinking of something to say, thinking about all the times she’d had to apologize to him in the past. 

“Aaron.” 

“Hmm?” he said looking up at her again. 

“I’m-” she paused, paused, and took a deep breath. He deserved an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

She saw his jaw twitch, saw a flicker in his eyes, saw a drastic change in posture. 

“I know,” he said. 

She sighed in relief. She knew he wasn't mad anymore. 

“I know I overreacted. I know it was stupid what I did. I won't do it again, I just- I just had to do something. That's all.” She hoped that was a good enough explanation, hoped it would make him forgive her, hoped her mistake could cost her in the future. She looked down at her hands, not wanting to see his reaction. She hated apologizing.

“It wasn't stupid,” Hotch said, putting his pen down. She looked up at him slowly. 

“What?” 

“It wasn't stupid. I’m sorry I said that. I understand what you had to do.”

More relief, making its way up her feet, and into her stomach, relief filling her chest with cool air, seizing the fire of anxiety in her chest. Sweet, sweet relief. 

“But that doesn't mean you can ignore my orders” He added, and Y/N felt herself smile. He was teasing her, she saw a glimpse of the brother she used to- still -idolized. 

“Sir, yes sir,” she whispered, moving to stand up. She had another person to apologize to. As she walked away her brother spoke again, 

“Y/N?” she nodded, looking back at him. “Don't be too hard on him,” he said gesturing outside, where Spencer was back at his desk, staring at the bag on top of Y/N’s. 

She smiled at him and looked over at her brother. “I won't.” 

She almost walked away again “Aaron, you should go home.” he looked back up at her “go say hi to my nephew for me. “ 

And with that, she walked out the door, walked away too fast to see him smile at her. 

The relief was invading her brain, making her next decisions for her. 

She would have to thank it later. 

She walked out the door and over to Spencer's desk, Spencer who looked surprised she was actually there. 

She grabbed his arm and pulled him up. 

“Hey-” 

She kept pulling him, moving both of them into an empty storage room, while the rest of the team laughed at her antics. 

As soon as she made it into the small space with him, as soon as he looked down into her eyes, his face entirely a question, her nerves entirely seized. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Spencer frowned at her. He frowned and opened his mouth in a silent question. 

“I’m sorry for overreacting. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you. It was unfair.” She said, searching his eyes for forgiveness. 

They didn't fight often, barely fought at all, but every time they had she had always found the answer to her problem in his eyes. His eyes seemed to know everything. 

She wondered if they knew how much she loved him. 

“No, Y/N I should’ ve-” 

She pulled him into a kiss, resting her hands in his hair as he moved his to her cheeks, as she held her apart as she kissed him, her lips an entirely different apology of their own. 

Sweet sweet relief. 

When she pulled back, just enough to see his face, she watched him sigh in bliss, watched the tiny smile on his face, watched his eyes open with amazement. 

She wondered when she had last kissed him like that. 

It seemed like too long. 

She pulled him back in, giving him small pecks on his lips, and then his cheek, and then his neck. Smiling at the way he giggled when she tickled him with her hair. 

“Y/N?” he said after a moment, his voice warm. 

She looked back up at him to smile, to smile and peck his lips once more as an answer. 

“I think I’d like you to take out your anger on me just a little bit-” 

She cut him off with a kiss. 

Sweet sweet relief.

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