#I started writing it kind of late at night and ended up going to bed early morning so it might not be very clean

[ultralightpoe]

Slim Pickens - Tyler Owens

Authors Note: Not me writing this smut on election day..... anyways enjoy! Cause I have no clue what happened to me.

Word Count: 5080

Warnings: SMUT, stranger tryna get laid and Tyler not having it.

Requests: OPEN

Main Masterlist ~ ~ Halloween 2024 Event

[Thank you for the gif @chrishemsworthsbitch ]

Enjoy!

“Guess I'll end this life alone

I am not dramatic

These are just the thoughts that pass right through me”

-

There was a simple saying that been passed down from generation to generation, and you knew it all too well. 

‘No use crying over spilt milk’. 

Your grandma used to say it whenever you had boy problems back in middle school and your mother took up the saying when you went on to middle school and in both of these stages in your life you hadn’t quite understood what they meant. 

Now, sitting cross legged on Tyler Owens hotel floor as he repeated those very words to you, you knew them all too well. And by the look of his smug smile in your direction as he got ready for the day you knew he knew his words struck a nerve. 

“Now don’t get cranky at me, sweetheart.” He warns, pointing at you as he kicks his boots closer to the bed so he can sit on the end of it to put them on. “I warned you he wouldn’t be worth it last night when you left.”

The ‘he’ in mention was some guy named Jake that you had matched with on Tinder last night, and who you had dumbly agreed to meet up with. It had been a long week of storm chasing and dealing with Tylers crappy music in the truck and you just wanted to relieve some pressure. 

“He quoted shakespeare.” You try to defend only for him to laugh at you. 

“You sleep with every guy that quotes shakespeare?”

“Guys who quote Shakespeare are hotter than guys who haven’t touched a book in their life!” You snap back. “And-”

“It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” He interrupts, shoving his feet into the boots with a small look in your direction. But you were too focused on staring at the floor from exhaustion. 

“Mkay Yoda.” You sigh and his hands fly up in the air from lack of belief. 

“Seriously?”

“And I mean he was hot.” You continue, falling back to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling as he finishes with the boots and moves to get his bag together. “Honestly he kind of reminded me of you. But then he had to talk. And he just kept ruining it.”

“How so?”

“He was all ��You ever seen a jet, Sugar’? And can’t forget ‘There is almost nothing better than the high feeling of flying through the air….almost.’ And it was-” You finish off the sentence with a loud groan as you slap your forehead making him laugh. 

“Did he not know what you do for a living?”

“Oh, you mean chase storms and kill them? No. Why would he? That would involve him asking me a question.” You seethe before Tyler comes into view, standing over you with that smug smile you hated and loved so much. 

“Alright, come on Sugar. It’s time to go.”

“Tyler, I’m gonna die alone.” You groan, closing your eyes before covering your face. He is having none of it though, reaching down to grab at your forearms, hauling you up with an ease that makes your skin flush. His hands are warm on your skin and the way his thumbs circle your flesh has images of your nasty daydreams flashing through your mind. 

“Enough of that mopin’. We got storms to chase and I ain’t got time to tell you that you’re never gonna die alone.” 

“Cause you don’t believe it?”

“No, cause the chances of us dyin’ in a tornado together are far more likely.” He laughs, deep and throaty as he leans down to scoop you up by the waist, taking a second to slap at your back thigh before exiting the hotel. “Cate will also kill us if we’re late again.”

-

“All the douchebags in my phone

Play 'em like a slot machine

If they're winnin', I'm just losin'”

-

“Not to be that guy…” Tyler starts, his voice already filled with annoyance. “But is now the time to be checking your phone?”

His hands were tight on the wheel as the truck raced through the fields, efficiently tracking down the storm that had caught Cate’s eye. And while you normally took the passenger seat next to Tyler after fighting with Boone for it so that Cate could take her own ford with Javi, today she had taken the seat and you were in the back with Boone who was just as upset by losing his special spot next to Tyler. 

It had been a rough day, between realizing one of the cars were completely broken down in the hotel parking lot and Boone nearly breaking his pinkie while trying to fix it. Let’s just say the hood of the truck came down a little too fast. Not only that but you had gotten stuck in the bathroom of your room until Tyler had to come save you in your towel, treating you like you were plague victim number one ever since. 

But the best part of the day so far? The introduction to Scott loservains new team, conning poor victims one at a time. 

“Hey man, I’m tracking our filming.” Boone argues, already offended.

“I’m making sure Javi has the same stats as us.” Cate argues. 

“Not talking to either of you. I’m talking to little miss lovestruck in the back.” 

“Hey!” You snap, immediately closing your phone. “Mind your business Tyler.”

“You’re in my truck. My truck is my business and everyone in the truck is my business.” He snaps back, shrugging his shoulders. “And besides, the more you let those fools win the more you lose.”

“How do you even know I was texting a guy?” 

“Because Sugar, I know you.” He snaps, casting you a quick look from his spot at the wheel before turning back to the road. 

“I think if you focused less on me then you would be able to drive better.” 

“I think if you focused less on the boys in your phone you wouldn’t be bitchin’ and moanin’ at me all the time!” He snaps back making you gasp as Cate and Boone switch their attention back and forth between you both. 

“Should we be worried?” Cate blurts, landing her gaze on you with her eyebrows pinched together in worry. 

“Not unless Tyler can’t learn to mind his own damn business!” 

“I’ll mind my business when you stop makin’ it my business!” 

“FINE!”

“FINE!”

-

“A boy who's jacked and kind

Can't find his ass to save my life”

-

The bar that sat 3 blocks away from the current hotel the team was staying at could only be described as a dingy cowboy bar, and considering you were mad at a certain cowboy this was the perfect place.  Surrounded by dozens of cowboy hats, none of them belonging to ‘Mr. Can’t Mind His Own Business’. 

He currently stood at the other end of the bar, closer to the live band as the dance floor began to fill with line dancers. Even that far away he was still being a pain in your ass with the way he glared across the floor every time you looked over. 

“You two don’t fight a lot. This is weird for you.” Cate chuckles, spinning her bottle of beer on the counter sat in front of you both, hearing the glass ring on the wood of the counter. “It sends the entire vibe of the group off.”

“It’s his fault.” You huff, scratching at the label of your own bottle as you avoided looking in his direction again. “I honestly don’t know where his freakout came from.”

“You don’t?” 

“No!” You huff, slapping your hands on the counter. “We were fine yesterday, I told him about that date with the aviator-”

“Oh that Jake guy. He was kind of cute.”

“Thank you. Anyways-” You take a quick inhale of air before looking at her. “We were fine and then today he was fine when he came to help me out of the bathroom but the second the door to the bathroom opened he got pissy.”

“Do you know why?”

“No, I assumed he had been getting hounded by everyone all day. He must have been stressed.” 

“Hmm.” She hums out, taking a look around the bar as you sit and mope. “I’m sure you both will get over it soon enough.”

“Slim chance. I am gonna ignore him forever now.”  It’s obviously just you being over dramatic but you were angry and embarrassed that he would call you out like that in front of the group. “Besides, if he didn’t want me talking to him about all that boy stuff he should have just told me. I don't know where his boundaries lie unless he sets them.”

“Damn, that’s deep.” She nods before tilting her head. “They should have put you on the shirt.”

“That’s what I said.” 

“And yet they-”

“Excuse me for interrupting ladies…” A new voice joins the group, making you both turn to the figure. A tall man with bruises along his jaw and a scratch right above his eyebrow. A black cowboy hat paired with a black shirt.  A fine specimen if you could say so. “I just saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life and I had to come say hello.”

“Well would you be pickin’ here?” Cate smiles. 

“There is no wrong answer.” You hum out, tilting your head like a cat assessing prey. 

“Then can I say both?” 

“Oh, look at that. Even with a map leading to the answer he still managed to mess it up.” You snipe, giving Cate a knowing look as you both grab at your bottles of beer and move to make your exit. 

“Wait wait.” He reaches a hand in front of you to try and stop you from passing. “Not a great start. I know that. So let me just start over, yeah?”

“Oh… I didn’t realize I did do overs.” 

“Then what can I do to be granted one?”

“Is there a problem here?” Leave it to Tyler Owens to enter this scene, giving his best glare as he inserts himself between you both with his back to you so he can glare down the cowboy.

“There is no problem here.” The cowboy smirks, and you are shocked to see just how brave he was. Then it clicks, the bruises and the hat. This was a bull rider. “You got a problem, bud?”

“Oh yeah I have-”

“LET’S DANCE!” You interrupt, sending a glare to Tyler before pulling the bullrider to the floor as Tyler rolls his eyes. 

Before you can make it too far his hand reaches out to grab your elbow with a knowing look, and even when he is mad he still holds your arm with a gentle ease and traces the skin with his thumb. “This isn’t a good idea.” 

“Well that’s interesting…. Cause it’s MY business!” You scoff, pushing his arm back and moving to the dance floor with the stranger. 

-

“Oh, it's slim pickings

If I can't have the one I love

I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'”

-

It was only fair, since there weren’t many options of men you would just lower your standards and have fun with this idiot for the night. 

He had two left feet, and was pressed against you the entire time but not in a hot way, more so a sweaty mess kinda way. And you would have abandoned him already but every time you looked for an escape you saw Tyler and his glare, there was too much at stake here. You could never admit Tyler was right. In YOUR business. 

So you ignored him and turned back to the stranger, just in time for this waste of space to press his lips to yours. It was awkward, the way your noses pressed together and how hard he smashed his lips to yours. There was no rhythm, no preparation or molding together. It was just his lips devouring your face as you tried to lean back. But the further you tried to get away the more he leaned with you. 

When he pulls back he keeps his hands on you with a sharp smile. “Wanna go back to your place?”

There wasn’t many options, and the one option you truly wanted would never happen let alone the fact that you were fighting with him so you would make do with what you had. “Sure, let’s go.”

-

“Just to get my fixings

Since the good ones are deceased or taken

I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'”

-

Telling Cate that you were heading out with him was easy, she made you promise to update her that you were okay, which was easy to do.  You managed to avoid any conversation about Tyler in his truck, which was hard because Mr. Bull Rider was dead set on asking about him. 

“What was that guy with white hats problem?” He asked, and you changed the conversation to the music he was playing. Then he tried the “You guys ever date or somethin’?” 

That one was harder to change since your throat got clogged up thinking of the answer. It’s not like you never wanted to date Tyler, in fact he was all you dreamed of. But it wasn’t meant to happen. Tyler wasn’t yours. 

So you simply started giving him directions to the motel like he hadn’t asked. And by the time you made it to the destination you had hoped that the conversation had passed as you unlocked the door. 

“This is it. Home sweet home….. For a little.” You smile, allowing him to look around while you take your shoes off. 

“So you live in a motel?” 

“When it’s tornado season, yes. We travel around but when he find a specific spot we try to stay.”

“You follow tornadoes?”

“Yes, and we chase them. And if there is destruction we try to help out the communities.” You explain, picking up the tornado shirt with Tylers face on it so you can show him then debate it at the last second you drop it down. “It’s fun.”

“I’ll bet.” He nods before allowing himself to sit on your bed. “We doing this?”

“Oh. Straight to the business.” You mumble, a little shocked as he begins unbuttoning the black top. 

“Sorry, did you want to talk or something?” 

“Well no- I just-” You couldn’t tell if you were thankful that the door opened in that second or absolutely furious as Tyler appeared with that fake innocent smile. 

“Hey Sugar,” He starts, letting himself in fully and shutting the door. “I just wanted to come make sure that bathroom door was all taken care of for ya’.” 

“Tyler, is now the time?”

“Oh, please. It’ll only take a minute.” He chuckles, walking past you both to get to the door. “Wouldn’t want you getting stuck in there again.”

“Tyler, what on eart-”

“Hey man, we were kinda in the middle of something here.” Stranger boy snaps out, scooting so he was right on the edge of the bed, his face pinched between confusion and anger. 

“Hey, safety first.” Tyler laughs, the sound fake and bitter as he leans down to check the hinges of the door while you just blink in shock. “Ah I see the problem here.”

“Tyler.” You hiss. 

“Just give me a moment.” He murmurs, working on the hinge of the door while you glare. “Just a minute……”

“Dude.” Stranger boy sighs and you are wound between shock, anger and embarrassment. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,.”

“There she is. Good as new.” Tyler smiles, standing to swing the door. “Look at that. Bet you’re glad I did it.”

“Tyler. Out.” You snap, moving forward to grab parts of his shirt to drag him out the door and slam it on him. “Now where were we?”

But it’s no use, since the door reopens with Tyler giving yet another innocent look. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. I forgot my screwdriver here.” 

“Tyler, grab it and then leave. And leave the key.” The fact that you were even in this moment was so bizarre. 

“Actually, I think I’m gonna get going… but let me write my information for when you get rid of dumbass barbie over here.” Stranger cowboy mutter, grabbing the pad of paper from the desk and writing his stuff down before moving forward to attempt to kiss you but Tyler is there, patting him on the back aggressively with a slight shove. 

“Sorry to see you go bud.” He smiles, a tense and angry smile before throwing an arm around your shoulder. “But we’ll be fine here.”

And you watch the bullrider leave, the door shutting before you whirl on him. 

-

“Jesus, what's a girl to do?

This boy doesn't even know

The difference between "there," "their" and "they are".”

-

“I can murder you.” You seethe, shoving his arm off of you and taking a couple steps away from him. “Matter of fact, what’s stopping me from doing so?”

“I just figured you might want help with the door-”

“Enough with the bullshit Tyler Owens!” You yell, whirling on him with your hands on your hips and a heavy glare. “What on earth were you thinking? After your fit today and that scene I’m starting to think you have lost your damn mind!”

“Hang on now-”

“And what on earth-” You take a moment to snatch up the pillow from the motel bed to swing it at him. “WOULD MAKE YOU INTERUPT-”

“HE WAS TERRIBLE!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” You yell. “Look around for a second Owens! There aren’t many options. The ones that are worth it are already taken, the one that I want would never go for me. I don’t have many options!”

“AND WHEN AM I GONNA BE AN OPTION?!” He yells out, grabbing your wrists before you can hit him with the pillow again. “When do I get the chance to prove myself?”

“Oh stop.” You snap, moving to walk away. “Don’t mess with me about this.”

“Why would I be messing with you? Is it so hard to believe that I want you?” He follows, making sure to keep a hand on you. “Time and time again you rant to me about these men, how they suck and you hate them. And I keep waiting for you to notice me, to give me a chance. Cate tells me that you might just be nervous, or that our time will come but Sugar I don’t think I can survive this much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Your tone is gentle and you’ve given up walking away, choosing to turn to him and allow him a chance to talk. Your heart was thumping through your chest and you were struggling to catch your breath. 

“Sweetheart, from the moment I met you I’ve been stuck. Comin’ in with all that attitude like you owned the world, which if you ask me you do, and you didn’t hesitate to put me in my place.” He continues, moving closer to set his hands on your hips. “And I just kept begging the winds to give me a chance. To give me a single shot with you.”

“Then why wouldn’t you say anything?”

“Why would you give me a chance?” He laughs, pulling you in. “But I need one now. I’m begging you for a chance here.”

And though no words are spoken you both know the answer, especially when you pull him in with your hands on the back of his neck to attach your lips to his. And unlike the kiss in the bar this one felt perfect. 

There was awkwardness. He tilted his head perfectly, pulling you chest to chest as his hat covers both your heads while his lips melt against yours. He takes his time learning the kiss, his hands rubbing up and down your back as you deepen the kiss some more. This is what was meant to be and you both knew it at that moment. 

There is no objection when you begin unbuttoning his flannel, one at a time, never breaking the kiss as you push it off his shoulders and allowing it to fall to the floor before he reaches a hand up to throw the hat closer to the nightstand. He doesn’t waste time after he hears the thump of it landing to reach and lift his undershirt off, throwing it somewhere else as he makes eye contact. 

“Please tell me I ain’t dreamin’ right now.” He whispers out as you begin to undo your own shirt to slip off before leaning up. 

“I can’t tell.” You whisper back, leaning on your tiptoes to attach your lips once more, his arms wrapping around you to undo the back of your bra. 

Normally when a man removes the bra it is thrown away and he doesn’t focus too much on any of it, but Tyler? He kisses around your jaw as he undoes the buckle of it before his kisses move down your neck while he drags the bra down until he can drop it, allowing his hands to roam. The feel of his hands sends shivers throughout you and yet they keep you warm as you try to back him to the bed. 

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure.” You whisper back, undoing his belt as he kicks off his boots. “I want you.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you.” He grunts out, pulling you closer before falling back onto the bed and dragging you with him. 

-

“Yet he's naked in my room

Missin' all the things he's missin'

God knows that he isn't livin' large”

-

It doesn’t take long for you both to strip, slowly and gently, until you are both bare. He doesn’t waste time kissing you gently before guiding you up the bed until you’re leaning on the pillow you hadn’t dragged away, kissing along jaw as you sigh out in relief. 

He takes his time kissing down your neck, nipping a bit to pull out a breathy moan from your lips before moving further down to kiss and suck at your breasts. He grunts out at the way you wiggle, a breathy giggle passing your lips until a moan passes them the moment his tongue circles one of your nipples. The sound draws his eyes to yours and that sweet lovestruck look falls into one of ferocity, the heated light within them as your lower stomach tightening and your hands rushing to get some contact. 

Once your hands find purchase he abandons your breasts, leaving them cold to the air, as he makes his way further down. Every kiss is followed by a lick, every nip is given a bushel of kisses to make up for it. He works your body until he makes it to your thighs, spreading them open for him to view, sending a shiver across your body. 

“Tyler, please.” You gasp out, that tight feeling in your stomach begging for relief as your thighs beg to shut, but he is having none of it. Keeping them forced open so that he may give your inner thighs the same treatment he had given the rest of your body. 

He gives up his torture with a growl before diving straight in to lick right between your folds. He keeps his hands around your hips to keep you pinned to him when your back arches as you moan out loud. He devours you, licking and sucking over and over with grunts and growls to match your moans. 

He doesn’t relent until your moan hits near scream and your hands grip at the pillow, dragging it to your face to bite into as you reach your peak, entire body shuddering as you moan out. 

He continues until you come down, pulling away to give you the smuggest smile you had ever seen from him, your entire body ablaze as you sit up to reach for him. 

The other kisses were sweet and gentle, this one was two animals claiming each other. And he let you take charge, your speed and your lead. Tasting your own juices as you dragged him back down to lay over you. 

-

“A boy who's nice that breathes

I swear he's nowhere to be seen”

-

He’s quick to flip you both over so that he’s beneath you and you are on top, a wave of panic filling you. 

“Tyler….I’ve never-” You begin, hands landing on his chest as he gazes up at you with the softest eyes you have ever seen from him. 

“If you don’t want to then that’s fine, Sweetheart.” He mutters, reaching over to grab where his hat landed and bringing it to set on your head. “But you might just need a little confidence.” 

And he was right, with the way he was looking at you and the way the hat felt, suddenly you believed you could rule the world. So you lifted yourself a bit, keeping the gaze as you reached down to line yourself up to him, and with a loud moan you sunk yourself down. 

-

“It's slim pickings

If I can't have the one I love

I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'”

-

His grunts were easily replaced by moans as you sunk down, his hands digging into your hips, letting you take a moment to adjust before guiding your hips slowly. You tilt your hips with each guide, struggling to catch the proper rhythm and getting pleasure nonetheless. 

A moan escapes you as he guides you down at the same time he thrusts up and it’s like something clicks as you begin to find your own rhythm. Using your hands on his chest to keep yourself stable as you begin to speed up your movements. 

Tyler gives in, enjoying your new pace, thrusting up into every bounce. Grunting and growling as his nails dig into your hips and he closes his eyes to enjoy the pleasure while you lean down to nip at his chest which makes him groan. “Darlin’...”

And that makes something inside of you burn, a feral moan passing your lips as you speed up, nails digging into his chest before he sits up to kiss you, helping you bounce on his cock with ease. 

“Y-you’re…” He groans. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

His arms wrap around you, and he readjusts so that he was on his knees to thrust into you, pulling you down to meet him. The sound of skin slapping is alluring and your thighs clench to cage him in as you lose your breath and shut your eyes. 

“Tyler.” You whine, nails digging into his back as something in you begins coiling, tighter and tighter until he bites down between your neck and shoulder and it all falls in an instant. All you can see is white as you bite down on your own lip, holding him tight to you as the waves of pleasure subside. 

He continues to thrust before falling under the same spell that had you, keeping his forehead pressed into your collarbone as he spills his cum into you. 

You both fall into the cushion of the bed, shuddering as he pulls out before closing your eyes to catch your breath from that experience. And when he wraps his arms around you it’s far too easy to fall asleep from his warmth surrounding you like a blanket of it’s own.

-

“Just to get my fixings

Since the good ones are deceased or taken

I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'”

-

It’s the feeling of him moving that wakes you a couple hours later, when the bed dips as he stands, making you blink in the dark to see what he is doing. Apart of you panics that he might be leaving, and this was just going to be a one night stand until he pulls on his boxers and turns back to come lift you. 

“Why are we awake?” You croak, already feeling cranky at the fact that you had been woken up. 

“I figured you’d want to shower, and this is when I normally do.”

“You shower at 4am?” You scoff, clinging to him as he sets you down so your feet touch the cold bathroom floor. 

“Yeah. I figured out that no one else showers at this time-”

“Because it’s crazy.”

“Well since no one else showers at this time the water is always at its best pressure and warmth.” He explains, reaching in to turn it on. “Then I can get another hour or so of sleep.”

“Oddly genius.” You giggle, laughing when he shucks the boxers off as a pretend strip tease before hauling you into the shower with him. 

-

“Moanin' and bitchin'”

-

He takes his time washing your body, lathering the soap over your body with gentle hands as his eyes traced over you over and over again like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. 

He let you do the same, the only words spoken never went above a whisper so you didn’t break the bubble and shampooed eachother before shutting the water off and using the towel. 

When he swings the door open he makes sure to raise his eyebrows, a look of pride covering his face that makes you scoff. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“I wonder what hot scoundrel fixed that for you…”

“Hmmm. I wish I knew.” You tease, “I might have rewarded him.”

A small growl leaves his lips as he scoops you up and hauls you to the bed once more. 

-

“Since the good ones call their exes wasted

And since the Lord forgot my gay awakenin'

Then I'll just be here in the kitchen

Servin' up some moanin' and bitchin'”

-

You sit on the motel floor as Tyler works around you to get ready for the day, listening to you bitch and moan as he struggles to put his boots on. 

“I’m so sore.” You whine, falling flat on the floor to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah? At least you never have to worry about dying alone.”

“No,” You huff out a laugh. “Now I just have to worry about you killing me.” 

“Never.” He smiles, coming to haul you off the floor just to throw you over his shoulder and head for the door.

-

[awkward-fink]

Crime!AU TF 141

Your mobile phone rings at exactly 23:42 at night, it’s a Wednesday and the day at work had been more than exhausting, so the expletives you murmur as you are dragged out of your restful sleep are more than deserved in your eyes. Your phone is the only source of light around you, illuminating the small, dinky bedroom in a soft sheen of greenish white, making it look a bit bigger than it actually is.

Still cursing, one hand in front of your eyes, you blindly fish for your phone, fingers brushing against it at the third try. It’s a number, no name, no notice on your screen, just a number. But one that had burned itself into your head regardless. You stare at the still ringing phone, a heavy stone sitting in your stomach as you watch as the time turns into 23:43. You know you can’t just ignore this; you had tried it once and the consequences had been… unexpected.

You press the green button instead of the red one you dearly wish you could press. You don’t say your name, you don’t even have the time to do so, because as soon as the call connects an accented voice cheerfully starts to speak, voice happy and awake and loud. You wish you could reach through the phone to strangle him, but sadly such superpowers are beyond you. "Right, this is the reminder call fur Diner fur (D-)One! Yer order o' a dead fiery Pepperoni Pizza will be roond in aboot 20 minutes! The delivery driver’s already got their dosh. Thank ye fur stickin’ wi’ us!" The man booms through your phone, Scottish accent rolling through your hazy mind, summoning the picture of the smirking, mohawked man into your mind. You can just picture him and his stupid smirk and his flexing arms as he twirls the phone in hand, mischief in his eyes.

“Listen here, it is nea-“ – “BeepBeepBeep” – “… Oh, I hate this. I hate him. I hate his stupid smile; I hate his stupid boss and I hate this whole situation!”

You fall back into your bed, pulling your pillow over your face as you scream into the fluffiness you need to leave now, leave behind your rest and your bed and your dog, who is still snoring loudly at the end of your blankets.

20 minutes later on the dot you open the front door, watching as a small delivery car holds in front of your small bungalow and another of the Diner Crew folds himself out of the car, cap firmly sat on top of his head, his smile big as he loped up the short path towards you, his brown eyes warm as he looks you up and down, mustering your work jeans, your too big shirt and the hint of your mismatched socks. “Hey there, Hun. Another late-night delivery for my favorite, hardworking daycare teacher.” His voice is soft and warm like honey, and you can’t believe how pretty that man is. Effortless beauty, your mother would call it. So in contrast to yourself. “Thanks.” You smile tiredly at him, taking the steaming carton into your own hands. The darkskinned pretty man chuckles, tips his cap at you and lopes back towards the car.

You watch him go, going back inside only when his car turns the corner and is out of sight. Then you breath again, your brows furrowed as you close the door behind you. The Pizza looks delicious, like always, glistening garlic oil on top of the fatty pieces of Pepperoni thickly placed on your pizza. The problem was the other side of the cardboard, the thick red letters on the inside of the box.

O’Donnel Str. 47, yellow house, take three bags and lots of cleaner. Got out of hand. No alive. No police warned. Beware the cat. Ghost-job. “Fuck me. At least it wasn’t Soap this time.” You sigh, reaching for one slice of pizza and walking into your garage, picking out the supplies you would need for this job tonight. You hesitate before you put the whole box of cleaners in the back of your car.

“Fuck me.” You repeat, swallowing the last bite of the piece of pizza. “This I going to be a long night…”

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

So I guess this is kind of a Crime!AU I got in my head? I wanted to write something about this and there is more lore to this in my head. But I dont know if people would even be interested in this? How would I even call this as a series? -- awkward Fink

[catstar91]

I’ve been convinced into writing a full on fanfic I had an idea for, so I guess if anyone wants to see that I’ll have it on my art blog soon?

Anyway so recap: I saw a prompt for a Danny Phantom crossover idea and something about it reminded me of Kingdom Hearts. Now I have a DP fic that starts out with a lot of KH parallels right off the bat because I have problems. Point is, if any of you followed me because of fandom stuff, my side blog is where my art and writing is supposed to go:

I do need to use it more often, but for now I’ll put down the first section of this fic as its own post!

Edit: part 1 of the fic is up now! I’ll add the fandom tags here too!

[wttcsms]

come right on me (i mean camaraderie!)

ᝰ.ᐟ starting a new job is scary, especially when it seems like you can’t do anything correctly. good thing that your manager is always so kind and reassuring and supportive. when a client meeting ends terribly and runs so late that the two of you have to check into a hotel to spend the night, your sweet manager knows a good way to cheer you up… ( fem!reader )

pairing tetsurou kuroo x reader word count 4.9k content contains praise kink, oh no!!! there's only one bed!!!, coworkers/power imbalance (he's your manager, you're the newest and youngest member on the team), slight manipulation from kuroo (he's aware of your crush on him and uses your admiration as leverage), occasionally refers to you as his kouhai, you call him kuroo-senpai, creampie, sex in an enclosed, semi-public space (the office's supply closet), first time blowjobs kinktober masterlist

If you had known that your transfer would have resulted in you getting fucked boneless in the supply closet of the company you work for…

Well, you would have announced your job transfer a little bit sooner.

“Kuroo— Ah!” You let out a helpless yelp as you feel Kuroo��s teeth bite down on the soft part of your shoulder, sure to leave a mark. “K-Kuroo, slow down!”

“Kuroo? Really?” He snarls, lifting his head up to glare down at you. “Tsk, and here I thought you were a star employee. Is that any way to speak to your manager, or is it because you’re moving that you’re deciding to drop the formalities?” 

Your heart drops at the sound of Kuroo seemingly dissatisfied with you. Out of everyone in this office, he’s always been the one to root for you the hardest. You look up to him! Even when he’s upset, all you want to do is make him feel better. Just like how he made you feel better that time after that horrendous client meeting last month…

“Kuroo-senpai,” you mutter out, avoiding staring at him entirely. “I’m sorry.”

You’re bowing your head in apology, but Kuroo merely laughs, shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize. These things happen.” Kuroo is smiling, and from the crinkle of his eye and the carefree tone he’s using, it’s genuine. Kuroo isn’t upset with you, and somehow, this only makes you feel worse.

“But I ruined the meeting.” You remind him. “I stuttered when speaking to the client, and then I totally didn’t know how to properly react whenever he—” 

This is when Kuroo’s friendly demeanor darkens. “There would be no proper reaction to what he said.” The client, an older man who’s been working for so long in corporate Japan that back in his day, women could only serve as secretaries and belittled assistants, had made a less-than-savory remark on you and the way your pencil skirt hugs your figure. It had been a test of self-restraint for Kuroo to remain civil and smiling and to not punch him from across the table, but you don’t know that. “Our company shouldn’t sign contracts with men like him, anyway. I’ll write up everything in the report, and you won’t get reprimanded at all, okay?” He’s back to his normal, cheery self, and you nod.

Kuroo always knows what to do. 

And in your case, Kuroo is always making you feel better for being inadequate. A fresh college graduate, it’s a wonder how you managed to snag a position on one of the marketing teams for Japan’s Volleyball Association. Now, in your head, it’s a wonder how you manage to keep the damn position. You just can’t seem to do anything right, and even your coworkers are no longer shy in shaking their heads and sighing every time you mess something up. 

The only person who doesn’t seem to mind the little mistakes you make or the minor trouble you cause is Tetsurou Kuroo, the official unofficial golden boy of the sports promotion division. He’s a bit older than you, but still one of the youngest members belonging to the JVA’s marketing and promotional division. Already, there’s whispers about how Kuroo is most likely going to move up the hierarchy and soon — the Chief of Public Relations position will be opening up due to an early retirement from the current chief, and everyone knows that Kuroo has connections with a majority of the monster generation; not to mention, he’s charming enough to get everyone to go along with what he says.

You admire your senior colleague greatly, and because of your admiration and the fact that he’s the most sympathetic towards you, causing him trouble always makes you feel ten times worse than when you normally mess up. Even if he tells you everything is alright, you’re still frowning, staring down at your shoes. 

“Ah, shit.” Kuroo curses, staring up at the darkening sky as rain starts to descend down on the two of you. “Looks like the storm is coming early.” 

“It’s more like we’re just running late.” You say miserably. Because of you, the client meeting dragged on for even longer than scheduled, and the two of you were already running on a tight enough schedule as is. The JVA needed to secure a contract with a sneaker company to do some joint collaboration billboards, and even with a major thunderstorm predicted for this evening, the company was convinced Kuroo would be able to wrap up the meeting (successfully) and get the both of you on the train home before the storm came.

Now, though, it’s later than when you two were supposed to catch the train, and with the way the weather is worsening at such a rapid speed, it seems like making it to the train station before the last one runs will be impossible. 

“Follow me.” Kuroo tells you, trying to be heard over the wind. You nod, but you don’t expect him to grab your hand. With the wind whipping in your face and the chill of rain soaking through your work clothes, Kuroo’s hand is surprisingly warm. You allow yourself to be practically dragged behind him as he jogs to the nearest inn. Even in a soaked suit, running against the storm’s wind, Kuroo still manages to hold his own just fine. You’re glad his back is turned to you; at least this way, you can admire his athleticism in private.

Kuroo leads the two of you into a nearby hotel. The place looks fancy; way out of your budget. You feel bad as you practically stand there awkwardly, wetting the nice, expensive looking marble floors of the hotel while Kuroo talks to the woman up front. You notice that she’s biting her lip, eyeing the way the fabric of Kuroo’s suit clings to his body because of the rainwater. It only serves to emphasize the muscles he continues to maintain despite no longer playing the sport he’s paid to promote. Seeing the way she’s admiring him gives you a weird feeling inside, so you turn away, avoiding looking at them. 

“Bad news.” Kuroo runs a hand through the wet strands of his hair. “Turns out they’re fully booked. There’s only one room left, but it’s a couple’s suite.”

“Oh.” It makes sense that the two of you would have to spend the night in the city. The trains have probably stopped running now, and with the storm, it’s only reasonable to just wait it out ‘til the morning. “Well… A couple’s suite should be big enough, right?” 

“Space wise, yes.” Kuroo clears his throat. “But it’s for couples. There’s only going to be one bed.” 

Oh. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you let this information sink in. A fancy hotel. A fancy hotel with a fancy couple’s suite. A fancy hotel with a fancy couple’s suite that only has one bed. And you’re with Kuroo, your very kind, understanding coworker. Your senior colleague. Your manager. Your totally hot manager. 

“What should we do?” You peer up at him, looking at him for the solution. You don’t know it, but he loves the face you make when you’re asking him for help. Your eyes go all wide and seek him out, eagerly awaiting for him to guide you.

“You can have the room. This isn’t the only hotel in existence, so I’ll probably head out and try to find a room somewhere else.” 

“No!” You’re shocked he would even want to go back out in this storm. Your exclamation is literally punctuated with the crack of thunder booming from the sky. “You can’t go back out there.” And because you’re aware of how rude your outburst was, you soften your voice. “Kuroo-senpai, I don’t think it would be reasonable for you to put yourself in harm’s way. We’re both adults, right? I… I don’t mind— We can just figure out the sleeping arrangements when we get into the room?” 

Kuroo smiles. 

“My kouhai has a point. You’re always so sharp, [Name].” 

You don’t know why, but despite the chill of your wet clothes and the air conditioning of the hotel lobby, you feel a warmth settling in your tummy and rising all the way to your chest as you let Kuroo’s praise blanket you. 

For a couple’s suite, there really isn’t much space to work with. The bed takes up most of the room, a grand king-sized mattress, plenty of space for two people to sleep on (and with each other). There’s a tiny loveseat in the corner that might just have been there for decoration or the opportunity to try out a different position, you’re not quite sure. The bathroom is connected, and the place has rose petals all over the floor and floral scented candles lit up. 

Kuroo lets out a whistle. “They weren’t kidding when they said couple’s suite.” 

You can only nod in agreement. 

“Do you wanna shower first?” The minute Kuroo suggests this, you’re instantly aware of just how wet your clothes are. Your white blouse is clinging to your skin, and when you look down slowly, you’re horrified to realize just how transparent the material got when drenched. Before you can get too embarrassed over the situation, Kuroo puts you (or tries to, anyway) at ease, just like he always does. “I’m glad no one else was in the lobby when we came, because I’m sure I look a mess.”

A hot mess, maybe. And hot in the sense that Kuroo looks too good right now. He looks like he just came straight out of a designer cologne ad or something. 

“Y-you can shower first.” You manage to squeak out. “It’s only fair. You’re the one who’s been doing most of the work all day.” 

While Kuroo’s in the bathroom, you’re practically spiraling. How are the two of you going to explain the charge of a couple’s suite on the company credit card? It wouldn’t have been so weird if you had been with one of your female managers or vice versa, but you and Kuroo are the closest in age to each other. The meeting dragged out for far longer than originally planned, and you’re worried about how the two of you will be perceived. If anything, Kuroo has the most to lose. Any enemies of his could easily use this as a way to stop him from getting his well deserved promotion. Oh God, you definitely ruined his shot at promotion. You’re terrible. You’re—

“Seems like someone’s thinking a little too hard.” Kuroo’s teasing tone pulls you from your rapid fire overthinking. 

You wish you hadn’t looked up. Standing in front of you is a shirtless Kuroo, his abs tight and glistening with droplets of water left over from his shower. The white towel is wrapped around his waist, but the view he’s providing is already enough to make you acutely aware of the fact that Kuroo is a man. His normally uncontrollable hair is weighed down with water, damp strands hanging in his face. And he has the nerve to just stand in front of you so casually, as if he isn’t practically naked! 

Maybe you’re the weird one. Great. So you’re practically eye-fucking your manager after despairing over how you basically might be the reason why he’s going to miss out on a great job opportunity. Right after you performed horribly during a client meeting, and then made him save you by finding you shelter in a very nice hotel. 

“I’m the worst.” You groan, frowning as you look up at him. 

“Hey, don’t say that.” He frowns right back at you. “That’s not true at all.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re nice.” 

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “A lot of people wouldn’t call me nice. It’s sweet that you would, though.” 

“How can that be true? Kuroo-senpai is the nicest person to me at work!” 

“Am I really?” You don’t notice how dangerous the glint in his eyes are, but you do have enough intuition to sense a shift in his demeanor. “Do you like that your senpai is so nice to you?” 

You don’t know what you do to him. It’s why you don’t realize how you’re essentially unchaining the beast locked up inside of him as you reply, “I like everything about Kuroo-senpai.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, because I like everything about my little kouhai, too.” 

Your eyes widen at this confession. The butterflies in your tummy are doing cartwheels right now. You can’t believe what you’re hearing, what you’re seeing. Are you hallucinating right now? That’s the only reasonable conclusion, but as Kuroo leans forward, you find yourself leaning a bit further back, just on instinct. He’s so much larger than you, more imposing. You feel like you have to shrink when he starts to close the distance between the two of you. He places his hands on the mattress you’re sitting on, effectively caging you in between his arms as he leans down even closer to you. So close that a drop of water from his hair lands right on your thigh. 

“Do you like me enough to let me kiss you?” 

Apparently, you like him enough to let him do much more than just kiss you. The kisses start off gentle enough. His lips are a bit chapped, but you like the feel of them against your much softer ones. He swallows up your little desperate whimpers, and he moves at a pace you can adapt to. When he notices you getting more confident in your movements, he gets rougher, more aggressive. It’s not just whimpers that he’s inhaling, now, but moans. Even in the heat of the moment, though, Kuroo still has enough restraint, enough decency, left in him to continue to ask for your permission. 

“Do you like me enough to let me do this?” He asks you, fingers prodding at the buttons of your work attire. You nod weakly, dizzy with pleasure from just a few kisses. He takes a sharp inhale of breath when your bra is revealed to him, and then he’s helping you slip out of your skirt, and he has to take a few seconds to admire the matching lace set you’re wearing. “I didn’t know my little kouhai was hiding this underneath her work clothes.” He mutters, and you can’t help but thrive off of the attention he’s giving you. 

He leans down ‘til his mouth is so close to your ear, you can practically feel the heat of his breath as he whispers, “Does my precious kouhai like me enough to let me play with her cute pussy?” 

You think you’re going to faint. You can barely breathe as you nod your permission, but he merely tsks. “Use your words, sweetheart. Otherwise, I won’t know.” 

He’s toying with you now. There’s a purpose to him asking his questions the way he does; he wants to see how far your admiration, your devotion, to him runs. A workplace crush might let him get away with a few kisses, but what about pounding into your sweet cunt? Do you like him enough to let him do that? 

Apparently, you do. Because you’re getting over your shyness. Because you’re whispering, “Yes. I l-like you enough to let you play with my pussy.” 

“Atta girl.” 

He’s on you within milliseconds. The pretty panties you’re wearing are now on the floor of this hotel room. He’s quick enough to figure out how to unclasp your bra, and that’s thrown to the ground as well. Laying completely bare and exposed, your work senpai wastes no time in having his hands explore your body, feeling out all the curvatures and angles that make you you. 

He takes a finger to pet at your cunt, humming approval when he already feels traces of slick gathering on the pad of his ring finger. “Did you get wet just from a couple lil’ kisses?” 

You don’t want to answer him, turning your head to the side in embarrassment because yes, you did, but his grin only widens. He presses a kiss to your cheek, finding you downright cute. “Don’t be shy. You did nothing wrong.” 

You did nothing wrong. 

He’s always telling you this, and the kind words never fail to make you feel all warm inside. That’s one of your favorite phrases to hear, but somehow, it hits differently whenever he’s pairing that heartwarming phrase with his finger in your cunt. 

“Ah, fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” He grunts out, moving his ring finger in and out, in and out. “You know what I think you need? I think you need your senpai’s help in loosening you up. It’ll be good for you, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod your head enthusiastically, and because you think he might like to hear you say it, you admit what he already knows. “Kuroo-senpai is right. You always know what I need.” 

“Good girl.” The praise has you tightening around his finger, and your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. He smirks, pleased with how sweet and pliant you are for him. A few bits of praise thrown your way, and you become a slut for him.

It’s a good thing your senpai cares about you so much. He cares about you so much that he’s adding his middle finger to the mix, curling the two fingers against your walls, relishing in your little mewls of pleasure. He’ll have to stretch you out, get you all nice and prepped for his cock. He cares about you, which is why he’s going to let you cum. 

“Feelin’ good?” He asks, knowing that from your moans of pleasure, you definitely are. His fingers work wonders within you, and Kuroo can’t help but admire how cute you are, his little kouhai. What would you do without him, hm? He loves the way your knees jerk and how you whimper every time his fingers curl right up against that sweet spot inside of you, the one your tiny fingers can’t seem to reach no matter how hard you try. Your cute little cunt is already so wet, so ready for his cock, that neither of you can seem to ignore the squelching sounds it’s making as he continues to work his fingers in and out of you. When he presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing tiny figure-eights on the bud, you cry out his name, tacking on that familiar honorific he loves to hear falling from your sweet lips, as you cum all over his fingers. You cum so much that your essence is dripping onto his palm, trailing down to his wrist, and he thinks that this is exactly where you should be, where you always should be. 

“You’re so good for me. Look at how much my good girl came.” He coos, and you should be embarrassed about the mess you made, but when he sings out his praise for you like that, you can’t help but feel a tiny bit proud. 

“Can my good girl make me even prouder? Can you take my cock right now, [Name]?” 

Even if you couldn’t, you still wouldn’t have denied him. It’s a lucky thing, then, that you’re so desperate for him. You spread your legs even wider, inviting him, and who is Kuroo to leave such a precious girl waiting and wanting? It’d be cruel to. 

Which is why he doesn’t make you wait. 

Instead, he plunges his bare cock right into your pussy, groaning with satisfaction as he feels you clamp down on him. Of course you’d be clinging to him; you’re always clinging onto him, always following after him. Such a sweet girl, his lovely, adorable junior colleague. The kouhai who likes him so much, you’d allow him to fuck you nice and hard, to really make use of this couple’s suite and its obnoxious sized bed. 

He quickens his pace almost instantly, giving you no time to adapt to his girth and length. He grins when he sees your little fucked out expression, the way your tongue peeks out from between your pretty, pink lips and the way your cheeks are flushed, your hair a mess. The soft, breathy moans that escape from your mouth. You’re going dumb on his cock, and that’s perfectly fine by him. Let him do all the thinking, anyway. 

Kuroo places a hand on your lower belly, trying to gauge just how deep he’s thrusting into you, and when he finds out, he applies more pressure, pressing down on your soft skin, forcing you to take every inch he has to offer. He’s wringing out soft “ah ah ah!”s from you, and your legs wrap around him almost instinctively as you warn him that you’re about to cum once again. 

“So soon?” He grunts out, grinning meanly. “Normally, senpais don’t expect such slutty behavior from their coworkers, but since it’s me you’re going stupid for, I’ll let it pass.” Your legs are closing in on his body, your whole body jerking a bit as you start to lose control. “Go ahead and make me proud. Cum all over my cock like a good kouhai.” 

The minute the request leaves his mouth, you do. You cum all over his length, as he instructed, and he lets out a short laugh at how devoted you are to him.

“Good girl, my best girl.” He grunts out, fucking your cunt at a leisurely pace now before stilling, letting his own cum flood inside your perfect pussy. “My perfect little kouhai. You did so good for me.” 

And with your cunt full of your senpai’s cum, his cock still plugging you up and keeping everything tucked safely inside, he gives you a rather chaste forehead kiss that has you swooning.

Honestly, you don’t expect much to change between the two of you. It’s not like you think Kuroo’s just going to get down on one knee and let you take his last name or anything. You’re still trying to convince yourself that that night wasn’t some hyper-realistic dream, and the only proof that it was real was the remainder of his cum still settled inside your pussy when you woke up the morning after. 

Kuroo is still a good work senpai, always coming to your defense and fixing your mistakes. 

But you can’t help but wonder if he thinks that night he fucked you is just another work mistake of yours that he has to fix. Because of this, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid him as much as possible. So when the director of your team calls you to his office to let you know that the transfer request you put in months ago, way before that night at the hotel, finally got approved, all you can do is bow your head in thanks and return to your cubicle in a daze.

You don’t know what to do, and the person you would normally come to for guidance is the one person you’re trying to minimize interaction with.

However, word of your transfer spreads fast. After all, it’s a cause for celebration when the weakest link of the team is finally moving far, far away. Your coworkers are all being much kinder to you, and in the middle of them congratulating you on your move, you look across the room and lock eyes with Kuroo. His facial expression betrays nothing, but he quickly mouths supply closet before sneaking out of the office.

Five minutes later, you manage to follow him, gently opening the door to the closet, only to be dragged in immediately. The click of the door locking is loud, heard even above your rapidly rising heart beat, and that’s how you find yourself being ravished by Kuroo, during work hours, at your workplace.

When he chastises you for addressing him so casually, you immediately feel terrible. 

“Kuroo-senpai,” you mutter out, avoiding staring at him entirely. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah?” He growls out, keeping you pressed firmly against the wall. “What’re you so sorry for? For avoiding me, or for withholding the fact that you’re going to move all the way to Kyoto?” 

You shake your head, tiny droplets of tears gathering up in your eyes. When you look at him like that, like a little puppy who just got kicked, it only makes him want to ruin you some more, if only so he can have the honor of being the one to piece you right back together again. 

“Senpai, I-I didn’t know what to do.” You wail out. “I was scared that that night at the hotel didn’t matter to you, and I was embarrassed of how I acted then, and I applied to transfer to the Kyoto office ages ago, and when they finally approved it, I didn’t know if it would be smart to pull back my request. I’m sorry, Kuroo-senpai. Please don’t be mad at me.” 

He leans down, pressing his forehead against your own. “Not mad, baby. I was just a bit upset, that’s all.” He rests a hand against your hip, toying with the waistband of your skirt. “You shouldn’t have been embarrassed, though.”

“R-really?”

He nods. “Yeah. I fuckin’ love my little kouhai’s reactions. You shouldn’t be embarrassed around me.” He looks you in the eyes, tugging down your skirt and enjoying the hitch in your breath. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was hurt.”

“I’m sorry!” You squeak out again, and he sighs. 

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll show me.” 

Apparently, the proper way to show him you’re sorry is to get down on your knees, ignoring the cold tile of the closet, and to unbuckle his belt, pull down the zipper of his slacks, and tug at his briefs in order to free his cock. He’s already hard, the tip of his cock an angry red with pearly white droplets of precum already gathering at the head. You shouldn’t be nervous; you had the full length of his dick inside of your pussy, but somehow, the task of taking him down your throat seems rather daunting. 

“C’mon, [Name]. Is my little kouhai getting shy again?” Kuroo teases, gently nudging his cock against your parted lips. Your tongue reflexively comes out, and before you realize it, your giving tiny kitten licks, getting your first taste of salty precum. You must make a face, because he laughs, before carding his fingers through the locks of your hair and suddenly, very suddenly, pushes you forward. 

He isn’t rough, but the presence and pressure of his hand is firm. He doesn’t push you down any further, but the first few inches of his cock is now resting against your tongue, and he’s savoring the warmth of your mouth, groaning as he feels the vibrations of you mumbling something in surprise. 

“Mm, this is a good starting point for an apology, don’t you think?” He muses, knowing that in your current position, you can’t really reply back. “Such a good kouhai for me. What am I gonna do when you move to Kyoto?”

His voice gets a bit huskier as he forces you to take more of his length into your mouth. When he starts thrusting gently, slowly getting you used to the feeling of him fucking your mouth, he lets out a groan. “So good, baby, so good. Do you normally let your senpais fuck your mouth like this?”

You mumble something, finding enough room to shake your head. 

“No?” He says, picking up his face. Every time he thrusts back in, he hits the back of your throat a bit harder, forces more of his length in. “You’re so good at taking my dick right now, though. Don’t tell me that this is your first time?” He looks down at you, eyes lighting up and a smile brightening his expression. “This is your first time sucking off a cock? Of letting someone fuck you like this?” He laughs, the sound full of genuine joy. 

“You’re the fucking best.” He tells you, before tightening his grip in your hair and pushing you down onto his cock. This is the only warning he gives you before you feel spurts of hot cum flooding into your mouth, and your eyes widen in surprise at the sheer amount that’s being poured into you. He lets out a little groan, tilting his own head back in pleasure as he keeps your head pushed down. The stimulation from you gagging around his girth only prolongs his climax, and you still can’t find relief when he pulls out of your mouth because he’s instantly demanding you open up and show him what a mess he made inside of you. 

You whimper, giving into your senpai’s request. You open up wide, sticking out your tongue to reveal the thick globs of white cum coating the appendage. Fuck, just the sight of you all submissive, on your knees, teary eyed and ready to please, mouth full of his cum… It’s enough to get him hard again. 

“You’re the best kouhai in the world.” He hums, patting your head, and you swallow up his praise just like you do his cum. 

[reilemon]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊Cool Off₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

♡︎ pairing: Zayne x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: unprotected sex (oops), office sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, I think that's it?

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ synopsis: what to do when you "accidentally" flash your doctor?

♡︎ a/n: I haven't written smut in like three years. So if you think my writing is cringe, just keep scrolling idk.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎ @its-de ♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

You finally have a day off and you want to use this free time to run errands. However, it's also a hot summer day and you need to dress accordingly. After cleaning your apartment and stocking up your fridge, you have -

meet up with your friend

shop for some new summer clothes and bed sheets

doctor’s appointment

You'd just skip the last one because you feel fine, even during the hot weather.

But you know damn well Dr Zayne will not be pleased with you if you do that. And he's not only your doctor now (and a childhood friend), but an actual friend who you spend most of your free time with. Circumstances of him being your assigned physician, some other stuff that happened in the last few months, brought you so much closer that you couldn't help but develop a huge crush on him. And how could you not when he's so kind, warm, attentive, always makes time for you, funny in his own way... you could spend the whole day thinking of all the stuff that makes you want to be more than friends.

Actually, you might be more than just friends. Lately, you’ve been going on a lot of “dates”; visiting festivals, trying new restaurants but also frequenting your favorite ones, dragging him to the arcade… he’s started insisting on being the one to drop you off at home after a night out. Just a couple of weeks ago when you were sick, he came to your place and took care of you. Both of you ended up falling asleep on your bed watching your comfort movie – actually, he wanted to read his book but ended up invested in the plot and eventually fell asleep before you, tired from his shift and nursing you back to health. You had enough strength to get up to pull out a freshly washed blanket from the closet and cover him. You lied back down, finding comfort in watching Zayne’s peaceful sleeping face. That’s how you fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself waking up on Zayne’s chest, your form enveloping his. He was gently stroking your back, waiting for you to open your eyes. You don’t know whether you were the one that latched onto him during the night, or if he’s the one that pulled you in; nonetheless, it felt surreal to wake up like this. You looked up into his beautiful hazel green eyes, and you just shared a moment of pure intimacy. Then you got self-conscious of him having a close up of your morning face, which made you immediately jump from the bed and sprint to the bathroom. So, he did manage to nurse you back to health in one day.

You really wish he made the first move already. With all the stolen glances, lingering touches, cuddling, you genuinely think he feels the same way. But you are also his patient, so maybe he feels uncomfortable starting anything, like he’s crossing a boundary and abusing his position as your physician? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Or maybe you’re just delusional and ovulating.

Okay, back to the present. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity to see your crush (this is more than just a crush, honestly) and you add one more task to the list

get some dessert for Zayne

And you want to look cute for him, so you opt for your new backless summer dress.

☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊

“Thank fuck, I look okay.” You murmur as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom of Zayne's office.

It's just before 8pm, your scheduled checkup. Both of you were too busy to hang out for more than a week, and you can’t wait to see him. You took this opportunity to leave the heavy shopping bags on the sofa, the bag with dessert on his desk, and quickly freshen up in the bathroom. It was so hot today, still is, but thanks to the dress you didn't sweat that much.

You exit the bathroom the same time he enters the office. You catch how his usually stern gaze behind his glasses softens at the sight of you.

“Hey!” You don’t waste any time and shorten the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a peck on the cheek.

Zayne’s hands stiffly hover over your waist, stunned by the enthusiastic greeting. You always have a big smile on your face when you see him, but you’re only this forward when you have some alcohol in your system. He doesn’t smell it on your breath now though.

“Did you miss me that much, or are you trying to coax me to skip the check up?”

You pull away with a pout and a blush on your cheeks. Feeling a little embarrassed, you go and sit on a chair across his desk, steering the conversation towards the dessert you brought him.

With an entertained smirk, he sat on his chair and indulged in just chatting with you, and making plans for the evening. He feels at ease now that you’re here.

Zayne cuts the conversation short to take care of some paperwork, so you entertain yourself with your phone, checking what cafes are open. You sit there in silence, not wanting to disturb him. The room is air-conditioned and you would think you'd start to cool down, but it's impossible to do so when your crush is right across you. You try to focus on your phone but your eyes keep darting between the screen and Zayne’s handsome focused features…his hand holding the pen… his long fingers...

“You need to ask me something?” Zayne peers over his glasses.

Busted!

For like a hundredth time.

You fidget in your seat. “Um, no. I don’t wanna disturb you.”

He closes a file and puts papers aside. “I’m done. Go ahead.”

You make up how you wanted to ask him if he wanted to visit the café on your screen, only to for him to point out it’s closed when you show it to him. Not smooth at all.

You nervously scratch your back, and that when it hits you. You didn't wear a bra today!

In your defense, of course you're not going to wear a bra with the backless dress and when it's so hot outside, and it would be okay if this was just a hangout, but the main reason why you're here is because of the check up! Well, now you're getting even more flustered and you can feel nervous sweat forming everywhere. Great.

Zayne's voice fades into focus.

"Is everything okay?"

“Yeah, let’s just go find a cafe that’s nearby!” You prop yourself to sit up and make a run for it, but the seriousness in Zayne’s tone stops you.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You wave your hand “I feel great, you don't need to -"

"That's good to hear." He humors you, setting the stethoscope around his neck, eyes not leaving yours.

You engage in a short staring contest, but you never win those with him. You hold back the bratty whine as you get up and walk towards the chair. Should you address this? What would be more awkward – saying that you don’t have a bra on or just slipping off the top of the dress, flashing him? But Zayne is a professional; he probably saw plenty of breasts from other patients and didn’t bat an eye. And maybe he even noticed that you’re braless.

You sit on the chair next to him and Zayne gives you an amused look. “Good girl.”

It was like a reflex - the moment you heard those words, your hands slipped off the top of your dress. Zayne pauses, his eyes locked at the sight before him. Oh shit, did you manage to make the situation awkward after all? Just when you wanted to open your mouth to say anything, he blinks and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to do. You suck in a breath when the icy cold stethoscope touches your chest spreading goosebumps across your skin, making your nipples hard. Zayne's eyes are focused somewhere to the side, but you can see light redness peppered on his cheeks. The two of you sit there in silence while he checks your heartbeat. You try to compose yourself, take slow breaths, but your heart is giving you away.

When he’s done, he takes off the instrument and places it on the table. He clears his throat “Nothing irregular, your heartbeat is a little faster, but the heat is probably to blame.”

Right, the heat.

You hope that the redness, still on his face, and his ears, is not from the sun.

Again, you have two choices – do you pull the top up and act like nothing happened, continue the same ‘will they, won’t they’ routine – or do you want to do something about this, take the first step and find out once and for all if this infatuation is one sided?

You take his hand, making him look at you, ‘Well, can you help me cool down, Doctor?’

Zayne eyes widen slightly, switching between your hand and your gaze, only guessing where you’re going with this.

You gently place his cold hand just above your left breast ‘Is this okay?’ you whisper.

Zayne’s irises are almost black from how dilated his pupils are. As he gazes into your doe eyes, the hand resting on your chest travels up across your skin and lands on the side of your neck. He takes off his glasses, leans towards you, his lips a breath away from yours, “You’re walking on thin ice, darling.”

He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. Zayne is kissing you like a man starved, like he's been waiting for this for so long, afraid that this moment will slip away all too quickly. His other hand wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your chests together, feeling each other’s heartbeats. You moan into the kiss, surprised by the intensity of it and the desperation of his embrace. His lips are so soft and tender, just like you imagined too many times. The hand on your waist travels up to grab your breast, the sensation of his big cold hand on your heated skin making you gasp against his lips. He seizes the moment to lick your bottom lip, then slipping his tongue, yours quickly meeting it.

Suddenly, both of his hands land on your shoulders pulling away.

He utters ‘fuck’ (this might be the first time hearing him say the f word, and you’re embarrassed how excited it made you.) He holds your chin with thumb and index finger, ‘Do you wish to continue?’

You utter ‘yes’ and grab him by the black necktie locking your lips again. His hands find the top of your thighs, then sneaking their way down to bunch up your dress over your knees.

“Hold onto me.” He murmurs between kisses, and you oblige, catching onto his shoulders. Zayne grabs you by the back of your soft thighs, lifting you from the chair and placing you on his desk, so effortlessly and swiftly, like you weigh nothing.

Your fingers comb through his soft, thick hair, relishing in the fact of being able to touch it like this. His hands cup your face, distancing his lips from yours. You expectantly look up to see his tender, yearning gaze. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he kisses you again, this time softly, slowly deepening it, stealing your breath away. His soft lips move to kiss and nip at the side of your neck, his hands giving attention to your breasts again. He caresses both of them, and it doesn’t take long for one of his hands to be replaced by his lips. His hot tongue teases around the nipple. But when he starts sucking on it, while simultaneously playing with the other one with his fingers, a loud moan escapes your lips.

Zayne’s smirks against the sensitive nipple, “You need to stay quiet, darling.”

You were so dazed with lust that you completely forgot that there could be people outside his office. You bite your bottom lip and nod.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, one hand bunching up your dress more and resting on your hip, while the one on your nipple sneaks its way down, teasing the band of your underwear. You feel his fingers slide down, rubbing you over your soaked panties, making you move your hips, craving more friction.

“Fuck.” He breathes against your ear, “You’re already so wet for me.”

The fingers travel towards the band of your underwear and tug on it, and you lift your hips to let him slide it down your legs. Then he stashes your panties into the pocket of his pants.

He catches you by surprise when he kneels down in front of your cunt, your legs closing on reflex, but Zayne grabs your thighs before they could squish his head.

He gently strokes them, "Let me see you."

You’re hesitant about it, but you remember that you took extra steps when you freshened up in the bathroom. Slowly, you spread your legs, lifting your feet to rest on the edge of the desk. Cool air against your soaked pussy sends shivers all over your body.

His hands rest on the plush of your inner thighs. His eyes are mesmerized by the sight in front of him. You almost feel self-conscious by the close-up he’s getting.

"Zayne –" You squirm under his stare.

Snapping out of his daze, he meets your eyes "I’m sorry. You’re just so much more beautiful than I imagined."

Than he imagined? The statement makes your cheeks even deeper red, your pussy more wet and impatient.

Feeling impatient himself, Zayne starts by placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh. The hand on the opposite side follows the same trail, his slender fingers stopping to tease your wet folds, the contact making you gasp and involuntarily clench your thighs.

"Relax, angel." His breath fans over your pussy, not making it easier but you try anyway.

The digits slowly glide over the wetness, bathing in your juices. Your hips flinch as his fingertips lightly circle your clit, thighs trembling as digits are replaced with his hot tongue. It glides flat over your folds, stopping to circle the sensitive nub. The tip of the tongue flicks over it, circles it, again and again, your cunt dripping with both his saliva and your arousal. His middle finger slides in, ring finger shortly after, curling to reach and rub that delicate spot inside you; he sucks and licks your clit while finger fucking you, and your thighs are now shaking, toes curling, as intense waves of pleasure course through your body.

Your hold onto Zayne’s hair, and roll your hips in the same rhythm of his fingers, chasing your release, "Zayne… I’m gonna–"

He locks eyes with you and continues what he’s doing; you come shortly after, covering your mouth with your hand.

Zayne helps you come down from your high, places soft pecks on your thighs again and stands up, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Your hands frantically find his belt and start unbuckling it.

Zayne breaks the kiss, ‘I don’t have any condoms here.’

You shrug ‘Just pull out.’

‘That’s not very respo – ‘

‘Well, you’re a doctor; you can prescribe me some plan b pills.’ you innocently flutter your lashes.

He chuckles and starts taking off his tie and shirt, and you take a moment to gaze at the strong, chiseled muscles of his torso, his arms and those shoulders. Zayne, amused at your dazed and shameless ogling of his  shirtless physique, reaches down to unzip his pants, taking them and underwear off in the same go, his hard cock smacking against his shaved pelvis. You suck in a breath when your eyes land on it. He's long and thick, curved just right, tip glistening with so much precum. You hand wraps around it, stroking and feeling the pulsing veins under your touch.

Zayne’s breath hitches ‘Are you sure – fuck…’ He groans when you press his length against your slippery folds, teasingly moving your hips.

‘Yes… I need you.’

With those magic words, Zayne swipes all the papers off the table, grabs you behind the knees and lifts your legs further, and you lean back to rest on your elbows.

His dick strokes your slit, tip teasing the entrance, but you're so impatient.

'Zaynee-' you whine.

He closes his eyes, jaw clenched. Even though your ‘friend’ is the embodiment of calm and collected, right now he’s barely holding onto his composure. His flushed cheeks and red ears, ragged breathing are exposing how badly he wanted, needed, this and how he’s trying so hard not to cum right here before even slipping the tip in.

But he doesn’t want to wait any longer; with your needy whines spurring him on, he places his red cockhead against you, your drenched pussy making it easy to slide it in.

His leg muscles tremble, trying to restrain himself from bottoming out the same second; with shallow thrusts, he slowly slides it all the way in. He towers over you, one hand resting on the desk, the other cupping your face. His hips roll at languid pace, his hooded eyes never leaving your face, watching you adjust to his size.

As you get comfortable, you grab him by back of his neck “Faster, please…” You breathe. He leans down, locking your lips into a sloppy kiss.

He slowly picks up the pace, his hand starts playing with your nipples again, and now it's really hard keep your voice down. You keep breaking the kiss in desperate need to catch your breath, but moans escape your lips as well. Zayne grabs your upper arms and pushes you down further. His muscular torso pressed against yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit.

“Zayne - I'm close”

“Try to stay quiet, angel.” he grunts, his eyes locked on your face, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He angles himself so his hand can reach down and rub your clit, and it’s too much for you - you cum a few seconds later and Zayne has to slip two fingers of his other hand into your mouth to keep you from screaming. You still whimper and moan over his fingers. He slows down to help you ride out the orgasm, and pulls out the fingers to kiss your lips.

'Is it okay to pick up the pace now? I'm so close.'

You only nod, unable to form any words. He plants a kiss on your temple and moves onto kissing and sucking your neck. Then he goes back to just looking at your face while he picks up the pace, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him even deeper. You bite your bottom lip, but at this point, you feel it's impossible to stay quiet. And now it's not only you who is making noise, but the desk, although sturdy, is starting to move and creak.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you off the table with his big arms wrapped around your torso. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him. His hands grabs your ass and starts moving your hips in unison with his, his throbbing dick thrusting so much deeper, all the juices leaking down his balls and onto the floor.

You latch your teeth onto his neck to keep yourself from screaming while he’s panting feverishly into your ear.

‘I’m gonna come soon –‘

You meet his gaze ‘Don’t pull out.’

His hips stutter at your words, eyes widening for a second. He curses under his breath and picks up the pace. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, lewd gasps and pants interrupting.

His hands squeezing your ass in a bruising grip, he grunts against your lips, and you feel intense throbbing of his cock; warm liquid filling you up, sending shivers all over your sweaty body.

His slow pumps let his thick cum drip out, making a mess of his pants and the floor. You can feel how fast his heart is beating against your chest. The two of you catch your breath as your lips share a languid kiss, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

After pulling out, Zayne sits you on his chair. He kneels in front of you, caresses your cheek, his eyes full of adoration. “I never thought our first time would look like this.”

You lean into his palm, looking at him with sweet innocent eyes, “Oh? What did you imagine then?”

“I can show you later.”

[mills-73]

Ok first off I love love love your writings like it just hit the g-spot u know LOLOLOL

ANyway I wanna request you for a Ford x Reader fic where the reader sneaks under his desk as he’s writing / reading smth and gives him the gawk gawk 3000. Absolutely devouring him and Ford just losing it slowly like his hand writing slowly losing it’s curves / getting harder to focus on the paragraph 😋

Thank you so much for this hehehe

i got ya

Ward Willing

Ford has a tendency to overwork himself some nights. You’ve been horny bored all night and he’s been down in his lab, so you do the only thing you can think of to get his attention.

Stanford Pines x reader

TAGS: 18+!! MDNI, smut, blowjobs, gender-neutral reader

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Ford Pines is probably one of the most hardest working men you know.

He’s always cooped up in that damn lab of his, day or night, and it’s never really bothered you up until recently. He’d always come to bed a decent time—and if he was feeling up to it, he’d take care of you. Lately, he’s been working late into the night, and sometimes you didn’t have the energy to wait up for him.

Tonight, however, you need him. But he’s still working.

You toss and turn in the bed, slipping your hand down between your thighs to try and get yourself off, but it doesn’t work. You want him, right here, right now.

You groan into your pillow, looking up at the door with an idea a minute later. You smirk to yourself, crawling out of bed and hurry to the vending machine, punching in the code.

Ford doesn’t notice that you’re standing at the doorway, completely engrossed in writing. He started a new journal after the summer was over and he’s determined to fill it with all kinds of fascinating research. Usually, you’d be curious, but right now all you can see is him, those fingers, that wonderful thing between his thighs…

His hair is messy, glasses slipping down the slope of his nose, and his fingers impatiently tap at the table. His pen is stuck between his lips, lightly chewing on the end of it. (You don’t know how many pens he’s ruined since you’ve met him, but you know it’s a lot).

You walk up behind him, hands reaching out to rest in his shoulders. He jumps slightly, but slouches into your touch when he hears your voice. “Stressed, baby?”

He moans lazily in response but continues to write. You dig your thumbs into his shoulder blades, applying a small amount of pressure, just enough to see him falter a little, but his attention is still strictly on his task.

You roll your eyes, stepping around to the side of him. “Are you coming to bed soon?” You note the amount of coffee cups pushed out of his way. He had a weird thing about reusing cups, which resulted in his desktop having multiple ones scattered about at all times.

Ford gives you a nod but you know he’s running on autopilot right now.

Your gaze falls to his lap, then to the space under the desk, a mischievous smile slowly spreading across your face.

Dropping down to your knees, you quickly crawl underneath his desk, settling between his thighs. You push them open a little so you can be a bit more comfortable, your hands coming up to rub him.

“W-What are you doing?” Ford breathes, rolling back in the chair. His eyes are wide and his face is flushed.

You flash him your teeth, your fingers deftly playing with the zipper of his jeans. “Go back to writing, Ford,” you whisper.

“What? No. You know I can’t focus when you’re touching me like that.”

The bulge in his jeans is already becoming more apparent by the second, your stomaching fluttering in anticipation. While you’re able, you unbutton his jeans, dragging them down his hips with a little help from him and letting them pool around his ankles, his underwear following suit.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s not entirely big length wise, but he’s thick, which makes up for the lack of a few inches. The tip is a shade of pink that matches his lips perfectly, and you lean forward to press a delicate kiss to it. He shutters from above.

“I don’t care. Go back to your work.”

He gives you a curious look, but does as you say. You hear him click his pen a couple times, the soft sound of ink meeting paper, and you giggle softly.

You poke your tongue out again, licking a long stride from base to tip. His thighs tense at the friction, but settle again. Your mouth wraps tenderly around the pink skin, the salty taste of precum exploding over your tongue. You moan quietly, the vibrations causing him to drop his pen for a quick second.

His breathing becomes audible, the sound of a soft whimper reaching your ears. You grin around his cock and sink lower, taking more and more until your nose is pressing against his navel. You hold your position there for a moment, popping off with a small gasp.

From above, Ford hasn’t been able to write more than three words.

You grin, wrapping your hand around the base as your mouth wraps around him again. You bob your head slowly, running your tongue against the underside of his cock in ways you know drive him crazy.

His leg twitches, hand reaching below the desk to burry it in your hair. He plays with the strands, pushing your head down slightly, silently begging for more. You can’t help but keen in response to his touch, obliging the request.

You flatten your tongue against the frenulum, curling it just enough to draw another whimper from the man above. Your ego blooms, prideful as you continue your ministrations.

Ford groans. “Doll, I-I can’t—” he cuts off with a moan when you suckle at the tip.

You lean back a little, gathering all the spit in your mouth and slowly letting it fall out of your mouth over Ford’s cock, the substance rolling over the tip and down his length. Your hand pumps him once, twice, a third time before you swallow him to the back of your throat.

He rolls his hips upward, causing you to gag at how deep he is. His fingers tangle in your hair, grabbing at your head and pulling up and down.

“I’m—fuck, dollface,” he groans.

You hear the sound of his pen falling, his journal snapping shut, before he leans back in his chair, eyeing you from your position. His eyes are glossy, glasses crookedly hanging on his face, and his cheeks a beautiful shade of cherry. He always looks so fucking sexy when he’s needy for you.

“I need more, baby. Please give me more.”

You nod weakly, your jaw slack as you bob your head. Spit dribbles down your chin, another moan muffled by the intrusion in your mouth.

It’s quite obscene, really. But you enjoy it nonetheless.

His quiet whimpers turn into rough moans, waves of iron-hot pleasure dripping down your spine as you work your mouth over the sensitive flesh, your own sounds a little garbled by the sheer amout of spit building under your tongue.

You flick the tip of the flesh, your teeth grazing softly against the underside, adoring the way Ford shivers beneath you. It’s vulgar; you enjoy it a bit too much, your own arousal causing you to lose yourself in the blissfulness of it all.

You pop off with a throaty moan, a string of spit connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his cock. You meet his hungry gaze for a moment, smiling sweetly at him.

“I want you to start coming to bed at a decent time. Or I’ll be down here every night to interrupt your work,” you say, lazily stroking his cock.

He huffs a laugh. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, doll.”

You roll your eyes at him, slipping him back into your mouth. This time you pick up your pace, jerking him off in tandem of your tongue rolling all over. He preens at the friction, his head lolling back on his chair, mouth parted to allow a plethora of whimpers and moans to escape the back of his throat.

His chest heaves, all six of his fingers grabbing at your hair. “Fuck, fuck. I’m gonna cum, doll. Please don’t stop.”

At his confession, you go harder, slurping and sucking, his grip teetering on the edge of blatantly painful. He catches your eyes again, the sight alone making him explode in your mouth, whimpering softly.

The taste of his cum is salty yet sweet and you swallow it all, a generous smile on your face as you pop your lips off the sensitive tip. He shutters, moving his hand from his hair to the side of your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

“That was amazing, baby. Your mouth never ceases to impress me.”

You blush. “Thank you…”

You slide out from underneath the desk, the man fixing his pants before standing up as well. In a quick motion, he has you pinned against the edge of the wood, his mouth on yours, devouring you whole. You whimper into his mouth.

“Now,” he nips at your bottom lip, “your turn.”

~

hope you enjoyed, ty for reading!!

[harstyle]

the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t��me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

-

part two!

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[klaus-littlestwolf]

The Chase-Alpha!Aemond

(This is an Omegaverse fic. I was asked several times to write something with Aemond and chasing/predator-prey as well as something with Alpha!Aemond and this is what came of it. Honestly Alpha!Aemond is probably my favorite Alpha that I write for. I hope everyone that asked for this enjoys it and in the future I’m always happy to receive Alpha!Aemond requests.)

Warning: Primal Kink (predator/prey/chase), A/B/O Dynamics, Knotting, heavy smut, Alpha!Aemond threatening everyone

Viserys decided to make a big deal out of it. Rhaenyra’s only daughter was coming of age (all children presenting on their 18th name-day). He loved his granddaughter to death and wanted it to be special, even though she hated parties and crowds of people with a passion.

Most of the time you could tell what someone was going to present as just from their personalities, Alphas always being stronger personalities, usually cocky and tough. Both Daemon and Aemond were known to be Alphas before presenting. (The only Targaryen Alphas currently in the world). Omegas were sweet and kind, usually very soft, however there had never been a Targaryen Omega before, at least since the Doom.

Y/n didn’t present until the afternoon just before the celebration started, everyone shocked to find out that the Princess was the first Targaryen Omega in over 1000 years. It was that much more to celebrate in the sickly Kings eyes and the party went on, Daemon spending most of the evening with his daughter to ensure the room of Alphas keeps their hands to themselves.

Y/n was annoyed. She was hot, and tired, and finished putting up with all of these Alphas trying to speak to her, all of the noble houses ready to put forth their Alpha sons for an alliance with House Targaryen the first day she presents like no one cares to let her acclimate to her new existence at all. They had all been prepared to put forth their Beta sons at the assumption she would present as such, however since she didn’t she had no choice. An Omega can only be mated by their Alpha, a law made by the Targaryens long ago when Alphas in the realm were assaulting Omegas any time they pleased, leading to babies that were sick and deformed (the only reason Aegon the Conqueror ordered their protection supposedly though most people believe it was because it how much he loved his Omega sister wife). Now all of the noble houses will be praying that she will be the mate of a member of their house, she will end up spending an entire day smelling a line of Alphas and odds are never find hers…it will be torture.

By late that evening she had decided to be finished with the party and go to bed. She made her way out the servants entrance and down the halls of the Red Keep, making her way to the library to find a book for the night. She wasn’t in there searching for 5 minutes when she smelled it, the heavy, woodsy scent that filled her nose was amazing. She knew instantly what it was, even if it hadn’t been for the jarringly loud growl that came along with the Alphas scent. Never in a million years would she have expected her Alpha to just so happen to be here and yet here she is. She hadn’t been an Omega for more than a few hours, she had no idea what to do, she hadn’t even spoken to her mother about Omega mating as there was no chance it would be relevant in her life but now in this moment, the only thing she could think to do was turn towards the door and run.

It was only at that moment as she was sprinting down the corridors that she remembered the horror stories told to her by her brothers as a child. The ones of Alphas hunting down their Omegas. An Omega running from them triggered their hunting instincts and they would give chase until they caught their mate, the Alpha had no control over it. If only she had been an Omega for more than just a few hours, maybe she would have remembered that.

Y/n turned down a corridor where she knew a servants hallway to be, no one just visiting the Keep would know anything about it and she quickly moved the tapestry that it resides behind, sprinting down the hallway and towards the exit. She stumbled, nearly falling off of her heels which she quickly kicked off as she ran, not willing to break an ankle, pausing as she came to the door to the gardens the servants used to serve lunches out there discreetly. She was panting heavily, trying to catch her breath when she heard shoes hitting the stone floor behind her and yanked open the door, continuing her run. All she had to do was get to her Dragon that slept on the beach, her ghostly mount not willing to reside in the pits or be around any other humans but his rider. If she could get to Ghost she would be safe in the sky, at least until she had to come back down but it would give her time to gather her thoughts…or flee to Dragonstone and never return…yes. She liked that option.

That is exactly what she did as she stumbled onto the beach and saw her Dragons head pop up. He bared his teeth, clearly realizing that his rider was in distress and he stretched, spreading his wings. He lowered his head and she hopped onto him as quickly as she could, never happier for his smaller stature than in that moment, standing about three quarters the size of Caraxes and very slender.

Her father had loved that his daughter had mounted the Grey Ghost, enjoying the idea that she could easily protect herself from other dragons (such as Vhagar) by going unseen in a cloud bank for as long as it took for others to leave. He also suggested that if it were ever necessary that she would be a good spy in the same way, able to see what others were doing and still hide so as not to be spotted. Rhaenyra was insistent that it would never be needed but Daemon trained her for it regardless.

‘Aderī Ghost! Sōves!’ She shouted, the dragon already prepared to take off and leaping into the air quickly, roaring out a loud warning to whatever his human had been running from as he flew away. Once over the water Y/n looked back, expecting to see an angry Alpha on the beach watching her fly away but there was no one. (Quickly Ghost! Fly!)

She did not slow Ghost all the way back to Dragonstone, happy to be home as soon as they landed in the courtyard. The staff was very small as no one was currently home and so she ordered Ghost to be fed before making her way into the castle and finding her bedroom where she requested a bath.

Y/n felt much better after a long soak in the scalding hot water to ease her sore muscles, running was something she already hated and her calves would hate her in the morning. The maid had been given the night off and so she dried off and dressed herself in her small clothes for bed, prepared to send a raven to her mother in Kings Landing to tell her what happened when she heard the loud roar of a dragon that definitely wasn’t hers. She considered it for a moment and came to the realization that only Daemon could have gotten here so fast, it would have taken time to realize Ghost was gone and then Caraxes is the only one who could fly almost as fast as her small lithe dragon could. The roar didn’t sound like Caraxes usually did though, it was much deeper.

As she made her way out of her chamber and through the halls to greet her father she stopped as she turned, seeing a much different person at the end of the hallway. ‘Aemond? W-What are you doing here, Uncle?’ She had been close with her Uncle in their childhood but the night that Luke maimed him had ended that sadly, whether either of them wanted it to or not, their mothers were adamant that they no longer speak.

It was at that moment that she was overcome by the smell again and her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. She hadn’t gotten away at all, just fled somewhere that no one would find them. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to run from your Alpha, Byka Zaldrīzes?’ He questioned, her old nickname sending a chill down her spine as his scent set her body on edge. (Little Dragon)

‘I’ve been an Omega for half a day…no one has said much of anything…please don’t do this, Aemond? Kostilus Kepus?’ She knew it would make no difference, he couldn’t stop now and she knew that as he had been stepping closer since the moment she opened her mouth. (Please Uncle?)

‘I will take care of you Omega…no need to worry.’ His voice was deeper than normal, almost distorted as he spoke, moving forward a bit faster now. He moved to run just as she turned around and sprinted back down the halls. She got into her chambers just as he caught up to her, catching the door before she could shut it and shoving it open, landing her sprawled out on the floor. Moving to crawl under the bed, he slammed the door and caught her ankle, sliding her back out and lifting her abruptly, dropping her back onto the nicely made bed. She whimpered, trying to push his hands away but he shushed her and now this close she could see that his pupils were dilated, nearly taking up his entire eye like that of a dragon. ‘Omega, sweet Omega, My Omega!’ He growled, nuzzling his face into her neck as he yanked his trousers off, shoving her shift up her body and ripping it off in pieces.

‘Aemond! Please, I’m scared, please just wait-‘

‘No! No fear, Alphas right here. Nothing will ever hurt my Omega.’ It was as if he really couldn’t rationalize that it was him she was afraid of as he lined his cock up with her dripping hole and shoved himself into her roughly. The pleasure that rushed through her body as he nuzzled against her scent gland at her neck, his scent fully encompassing her now, dulled the pain of his intrusion. ‘Wanted you so long Byka Zaldrīzes, so long…pretty little Omega.’ He rumbled deep in his chest, enjoying the feeling of being inside of his Omega before he moved.

‘I’ve only been an Omega for a day…’ she muttered as she tried to relax her body that was now desperate for him as well as his scent that was torturing her.

‘I’ve always loved you, Y/n…pretty Omega…’ he growled, thrusting up into her and licking his tongue up the side of her neck. She clutched the soft fabric of his shirt and pulled at it as he moved. ‘I love you so much Mandianna. All mine now, Alpha will protect you…’ (Niece)

‘Kepus! Oh Gods! D-Don’t stop!’ The tingly feeling that was now rushing through her was euphoric, knowing that it’s her Alpha that is rutting into her was more pleasurable than she ever could have imagined.

‘Never! Never going to stop Omega! Alpha will fuck you every day, knock you up so good! Be so pretty all full of my pups! Imagine these full for me, such a good Omega, so fucking perfect!’ He moaned, leaning down to bite along her breasts and leave marks before wrapping his lips around her nipple and suck which gave her more pleasure than she ever expected.

‘Fuck Aemond! Alpha! Want my Alpha in me forever!’

‘Yes Omega! Yours, Your Alpha! Gonna fill you up so good! Made me wait for you so long, almost killed me-‘

‘I’m sorry! So sorry Alpha, I was so-scared-‘

‘No! No more. My Omega will never be scared again, Alphas here. Alpha will protect you! My Omega! Mine-Mine-Fucking Mine!’ He roared, thrusting as deep into her cunt as he could and feeling his knot expand to lock him into her as he came, feeling his Omega cum around him, crying out and clinging to him like the needy Omega she is. ‘Good girl, my good girl.’ He mumbled before burying his fangs into her throat over her scent gland and tasting her sweet blood as he marked her as his mate, feeling her little fangs in his flesh as well.

Aemond held her close as they both fell asleep almost as soon as Aemond pulled the blanket over them, sleeping for the Gods only know how long before awakening to see it was clearly night time. They were both finally fully aware again and thinking clearly, Y/n blushing as she looked up at her Uncle to see him looking at her already.

‘I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to run, I just-‘

‘Shh…it’s alright Byka Zaldrīzes, I know. That party never should have happened, someone should have helped you. It’s not your fault my love.’ He brushed his fingers down her face and along her shoulder, enjoying touching her skin every chance he got seemingly. ‘I apologize for behaving like a brute, it will not happen again, I assure you. I will be gentle with my Omega.’

‘Oh…well I liked it…maybe you don’t always have to be gentle?’ Aemond smirked, leaning close to nuzzle his nose against hers.

‘I will make my mate happy, however you need to be fucked.’ He teased and she glared playfully. ‘You running wasn’t such a bad thing. If you hadn’t we would have been interrupted already.’

‘We’ll still be interrupted-‘

‘Yes but not until they notice in the morning that we’re both gone. Everyone will have assumed you would be exhausted and gone to bed, everyone else will be too drunk to check. When they realize that you’re missing and that both of our dragons are gone as well they will figure it out I’m sure…at least Otto and Daemon will, I’m not sure about anyone else. However by then you will most definitely be carrying my pups and we will be dragged back to Kings Landing.’ He joked but she knew he was right. ‘I love you Y/n…I’ve always loved you…Marry me.’ He said suddenly and she looked up at where he now was leaning over her and smiled.

‘I don’t think I have a choice.’ She laughed but he didn’t seem to like that.

‘I want you to be my wife because you love me as I love you. I loved you before I was ever an Alpha and-‘

‘Yes. I love you too Kepus. I always have…’ Y/n reached up to his face and took hold of the eye patch that he had slept in before removing it and tracing her thumb along his scarred cheek. ‘I never stopped loving you Aemond.’

‘My sweet Omega.’ He pulled her closer and nuzzled into her throat as he heard the soft purr that escaped her chest at just about the same time that his knot finally went down and he could move again.

Aemond fucked his Omega twice more before allowing her to rest, sleeping on his chest for the rest of the night.

He had been correct of course, not only Daemon but Rhaenyra and surprisingly Aegon arrived on Dragonstone early that morning just after the sun came up, barging into Y/n’s chambers and startling the newly mated couple awake.

‘Y/n! Are you alright, my Darling?!’ Her mother demanded, rushing to the side of the bed and taking her face into her hands as they both sat up.

‘I am fine mother. I promise, my Alpha has taken wonderful care of me.’ Rhaenyra eyed Aemond but Aemond was focused now on Daemon and Aegon, the ladder of which was staring straight at his Omegas exposed chest prompting him to growl loudly.

‘If you do not avert your eyes brother, you will cease to have use of them ever again.’ And for once, Aegon listened, knowing that in this case his brother was not exaggerating in any way. He would carve his eyes out of his skull if he continued to ogle his Omega, prompting Aegon to turn around quickly. ‘You as well, Uncle. Turn.’ He warned, Daemon glaring back at him.

‘I’m her father.’ He snarled.

‘Yes, you are. And an Alpha all the same, Turn!’ Daemon looked ready to reach for his sword just as Aemond stiffened, prepared to jump onto him when Rhaenyra spoke up.

‘You wanted a protective mate for her, now she has one. Give our daughter her privacy and turn Husband!’ She snapped and finally Daemon did as he was told. ‘What happened my Darling, why are you here instead of in your chambers or even Aemond’s. You had us so worried!’

‘I am sorry mother. I…I didn’t mean to but when I walked into the library and smelled Aemond I didn’t know who it was and…I ran…’ Rhaenyra’s eyes went wide and she looked at Aemond, instantly concerned. ‘He didn’t hurt me mother. He was a bit frantic at first but it was my fault-‘

‘That is not your fault Byka Zaldrīzes, no one told you anything and you were scared. That is never your fault, you are perfect.’ Aemond assured her, taking her hand into his and kissing it sweetly.

‘My brother is correct my Darling, I should have prepared you for the possibility. I just never considered that it could even be a possibility. I am sorry…so you ran from your Alpha and came here with Ghost?’ Y/n nodded her head.

‘When I realized what she was doing I stopped running after her, I knew I wouldn’t catch her and that her dragon may just set me ablaze if he felt how scared she was-‘

‘That was a good idea. Ghost was pretty angry the moment he awoke. He always knows how I feel and he has killed 6 separate guards for coming too close to us when we’re together…and one other one for being in my room and startling me.’ His Omega explained, pointing to the wall on the opposite side of the doors to her balcony. ‘He was very quick I admit, he landed on the railing and burned him. By the time my parents arrived he had shoved himself through the doors and was taking up most of the room with his head on my bed here. My dragon is extremely protective of me…though I doubt he could fit through the doors any longer, he barely could before. Squeezing him back out was a nightmare.’ She giggled, Aemond looking shocked but Y/n could also feel that he was happy as well.

‘Good. Dragons have always been more protective when they’re bonded to Omegas, rare as it is. They’re also more protective of their riders Omegas, which means you will have nothing to fear from Vhagar as well…anyway, instead of chasing her to the beach I grabbed a horse and went to Vhagar. She is large but she could never keep up with how fast Ghost is, I arrived an hour after her-‘

‘Hour and a half I would say. I had a bath before he arrived. I’m honestly thankful for it, I felt disgusting covered in all those Alphas scents from the party.’ All at once Y/n realized all of those Alphas that she hadn’t met yet were still waiting for exactly that. ‘Mother! Please tell me I don’t have to meet anymore of them, please? They smell horrendous and I-‘ Rhaenyra shushed her immediately while Aemond rumbled out a soft growl, pulling his Omega closer.

‘No my Darling, your father will make the announcement that you have found your Alpha and none of them will be willing to come near you. We do need to get back though, the party is still in effect and the King demands both of your presence. Get dressed, I will go and have the staff move your things to a larger room for the both of you here.’ Her mother kissed her head before leaving the room with Daemon, Aegon who had yet to move spoke up before closing the door.

‘I didn’t know you had it in you brother. I’m so proud.’ Aemond grumbled but Y/n held onto his arm to stop him from going after his retreating brother. ‘You’re welcome by the way, lovely Niece, without me your “Alpha” wouldn’t even have known where to put it. I’m so happy that I could be of service-‘ just as Aemond was about to lunge at his brother who was ready to close the door behind him he was struck in the face by a large book making the Prince yelp, slamming the door behind him.

‘Are you alright?’ Y/n asked and her Alpha nodded, pulling her close and roughly kissing her, loving her assault on his brother and her clear defense of him.

‘That was wonderful, nice shot.’ He grinned, kissing her again only to have his hands grabbed before he could take her hips.

‘We will have all the time in the world later but we have to get back, I promise you I am all yours all night.’

‘Good.’ Aemond growled. ‘Because you are not getting away like this from now on, your mornings are all mine.’ He teased, nipping her scent gland before allowing her to move and get dressed.

He didn’t allow her to “clean up”, insisting she smell like him for the rest of the party, God forbid one of those young, stupid Alphas decides to try his luck.

Aemond had tried to get his Omega to fly with him and while he was determined to make it happen, Ghost was not up for it today as he started screaming when his rider walked passed him with only a nose pet. In the end she kissed her Alpha and met Vhagar (who seemed to like her considering she’s the only one the 180 year old dragon hasn’t tried to burn for touching her) before climbing onto her own dragon who tolerated Aemond.

Viserys was thrilled to find that his son and granddaughter were mated, almost every single one of the Alphas would not even meet her gaze once Daemon announced the news, though a few of them still stared. One Alpha boy actually attempted asking her for a dance while her Alpha spoke to his mother, forcefully kissing her hand before having his face slammed into the table and allowing her to hear his bones crack. No male of any designation approached her after that. Apart from Peter of course, who was an Omega as well, Aemond having no problem with his presence at all. They became fast friends and Peter actually became her hand maid, since an Omega needs an Omega for such a task and most are already mated, Y/n was happy for him to have the job.

Everything considered, Y/n figured it could have been much worse had her Alpha been anyone else. She was happy with Aemond as her Alpha knowing that she was safe and though she would have to spend her days keeping her brothers out of trouble with her Alpha, it was worth it.

Aemond eventually dragged her from the party (though he didn’t have to try very hard), carrying her back to their shared chambers and spending the rest of the day and night locked inside-Peter being the only one allowed in to bring their meals.

No one was surprised when 2 months later they discovered that she was pregnant, Aemond determined to keep her that way for the rest of their lives on Dragonstone. He adapted to life there fairly quickly and became his Omegas “official” personal guard and that was where they remained until Viserys passed-Otto and Alicent not even daring to attempt to steal Rhaenyra’s throne without Aemond and Vhagar under their thumb. He took orders from a different Queen now, and it definitely wasn’t his sister.

Mandianna-I believe translates to (from what I can tell after way too much research trying to get it right) “Older Sisters son/daughter” (no gender)

Aemond T. Masterlist

[novaursa]

I have a request!! Could you write something about it being Cregan’s birthday but he forgets that it’s his birthday. Like it starts with little things like the kids bringing him breakfast in bed and he is thinking “how odd” but doesn’t mind it, sometime later he’s listening to some concerns from the locals and his daughter just runs up and sits on his lap and gives him a flower and a kiss on his cheek before jumping down and running away. Basically his wife and children are doing little things for him throughout the day and the day ends with a cute surprise dinner, his son manages to snag Ice or tells him something is happening in the main hall and he needs to go quickly but he gets there in the main hall and is surprised with some people of the North and his wife and kids and they have a nice small feast together. After the dinner they have a cute family hug and he thanks them. Please and thank you!

Valyrian Bride (nameday)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Cregan notices his wife and children doing strange (well, stranger then usual) things for him throughout the day.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: I've blended in your request with this series. I hope you don't mind, dear anon. ☺️

- Previous part: dragon's bath

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Cregan Stark woke to the scent of fresh bread and something sweet. Groggy from a late night spent discussing strategies with his bannermen, he blinked his eyes open, feeling unusually warm. The early morning light filtered into the chambers, and as his vision adjusted, he found himself staring at an odd sight—his children standing by the side of the bed, balancing trays full of food, their faces lit with excitement.

“Good morning, Papa!” his daughter chirped, her silver-gold hair falling around her face as she held a tray of honeyed bread and eggs.

His son, holding a pitcher of steaming tea with a grin that was a little too mischievous, echoed, “Happy morning, Father!”

Cregan blinked again, sitting up slowly. His brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s this, then?”

“We brought you breakfast in bed,” his daughter announced proudly, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. She carefully set the tray on his lap, beaming.

His son plopped down on the edge of the bed, handing him a cup of tea. “And we didn’t even burn anything!”

Cregan accepted the cup with a bemused look, glancing from one child to the other. “Aye, and I appreciate it,” he said, taking a sip of the tea, which, to his surprise, was perfectly brewed. “But what’s the occasion?”

The siblings exchanged a quick glance, then shrugged in unison, far too casually for Cregan’s liking. “No occasion!” they said, practically in chorus.

He raised an eyebrow but decided not to press further. Children had their whims, after all, and if today’s whim involved breakfast in bed, he wasn’t going to complain. Still, something tugged at the back of his mind as he tucked into the meal. There was a familiarity to the kindness, a sense of something he should be remembering, but it slipped just out of reach.

“Right,” he muttered, shaking his head as children began chattering about their plans for the day. “Odd, but… I’ll take it.”

Later that morning, Cregan found himself in the courtyard, listening to the concerns of one of the local farmers who was having trouble with the wolves getting too close to his sheep. As usual, Cregan was methodical, going over possible solutions, but as he was deep in thought, something small and swift barreled toward him.

His daughter.

She darted up to him, completely ignoring the fact that he was in the middle of a conversation, and, without a word, climbed into his lap as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Cregan blinked, startled by her sudden appearance.

“Papa!” she said brightly, brandishing a small, wildflower. She placed it delicately in his hand, then leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “For you!”

And with that, she jumped down and scampered off, leaving Cregan holding the flower, thoroughly perplexed. The farmer stared at him, eyebrows raised, but Cregan could only offer a sheepish grin as he tucked the flower into his pocket.

“How… odd,” he muttered under his breath again, but a smile tugged at his lips. The day was starting to feel more and more unusual, but he had work to do, and so he carried on.

The afternoon brought more strange little moments. His wife seemed to be uncharacteristically affectionate, brushing her hand along his arm as they passed one another in the hall, pressing a kiss to his temple when no one was looking. At one point, she even slipped him a small note during lunch, which simply read, “Tonight, you’ll see.”

Cregan narrowed his eyes at her, but she just smiled in that secretive way of hers, leaving him both intrigued and slightly wary. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening right under his nose, but for the life of him, he couldn’t put it together.

And then, just as the sun began to set, his son burst into his study, eyes wide and breathless with excitement. “Father!” he said, grabbing Cregan’s arm and tugging. “You need to come to the main hall. Quickly!”

Cregan stood, frowning. “Why? What’s happened?”

“It’s important! Hurry!” the boy insisted, already half-dragging him toward the door. Cregan, still baffled but curious now, allowed himself to be pulled along.

As they made their way through the corridors, Cregan’s brow furrowed deeper. Something was definitely going on. The halls were suspiciously quiet, and the usual activity of the castle seemed to have hushed as if Winterfell itself was holding its breath. His son glanced back at him every so often, grinning like a cat that had caught a mouse, but gave no further explanation.

When they reached the main hall, Cregan pushed the heavy wooden door open, and—

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices filled the air, followed by the sound of clapping and cheers.

Cregan stood frozen in the doorway, staring in disbelief. The great hall was filled with familiar faces—his bannermen, the local farmers, his closest friends and family. Long tables had been laid out, piled high with food and drink, the hearth was roaring, and banners adorned the walls in celebration.

And at the head of the table stood his wife, smiling warmly, with their children flanking her on either side.

Cregan blinked, completely taken aback. “What in the—”

“Happy nameday, my love,” his wife said, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and the realization finally hit him.

His nameday.

Of course.

Cregan let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. “I forgot, Y/N.”

“We know,” she teased, laughing as she pulled him into the hall. “That’s why we had to remind you in the most obvious way possible.”

He glanced around the hall, at all the people gathered there—the people of the North, his family, his friends—and felt a deep warmth fill his chest. “You’ve all been plotting this the whole day, haven’t you?”

His son puffed out his chest. “Of course! Did you like your breakfast?”

“And the flower?” his daughter chimed in, skipping over to tug on his hand.

Cregan laughed, pulling his children into a tight embrace. “Aye, I should’ve known something was going on.”

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and feasting. Cregan sat at the head of the table with his family by his side, enjoying the small but heartfelt celebration. The food was simple but delicious, the company warm and lively, and as the fire crackled and the stars began to twinkle in the sky outside, Cregan realized just how blessed he was.

After the meal, his children ran to him, wrapping their arms around his legs. His wife joined in, placing her hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with affection. They stood together for a moment in a quiet, perfect family hug, the warmth of the day filling the space between them.

Cregan looked down at his children, then up at his wife, and felt a smile spread across his face, one of pure, unfiltered contentment. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “All of you.”

His wife pressed another kiss to his cheek. “You deserve it.”

And as the fire burned low and the night deepened, Cregan knew he’d remember this nameday not for the gifts or the feast, but for the love that surrounded him—the love of his wife, his children, and his people.

[miumura]

IN ANOTHER LIFE, YOU’D BE THE ONE.

assigning enhypen sad tropes / endings

PAIRING enhypen x gn!reader GENRE angst, some fluff? WARNINGS some r not portrayed in a good light (bc of the trope ideas) WORD COUNT varies from 0.3-0.7K+ per

DISCLAIMER these are just random tropes that i think suits them, however, this is not a true depiction of how enhypen truly acts in real life. this is simply just fictional.

‘ 💬 ’ hanniluvi cb? HAHA sorry for disappearing on you guys, but i just finished finals & school is ending soon !!! so yk what that means 😊! slowly making my way back 2 writing 🫡 this was def made randomly and somehow i was committed to it so here you guys go!!

HEESEUNG — HE FAILED THE SECOND TIME.

i don’t really have an explanation to this, i just think he suits this kind of trope? like he truly loves you to the point where he’s willing to give another shot into the relationship. but when trying again, he realizes the problem but was too late to fix it once more.

You wouldn’t have expected either, but the buzz coming from your phone would be a text message from Heeseung. Shock and adrenaline rushed within your body as he was the first to break the “no contact” rule after your break up.

Without a second thought, you found yourself propped up against your bed frame, texting him instead of sleeping. It was going well, until the text messages started becoming more flirtatious.

Even so, it felt different. It felt like you two were finally ready to try again. When he arrived at your doorstep with flowers and a sign asking, "CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND?", you found no reason to decline.

Texts? He sent you thoughtful good morning and good night messages regularly.

Dates? He always paid attention to your preferences, leading to more spontaneous dates than anticipated.

Gifts? He surprised you with "just because" gifts, often accompanied by adorable notes.

Perhaps it seemed too perfect, but you were too in love to see any warning signs. His initial initiative in reaching out first felt like destiny. However, those blissful three to four months soon dissolved into nothing.

Texts? His responses come much later, and those sweet good morning and good night messages? Few and far between.

Dates? You're the one initiating them, and they lack the genuine spark they once had.

Gifts? It's only you who's putting in the effort, mirroring the gestures he used to make.

You've noticed he's slipping back into old patterns. Heeseung is consumed by his own schedule, neglecting those around him. Attempts to communicate often circle back to his work, leaving no room to discuss your relationship. He's too drained to prioritize you.

Perhaps you shouldn't have expected more or less, considering you already gave him another chance before.

You tried waiting, but with each passing day, you only disappointed yourself further.

So you gradually stopped texting, stopped putting in effort, stopped caring. And what came of it? Nothing.

Nothing until he randomly resurfaced with texts again.

People never change.

This time, without the previous excitement and nerves, you found yourself indifferent to even bother replying. Maybe your silence would speak volumes, considering he's accustomed to the silence he often gives you.

Maybe, you shouldn't have replied in the first place.

JAY — YOU FELL OUT OF LOVE, HE LOVED TOO HARD.

honestly, i see jay as a person who would absolutely do everything and anything for anyone. like this man would have no problem doing anything if it was meant to help anyone he loved. he just gives off the energy / whole idea of “so much love to give, gets not much in return.”

Since you started dating Jay, this guy has been nothing short of perfect to you. He constantly surprises you with flowers, insists on carrying everything for you, and showers you with compliments at every opportunity.

On the surface, it all seemed too good to be true. Despite having what many would consider the "perfect" boyfriend, you found yourself drifting away. Feelings slowly waned, and you began to distance yourself from the person who loved you the most.

Initially, you might not have noticed, but he did. As you began to give him less attention, show less reaction to his gestures, and the love in your eyes faded upon seeing him, he observed it all.

He witnessed you transform into someone unrecognizable. He recognized the signs of change, and perhaps he should have let go then. Yet, there remained a part of him that was reluctant to give up, still holding onto hope and the desire to keep trying.

Despite his earnest efforts to salvage the relationship, he couldn't escape the inevitable "Let’s break up" conversation. He hadn't realized how much his attempts to reignite your love were taking a toll on him until you made the decision to end things.

For months, he had maintained a facade of "everything will be okay," but now, faced with the reality of losing you, he began to crumble. He had invested so much time and energy into becoming a better person for someone he loved, only to realize that he was sacrificing himself in the process.

He couldn't blame you; he never would. He understood that you were falling out of love, and perhaps he should have let go sooner. But he couldn't shake the feelings he still harbored for you, even as they led to nothing but heartache.

Getting over you won't be as simple as he had hoped. He'll likely continue to blame himself, wondering what he could have done differently to be a better boyfriend for you.

But deep down, you know he did nothing wrong. He was a wonderful partner; it's just that you had fallen out of love, and sometimes, that's nobody's fault.

JAKE — RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIME.

DUDEEEEE, you can’t tell me jake gives off the vibes of a person you’d always think about. no matter how much you try to forget him, you visually can’t get him out of your head. like you truly like this guy, but because of the time/fate, it lead you guys onto separate paths. this trope sounds cliche, but it’s the best way i can word it.

Jake embodied everything you sought in a partner. From his looks to his humor, and especially his personality, he checked all the boxes. Spending time with him felt like a whirlwind; the hours flew by when it was just the two of you.

Ever since he moved in next door, you found yourself drawn to him, intrigued by his every move. What began as subtle glances evolved into friendly greetings and eventually daily hangouts.

You never knew you could be this over the heels with someone until you met him. You found yourself looking forward to his daily texts and him sending silly videos that reminded him of you. You found yourself making silly trinkets and dropping them off in his mailbox. You found yourself with a pink envelope in your hand, walking to the park to give to him.

And as always, you saw that smile that always managed to brighten up your day. Sitting next to him on the swings, as you expected to be faced with another few hours of random talk with him, you’d be suddenly hit with the news of him having to move.

You didn't want to believe it.

You hoped he was joking, but instead, you were met with a disappointed look on his face. He seemed almost ashamed that this was happening, even though you knew it wasn't his fault.

You could imagine how badly he felt, so you kept your emotions in check and simply told him you would miss him. That night, you went home with tears staining the pink envelope you had intended to give him—a letter of your confession.

You had planned to give it to him that day, but instead, you saved it for his last day.

"Here," you said, pressing your lips into a thin line as you handed him the envelope.

"What is this?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

"A letter—but don't read it now!"

"Why not? You're tempting me," Jake replied, raising an eyebrow as he held the envelope with care.

"Well, don't listen to your temptations because—hey!" Before you could finish, he had already opened it, revealing its contents.

"This is embarrassing," you mumbled into your hands, feeling the heat rise to your face. Peeking through your fingers, you saw his eyes getting watery as he chuckled at parts of your letter.

When he finished reading, Jake looked at you and extended his arms. You immediately fell into his embrace, feeling his warmth surround you. Placing a hand on the back of your head, he whispered into your ear, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" your voice cracked, fearing that your confession would lead to nothing.

"I'm sorry this had to be this way," he said, clearing his throat and fighting back tears stirred by your emotional letter. "If it wasn't obvious enough, I like you too."

You felt a mix of relief and sadness. Despite your mutual feelings, fate was pulling you in different directions.

Before you could say another word, his family was already calling him to leave. Jake gave you one last squeeze and a look filled with fondness.

"I'll try to contact you often, okay, YN?"

"Okay," you replied.

As he waved goodbye with red eyes and that beautiful smile you loved, you saw him for the last time in person, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your heart.

SUNGHOON — JUST “FAKE DATING”.

do you see the vision that i’m visioning. like i don’t know, it just works out?? like i can see you two starting to fake date, it leads to something more (at least that’s what you think), and that all disappears, repeating once more. like it seems like he means it, but at the same time, his actions seem to prove otherwise. it’s like a constant cycle that you don’t want to or know how to get out of.

"I'm telling you, I don't think you should be doing this," your friend insisted, both online and in person. "Hanging with Sunghoon is only going to hurt you."

You never anticipated how your own choices might backfire. As a good friend, you just wanted to help Park Sunghoon make someone jealous. After all, with his pleading tone, how could you possibly say no?

If only you just believe his rule, "Don't fall in love with each other," this should be easy. You just needed to play the role—that’s all you had to do.

So, it started off slowly.

You two were together all the time, which was normal for you both. But whenever his ex came around, you could feel him inching closer, invading your personal space. It wasn’t much, but it felt rather intimate...though that was the plan.

Then it escalated. Sunghoon didn’t just act like a boyfriend in person and at school; he began behaving the same way outside of school and over text.

You spent more time together, going to places, laughing as you took pictures. He started showing up at your house unannounced, and the two of you would stay up late, binge-watching your favorite shows and having those nightly talks.

He even introduced you to his friends. Would someone go to such lengths for a fake relationship?

It just didn’t feel like pretending. You felt something there, something that couldn’t be easily explained.

You tried to brush it aside, but your feelings for him only grew. You were definitely falling for his stupid, swooning charms.

You hoped he was falling for you too.

But that sliver of hope crashed down when you saw him with the very person he had wanted to chase after.

They were smiling and holding hands. He looked so...happy.

After he gave them a final hug, he turned and met your gaze, your eyes slightly glistening.

"Thank you, YN," he said, with that stupid grin on his face—the one you had fallen for. Seeing it now only made your stomach twist painfully.

“Thank you? That’s….that’s it?”

“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon gave you a confused look. “Did you expect something more?”

“I would’ve loved an explanation.”

“What?”

You pressed your lips together, but your emotions were overflowing.

“Why would you treat me like that? I mean, why would you treat me so nicely? Why would you try so hard that it made me feel like we could’ve had something…real?”

“YN…”

"Just why, Sunghoon? If you knew this was only going to be a fake relationship, why did you create something special only for it to be discarded?"

"I'm sorry, YN. I never intended my gestures to be misleading, so I never purposefully planned that. I did enjoy our time together, but I have to end whatever we had because I now have the person I will always want."

Right.

No matter how hard you try, you can't change Sunghoon's mind.

You aren’t the person he wants.

After all, that was the whole point of his plan.

Don’t fall in love with each other.

SUNOO — YOU TWO DRIFTED APART.

i feel like with sunoo, since he has such an outgoing and bubbly demeanor, it allows him to easily connect with others. so with that idea in mind, why not because of his personality and him constantly being involved in new crowds, it causes him to have no time for you. without realizing it at first, he soon forgets about his priority: you.

You can't help but feel a whirlwind of emotions: confused, overwhelmed, sad.

Sunoo is a great guy, and you know that. But his bubbly personality seems to be interfering with your relationship.

At first, you were completely fine with it. He helped you meet new people, pushed you out of your comfort zone, and, most importantly, you saw him extremely happy. That’s all you really wanted.

But lately, you've noticed that he’s been paying less attention to you. Even when it's just the two of you, he often ends up calling someone or suddenly engaging in conversations with people around you.

You always had to make the plans, and his reactions seemed less genuine compared to when he was with others. Would it be wrong to think that you don’t matter to him anymore?

You always had to initiate conversations. Always.

Just like every other day, you were on the phone with Sunoo, the silence filling the room. No one was talking, and you could probably assume he was messaging someone else while on the phone with you.

Clearing your throat, you finally spoke. “Sunoo?” You didn’t know why you were nervous; he was your boyfriend, after all.

“Yes?”

“Um…” Your throat felt like it was closing up on you. You never wanted to seem pushy or insecure because of his behavior—you just wanted to feel special again, like you did at the beginning of the relationship. It should be easy to tell someone like him, right?

“Just tell me, YN.”

“Listen…” You hesitated before continuing. “Do you even… love me anymore?”

“Seriously? What kind of question is that? Of course I love you. Do I not show you that?”

“Well… no.” You bit your lip, hoping to get the closure you needed.

“I didn’t know you felt that way. I hope you know that you’re my—oh, YN. I’m sorry, I really have to go. I promised to hang out with Jungwon today. I’ll call you back, okay? Love you.”

You heard the other line beep, leaving you feeling empty. Removing the phone from your ear and dropping it in your lap, you looked at the calendar next to you. Today's date had a large red circle with little hearts doodled around the event “OUR ANNIVERSARY.”

He was hanging out with Jungwon instead of you. He forgot it. You stared at the hearts, feeling a knot form in your stomach. This day had meant so much to you, and now it felt like just another ordinary, lonely day.

His "I love you"s always reassured you—but now? They did nothing but make you feel worse.

He really doesn’t realize how much he’s hurting you, does he?

JUNGWON — THE CLASSIC SECOND LEAD.

okay okay, hear me out. i feel like jungwon suits the idea of a person liking someone, but too afraid to actually make a move. like he would want to keep people he like closely, but he would never do anything that seemed like it would lead to a fallout or anything more. so because of this, it leads to him watching you love someone else on the sidelines.

Jungwon has always been a nervous guy, and being in love only amplified his anxiety.

After spending so much time getting to know you, he realized he was falling—deeply. And he hated how it made him feel.

He hated how he would stutter when trying to make eye contact with you.

He hated how he took extra time to fix his hair.

He hated how he felt like a nervous wreck every time he initiated a hangout outside of school and work, praying you’d have the time.

But all those things he hated would soon fade away when he was with you. He began to appreciate himself for making the effort—it felt worth it.

Any moment with you felt special to him—enough for him to lay in bed and think about it all night.

He loved how you made him feel seen and understood, something he had not felt with anyone else.

If he were to date someone, he would want it to be you.

"Isn't he so dreamy?"

Hearing those words crushed his hopes of ever making you his.

He found himself sitting across from you, listening to you talk about this new guy, feeling a knot form in his stomach.

"Are you listening, Won?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. What happened again?" He nervously chuckled, clearly not wanting to hear what was going to come out of your mouth.

"We're going on a date tomorrow!"

His heart was about to burst.

Deep down, he wished he could tell you how he truly felt, how much he cared about you, but it seemed like there would be no point.

Every word felt like a stab, yet he forced a smile. "I am so happy for you, YN."

And there was that smile—the very smile he hoped to see whenever you talked about him. But instead, that beautiful smile was for somebody else.

As you continued excitedly talking about your upcoming date, Jungwon couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness, knowing that he would always be just a friend, never the one you longed for.

Jungwon found another thing he hates about being in love.

He hates how loving someone can ultimately hurt you too.

NIKI — “TOO HARD TO LOVE”.

i can somehow see niki being apart of a trope where there is a lack of communication. like i think it would be hard to express himself properly, leading him to become closed off. like he would do tests to see how much you actually cared for him, leading to his own unsatisfaction. and yet, he still wouldn’t communicate it properly, leading to the downfall of your relationship with him.

"It doesn't seem like you care," Niki let slip out over the phone, his words not quite what he had intended to say to you.

"What do you mean?" you responded, clearly frustrated. "How can you say I don't care?"

"You haven't reached out to me."

"And what about you?"

"What?" Niki was taken aback by your abruptness.

"You never tell me anything. How am I supposed to know that you even want to be around me when all you've done is just push me away?"

The silence hung heavy between you, the weight of unspoken emotions palpable even through the phone line. Niki's mind raced, grappling with the sudden confrontation. He hadn't anticipated this turn in their conversation, nor had he realized the extent of his own actions until now.

Niki had never experienced this level of comfort and connection with anyone before.

He hadn't anticipated falling in love again—until he met you.

You possessed all the qualities he had been searching for, and being with you felt incredibly natural. So, it came as a surprise when he found himself in a relationship with you; it all seemed almost too perfect to be true.

Without even realizing, Niki was starting to become rather distant. He never intended to, but he was afraid of becoming a burden to you. The thought of investing so much time and energy into someone who might eventually leave scared him.

"I... I didn't realize," Niki stammered, his voice betraying a mix of confusion and guilt. "I didn't mean to push you away. I just... I've been dealing with some stuff lately, and I guess I haven't been handling it well."

"Then you could've told me, but you didn't. You only talked to me because I was always the one reaching out first," you finally said, your voice heavy with hurt. "So why?"

Niki felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of your words sinking in. He struggled to find the right words, the right explanation, but nothing seemed adequate.

"I don't know," he admitted softly. "Maybe I was scared."

"Scared of what?" you pressed gently.

"Just... just forget it," Niki muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. “I’m sorry.”

"Niki, I need to know that you're willing to put in the effort, to be open with me. This relationship can't work if it's one-sided."

"I just don't want to lose you," he confessed, his voice breaking slightly.

"I don't know if I can believe that."

"What?" Niki's voice was filled with surprise and hurt.

"I can't tell if you're honest with me. You've done this more than once, Niki."

"But it's true!" His voice raised higher, clearly panicked by how the situation had escalated.

"You say that, but actions speak louder than words," you replied, trying to stay calm despite the turmoil inside. "If you really don't want to lose me, you need to show it, not just say it."

Niki should've taken that as a sign to finally show what he'd been holding back. He should've explained why he had such a hard time expressing his feelings, and proved to you that you were someone he truly wanted.

But he didn't. He found himself holding back once again, repeating the very behavior you truly hated.

"Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That's... that's it?" You scoffed in disbelief. "Really?"

Niki felt a surge of panic and regret. He knew he was failing you again, but the words just wouldn't come. "I don't know what else to say," he admitted, feeling helpless.

"You could start by being honest," you replied, frustration evident. "Why is it so hard for you to open up? Why do you keep pushing me away?"

Niki hesitated, the fear of vulnerability clawing at him. "It's not that simple," he said finally. "I've never been good at this. I've always been afraid of getting too close, of being hurt again. But that's no excuse. I know I need to change."

"Then show me," you insisted. "Show me that you mean it. I need to see that you care enough to try."

Your silence was heavy, filled with both skepticism and a flicker of hope. "Call me when you're finally ready for this. I think we both need a break to think things over clearly, okay?"

Niki should have seen this coming. But instead of running away from the problem like he used to, he accepted it. "Okay."

You hung up the phone, leaving Niki alone with his thoughts. Determined, he knew he had to win you back and prove he could be different, better than he had been throughout the entire relationship.

💬 : if it doesn’t seem obvious enough, i’m trying to get back into writing longer fics 🤫

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[moonlightspencie]

This Ain’t for the Best

Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.

Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.

First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.

Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.

Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.

That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.

“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.

“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.

We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.

“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.

“Where?” Bobby asked.

“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.

“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.

“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.

They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”

“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”

“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”

“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”

“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”

Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.

“If you keep denying all this…”

I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”

“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”

He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you blind?”

I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.

“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”

“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”

I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.

“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”

The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.

“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”

Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.

“So, no case, then?” I asked.

Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”

“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”

“I am not,” I defended.

Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”

I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”

“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”

I took a moment.

“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.

The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victim with a missing liver. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.

I shrugged, looking around the house.

“It seems… clean.”

“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”

“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”

I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.

“Clean. Not even dust.”

He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”

“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”

He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.

“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.

He smirked, placing a hand on my back.

“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”

We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.

“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”

I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.

“Same place.”

“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”

“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”

He looked up at me with a quirked brow.

“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.

I snorted. “Right. So not you.”

“Leave in ten?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.

We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.

I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.

“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.

He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.

“What?”

“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”

I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.

“It’s a human?”

He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”

He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.

“Can— How do we do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”

“We could still stab him.”

“But should we?”

He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.

“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”

He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”

“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”

“Then you feel free to shoot him.”

He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.

“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.

My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.

“You’re not cops,” he stated.

Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”

“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”

Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.

“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.

I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.

“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”

Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.

“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.

“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”

“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.

“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.

I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.

“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.

He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”

I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”

“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”

“You got that right.”

Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.

“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.

“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.

He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.

“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.

He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.

“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.

“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.

“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.

I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

He smiled. “Go take a shower.”

“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”

I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.

“Movie tonight?” he asked.

I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.

“Sure.”

“Any requests?”

“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”

“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”

“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”

“Do you want one of mine?”

I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.

“That would be awesome.”

He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.

“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”

“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.

He sighed dramatically. I laughed.

“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”

He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.

He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”

“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.

“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”

“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.

We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.

“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”

I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.

“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”

A pause.

“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”

He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.

“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”

I sighed. “That sucks.”

He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.

“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”

“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.

“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.

He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.

“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.

He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”

I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.

This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.

In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”

“Mm?”

I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.

“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”

“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.

He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.

“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”

“I know.”

He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.

At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.

He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.

I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.

I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.

I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.

“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.

He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.

“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”

“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”

He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”

“Good point.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.

Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.

“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.

He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.

“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”

Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”

“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.

I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.

“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.

Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”

“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”

I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.

“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”

“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”

“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.

“You two actually fell asleep together?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.

“Making moves on her, now?”

Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.

“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”

Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”

He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”

“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”

“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.

“We talk plenty.”

“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”

Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”

I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”

“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.

The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.

I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.

“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.

“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.

He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.

“Taylor Swift?”

“You know it,” I replied.

He smiled, turning his head back.

“Stars are coming out,” he commented.

“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”

He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.

“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”

“You sound like me, now.”

He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.

“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”

I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.

“Thought you could use some company.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.

“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”

“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”

“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.

“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.

“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”

“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.

He laughed. “Exactly my point.”

“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.

“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”

“It makes people feel that way?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”

“I gathered that much.”

He laughed softly, as did I.

“How’d you know?”

“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”

His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”

“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”

“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.

“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”

“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”

I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”

“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”

“Well, when did you realize I might?”

He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”

I paused. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.

I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.

I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.

“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”

Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.

We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.

“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”

His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.

“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”

“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.

He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie is holed up in the office of his and Steve’s home working on some writing when he notices an odd kind of commotion coming from upstairs.

Now, he and Steve have three daughters under the age of ten, so commotion is pretty much a baseline for them, but it’s odd because it sounds like Steve might actually be involved this time, and that makes it especially weird because Eddie was pretty sure that Steve was taking the kids to see a movie to give Eddie a few hours to maybe hit that word count goal (he probably won't, but whatever).

It's just about odd enough for Eddie to go investigate further and, indeed, he finds a very much ticked-off Steve standing outside of their middle daughter Robbie’s closed bedroom door.

“What the hell is going on?” Eddie asks.

Steve rounds on him. 

“She’s driving me insane,” Steve says, “That kid is you in a seven-year-old’s body, and I’m going insane.”

“Wait, can you…” Ed shook his head, “What’s happening?”

“I thought it would be fun to take the girls to that new Nanny McPhee movie because they liked the first one, right?” he starts

“Sure.”

“The second – the second – I suggested it, Robbie starts ranting and raving. Ed, do you know what she said to me? 

“Oh god,” Eddie said warily, “What’d she say?”

“She said sequels aren’t passion projects, Papa. They’re just for money. Who the fuck do you think she learned that one from, Ed?”

And yeah, shit, that might be Eddie’s bad.

“Whatever,” Steve says before Eddie has a chance to respond, “So she doesn’t wanna go – that’s fine – but, shocker, the other two still want to go, and just as we’re walking out the door, Robbie demands that we wait for her because she actually does want to come and now,” Steve pauses to hold in a laugh as Robbie scutters out of her room in the direction of the bathroom, one shoe on and an earring half-in, “Now we’re gonna be so fuckin’ late because this one can’t just throw on a sweatshirt and get in the car.”

Eddie knows for a fact that Robbie had spent the entire weekend in the same pajamas she’d worn to bed on Friday night, but now she’s donned a denim dress with a red t-shirt and black tights underneath. She’s got black combat boots on her feet (just one at the moment, actually), and she’s wearing the leather jacket Eddie had found at a thrift shop in New York to complete the ensemble.

“Look at this kid,” Steve says, following Robbie into the bathroom and watching as she tried to fix her earring with one hand and her hair with the other, “Robbie, it’s August. It’s almost ninety degrees outside. Maybe think about ditching the leather.”

“I don’t care,” she fires back, “It’s about the look, Papa.”

“We’re going to a movie theater. It’ll be pitch black. Nobody will be looking at anything other than the movie. Let’s go.”

But Robbie is already pushing past him with a belligerent, “Outta my way. I gotta get another necklace.”

Steve manages to snag Robbie by the back of her jacket and swing her up into his arms.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says as Robbie furiously tries to squirm out of his grip to no avail, “Oh, I’m Robbie and I’m four feet tall and I get up-in-arms about everything and I’m gonna wear a leather jacket in August even though I once got heat exhaustion at the mall and gave my dad a fuckin’ heart attack.”

Robbie is in giggling hysterics by the time Steve ends his onslaught of mockery and puts her down.

“What do you think?” Steve asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she says, and then she asks, “Can you help me find my other shoe?”

“And now she’s asking me for shit,” Steve comments in disbelief as Robbie ducks back into her room. He looks at Eddie, “Seriously, you need to call Wayne and apologize for everything you must have put him through.”

“Alright.”

[justporo]

Brewing Storms

A storm is brewing - oh yes, a literal one too. Tav's scared to be alone during a thunderstorm. Astarion is reluctant but stays to provide some comfort - and realises it might have been one of the better things to happen to him.

Author's Note: I started this a while ago and then stuff got in the way - like Gale for example (lol) - and now I'm happy to be back to write something soft for Astarion and Tav!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: Talk of trauma, very light smut Wordcount: 2,4k

~~~

Astarion and you had fallen into a sort of weird routine with your little late night escapades. Since the party after you saved the Grove and the first night you’ve spent together you had come together time and time again.

First only every couple of days. Always meeting somewhere away from camp and then sneaking back sometime before the others woke up. Although you were surely fair they all knew already anyway. But now you were almost spending every night together. Fortunately for the two of you, being elven meant you were still getting enough rest despite the nightly adventures.

Astarion kept feeding you his cheesy lines – you ate them right up. No one had ever given you this kind of attention. And as much as you knew that it was an act: how could you resist? You had never experienced such flattery nor could anyone you’d shared intimacy with ever compare to Astarion. But that wasn’t even the main thing.

You’d had crushes before, you’d fallen in love before but you were pretty sure it had never been quite like this. Your whole chest sometimes ached when you looked at Astarion. Sometimes when you caught him in a rare moment when he let his perfected mask drop for a second you saw the bottomless sadness and worry in his eyes. And all you wished for was to erase whatever it was that caused that sadness – to keep him safe and always give him something to smile about.

You had quite positively fallen for the vampiric elf. What had been a crush at first had very quickly become an unyielding need in your heart: desperate to be near him, to hear his voice, talk to him, to laugh at his sassy comments, to lay in his arms and to hold him in turn. Out of everything you surely hadn’t wanted or planned to fall in love with everything else going on – but there you were.

You were a hopeless case – even though you were sure it would come back to bite you (and maybe even literally): be it that he lost interest in you way quicker than you would like or that he had ulterior motives and that you were merely a means to an end.

In fact, you were entirely sure that there was more to Astarion. You weren’t all fooled and blinded by your brewing emotions for the vampire. Maybe not really the first time, but as you got more used to sharing a bed with Astarion you were well aware that it seemed like he wasn’t fully there with you.

You could take only guesses at why that was exactly – and you didn’t like any of those.

At several occasions you had tried to bring it up. But he had swatted your concerns away every time, just making a sultry joke or drowning you with kisses until you had forgotten what you had wanted to say. In any case he always pushed you to get back into his arms.

Gladly, you would have offered him an open ear – your heart was already wide open.

But you were sure this wouldn’t last. You were in way over your head and you so desperately wanted to avoid breaking the spell.

And as much as you would have wished for him to open up more, to let you in a bit more and as much as you would have liked to confess the way you felt: you didn’t think you could do it without ruining whatever it was between the two of you.

At least, he seemed to be a bit more present when he was with you of late. The changes seemed subtle enough, but you were convinced that it slowly became different. Maybe it was just that the two of you had gotten used to this dance now, but you could swear his hands lingered longer now on your skin, that his kisses became deeper and more tender, that the way he looked at you became softer sometimes. And that those moments, when he seemed miles away, became fewer.

Tonight, when you had set up camp it had seemed like a storm was brewing.

You had already felt tense when you had noticed: growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate as a child with nowhere safe to go had traumatised you for life. Especially when it came to storms: too many nights you’d had to spend outside somewhere while the rain kept pouring down.

But worst had always been the thunder. Every single one like an explosion while a little child sat somewhere cowered trying to stay safe and crying from fear and loneliness. Even when you had gotten older and had always managed to secure a safe spot for sleeping and shelter the fear of thunderstorms had remained.

And thus far you’d gotten lucky that there had been no storms since this whole chaos had started. But the stroke of luck was over now it seemed.

When Astarion had thrown you certain looks after the party had gone to unwind each on their own after eating, you had very rambly and awkwardly suggested to maybe spend the night in your tent this night, because the others surely knew anyway and what if it started pouring and wasn’t it more comfortable anyway?

You just were desperate to not be somewhere outside when the thunderstorm was going to hit – and maybe even not alone.

And Astarion had looked at you suspiciously with a raised eyebrow, surely noticing that something was up. But in the end, he had simply shrugged and followed you to your tent.

So now you lay pressed against each other. Astarion on top of you, his body delightfully weighing you down, both of your shirts already off and his hands kept roaming your body as you gratefully gave in to his open-mouthed kisses. His hand had just dipped below the waistline of your trousers when you could hear the first far away rumbling.

Immediately you tensed a little but forced yourself to try and not be bothered by it. Astarion’s kisses wandered down your throat now.

A second already much louder rumble. You gasped.

And apparently Astarion had noticed that it wasn’t because of his touch – you could almost feel how he had furrowed his brows. But he kept silent and continued to kiss and caress you, leaning on one of his forearms.

When a third roar of thunder made you actually wince and recoil, he pushed up on his arm and looked at you. The other hand though stayed right where it was inside your pants.

“Afraid of a little thunder, love?”, he said and cocked an eyebrow. His tone wasn’t even overly sassy but you still couldn’t help but to feel hurt.

More thunder. This time so loud it felt like it was exactly above you. You recoiled again and felt how panic rose in you. You pushed the vampire - who actually looked hurt by that - off of you. His hand slipping from where it had caressed you.

“Maybe I am afraid of thunder. So?”, you spat back while you sat up and hugged your knees to your naked chest. As much as you wanted the comfort of his arms: panic and whatever feeling it had been that had overcome you when Astarion had looked hurt when you’d pushed him back got the better of you.

Shame mixed with the fear and you could feel your throat close up.

Astarion had knelt back on the balls of his feet watching you with a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. He definitely didn’t seem as cocky as a few moments ago though.

You looked away as another thing spiced up the mix of emotions running high: worry, that you had just broke something that couldn’t be repaired.

“I-“, Astarion started and then stopped helplessly.

The vampire was actually worried about you in this moment. Astarion was surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion and he was certainly hurt that you pushed him away. But more than anything: he didn’t know what to do now. Quite obviously you were not in the mood anymore for getting down and dirty.

It occurred to him that he did not want you to be afraid and upset. But then again, he had no idea how to make it so. And on top of that: he was pretty sure you weren’t interested in anything of the sort. Sure, you were absolutely the one person he talked the most to in the party. And yes, you were always making sure he’d gotten enough blood – but that was probably because you had need of him being his fittest for fighting. Also, you did actually seem to care about what had happened to him, wanting to learn more about him – but…

The vampire was confused and helpless. So he opted for the one option he deemed reasonable: leave.

He grabbed his shirt and started pulling it over his head while saying: “Alright, since it seems there won’t be any naughty indulgence tonight, I guess I better get back to my tent and you can try and-“

He was interrupted by you grabbing his wrist firmly.

“Please”, you pleaded, “don’t leave me alone.”

You were desperate: you didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want to have ruined the delicate thing that had been forming between you.

Astarion let his shirt drop again and looked at you. Your eyes were filled with tears and full of fear. His confusion became even more: “Darling, I’m not… Maybe you should ask the druid to… help you. Maybe he has something herbal to-“ You basically yanked on the vampire’s arm.

“No please, Astarion, I just… want you to stay here with me. Just… hold me? Please?”, you pleaded with him as tears started to stream down your face.

You really didn’t want to be alone for one but also you were desperate to feel his arms around you again – to be sure he would still want to hold you, as much as wanting his comfort.

Astarion’s brows furrowed again but he dropped his shirt again and crawled over to you as you shyly opened up your arms to him to be cradled by the vampire. He slid his arms around you and softly moved you until you were laying there: him on his back with you carefully snuggled up against his chest – skin on skin.

The relief you felt was almost instant. Not only because he had agreed to stay but also feeling his body against yours immediately made some of the tension inside you ease.

Astarion reluctantly started to stroke your back as you buried your face against his chest. It all felt more than just a little awkward and you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, but you just wrapped your arms around the vampire and tried to calm yourself.

Still tears kept coming and thunder was rolling in quicker now. Then the rain started as well and became a constant drumroll on your tent. The loud rumbles kept going and made you wince from time to time, but it was now considerably better than before.

Astarion grew more confident with just stroking your back. He even carefully placed a kiss on the top of your head at one point, in your all messed up hair. You both eased into this rather unfamiliar form of closeness.

After being stressed about the coming storm all evening, you felt that your body couldn’t retain the tension anymore. You weren’t entirely sure what all this meant for Astarion and you, but you forced yourself to just stay in this moment. Because this already was something you wouldn’t have thought to ever be possible. It was tender and sweet. Something you would have never imagined when this vampire had, upon first meeting him, thrown you on the ground and threatened you with a knife.

You were so desperate to hold onto this. So, you wrapped your arms around him a little tighter and cautiously tangled your legs with his. He let it happen.

And Astarion – Astarion’s mind was racing, utterly confused by the turn the night had taken. It definitely wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy this outcome – to his own surprise. Quite the opposite actually.

When the thunder subsided and the rain tap-tap-tapping on the tent ceiling was what remained of the storm and he felt you quite noticeably relax into his arms even more – his chest started to ache.

He was overthrown by his own sentiment and the trust you put into him; surprised, scared even.

In his thoughts Astarion kept turning around the fact how you had specifically asked him to stay with you although you had so visibly been upset. More upset even than he had ever seen you in any battle. And that you had wanted nothing but to be held in his arms. And he – to his own surprise – had been happy to be there for you, proud even, realising that he really wanted you to be alright.

You hadn’t even talked since he had taken you in his arms. Just felt the connection, your skin warm on his. His hands hesitatingly caressing and trying to comfort you while your tears subsided and your breathing became more even.

And even though it had been you who had pleaded for comfort – Astarion could feel it too. Felt, how the warmth of your body soaked into his undead body and your breath brushed over his naked upper body – now in a steady and calm rhythm again. You were so close, he could even feel the beat of your steadying heartbeat through your conjoined chests.

And when Astarion was sure that you must’ve drifted off into your dreams – because he had held you – he kept staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

The rain had become almost non-existent after what must’ve been hours now.

The vampire’s chest still ached with something he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. But he could feel that it had become something way too big to ignore. Something that would soon be unleashed – for better or for worse. And he was frightened about that.

But not in this moment. This moment he would hold onto. So he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter still, closed his eyes and full on buried his face in your hair while he was so fully aware of the feeling of your body against his.

Then he whispered so silently, even the last of the raindrops would have drowned out the words. So silently, because he was still so unsure, so scared and the words were only meant for him – and maybe sometime for you: “My love, what ever have you done to me?”

[kakujis]

do you love me? 3;

synopsis: they wake you up at 3am and ask if you love them. 1 + 2 + 4

ft: hanma, ran, and rindou.

warnings: gn!reader, insecurities, clingy bfs, jealous!rindou, swearing, mentions of drinking, not proofread, reader is a lil mean in hanma's ): and thaat should be it!

a/n: is it me or are these getting longer?! anyways, here's part 3! the last one will be mitsuya, draken, and chifuyu! i’m running out of steam thinkin’ of scenarios uh oh. anyway, writing ran's bit was so much fun, since i feel like he's a goofy loverboy. i kind of struggled w rindou’s but i hope it still falls together nicely! ALSO WHY IS HIS SO LONG WTF and here's a special lil tag for @fuyuluvr ♡

the city is quiet as the hum of a motorcycle comes to a stop. hanma’s not sure how he ended up here, well actually he is, subconsciously driving straight to the one place that always riles him up, setting his veins on fire faster than the rush of a zipline. 

he hums to himself, taking off his helmet, and nudging down his kick stand. he looks upwards, toward your bedroom window, his heart already starting to flutter in his chest. stuffing his hands into his jacket, he walks up, getting ready to scale up towards your window. he glances around, although no one’s around in this dead of night, he would rather not have anyone calling the cops on him. 

they’re probably asleep, he thinks, as he peers back up, nails digging into the stone as he uses his leg to boost himself up. he hoists himself until he’s up to the sil, laughing a little to himself when he notices you left it open like you were expecting him. 

he tumbles in, knocking over your lamp in the process. “oops.” he says. meanwhile, the crash has you bolting awake, screaming, no, screeching as you grab your alarm clock, holding it up, ready to throw or swing. 

he throws his hands up defensively as he approaches, “it’s me!” and in your sleep deprived state you scramble back, the grip on your device tightening. 

hanma barks out a laugh, before he switches on your bedside lamp. “hi baby. ♡” he chirps, seeing your shoulders slump as you settle, a particularly loud sigh escaping you as you place one hand over your chest. he kicks his shoes off as he jumps onto your bed, diving straight into your comforter, laying on his stomach. 

“you scared the shit out of me!” you yell, “besides, what time is it?” you look at the device in your hand before you realize it’s off, ripped straight out the socket. frowning, you toss it onto the floor, before crossing your arms and facing him. 

“you were really gonna fuck me up, huh?” he muses, honey eyes twinkling at the idea of you actually swinging on him. he would’ve dodged of course, but it would’ve given him an excuse to grab you and have you underneath him. 

you sigh again, “shuji, i don’t have time for this. i’ve got a work meeting tomorrow morning.” you grab your blankets, shimmying underneath them and pulling them up, “we can hang out this weekend or something,” you yawn. 

“eh?” is all you hear as you turn over, shutting your eyes in hopes of getting some sleep. maybe he’d fall asleep with you or maybe he’d leave, but the only thing that’s really on your mind is this stupid meeting. just a few more days until the weekend, has been your new mantra, if you can just tough it out, you’ll be golden. 

it’s quiet for a few minutes, but the dip in your bed is still there and soon enough he’s asking, “do you love me?”

“no, shuji, of course i don’t…” you start, sarcasm tinting your voice as you roll back over, but you stop when you see his defeated expression. it’s different from the shuji you know, his solemn eyes studying you, as he nervously plays with your sheets in one hand. 

hanma shuji has been so damn bored. it’s been like this ever since you got a job, constant “i can’t”s, and “maybe next time, shu.” he wants so badly to go on late night rides with you again, the sound of your laughter ripping over the roar of his motorcycle.

he wants to stay up with you until sunrise, at the top of your favorite hill, hands intertwined and shoulders brushing. he wants to snap pictures of you at the top of this hill, thinking you're prettier than any sunrise. you make him feel like he’s invincible and that everything’s okay.  

shuji has been so bored, but more so than that, he’s been lonely, unsteady. he misses you so fucking much, nothing’s as fun without you, everything’s dull like the world’s covered in sepia. 

“c’mere,” you say, opening your arms and he crawls forward, collapsing into you. “i love you, shuji, i do.. and i’m sorry.” 

you realize now how distant you’ve been. unbeknownst to the two of you, just how stressful a new job could be, you were just trying to jumble a new set schedule but you had been snappier, neglectful, and even downright mean at times.

shuji tried his best to accomodate you, going off on night rides by himself, always saying, “it’s alright.” when you’d turn him down again. he tried to busy himself more with his friends, but his mind always wandered to what you’d be doing - did you miss him too? - checking his texts every now and then in hopes there’d be a new message. 

“shuji?” you whisper when he doesn’t respond and you think he has every right to be upset with you. but instead he says, “yeah?” his face suddenly dangerously close to yours, the tip of his nose lingers by yours and your face heats up at the proximity. 

“um,” you stutter and soon there’s a smirk dancing on his face, “d-did you hear me?” 

“i heard you. loud and clear, ♡” he says, lips ghosting over yours, “i was just replayin’ it in my head.” 

shuji always has you melting and tonight is no different, so you close your eyes and let him kiss you. deep, sweet, and full of all the things the two of you don’t know how to say. you pout when he pulls away and he grins, “so cute.” 

an idea strikes you then as you gaze at the love of your life. “hey… wanna go for a ride?” besides, what's the harm in losing a little sleep?

the way he perks up has you giggling, you’re sure if he had a tail it’d be wagging a mile a minute. he’s practically beaming, as he starts to pull you up and off the bed. he stops for a second, head tilted and finger on his chin, “wait, don’t you have a meeting at in a couple hours?” 

you nod, “yeah, so bring me home by 5?” you smile at him as you reach for a jacket.

“i can do that.” 

ran:

for the first time in his life, ran haitani cannot fall asleep. he lays there, one arm resting above his head, the only noise being the sound of your soft snores as his mind continues to wander. he thinks about the dinner you two had earlier.  it was dumb, the entire situation, your friends were clearly too drunk to be saying reasonable things. ran knew this, he’s been the same way countless times before.

but when she hiccuped, arm slung around you, “maann, can’t believe you ended up with ran! you used to only talk about rindou in high school ehe.” ran felt his stomach drop. 

you froze at that, quickly glancing at ran whose face was otherwise unreadable. she continued, incessantly giggling, “seriously seriously! everyday was ‘man rindou looked sooo cu’-“

“thats enough!” you had said, placing a palm over her mouth to muffle her. “lets get you home, okay?” desperately glancing at the rest of your friends, who took the hint and helped her out of there. 

ran remembered how after everyone left, you had tried to talk to him, “listen..” your hand reaching towards his. 

but for some reason, he had stopped you. “it’s fine, people say dumb shit when they’re drunk,” he mused, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “don’t worry about it.” 

and maybe the reason was that he was scared, scared to hear you admit that yeah, you did like his brother. and when that didn’t work out, you settled on him. 

he shakes his head, getting up from the bed and padding over to the bathroom. turning the faucet, he douses cold water on his face. don’t be stupid, ran. 

when he walks out, he stops when he sees you sitting up, sleepily rubbing your eyes. “ran?” you mumble, “are you okay?” 

he settles back into an easy grin, walking over and climbing back in. “yeah, i’m alright.” 

“liar.” 

he blinks. “what’d you just say?”

“i said, you’re a liar.” you huff, placing your hands on his cheeks, swiveling his head towards yours. “you’re upset.” 

“and why do you think that?” he says, but there’s a red tint dusting on his cheeks, and his eyes flicker from you to various objects around the room. 

“first of all, you’re awake,” you emphasize, “when is ran ‘if i don't get enough sleep i’ll kill you and your family’ haitani awake at 3am? hm?” you dart your head every time he tries to look away trying to stay in his vision. 

he sighs, “okay, you got me.” he stills, looking at you with a crease in his brow. “do you love me? and.. was what your friend said right? that you used to like my brother?” 

you soften at his question, “of course i do. i love you and only you. let me explain?” 

he nods and you drop your hands, opting to intertwine them with his. sighing, you begin, “okay so, in high school there was this… friend- okay no i hated that bitch-“ 

you give ran a look as he whistles, caught off guard by your vitriol, as he motions you to continue on with a little grin, “don’t mind me.” 

“there was this acquaintance,” you continue and ran nods, “and every single guy i was into she would try to take them from me, so i pretended to like rindou because.. i was scared.. she would actually get together with you.” 

its your turn to burn with embarrassment, looking down at your interlocked hands as you reveal the secret you kept for so long. you glance up at ran and groan out a “what?!” when you notice his shit-eating grin. 

“i’m really a catch, eh?” he teases and you scrunch your nose. “don’t make that face,” he points, “you’re the one who tried to gatekeep me.” 

“ugh fine,” you pout, your face on fire,  “this is so embarrassing… ah!” ran pulls you down, hugging you tightly. “ran?” 

“man, i feel like a million bucks! who would’ve thought the person i’d been chasin’ all throughout highschool felt the same way. i should’ve asked you out sooner.” he pinches your cheek, cooing, “my baby.” 

you can’t even focus on the fact that he casually mentioned the two of you were mutual crushing for so long. if you could die from embarrassment you would. on the flipside, if ran could die from love, he would. he’s never admitted it before, but he’s always felt a little insecure, so he hides it behind a mask that only you get to uncover. 

“did i ever meet her?” he asks, face to face with you. he can’t stop smiling, instead continuing to poke your cheek as you pout. 

“hmm, maybe. i dunno, i tried to avoid her a lot of the time.” you answer, “why?” 

“cause if i did, you wouldn’t even have to worry about it.” he says, running the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “i’ve only had eyes for you after all.” 

was he always this cheesy? seriously, you might die. “i’m gonna die,” you profess, your face and body on fire, moving your hands up to hide your expression behind them. “if you continue, i’ll seriously die.” 

“dying in my arms is super romantic though.” he muses, “i bet it’d be a dream come true for you.” 

“shut up!” you groan, burying your face into the pillow. 

“babe, seriously, it’s a dream of mine. romeo and juliet, who?” 

“ran haitani, shut up!”

rindou: 

rindou haitani was seething. on the outside, he had it all. a club that he owned with his brother, able to play his music to an excited crowd, and to top it all off, a loving partner who did their best to support him. but on the inside, he was someone who hid from his emotions, snuffing them out before they had their chance to reach the surface and maybe that’s why, in rare moments, when he couldn’t snuff them out he waited until you fell asleep to think about them. 

maybe it was his fault for inviting you out, but it’s always been a dream of his to watch you dance to his music. at first you refused, something about how crowds aren’t really your thing. but he persisted, noting how you always dance for him when he plays his music so why not do it at his club? 

“besides, you always get along with everyone you meet, just try it.” he insisted, beaming when you said “okay, just this once.” 

he wasn’t usually jealous, something he prided himself on, that you could hang out with whoever you wanted whenever you wanted and he’d have no issue. but tonight things were different. you looked amazing under the neon, pulsing lights, feeling the beat down to your bones as you swayed and moved on the dance floor. 

ran was supposed to stay close to you, but the two of you got separated by the mass of bodies. from his view up top though, rindou could see you clearly, and when someone came up to you to dance, he was sure you would deny them. but perhaps it was the slight buzz of alcohol running through your veins or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through you that caused you to say yes. 

you didn’t grind on them, thankfully, but still, the way you laughed and cheered, eyes fully on them was like a kick to rindou’s gut. at one point, they leaned in to say something to you and rindou almost stopped his set, wanting to take you home immediately. but instead, he grit his teeth and kept playing. 

he didn’t have the heart to tell you anything on the way home either, the way you excitedly bounced up and down detailing to him about how much fun you had and how you’d love to go again. he shut those emotions down again, instead laying a hand over yours, smiling and saying, “i’m glad you had fun, love.” 

but now as he lay there in your shared bed, one arm around you as you slept on his chest, he was steaming. he has a continuous fight with himself in his head over it, how he isn’t the type to dance anyway, so it’s fine if you have fun dancing with someone else. but also, have you ever had that much fun with him before? like you did tonight with some stranger? he’s so pissed off he can’t remember, especially when he thinks about how close they were to his baby. 

when rindou is lost in his head, he never notices the things he does outwardly to keep himself calm. like the tapping on your arm or the shake of his leg, but you do, rousing out of sleep, peeking one eye up at him. 

“rinnie?” you croak, voice hoarse from the amount of shouting and laughing you did tonight. “you okay?” 

he looks down at you, unable to control the frustration clearly etched across his face. “i’m fine. go back to sleep.” 

“no.” you say, even in your half-asleep state you can tell that something’s up, “what’s wrong.” 

“nothing.” he huffs, trying his best to not let his emotions get the best of him. but if there’s one thing rindou hates, it’s talking about his feelings.

you pause, trying to think your words over carefully. “did i do something wrong?” he doesn’t respond, and you mull it over again, when an answer comes to you. “oh… i won’t go to the club anymore, if that’s what you want, i bet i looked pretty lame dancing out there-“

“no!” he interrupts, “no… you looked amazing…besides, i love watching you dance.” 

“then what is it, rindou? i can’t read your mind, y’know?” you remind him and his face softens. 

“i know…” he replies, and you wait for him to continue. that’s something that he’s grateful for, that when he does talk, you never rush him, letting him go at his own pace. “it’s just… did you have to dance with that guy tonight?” he mumbles, voice trailing off so that it’s barely audible. 

“hm? i didn’t hear you, did i have to..?” you ask,  tilting your head. 

“did you have to dance with that stupid dude tonight?!” he nearly yells, rushing out his words and you blink, a little taken aback. 

“oh…” you realize, he’s jealous. you realize now that from where he was looking it probably did look bad, his partner, dancing and laughing it up with a stranger. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know that bothered you so much…” 

for some reason, that sets rindou off and he scoffs, pissed off once again. of course he’d be annoyed, of course he’d be jealous. you’re his partner. “do you love me?” 

his question comes out more like an accusation and you hate it because it stings. in turn you say, “i do. do you trust me?” 

he wants to bite back, but when he looks at you, he can’t. you look so hurt, he sighs, rubbing his temple with his free hand, “… sorry. i do trust you. i’m bad at this.” 

“i know,” you say and he glances at you, surprised, which makes you smile. “you’re awful at telling me how you feel, so you act all cool and tough instead.” 

“aren’t you mad at me?” he asks, your sudden smile catching him off guard. 

“hmm… not really mad, just a little hurt is all.” you say, because even though he was the one who told you that you get along with everyone you meet, you know rindou inside and out, culminating from the many years the two of you have shared together. 

rindou doesn’t want to seem controlling, but because of that he neglects to establish his boundaries, too focused on how comfortable you feel. it’s his own weird way of control, if he doesn’t push you, let’s you do your thing, then you’ll stay. you won’t leave him like he’s scared you’ll do if he ever says no.

he apologizes again, his frustration turning to shame. you're so patient, even when he snaps at you or can't find the words. but you shake your head, “thanks for telling me. let me know what bothers you, please?” 

“i’ll try,” he mumbles, glancing away, and you know that means that next time he probably won’t. he’ll most likely bury those feelings deep inside until you catch wind, but it’s the fact that he’ll at least try that makes you happy. it’s okay, you’ll always be there when he needs it. 

you settle back into your original position, closing your eyes and within a few minutes, you’re dozing off asleep. 

tonight really did a number on you, he thinks, while playing with your hair, maybe i should be more honest with you… i love you. 

but there's a few things that rindou doesn’t realize. like how he’s talking out loud, or that you’re still just barely awake, his “i love you,” warming you up like the morning sun. as much as you wanna mention it when you wake up, you also don’t wanna embarrass him. for now, you’ll keep this a secret.♡

[planetpedri]

hii!!! How are you?? Could you please write smth with angest to fluff for Pau Cubarsi?🙏🙏🥰 Thank you!!

Center of gravity — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Pau had broken up a year ago, but somehow every time he’s stressed, he finds that you are the only thing that can ground him.

Word count: 1.0K

Disclaimer/s: Stressed(ish)!Pau so angst to comfort/fluff

A/N: Hiii!! I’m quite exhausted myself but good nonetheless! thank you for asking <3 I’m making my way through my requests and was listening to this song and was like omgg.

Rain splattered across your bedroom window, casting a gloomy feel across your bedroom. It had been raining on and off all day, which you usually did not mind, but for some reason you did today. You were grumpy all morning, and that only worsened as the day drew to an end.

You had finally gotten home from class, showered, ate dinner, and gotten comfortable in bed when your phone pinged. Picking it up, you exhaled slowly. The name ‘Pau’ lit up your phones screen. He’d had just as bad of a day, or seemingly worse (you assumed), considering he was texting you late at night. Like always.

Quickly typing back, you give him the go-ahead to come to your house. Your parents were out of the country for their anniversary, but even if they were home, they wouldn’t have cared.

Pau and you had broken up nearly a whole year ago, but even then, you stayed in contact. He visits, has meals with your parents while he waits for you to get home, ect. Your house was just as much Pau’s as it was yours since you’d grown up together.

Even then, the breakup still hurt. He was busy, never had time for you, the list goes on. Though, you two still valued each other as friends, and hopefully one day, you could progress past that again.

Lost deep within your thoughts, you don’t hear the door open and close or the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. You only realize he was there when your door cracks open and he says through a tired voice, “you decent?”

Jumping slightly, you let out a hmph. You sit up straight on your bed, scooting to make space for him. “Yep!”

Pau walks into your bedroom, shrugging off his wet hoodie before joining you on the bed. He doesn’t say a word until he’s laid down beside you, his arms looping around your waist as he lays his head on your stomach. “Hey.” He sighs out and you can already tell he’s burnt out, although from what.. you couldn’t be sure.

“Hey.” You hum, fingers finding their way to his hair, brushing a few strands away from his eyes. “Your hair is getting long again.”

You feel a slight upturn of Pau’s lips against your stomach, making a smile grow on your own face. “I kind of prefer it longer, but if you say I need a cut..”

“I did not say I didn’t like it.” You chuckle, twirling of piece of his hair around your finger. “So..” You weren’t sure how to approach the topic, so you trail off, wanting him to start it rather than have you grasp at straws.

Pau lifts his head up to look at you, his eyes fluttering slowly and you watch the way his long, thick eyelashes briefly kiss cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it, tell me about your day.” He almost whispers, his eyes too busy flickering around your face with a hint of uncertainty flashing across them.

“My day was shit, but it’s better now.” You smile, tilting your head onto your shoulder as you meet his gaze. “What’d you do today?”

“Practice, practice, more practice, went home to do homework, did said homework, then…” He licks his lips, “yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

You knew he didn’t want to talk about what was troubling him, but you wanted to know. There was something different in the way he was holding you today, there was something hidden beneath his tired eyes when he looked at you, something you couldn’t recognize but it made you feel warm inside.

“Sounds tiring.” You finally reply, shifting around so Pau wasn’t resting against you at an awkward angle anymore.

“It was.” He murmurs, his hand trailing under your shirt to rest on your hip. He proceeded to draw miscellaneous shapes on it, his eyes solely focused on his doodling.

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face, despite how hard to tried to stop it. Memories of nights where you and Pau would skip out on fancy dates just to cuddle together, all the nights he found his solace in your warm embrace. In a way, it made you feel sick. Like this was how it was meant to be, but something was stopping you from achieving it again.

Pau’s doodles stop, causing your eyes to flicker to him in protest. You find he was already looking at you, his eyes soft and bright despite the fact that your room was only lit by a dull lamp on your bedside. “What?” You ask, reaching up to move another stray strand of his hair.

“I missed you extra today.” He shrugs, “I’m just thankful you let me come over, that’s all.”

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage, and you didn’t bother to hide your smile this time. “I miss you extra all the time.”

A small laugh escapes Pau’s lips, his head dipping down to hide his face in the crook between your waist and arm, where he placed a small kiss on the exposed flesh of your inner forearm. “We’re so extra in general.”

By now, you’re laughing too. The situation was all too ironic. Ex’s who see each other when they need someone to lean on, ex’s who occasionally eat dinner with each other’s families, ex’s who cuddle, ex’s who say things couples say. Ex’s, who are still so obviously in love.

Pau’s head lifts to catch a glimpse of your laughing face, one he’d always adored, and he realizes if he just leaned in a little closer…

“That’s a bad idea.” You point at him, recognizing the look of longing. Your finger was mere centimeters from his face and the only thing separating the distance. But you’re not saying no, you would never say no. At least not to him.

Pau pushes your hand away from his face, “probably.” He whispers. Despite both of your words, both of you lean into each other, lips colliding in a long awaited reunion.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !