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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

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Proceed With Caution // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: The reader doesn’t expect to become involved in a hostage situation with her fiance’s older sister, the older sister’s best friend and the best friend’s date from hell. With the addition of a SWAT member, how will the taking of dispatch change?

Warnings: Swearing, blood, threats, angst, guns, hostage/kidnapping

Words: 5.9k

A/N: Recently got into the tv show 9-1-1 and completely fell in love with Buck so here I am writing for him as well. This takes place during the season three episode ‘The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1’. Reader and Buck are already in an established relationship.

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The apartment was quiet as the sound of your keys clattered in the bowl on the countertop. It was pretty early in the morning, so you had no doubts that Buck would be just waking up. On his days off, he would use the first day to catch up on sleep; based on prior times, he would be up in half an hour.

“Buck?” You called out from the kitchen. You heard a groan from the loft where Buck was in the process of waking up, “I forgot to drop off that book Maddie wants to borrow. When I get back, do you want to get breakfast?”

A grumble you somehow translated to approval was what you received in response. You jogged up the stairs to the loft to grab the book from your bookshelf. Buck’s bare leg stretched out from underneath the comforter on your side. The soft sighs Buck made in his sleepy state tugged at your heart; the sighs grew louder when you bent to kiss his head.

“See you in a bit.” You whispered to the sleepy soft male. He sleepily grinned in response before curling into your pillow.

The sound of your footsteps softened on the steps back to the main level of the apartment. Your keys snagged from the bowl before you gently closed the door behind you. The sun was gorgeous to be awake to see and had Buck not worked a long shift, you’d have adored watching it with him.

Your car pulled out of the parking spot in the Los Angeles Service Center’s direction that Maddie worked at. Your lips quirked as the radio spewed out the station that Christopher listened to in the car. You could even pick up the book in the backseat where he called his spot. The book could be found in Buck’s Jeep as well.

It had maybe three days since you’d seen the young Diaz, and damn did you miss the kid. Christopher has his enigmatic quality that demanded you love him for all that made him simply Christopher. The second you’d met him, you knew he would mean a lot to you.

You hummed in time with the song that was currently Christopher’s absolute favourite. Slowly you went from humming to singing along when the light turned green. A handful of songs came and went on the admittedly long drive due to traffic.

It was about forty minutes after leaving your apartment that you parked next to Maddie’s car in the parking lot. Lucy was sitting at the front office with a grin you matched. The woman buzzed you before she clocked out with her reprieve Jake.

“Hey, Sue!” You grinned at the older redhead. Sue had absolutely no problem seeing you, given that you were welcome in the building.

Sue’s first interaction was when you came to the centre to pick up Maddie when she came to work sick. Maddie had managed to keep it under wraps for an hour before Sue caught on. Ever since, Sue was fond of asking Maddie about her brother and you.

“Maddie’s not in just yet.” Sue spoke with a kind smile, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with one of our sit alongs.”

You nodded towards her while beelining for the woman’s bathroom, hoping to catch Maddie after using it. You’d drank too much water on your run earlier this morning. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate in the time you’d entered the bathroom, several things happened. Lucy ended her shift, Jake started his shift, and a group of strangers entered the building.

Your hand went to push open the door when through the crack, you saw two men you’d never seen before. Years of your job gave you enough feeling to know that something wasn’t right. That being said, you eased the door closed and attempted to find a hiding spot.

The garbage was too narrow and had no lid. The few seconds you had left, you glanced up. The ceiling hadn’t been renovated in many years. Rectangular sheets could be raised. Thankful of the rock climbing lessons you’d done with Maddie, you managed to crawl into the ceiling just as the two men entered.

“Nobody’s here.” The one-man with his head as pale and shiny as a cue ball. He gave off the most creepy vibe; the shorter Hispanic man wasn’t as violent looking, “Kinda hoping someone tries something. I’ve wanted to try out this.”

The man waved the large gun in his hand with a sick smile that twisted your stomach. That was the moment you’d realized something was very wrong. The second they left, you gently dropped back on the ground. Your first instinct was to send a message to Athena, but there was a fatal flaw. You’d expected to be in and out of the building quickly, so you’d left your phone in the car.

“Fuck.” You swore. One hand roughly running over your forehead as you contemplated figuring out a plan.

The building had many cameras throughout that you knew the blindspots for. The year after high school and during the summers, you’d worked in the building. Despite having worked here when you were younger, it was never during Sue’s shift. Over the years, you’d come to know the blind spots and a few cameras that were decoys. You even remembered Maddie and her friend Josh complaining about three cameras not fixed yet.

“Think.” You breathed, making a pattern of pacing, “They’ll need a lookout. They’ll take out the security guard first. The front doors are out. It’s a team, so they’ll also need eyes on the building. Terry is definitely a hostage.”

Of course, you’d end up in a volatile situation during the first half of your day before your shift started. The only comforting thing about the situation was the holstered gun on your hip and the badge on your belt. Maybe you should backtrack to why you had a gun and badge; you were an LAPD member, specifically SWAT.

“The changeroom.” You breathed, recalling it was down the hall with no camera. All you needed to do was pretend to be a dispatcher. The changeroom, now mostly a file room, had a few extra maroon and blue uniform shirts.

You timed it. The man holding Sue’s tablet was in the process of talking with his cohort, so you dashed to the room. You took no time in changing into a loose maroon shirt with your thick sweater overtop to hide the gun in the small of your back.

Your holster, badge and personal shirt tucked in the bottom of a box for safekeeping. As soon as you saw your entry, you sat with the group of hostages a hall over. A few looked surprised but let it go when you raised one finger to your lips.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Maddie hissed from the other side of a startled Josh. Both of them were surprised at seeing you here, “Oh my god. Buck is going to kill me.”

“I was dropping off your book before I get breakfast with Buck, but it appears my small bladder saved my life.” You snarked with your eyes scanning the room, “What’s going on?”

“That is my date from hell, Greg.” Josh inconspicuously pointed towards the man, clearly giving orders. The anger flared inside you, “You need to get out.”

“Josh, no offence, but I’m an officer with the LAPD. I work with SWAT. I’m your best bet of making it out alive.” You informed the dispatch duo, who went still as Cue Ball patrolled the hallway with a sadistic glint in his eyes.

“They took control of the building for a reason we don’t know about. We’re still working but under strict monitoring. They said it will be an hour, but we’ve seen their faces.”

“No witnesses.” You finished for Maddie with a deep sigh, “Unfortunately I left my phone in the car. Did they take yours-”

“They took Linda’s EpiPen. Of course, we don’t have phones.” Maddie sighed, leaning back to rest her head against the wall. Not even having a SWAT member by her side was comforting; your badge put a more significant target on you.

“We have to warn someone.” Josh mumbled to both Maddie and you, “You’re on shift Y/N?”

“Not for a few hours. I was supposed to drop off the book and get breakfast with Buck before my shift. This was supposed to be five minutes tops, so I left my phone in my car.”

“I already did.” Maddie spoke with a sad look on her face that overtook the fear, “I just hope he gets the message.”

Your hand reached out to squeeze the woman you’d had a hand in raising Buck more than their parents. Maddie had become family when you first started dating Buck. The in-law part of her familial relationship to you never crossed your minds; you were simply sisters to each other.

“Who?”

“Chim. I told him I loved him.” Maddie finished with a teary gaze. It made you sick seeing that look again after Doug.

You remembered seeing that haunted look when she stumbled out of the thicker woods covered in blood. You’d stayed by Athena’s side when Buck clutched her so tight and sobbed with her. It had been before you’d become serious with the man, but it was that frightening day that Buck fell for you. You’d just finished a taxing shift with your team when you heard about Maddie was missing, and Chim was in the hospital. You’d ignored the exhaustion to search high and low through your work contacts before narrowing the search area.

“Good thing Chimney obsesses over the little things.” You spoke, slouching down against the wall, “We’ll get throu-”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Maddie warned you with her brows furrowed together, and you saw what she was doing. Despite your years of experience and the gun you had, she pushed her fear down behind the concern that a big sister shows her young siblings.

“I won’t.”

At 8am, Buck was just entering the apartment building from grabbing the mail addressed to both you and him when Chim had called.

“Yup, go for Buck.” Buck spoke, opening the door to the apartment he’d only temporarily left. His morning had been late after his long shift the night before. The most productive thing was dressing for his breakfast date with you and grabbing the mail.

“How come 9-1-1 doesn’t respond when I call?” Chimney questioned the younger, now confused male.

“Uh, is that some kind of riddle? Like who watches the watchmen?” Buck asked, closing the door behind him. His eyes scanned around for any indication you’d returned home, but the bowl was vacant of your keys.

“Neither of those things are riddles. Okay, I just tried calling 9-1-1, and I got the high call volume message. Did I miss an earthquake or something?”

“Nope, pretty chill morning.” Buck responded as he closed the fridge door with a bottle of water in hand. The entire conversation wasn’t concerning to him, given that Chimney was often like this.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s the police she’ll know-”

“She’s not home right now. Wait, why are you calling 9-1-1? Is everything okay?” Buck slowly asked with his brows coming together. The sigh of frustration from Chimney was answer enough.

“Your sister said that she loved me.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t that uh, the whole point in that big date you had last night?” Buck inquired on his way to the table. He had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation that would hopefully pass the time until you got home.

“You declare your love, and she declares hers? That’s how it went with Y/N and me.”

“Yeah, I know, okay, but she didn’t, all right? At least not last night. Look, she made this big deal saying that she couldn’t say those words, and then this morning, she blurts them out and hangs up on me.” Chimney speaks, pacing in his own apartment. The side by the side of Chimney and Buck’s separate apartments told different tales of their states.

“It’s still not quite sounding like an emergency.”

“’Cause I sound insane.” Chimney spoke, staring up at the ceiling with a battle in his mind. He wants Buck to talk him out of this, but he also wants Buck to agree with him, “She’s at the call centre. What could happen there? You know what, forget it, I’ll try Y/N again.”

“Again?” Buck questioned just as his co-worker ended the call. Buck tugged his phone away from his ear to stare at it confused.

You always answered the phone if you weren’t working at the moment, but given you still had hours, he found it unsettling. After seeing the news report with the ladder truck on top of him, calls weren’t ignored between you two. That feeling of concern grew when you didn’t answer his call either. Nor the second one.

“Nah, she’s probably talking with Maddie.” Buck spoke, but that second-guessing feeling didn’t dissipate.

In the call centre, you’d been marched to one of the stations with a deep hope that you’d remember everything. It had been years by then since you’d worked as a dispatcher. It didn’t help with the gunmen patrolling the room.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” You calmly questioned the caller.

“Hi, my cat is up the tree by my house. Could you send someone?”

“Can I get your name?” You went through the motions of getting her name and address before you informed the woman, “Okay, the LAFD and LAPD no longer respond to calls of cats in trees. The cat will make its way down on its own. If the tree is in your backyard, I’d use the time to garden or read a book on this beautiful day.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“It’s no problem. Having a wonderful day Susan.”

In no time at all, you’d been rotated into the board room away from Josh and Maddie. It gave you time to inspect everyone you hadn’t made contact with yet. No one appeared harmed other than in distress with the situation.

“Downtown. They don’t want anyone downtown.” Linda whispered as Maddie was guided onto the floor by the elbow. You’d only gathered her name from her near-silent introduction to you when the hired guns had been far from your area.

“Let’s go.” Greg snapped, roughly pushing you towards the conference room. Something deep in your gut already predicted that someone was going to be stupid.

It was your sharp eyesight catching the minuscule agitation in Greg’s interactions with the Cue Ball guy. The slight tightening of his grip on the gun, the tension in the room growing stifling. And everyone knows that when emotions run high stupid things happen.

“Why do they keep moving us around like this?” The man beside Maddie questioned. He was definitely the most shaken of the group. He was basically shaking like a chihuahua.

“To disorient us.” Maddie spoke, staring at the group monitoring the dispatchers currently in play. Her eyes refused to leave them.

“So, we can’t make a plan.” You finished for your sister-in-law. Objectively out of everyone, Maddie, Sue and you were the most collected individuals for various reasons.

Maddie had lived in a volatile house with a man that could be unpredictable if a situation called for it in his mind. Sue had been working in the centre for years to navigate the emergency while you walked into dangerous situations.

“Jamal.” The shaking man spoke, holding his hand out towards you, “Are you new?”

“No.” You spoke as you shook his hand, “I’m Y/N. Maddie’s sister-in-law. I’m filling in as a favour for Sue.”

The lie slipped off your lips a little too quickly. You decided to come to this hostage situation as if you were undercover. It meant having to ignore that Maddie was in the situation with you.

“Worst day for a favour.” Jamal snorted with his eyes pinned on one of the armed men holding all your lives in their hands. You’d have spoken, but Jamal checked out mentally from the conversation waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The shoe dropped when the IT Specialist announced numbly, “Jake��s dead. They shot him.”

It didn’t matter how long you’d been working for the LAPD, any death, whether it was a civilian or a criminal, it was still was startling. Jake, the security guard that alternated shifts with Lucy, wasn’t someone you spoke with. He was on shift when you weren’t here or just missed the shift change.

“We need to get a message out.” Jamal spoke, glancing at the only people in the right state of mind, and those were Maddie, Josh and you. Terry had seen the violence these men had no issues with.

“I did.” Josh breathed, thinking of the arguably cute security guard he sometimes liked to stare at, “A woman called about onions in an omelette. I dispatched an officer.”

“To the restaurant?” Maddie inquired with her pinkie connected with yours for comfort. Both of you would prefer your SO’s hand instead.

“Not exactly.” Josh replied, staring at his best friend with a glimpse of hope in his brown eyes.

Hope may be the only way you could get out of this without hurting anyone in your admittedly surface level plan.

“Buck will think something is up.” You added

Buck had begun pacing the kitchen of the apartment with Chim adamantly telling his friend his plan to go to the centre. Buck had joined Chimney in the concerned department when you had failed to return to the apartment, return calls and to make matters worse, so was Maddie. His texts had gone unanswered as well, not even having the read receipt on.

“She’s not picking up either. I tried Y/N and Josh, but neither replied. When I tried Maddie and Josh, it went straight to voicemail.”

“Now, I’m definitely going.” Chimney announced, shoving his wallet into his pocket just as someone began knocking on his door.

“What if something is wrong? I know Y/N is a member of SWAT but radio silence? No text to let me know she was called in early?” Buck thought aloud with his finger dragging along his thigh, “Maybe we should call the police.”

“I...think someone already did.” Chimney informed Buck as he stared at the sudden appearance of Sergeant Athena Grant at his door.

“What? What do you mean?” Buck hastily questioned, leaning against the kitchen island. He could just faintly hear Athena speaking on Chimney’s end of the phone, “Chimney? What’s going on?”

“Athena was sent to my apartment. Hang on, Buck, I’m just gonna tell Athena what’s going on.”

Buck stepped away from the island to settle on the stairs to the loft, impatiently waiting for Chimney to finish speaking. That fear of losing pieces of his life expanded deep in his gut, just like the times Maddie left in his childhood. That fear of being left behind.

“What’s she’s saying now?”

“She’s making her case.” Chim whispered as he continued to eavesdrop on Athena’s call with her higher-ups, “Now she’s folding like a cheap suit.”

“All right, let me talk to Athena.” Buck demanded antsy to figure out the situation that clearly had something wrong. That fear he’d thought of early flared catching the tail end of Athena’s conversation, “No! No, no. We can’t just send in SWAT. If there is someone inside the call centre doing something, they’ll know we’re onto them.”

Unfortunately, Buck was correct in this thought process, all thanks to living with a SWAT member. He knew these things after the years he’d been with you.

“Maddie? I think I can sneak up to Terry’s computer. Maybe get eyes on the place-”

“No!” Terry nearly shouted, stiffening when Cue Ball hesitated in the doorway at his sudden shouts. You all held your breath for his reaction, but thankfully he was called away by one of the men, “They have-”

“Terry, I need you to calm down. I’m familiar with these types of situations. I’m SWAT. I need to get on top of this. Don’t be a hero.”

Maddie’s head began to shake when your arm was roughly grabbed by Greg, “Your turn.”

You were separated from Josh and Maddie, but instead of being pushed into one of the dispatcher seats, you were pulled to the original hallway.

“I don’t like how friendly you are with them.” Greg spat, shoving you to rest against the wall, “Don’t move.”

You catch the eyes of Maddie with an apologetic expression before you used the pacing routine to sneak away. You didn’t release your breath until you were attaching your holder to your hip in the change room. By now, your team would be aware that something was wrong, Hondo would be hell-bent on finding you.

Until you had help, you were on your own.

You used each blindspot of the cameras in the halls to the stairwell, and you used a broom to adjust the cameras. The cameras not kept you from view but not appearing suspicious. Once at the floor where Terry was practically always at you softly closed the door.

You’d only started to sit down when you heard the ding of the elevator, “Shit.”

You slipped into the closest containing extra parts if anything broke. Through the crack, you saw Terry being held at gunpoint. The gunman that had been holding the tablet on the floor, Ellis as you’d heard.

“You’re telling me every cop in the city has just disappeared?” Ellis demanded as Terry, and he disappeared around one of the corners. The tapping of a screen indicating Ellis was searching for something with Terry’s involuntary help.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know!” Terry snapped back, creating even more tension in the room, but Ellis didn’t move to grab his gun.

Ellis appeared to the only one reluctant to discharge your weapon, unlike Cue Ball, who just happened to join the party.

“Figure it out!” Ellis spat, turning on his heel at the sound of approaching footsteps. You could see him roll his eyes at his team member walking into the room.

“What’s going on here?” Cue ball questioned the duo in different kinds of distress, and you swore Cue Ball enjoyed the intimidation from his teammate and the IT specialist.

“That police car’s not the only one that’s gone dark.” Ellis nervously spoke, stiffening for the volatile reaction that one could expect from Foster.

“You think they know we’re here?”

“Foster, it could be a system glitch.” Ellis offered keeping one eye on Cue Ball while monitoring Terry’s work as well.

Cue Ball spoke a sentence that sent chills up your spine, “Time to cut our losses.”

As Foster and Ellis began going over their personal plans made out of Greg’s knowledge, you noticed Terry glance over. His eyes widened slightly before quickly looking away when you raised a finger across your lips.

“We can go down the back stairs. I have a car waiting around the corner, we split the art up between the five of us, and we go our separate ways.” Foster spoke, revealing his plan to double-cross Greg, which in all honesty made sense. Greg was ill-fitting to be in charge of their operation, unable to control his lackeys.

“I like that part of the deal.” Ellis breathed, skirting around the trigger happy criminal only to halt in his steps, “Wait, you’ve got a car parked down the street? You were always gonna double-cross Greg.”

“You weren’t?”

“If we’re gonna do this, you can’t just sell famous works of art on eBay.”

“You can’t sell them from prison either.”

At that moment, something almost shifted in the area, something that made you pull your gun from your holster. Your body telling you something was about to happen. It happened in a split second. Foster fled the room leaving only Ellis just outside. With Terry frantically shaking his head, you tiptoed to the unsuspecting criminal.

“LAPD!” You shouted, pointing your gun towards the shocked man, “Put the gun down and put your hands up.”

“Aren’t you a dispatcher?” Ellis questioned, blinking in surprise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent? Next time check the schedule I haven’t worked here in years.” You spat, keeping your gun pointed on him, “Do I say-”

The sound of two guns going off made Terry flinch and scream as he instinctively dropped to the ground. IT was supposed to be safe, but Terry had now heard three gunshots in under two hours. He really didn’t want to see the outcome of the shots.

A moan coaxed Terry to peek out through the privacy glass. Ellis was on the ground while you kept your gun on him. He didn’t see anything else when the power went out. He didn’t see you drop to your knees, but he heard you.

“Terry...get down. Lay on your stomach with your hands insight, and don’t move.” You informed the terrified IT just as the floor was swarmed.

“Put the gun down!” The sound of Tan’s voice was welcoming as you slowly placed the gun on the ground. “25-David I have Y/L/N. The suspect is down, need medical.”

You got back to your feet when Tan nodded his head, “Thank god. There’s a possible body in the IT room along with the It Specialist Terry.”

“You got your badge on you?” Tan questioned as he cuffed the moaning Ellis up, “Street can you escort her down?”

Street nodded from his position, watching Tan’s back before guiding you to the stairs with hawk eyes. Even off duty, you kept your head on a swivel.

“You caused quite the commotion.” Street spoke halfway down the stairs when you barely mumbled. He caught you as you went down like a sack of potatoes, “Y/N!”

“Adrenaline is crashing.” You moaned, looking at your shoulder where the maroon had grown darker, “I think he shot me.”

“26-David I’m in the stairway. Prepare a medic.” Street spoke into his radio before he strapped the gun away and swept you into his arms, “Think you can have my back?”

“When don’t I?” You wheezed, with the sweat starting to bead on your forehead. As you crashed from adrenaline, you barely noticed being placed on the ground at the main entrance.

A paramedic cutting your borrowed shirt to reveal the bullet hole in your shoulder courtesy of Ellis, the only member who’d thought wouldn’t shoot his gun. You could vaguely hear Maddie calling out your name as you were loaded onto a gurney.

“M-Maddie?” You spoke, tilting your head to see Chris holding Maddie back from, “Chris! That’s my sister in law.”

Chris only let Maddie go when Hondo gave the all-clear, and you were so thankful when Maddie’s hand encased yours.

“Don’t close your eyes.” Maddie pleaded sick with the amount of blood on your skin and soaking through the gauze, “Who’s gonna help me put up with my little brother?”

“Buck.” You breathed sluggishly, blinking as the artificial lights changed to natural with the gun shining through the glass front doors.

“You didn’t let me close mine in that ambulance, so I need you to do the same. Don’t close them. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Maddie cried as an officer pulled her aside as you were stopped. You wouldn’t remember it, but Maddie had to watch as you coded right in front of her.

Maddie had to watch them perform CPR on you and fight for a pulse. She had to think of how’d she’d tell her little brother she’d killed his fiance. The counting of the paramedics sounded as if underwater, and as they did, the world went quiet. Her mind checked out as the trauma settled in.

Maddie stumbled out of the building into a zoo of officers, medics, and news reporters almost robotically. She barely felt Chimney hug her, but she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.

“It’s all my fault.” Maddie gasped, collapsing against him, “If I had-”

“Maddie?”

Chimney felt Maddie stiffen at the sound of Buck’s voice amidst the multiple voices milling around. Maddie raised her gaze to meet Buck’s blue eyes dripping in relief and question.

“Buck.”

“Maddie, where’s Y/N? Her car…” Buck trailed off, catching the utter heartbreak in his big sister’s eyes. A look he’d come to know in his line of work as a firefighter. The utter devastation that came with watching someone you love die, “No. No.”

“I got a pulse!” Came from the nearest ambulance, and Buck skirted around his sister and Chimney, “Ready to transport!”

Your eyes slowly blinked at the white ceiling of the ambulance with pain in your midsection courtesy of chest compressions. Breathing came painful, and the bullet wound throbbed, but it all faded when you saw blue eyes above you.

“Buck.” You sobbed, more like groaned, as he was urged to sit on the bench holding your hand, “Maddie?”

“She’s okay. Chim’s got her. Can you keep your eyes on me? I need to see those big beautiful e/c eyes.” Buck soothed, bringing your hand to his lips, “Did I ever tell you my favourite colour?”

Despite Buck’s best attempts, you continued fading in and out of consciousness but continued to be stable. He spoke about the funny video Eddie had shown him of Christopher at the end of their shift last night. He talked about everything and anything under the sun during the short ride to the hospital.

The last thing you saw was Buck being held back as the paramedics pushed the gurney into the ER. Everything turned black.

The beeping was the first thing you heard before your eyes fluttered open to a stark white room and that unmistakable hospital scent. You noticed the second thing as Buck holding your hand in both of his with his forehead pressed against them.

“Buck?” You moaned to the one person you had wished to see. The man whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, “What’s wrong?”

“Your heart stopped beating twice. I thought I was gonna lose you.” Buck cried with his lips pressed against your hand, “I was so worried.”

“Hey. I’m fine. I’m here.” You cooed, tugging one hand away to run through his messy hair with a soft smile. His blue eyes brighten at the familiar feeling of your digits in his hair, “I’m not going anywhere. This isn’t here for decoration.”

His eyes found the ring he’d gently placed back on your finger from when the nurses had removed it. It only left your finger when you were on duty, in which it was slung on a necklace hidden under your uniform.

“Better not be.”

“Does the hospital have a chapel?” You questioned out of the blue leading to Buck snorting as you giggled, “I’m serious. When I was bleeding in that building, all I could think about was you. If Maddie is anything like you, she’s waiting in the waiting room with Chimney.”

“You aren’t wrong. All the chairs are taken. Our family was waiting for you to wake up.” Buck breathed, leaning closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “Are you sure?”

“About marrying you?” You softly questioned the man who couldn’t help but believe this was a dream. How he’d somehow got the girl of his dreams to agree to marry his ass, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. All I want to share is your last name for the rest of my life. You are it for me, Evan Buckley. All the flaws you see are beautiful to me.”

“Only you would want to get married after being shot mere hours ago.” Buck chuckled with a sigh pulled from his pink lips, “I’ll get the doctor for you and find out if we can be married here.”

While you were checked out, Buck left the room to go back to the waiting room where the 118 and your co-workers waited. Everyone perked up at his appearance, Christopher asleep on Eddie’s lap.

“Is she okay?” Bobby questioned as the tension in the room grew more and more. It shattered into relief when Buck grinned.

“She’s sore as expected. She’s gonna catch some sleep, but she’d like to see Maddie.” Buck replied, pinning his gaze on his big sister with her curled into Chimney’s body. Her cheeks flooded with tears of absolute relief, “C’mon.”

The waiting room started emptying with Buck’s promise to keep everyone updated, but before Bobby could step away, Buck asked for him.

“Do you need a few days off?” Bobby questioned just as Buck came closer to the seasoned firefighter.

“No. But could you spare an hour?” The expression on Buck’s face was enough for Bobby not to ask any further questions. He simply followed Buck back towards your hospital room, where Maddie and Chim waited.

“What’s going on?” Bobby inquired, with the addition of the hospital assigned Priest holding the standard bible. Chimney could only shrug in response to whatever was going on.

“I know there have been times we haven’t seen eye to eye, but Bobby, you’re like a father to me. You gave me chance after chance when anyone else would have given up. You guided me on how to be a man. Y/N and I would like it if you’d be here for this.”

“Wait, are you getting married? What about the wedding?” Maddie spluttered, flicking her gaze between her brother and you. Her question surprised her boyfriend and Bobby.

“We’ll still have it. But I want to marry her without the pressure of our parents. Just a private ceremony with some of the people that mean the most to us.” Buck answered for the two of you, “Would you stay?”

“Of course.” Maddie softly spoke with a slideshow of memories playing in her mind of watching Buck grow up.

Watching Evan go through all kinds of injuries, all in the name of attention but never getting it the way he deserved it. She remembered giving him advice for asking out Donna and holding him when he was rejected. The little toddler with the impish grin somehow turned into an idiot in the hospital.

Maddie saw the man her little brother had turned into with the help of the 118 and you.

Buck’s fingers made quick work of buttoning his short-sleeve uniform with the sudden appearance of his friend.

“That’s new.” Eddie spoke from his opened locker holding his uniform and a picture of his family on the door. It was a picture of Christopher, Buck, you and Eddie from the zoo a couple months back.

Buck looked over at his best friend, “Hm?”

“The ring.” Eddie snorted dramatically, looking at the ring that had been living on his finger since he married you five days ago, “Did my invite get lost in the mail?”

“Nah, we just got married in the hospital. We’re still planning the wedding to appease both sides of our family. And I promised Christopher he could be in the wedding. With Y/N on medical leave, the planning will be faster. She’s going stir crazy after five days.” Buck finished tucking in the shirt into his work-issued pants. Lastly, he slid his ring onto the metal chain he had bought recently.

Like you did, he would wear it around his neck when working for safety reasons.

“I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie told his friend just as the bell rang, “You’ll have to tell me how you’re liking the married life.”

“But first, we have a job to do.” Buck supplied all the while jogging to suit up in his turnout gear with Hen and Chimney.

#evan buckley imagines #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x fem!reader #evan buckley oneshot #911 imagines #911 oneshots #oliver stark #evan buck buckley #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #caitsy and ash productions

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fivelakesinwriting · 3 years ago

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Us Versus. Them (Rafe Cameron)

Author's Notes: This was an idea that was floating around in my head for a while, so I decided to write it. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment, I'm pending writing a second chapter - and please proceed with some caution, not an ideal relationship depicted. Thank you xoxo

Warnings: CANON RAFE. OBX 2 SPOILERS. Swearing, Violence,

Requested? Nope. Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

The air on the Coastal Venture was crisp, the mist in his face was refreshing after all that time feeling cooped up on that island. He pressed the pad of his thumb to the flat of his ring and twisted it as he took one more deep breath then turned on his heel. He walked quickly down the narrow halls and to the small room where they were staying, tossing a quick glare at the room his sister was currently sleeping in.

"Hey. You up?" He grumbled as he opened their door and walked into their small cabin. He looked at the woman just sitting in up in bed, her hands pushing through her hair.

"Yeah. Just woke up." She whispered as she pressed up on her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. She pushed some hair out of his eyes then ran her fingertips over his cheekbones.

"I'm going to go check on the Cross. I feel anxious. Get dressed. She'll be awake soon." Rafe muttered as he pressed his right hand to the small of her back, bringing her close as he kissed the side of her face.

"I'll come with you." She replied quickly getting out of bed and grabbing her discarded jeans from the floor, pulling them up her legs. She grabbed her dark jacket from the back of a nearby chair and followed him out of the room to see the treasure.

Down, down they went. Below all the hustle of the busy workers above. Rafe reached for her hand as he reached the level the Cross rested on. He helped her down the metal steps, then led her towards the box. He crouched down beside the box and lifted the top gently, sliding it away to reveal the golden Cross.

"There She is." Rafe mumbled as he pulled the blankets wrapping the Cross up for safety to show his girl their treasure.

"It's beautiful. Might be the most beautiful thing on this ship." She smiled as she crouched down beside him, her fingertips running over the delicate jewels encrusting the Cross.

"Second." Rafe replied as his eyes quickly looked over at her, then down at the Cross before he covered it back up. He looked over at her again, thankful for every sacrifice she had made to help him get to that point.

"Thank you. I couldn't have done this without you. When this is over, I'm going to make you a Cameron. A real one." Rafe smiled as he reached out to place his palm gently on her cheek.

She smiled over at him, her blush warming his hand as she leaned over to kiss his lips. Rafe sighed contently through his nostrils and thumbed at her cheekbone. It felt like he had not been able to simply be with his girlfriend in so long.

"C'mon. We should get back upstairs." Rafe mumbled, his forehead pressed to hers. He stood up once more, taking her hand and pulling her upright to lead her back up the stairs where his family was waiting for them.

The door to the State Room was closed and locked, the way his father had intended. Rafe pulled out his key, smoothed his fingers over the teeth and gently placed it into the knob. As he unlocked the door and opened it slowly his sister came running from her spot from the cracked leather seat by the window, laying a firm punch to his broad chest.

"You knew! You helped him, and you knew! Fuck you, Rafe!" Sarah screamed as she punched his chest, one right after the other. Rafe stood in place, his eyes out the window at the passing ocean as he took each meager punch from his little sister.

"He asked me for my help." Rafe glared as he grabbed her wrists and pushed them towards her own chest.

"You're insane. The both of you. You and dad, you've lost your minds." Sarah cried as she ran her shaky fingers through her hair.

"We're aligned on a common goal, Sarah. And maybe...just fucking maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your Pogue shit you would understand that. This? All of this is for our family." Rafe growled his eyes narrowed at his sister as his hands gestured to his heart. His family. His heart.

"And her?" Sarah asked with a deep inhale as she looked from her brother's feverish eyes to the girl standing behind him, arms over her chest.

"Her? She's my family." Rafe grinned with a raised eyebrow. He looked behind him to his girl who looked his sister up then down, her lips pursed.

"Elise. Heard a lot about you, Sarah Cameron." The girl behind Rafe stated, taking a step forward to stand beside him.

"Wish I could say the same." Sarah glared as she sat back down, her legs feeling like they may give out beneath her any second.

"You're right, baby. She's not very nice." Elise mumbled as she looked up at Rafe.

Rafe breathed out a laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. He gave her backside a soft pat as he looked down into her eyes.

"Go check with the Captain, see how far away we are. I'll be right up. Take your knife with you, too." Rafe muttered as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, pulling her switchblade out of her back pocket to press it to the palm of her hand.

She nodded with a soft smile, happy he was always looking out for her even though she could handle herself. She turned on her heel, tossing Sarah Cameron a wink before she shut the door behind her and walked quickly down the halls towards the Captains deck. She clicked the latch of her switchblade, opening it, and dragged it along the old walls of the boat leaving an indent.

"What's the timeline?" She asked as she walked up to the top of the boat with the Captain, who flinched upon sight of the small woman. Something she never tired of seeing.

"Few hours, I think. As long as the weather holds." The Captain nodded, his eyes fixed forward and away from the girl that wielded the small switchblade at her side, the tip of the blade pressed into her thigh.

"Good. Make it happen." She replied as she turned to exit the small room, only to run into the strong chest of a man she didn't know. He smelled of dirt, sweat and ocean water.

"Arms length. You know the rules." She spat as she pressed the tip of her blade into the chest of the person who dared come close to her.

"Sorry." He mumbled, his head low and face covered by a mess of curls as he tried to hurry passed her below deck.

"Wait. You aren't part of the crew, are you?" Elise asked, knife extended towards the boy. He looked up at her, pushing his hair out of his eyes and her heart began to race as she recognized him.

Routledge.

"Summer program." John B stuttered as he backed down the steps from the top level of the boat, eyes darting around for something to use as a weapon to evade the girl.

"Get the fuck back here, Routledge! How did you get on this boat!" Elise cried as she took off with a sprint after him, scrambling down the steps.

"Oh, my God. She's fucking fast." John B mumbled as he hopped over tipped over barrels and scattered coils of rope to get to his destination.

A door on the opposite side of the ship that led to a hallway, where he was certain Sarah was being kept in one of the many rooms. He just had to find that room. He tripped over a coil of rope, but caught himself on the frame of a door, jiggling the handle to let himself in. He let out a heavy breath as he slammed the door behind him and ran through the narrow halls, screaming her name.

"Sarah!" He slammed his fist on each door his passed in the hopes her beautiful face, and that long golden hair would pop out.

She never did.

So John B kept running. He kept running and he kept yelling in the hopes that she would hear him. But the small girl with the knife wasn't far behind him.

"Rafe!" Elise yelled as she ran through the hallways, John B evading her quickly as he made a quick left turn.

Rafe perked up at the sound of his name, but his heart began to race as the tone of her voice. It didn't sound good. He had simply sent her off to get an arrival window so they could get off this boat and safely house the Cross. He clenched his fist as he stood up from his spot in an old chair in the State Room and walked quickly to the door, tossing a glare back at his sister.

"Stay here." Rafe growled at Sarah as he unlocked the door and stalked out to the hallway, locking the door behind him once more.

Rafe spotted his love in the hallway looking frantic, and that wasn't a headspace she was usually in. She was calm, collected. She was his rock most of the time and he didn't like the look on her face as he checked the lock behind him.

"Pogues are here."

Hotties:

@starkey-babie @sodasback @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting

@beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864

@maybankslut

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo (next chapter would have...a lot of violence, it's just a matter of writing that out, finding that angle)

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

#outer banks imagines #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagine #obx rafe #obx fic #obx imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks

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mlm-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Choke Me Like You Hate Me, But You Love Me (Lucifer x M!Reader)

Pairing: Dom Top Lucifer Morningstar x Sub Bottom Male Reader (trans-friendly) Rating: Explicit Words: 1559 POV: Second Summary: You tell Lucifer about your choking fantasy and he teaches you proper etiquette, before actually choking you in bed. Notes: If nobody is going to tell the youth these days how to properly choke someone, I will. Also can be read by anyone who likes being called a boy. (Handsome/baby boy). Genitals and chest area are unspecified. Tags: No beta we die like men, choking, consent talk, kink discussion, reader is a nervous wreck, penetrative sex (anal or vaginal), things go wrong when you try something for the first time and that’s ok

Sweat gathered on your hands as you stood in the elevator. You rubbed them off on your jeans, right before the doors opened and you were greeted with the wide smile of your boyfriend. “Hello,” he greeted you, suit impeccable as ever and a glass of scotch in each hand.

“Oh you always know exactly what I need,” you sighed as you took one glass and downed it for some courage. As you wiped a drip of scotch off the corner of your lips with your thumb, your eyes locked with the concerned ones of your man. “What?”

He gently took the glass from you and put it with his full one on the bar. “Rough day?” He asked with a furrowed brow. You shook your head and walked over to the couch.

“No, not at all. Great, actually, I had a great day!” You plopped down, leaning against the backrest. “It’s just... We need to talk and I don’t think I’m ready to say this, but I promised myself to say it today and I don’t want to say it, but I have to or I will never say it!” Your hands flew in the air as anxiety settled in your chest.

In a flash, Lucifer was at your side, taking your hands gently into his. “Hey, hey, deep breaths, handsome.” You followed along with his breathing, calming down a little as you saw how much he cared about you. His eyes spoke books with just a single glance. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Unless you want to leave me of course, I simply can’t have that.”

You laughed at his joke and shook your head. “No it’s not something like that. It is just embarrassing.” Lucifer made a noise to indicate his interest as he crossed his legs and leaned with one arm on the beckrest. He looked at you with expecting eyes and a shit-eating grin. “I hate you.” He chuckled and shrugged. “No, really, I really do, I hate you and that shit eating grin so much I… I’ve been thinking about you choking me while we fuck.”

Lucifer stopped abruptly with laughing and looked at you with wide eyes. You stared back at him like a deer in headlights. “What?” He asked.

You didn’t wait for a second, before giving him your ingenious reply. “What?”

“Did you just say…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, please.” “Oh but you will.”

He leaned closer to you an even wider grin on his face and you wanted to low key punch it off. “What did you say, darling?”

You whined and looked away from him. “I want you to choke me! Okay! I said it! I saw you at the precinct the other day and you were choking that criminal against a wall and it got me really hot and bothered, there! I said it! Now please don’t make me say it again.” Lucifer laughed and pulled you into a hug as you covered your heated face.

“Oh baby boy, you just had to say it. I will gladly choke you,” he mused as he swayed you a little. The tension left your body as he didn’t seem to be shocked or judgemental at all. You did not expect differently, but you were still embarrassed to talk about things like this. You never really had a relationship where you could talk so openly about what you did and did not like in the bedroom. “So, have you ever been choked before?”

You looked up at him and shook your head. He gave an understanding nod and stood up. Lucifer brought back two steaming cups of tea and you both sat yourselves down at the opposite ends of the couch, slightly turned so you could look at each other and you could focus your eyes on your cup, were things getting too awkward. “You want me to choke you when I’m inside you, correct?” You nodded. “Okay, how hard do you want it? I could safely make you pass out if you want to.”

That kind of scared you and you cleared your throat to speak up. “Uh gently, please. I want to feel it, but I don’t want to think I may die.” Lucifer smiled with understanding and nodded, before blowing his tea a little.

“How often do you want me to do it?” “I have not really thought about that… at least once?”

“Ok then we will see if it seems appropriate to do it again after the first time.”

You both nodded and a little awkwardness spread over the silence between you two, as you took a careful sip of the hot tea. “Well if it gets too much, just snap your fingers and I’ll stop.” You nodded in confirmation, letting the devil take the lead. “Do you know how to chose someone?”

You shook your head. “I mean it is pretty straight forward, right?” Lucifer sighed and put his mug on the coffee table, before taking yours and putting it next to his. He gestured you closer and you both scooted towards the middle of the couch. His warm fingers moved towards your neck and rested just below your jawline. He felt around, before settling his fingers somewhere.

“I’m going to apply some pressure, see if you think it feels comfortable.” You hummed and Lucifer squeezes gently on either side of your esophagus.

“I can still breathe,” you murmured as he held you.

Lucifer let go of you and chuckled. “That’s the point, darling. You didn’t think I was supposed to crush your windpipe, did you?” You looked away. “Oh dearie, you did…” He cleared his throat before turning your head back to him with a single finger on your jawline. “Choking,” he stared as his fingers slowly went back to your neck, “is not about depriving you of oxygen.” With his other hand, he grabbed yours and brought a finger to where his thumb rested on your neck. As he pressed your finger against your own skin, you could feel your pulse. “Instead, I am restricting the oxygen from going to your brain by blocking the arteries in your neck.”

“Oh.” He chuckled at your reaction and let your hand go, which dropped back into your lap. Lucifer continued repeatedly squeezing and releasing, checking in with you to figure out the right pressure and place. It took a good hour at least and your tea had gotten cold on the table. “I think we got it down,” you breathed out as Lucifer let go of you again.

“How so?” Lucifer questioned in a teasing tone. You took his hand and slid it inside your pants and underwear. A devilish grin morphed onto his lips. “Oh, I think you may be right, darling.”

-----

Lucifer wanted you, before his fingers found their place on your neck again. His cock was at your opening and as he slid inside your wet hole, he squeezed firmly. At first you didn’t notice it much, but then after a few seconds, you felt a pressure in your head. You breathed heavily as Lucifer slowly fucked you with his hand on your neck. When your eyes rolled a little, Lucifer let go and you gasped. The haze at the edges of your vision disappeared and you could breathe freely again as he lifted your legs up and nearly folded you in half before going to pound town. You let out a long moan as he made you feel good with his cock.

“Do it again,” you whined and he spread your legs. Lucifer’s pace did not relent as his hand reached for your throat. You lifted your head up to give him better access. Your hands rested on the back of your legs, keeping yourself open for him. “Thank you,” you moaned as that same haze came back to you. Lucifer held you longer this time and you loved it, until things started to get too hazy and the fear dropped like a bucket of ice water over your body. You scratched at his arm, trying to get him off you. It took a second for Lucifer to notice and let go. He slipped out of you as you rolled away and bent over, gasping for air. You sucked in air, regaining clarity with each passing second. When you were finally clear-minded again, you noticed the glass held out for you. You took the water from Lucifer’s hand and drank half of it, before putting it on the night stand.

“Are you all right, love?” You nodded and lied down on your back. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have held you that long, but you seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did, I just… Suddenly didn't… Sorry I totally forgot to just snap my fingers.” You eyed the red scratches on his arm. Lucifer smiled and waved it off.

He lied down next to you and held your hand. “Could happen. It was your first time after all. Want to wait a little and then try again or are you done for tonight?”

You shrugged and moved closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder. “Can we just lie here for a little, before I decide?”

Lucifer put his arm around you and hummed. He gently placed a kiss on your head. “Of course, whatever my handsome boy needs.”

#lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #lucifer one shot #Lucifer x male reader #lucifer x trans male reader #bottom reader #trans male reader #trans reader #male reader #x male reader #lemon

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nerdzzone · 4 years ago

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Only For A Moment: October + November [part one]

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: September

Note: I was originally going to post this as one longer one shot, but I’ve split it into two. I haven’t finished writing the last part of the series yet and I’ve had a really bad and busy week so I haven’t had much time to work on it. It’s planned out, I just need to write it, but posting November as two parts gives me more time to finish it.

Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this story. The support has been amazing!

-----

October 2020

"Hey," I greeted Chris as I poked my head around the door of his office. "Are you busy? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

He put down the script he was reading - something for a project he'd be starting as soon as the pandemic allowed - and nodded his head.

"Sure, what's up?"

I moved into the room, feeling strangely nervous about what I was about to ask.

"How would you feel," I started. "About me going to New York for a weekend for work?"

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly surprised by my inquiry and I rushed to assure him a bit more.

"They sent all the protocols that would be followed along with the job offer and it seems like it would be as safe as it possibly could be these days and I would drive up, not fly, so that would cut down on the chance of exposure a bit too," I assured him. "But I know that there's always a risk at the moment and it affects you and Gray too so I won't go if you're at all concerned."

Chris was smiling by the time I finished my long explanation and I felt a glimmer of hope that he wouldn't shoot down the idea immediately. I missed working and while Chris at least had 'A Starting Point' to focus on and various scripts to read through, I'd been completely out of work for months and I was ready to get back into it.

"Whitney, you don't need to convince me," he assured me. "I trust you. If you think it's safe and you want to do it then go for it."

"Okay, thank you," I let out a breath of relief. "I really do want to do it. I miss working."

"I know what you mean," he agreed. "What's the project?"

I couldn't hold back my grin as I answered that question.

"I get to go hang out with your friends," I informed him. "It's a promo shoot for Sebastian and Mackie's new show."

"Aw, man! That's great," Chris laughed. "Would you mind if I tagged along? I won't get in the way, I'll stay out of the photo shoot, but it would be nice to have a change of scenery."

"You wouldn't be allowed to come to the photo shoot at all," I warned him. "That was part of the protocol - no guests - and I don't know how many places are open there right now, there might not be much for you to do."

"I can keep myself entertained," he shrugged before flashing me a smirk. "We can leave Grayson with my mom, it'll be nice to have an adults only weekend."

"That would be nice," I agreed, matching his smirk as I followed his train of thought. We did fairly well making sure we got some quality time together, but we had to be quiet and quick and we always had the threat of Grayson interrupting in the back of our minds. "It's just a one day shoot so we'd have the Sunday together too."

"That's great," Chris grinned. "It'll be nice to get away."

"It will," I agreed, walking around his desk to lean down and capture his lips in a kiss. "Our first romantic getaway."

He slid his arm around my hips to keep me close as he smiled up at me.

"I can't wait."

November 2020

Leaving Grayson was harder than I anticipated. Considering I used to leave him with Chris every other week, I thought leaving him for a weekend would be easy, but I was a weepy mess. I held it together in front of Grayson so that he didn't get upset too - even though he was completely unbothered as he skipped off into Lisa's house - but once we got in the car, I let a few tears slip.

Of course, Chris teased me about it, but there was something in the way that he slipped his hand in mine and squeezed it reassuringly that told me he was feeling it too. We’d all adjusted to our new normal and Chris and I had really embraced having Gray by our side all the time so while two days was not a ridiculous amount of time to be apart, it felt like a momentous occasion. However, after giving ourselves a few minutes to wallow in the sadness, we agreed to do our best to push those feelings aside. We deserved a weekend away. No matter how much we loved him, parenting twenty-four/seven for almost ten months was hard work especially while trying to build our new relationship.

By the time we arrived in Manhattan in the early evening, our melancholy mood had shifted. The drive, spent playing silly little car games like ‘I Spy’ and singing cheesy duets, had put us in a wonderful mood and kicked off our weekend nicely. It was a fairly long drive though so I let Chris check in while I scampered off to use the restroom in the lobby. He had the keys by the time I found him again and when we got up the room, I was shocked. It was a fancy hotel - Marvel did tend to be quite generous when it came to accommodations - but it wasn't until we walked into the room that I realized we had the penthouse suite.

"Holy shit," I gasped, looking around at the luxurious space and amazing view out over Central Park. "This has to be a mistake, there's no way Marvel would pay for this!"

"No, they wouldn't," Chris smirked as he dropped our bags and moved over to the bottle of champagne that was already chilling in an ice bucket. "But I would."

"What?" I giggled. "What are you talking about? We already had a reservation booked in my name."

"Yeah, and I upgraded it," he grinned. "I just paid the difference between the room Marvel booked and this one."

He popped the champagne and poured it for us before coming to join me at the window and handing me a glass.

"You didn't have to do that, Chris. This is a pretty nice hotel, I'm sure whatever room they booked would have been fine."

"Oh yeah, it would have been fine," he shrugged. "But fine isn't what I'm aiming for this weekend and since we can't do much outside of this hotel anyway, the least I can do is make sure we have a good room."

I was looking forward to getting back to work, but suddenly I wished that I didn't have to as the idea of a romantic weekend hidden away in our gorgeous suite seemed like the best thing in the world. But, I knew we wouldn't have come without an excuse, so I tried to focus on being grateful for the time that we did have together.

Slipping my arm around his waist and stretching up on my toes, I pulled him in for a kiss, trying to convey my gratitude and excitement for the weekend.

"Well, I can think of several things we can do in this room that will keep us very busy," I teased once our lips parted again. "We better get started now or we might run out of time..."

Chris chuckled as he took a sip of his champagne, but shook his head.

"Not yet, Winnie," he denied me, despite his raspy voice. "Why don't you take that champagne and run yourself a nice bath while I order us some room service?"

I felt a frown slide onto my face and I would have been embarrassed at my childish pout had I not been so confused about him turning me down.

"Why?" I asked. "I would have thought you'd be raring to go now that we can finally enjoy ourselves with no interruptions..."

"I am but I want to enjoy it,” Chris informed me, leaning down to nip at my neck before letting his lips hover next to my ear. "I want you relaxed and well-fed so I can take my time while I make you scream my name over and over and over."

His low voice sent shivers down my spine as his plan for the night sent a wave of arousal through me. My mouth suddenly felt dry and my brain forgot how to make words as I choked out an 'okay' and took myself off to the bathroom to do as he'd instructed.

When I wandered out into the living room area of our suite almost forty-five minutes later, I was thoroughly relaxed. Wrapped in a very fluffy white bathrobe that was at least two sizes too big for me, I announced my entrance with a contented sigh. Chris looked up at the sound and let out a laugh.

"What?" I giggled, striking a pose as I had a good idea what he found amusing. "They only had one size."

"You look adorable," he grinned at me. "C'mere, let me top up your drink."

I did as he asked, walking over to where he was sitting and noticed the cart full of food that was next to him. He'd ordered my favourite - mac 'n' cheese - and I felt a rush of love for him when I saw it. A lot of people had teased me over the years, insisting that it was more of a child's dish - something not refined enough for an adult’s palate - but it had always been one of my top choices and I was touched that he'd remembered.

He'd ordered a steak for himself and we both eagerly tucked into our meals, eating until we were almost painfully full and just barely saving enough room for the peanut butter cheesecake that he'd ordered for dessert. That was another favourite of mine and I got a stern warning from Chris - as I moaned through every mouthful - that I needed to control myself until we'd had a chance to digest our large meal. I bit back a smirk, almost tempted to continue my noises of pleasure just to antagonize him, but I reluctantly decided to behave.

After we ate, we curled up on the couch with something meaningless on the TV as we recovered from the large meal. We were half-watching it, half just basking in the contentment of our full stomachs until Chris eventually decided that we'd waited long enough.

My feet were draped over his lap as we lounged and I felt his hands slowly move from lazy stroking the tops of my feet to higher up my ankle. At first, I didn't pay much attention as I mindlessly scrolled through my phone, but as his hand trailed higher up my leg, his intentions became more clear. I fought to keep a straight face as I continued to ignore him even as his hand slid up to my knee. He kept it there for a few moments, rubbing his thumb against my skin, but he quickly lost his patience as I continued playing it cool. Letting out a soft growl, he returned his hands to my feet and with a swift tug, he moved me down the couch.

"Chris!" I giggled as my head slipped from the arm of the couch onto the cushion where my bum had been moments before. "What are you doing?"

"You were ignoring me," he smirked. "So, I took matters into my own hands."

"Maybe I was reading something important," I teased. "You're so rude."

He pulled again, moving my hips up onto his lap.

"I'm rude? We're on a romantic getaway and you're starin’ at your phone."

"Well, maybe you weren't being very interesting."

He chuckled at that, but shook his head.

"You're such a brat," he scolded. "Maybe I should just flip you over and teach you a lesson."

He moved a hand down and pinched my bum to emphasize his point and I gasped as a wave of intrigue flooded through me. Using the back of the couch for leverage, I pulled myself up until I was sitting on his lap, but the positioning was a bit awkward so I shifted and straddled him instead.

"I'm not sure if a spanking from you would be much of a punishment..."

My words made his eyes darken as his hands rubbed up and down my thighs.

"Oh, really?" He questioned and I nodded with a smile. "Well, that is very interesting information to have."

"I'm surprised you haven't brought it up before," I teased. "Since you're such an ass man."

"Shut up," Chris chuckled before forcing me to do so by pressing my lips against his.

It started off as a sweet, playful kiss, but the mood of anticipation between us quickly transitioned it into something more.

His hands moved from my thighs up to my hips as I let mine slide behind him - one rubbing the soft hairs on his neck as the other held the back of his head, keeping it firmly against my own. Our lips parted, letting our tongues bump and glide against each other and I felt a fire started to burn inside of me already.

Our position and the fact that I was wearing nothing, but a bathrobe meant that there was nothing between us other than Chris' jeans. I was pressed bare against him which became apparent when he used his firm grip to pull me even closer towards him. A gasp fell from my lips at the friction the denim caused and Chris pulled back to grin at me.

"Does that feel good?" He pressed my hips forward again as he asked the question and my eyes fluttered shut as I nodded. "Then keep going."

He titled his chin to capture my lips in another kiss as he loosened his grip on me, but his instructions had been clear. Taking matters into my own hands, I started rocking my hips slowly against his enjoying the sparks I felt every time I rubbed against him. I could feel him harden, the bulge underneath me growing bigger with every pass of my hips, and the feeling had me moaning into his mouth. I almost stood up - I almost pulled myself off of his lap and dragged him to the bedroom as my body craved him and wanted him inside me - but I remembered what he'd said. He wanted to wait, to take it slow and savour the experience so, with a smirk to myself, I continued my actions with the knowledge of his growing arousal only adding to my pleasure.

As if Chris could read my mind or feel my misguided sense of control, he tightened his grip again and pressed me even harder against him. I moaned at the sensation, pulling my mouth from his as my head fell backwards. I tried to find something to focus on, something to help me regain a morsel of self-control, but nothing in the room could distract from the pressure that was building quickly as the rough material dragged against my clit. A part of me was embarrassed to be rubbing myself against him like this, but with each thrust of my hips, a much bigger part of me grew too desperate to care.

Taking advantage of my exposed neck, Chris latched his lips onto the skin, nipping and sucking gently before tracing kisses up until his mouth was beside my ear.

"You're almost there, aren't you?" His voice was low and the way my fingers dug into the back of his neck was all the answer I could muster as his hands forced my body to keep up the steady rhythm. "I bet you're almost soakin’ right through my pants. You're so needy. Go on, Winnie, take what you want."

A whimper fell from my lips as his words sent shivers down my spine. My movements, supported by his hands, became even more frantic as I felt my release building to a peak and after a few more shifts against him, I let out a strangled moan as I crashed over the edge.

Chris continued his mumbled words of encouragement as his hands continued to force me to move until I melted against him and let my head flop onto his shoulder. My breath against his neck drew goosebumps up on his skin and I placed a soft kiss on them as I fought to control my breathing.

"How're you feeling?"

I sighed softly in response to Chris' question, fighting to make my brain function enough to form words.

"Wonderful," I purred into his ear after taking a moment to compose myself. "But I'm really dying to have you inside me..."

Without another word, Chris used his grip on my hips to lift me off his lap and onto my feet. My legs felt shaky from the strength of my recent orgasm, but they held me up as I stared down at Chris, a bit stunned by the fast movement. He looked up at me for a brief moment before raising an eyebrow and nodding his head towards our bedroom.

"Do you need me to carry you?" He questioned, his tone laced with sarcasm as he clearly noticed the quiver in my legs. "Or can you walk?"

I giggled and playfully rolled my eyes, but turned towards the bedroom. Trying to regain some semblance of power in the situation, I undid the robe that was still tied around my waist and let it fall to the floor. The action left me completely naked as I walked away and I heard a growl of approval from Chris followed by the sound of him jumping to his feet behind me. I scampered off with him hot on my heels, but he caught me in his grasp when I was a few feet past our bedroom door.

He easily lifted me off the ground and I let out a squeal as he tossed me onto the bed.

"Wow," I giggled as I flopped onto my back, leaning up on my elbows to look at him. "That was a graceful landing, real sexy."

Chris smirked as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"You're always sexy," he insisted, moving to the bed and crawling over me. "I can't get enough of you."

Before I could respond, his mouth was back on mine. I smiled against his lips and took a moment to run my hands over his toned muscles, but quickly moved them down to the belt on his jeans as I was eager to get things moving. Almost immediately, he pulled away with that damn smirk still on his face.

"Not so fast," he warned. "I said we were going to take our time."

"We already did," I whined. "Please, Chris, I want you so bad."

He dipped his head and kissed along my jaw until his lips hovered by my ear.

"And you'll have me," he assured me. "Eventually."

I let out a groan of frustration, but as he trailed his kisses lower until they reached my chest, the groan became one of pleasure. A hand slid up my side until it was level with his head and while his mouth captured one nipple, his fingers pinched the other. I gasped and arched my back up towards him, desperate to be as close to him as possible.

His actions started off soft. His fingers and lips worked in a gentle, almost teasing way that had me almost ready to whine for more, but just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he increased the pressure. His fingers pinched and tweaked one as he nipped the other and the sensation had my hips pressing up against him almost of their own volition. He chuckled as I lifted a leg to hook it over his hip, pulling him down in an attempt to find any friction as he moved to rest his chin between my breasts.

"You're so impatient," he teased. "I'm not gonna fuck you yet."

His voice was thick and rough from his own aroused state and it only made me more desperate.

"Please, Chris..." I whined. "Why not?"

Chris let his teeth graze against my skin briefly before moving further down my body, my question apparently going unanswered. He kissed his way over my stomach, an affectionate smile appearing on his face as he watched the muscles under his mouth quiver and twitch from his actions. It appeared he was intent on taking his sweet time and I really was about to start begging again when he finally settled between my thighs, pulling my legs to rest over his shoulders.

A snarky comment about him taking so long was on the tip of my tongue, but any attitude I was feeling disappeared as he pressed his tongue against me, licking upwards until he settled against my clit. I couldn't hold back the moans and gasps that poured from my lips from the sensation and for a moment, I worried I was being too loud. However, from the way Chris' fingers dug into my ass to lift me higher against his mouth, he seemed to find it encouraging.

He was focused and determined, his lazy mood from moments earlier seemingly gone and I wasn't complaining as I was already practically dripping on to the bed with need. He knew my body almost better than I did and the way his lips were locked on just the right spot, sucking with just the right pressure was driving me wild.

In a few mere minutes, I was already teetering on the edge, but when I gasped out a warning to Chris, he instantly pulled away.

I lifted my head as I let out a growl and scowled down at him - the cocky smirk on his face only adding to my annoyance.

"What the hell, Chris," I huffed. "Keep going!"

He kissed my thigh as I felt an almost painful ache between my legs.

"Patience, Winnie," he warned me. "You need a lesson in patience."

The overwhelming feeling I felt in response to that comment was frustration, but there was a hint of intrigue as well. I was at his mercy, being teased and toyed with until he decided otherwise and I'd be lying if that knowledge didn't turn me on even more.

"Do you-" I gasped as he blew against the wet place his mouth had been moments before. "Do you want me to beg?"

"It wouldn't hurt," he grinned. "But there is something appealing about the thought of seeing how long I can keep you like this..."

That idea filled me with dread. As enticing as my helplessness in this scenario was, the thought of it lasting more than a few minutes seemed painfully cruel.

"No, please don't," I pleaded. "Please touch me, Chris. Please, please. I need it so bad."

He groaned, letting his forehead rest against my thigh for a moment before looking up to meet my eyes.

"The way you say my name when you're like this drives me crazy."

He moved his hand to flick his thumb over my clit and his name fell from my lips again as a desperate whimper. That seemed to be all he needed to hear as he quickly attached his mouth back to that sweet spot.

Instantly, my hands shot to grip his head as mine fell back against the pillows. He held down my hips that were pushing up towards him, desperate to increase the friction, but it didn't matter. I was so close already, so worked up from his previous actions, that it took no time at all for the pressure he'd built up inside me to boil over as I finally found my release.

As always, he coaxed me through it, only moving back when he was sure my orgasm had faded. By the time it was done, my chest was heaving and Chris dragged himself off the bed, giving me a moment to catch my breath as he rid himself of his jeans and boxers. I smiled at the sight, but I was in a daze. My whole body felt like jelly from the two amazing orgasms I'd just received, but that didn't stop me from the moment of clarity that hit just as he was climbing back over me.

"Wait! Condom."

Chris cursed under his breath before hopping off the bed and quickly rifling through his bag. He found one - which I knew he would as I'd reminded him several times to pack them so we wouldn’t be caught without them in a moment like this - and returned to the bed.

"Hurry," I panted. "I need you."

A quiet growl rumbled from Chris' chest as he quickly tore open the condom wrapper and put it on. I was still sensitive from our previous activities, but as soon as he was on top of me again, I was pressing up towards him. He filled me with an almost insatiable need and it seemed his patience was also thin after being so hard for so long as he slid inside me with impressive speed.

I groaned from the sensation of him filling me so quickly, but any discomfort quickly shifted into pleasure as he rocked his hips against mine. My fingers dug into his shoulders as my legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer as he quickly established a steady rhythm. As much as he wanted to take his time, his restraint was clearly waning as he kept up a vigorous pace. My over sensitive state and his purposefully angled thrusts, hitting all the right nerves with just the right pressure, had me writing beneath him as I basked in the sensation.

Chris was always rather vocal, but as his moans, grunts and whispers of filthy commentary grew louder and more unrestrained it became clear that he was also edging closer and closer to his peak. His hips snapped with more ferocity and all I could do was hold onto him tightly, giving him all the control and riding the waves of pleasure he was causing.

“I’m close,” he groaned, his voice strained as his breath hit my neck.

Unable to form words, I made a noise that I hoped would convey my agreement and his movements seemed to become even more pointed and more deliberate. With every thrust, he made sure to rub against every sensitive spot inside me and moments later, I felt my release hit me. It felt like every muscle in my body tensed as I quivered and clenched around him, a sound leaving my mouth that was so lustful and unrestrained that I could hardly believe it was coming from me. He gasped out a moan of his own from the sensation of me coming around him and quickened his pace through my orgasm until eventually he stilled, the sound of his pleasure echoing through my ears.

Once we had both recovered, Chris rolled off of me, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the garbage can next to the bed before he settled on his back, chest heaving from exertion.

I let out a happy sigh as I curled into his side and his arm wrapped around me, pulling me close.

"That was amazing," I smiled, placing a kiss against his chest.

He chuckled, squeezing me even tighter as he answered.

"See? Patience. It makes everything better."

I nipped at the skin underneath my mouth.

"Shut up."

He leaned down to place a kiss on the top of my head and I smiled.

"I love you," he practically whispered in the darkness. "I'm so glad we get this weekend together."

"Me too," I agreed. "I love you too."

He squeezed me closer again as we laid there curled up in each other, basking in our post-orgasmic glow.

No one had ever made me feel the way that Chris did. I’d never felt as safe with anyone, I’d never felt so able to let my guard down, and the physical aspect of our relationship clearly benefited greatly from the closeness that we shared. It was an amazing feeling to know that we were so in tune with each other and that there was so much room to explore the things that made us feel good and, despite being fully satisfied for the time being, I couldn't help but let my mind wander to other things I would be interested in delving into as I drifted off to sleep.

November [part two]

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99 @mjey12

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans smut #chris evans fic #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

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twomoonstwosuns · 4 years ago

Text

the best day

pairing: single dad!poe x daughter

warnings: briefest mention of sex, mention of minor bullying

word count: 1.5k

inspired by: ‘the best day’ - taylor swift

a/n: i had this in my head for awhile, i hope you enjoy! if you’d like to be added to my permanent tag list and be tagged in anything i post, please let me know! if i tagged you and you’d like to be removed let me know too!

The sound of the front door slamming shut caught Poe’s attention from the kitchen followed by heavy footsteps going straight up the staircase. He had decided to leave work early and surprise his daughter by being home when she got home from school and was making her an afternoon snack. A second door slamming shut made him furrow his brow and he put down the knife he was using to cut up an apple to go upstairs and investigate.

“Hon?” He knocked softly but only heard silence on the other side of the door. He knocked again before opening. “Hey, I’ve got some apples cut up if you want—“

She sat at her desk, head on top of her arms and her shoulders shaking. The breath she took in shook with sadness. Poe frowned and walked over slowly, not wanting to frighten her.

“Hey…” He put his hand on her back and rubbed it gently. “What’s going on?”

All she could do was cry, the sound breaking his heart right in two. He kneeled down next to her so he was eye level and she immediately threw her arms around his neck, crying softly into his shoulder. Poe hugged her tightly, cupping the back of her head and kissing the side of it. She didn’t say anything and he didn’t push her to. He just let her cry.

Her tears slowed and her cries grew quieter until the only noise that came from her was sniffles.

“Are you hurt?” He asked quietly and she shook her head, a quiet sigh of relief escaping his lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She took a shaky breath in and it caught.

“I…I d-don’t—“

He shook his head and kissed her cheek. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

She nodded and hugged him tighter. Poe held onto her as she continued to calm down. He moved back and cupped her cheeks, thumbs wiping the leftover tears away.

“Come with me.”

He stood up and headed out of her room with her right behind him. She followed him downstairs and he told her to wait in the foyer while he put the apples in the fridge and grabbed his keys. They went out to the car and she got in the front seat.

“Where are we going?” Her voice was hoarse from crying. Poe started the car and looked over at her with a soft smile.

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

Poe set out on the road, her favorite top 40 radio station filling the silence at a low volume. He looked over at her occasionally, her head not moving from its place against the window as she watched the trees and houses pass by. The tears hadn’t returned but she still looked down.

Being a single dad was tough. Poe had to be both mom and dad, which was admittedly easier when she was younger. Left at his doorstep by an ex-girlfriend at just a couple months old with a note tucked into her car seat, Poe thought he had done a pretty good job raising her without a mother. She was kind, polite, and the two of them were thick as thieves. But there were times when Poe felt the pressures of raising a girl, now a teenager, alone.

He was lucky to have such strong women in his life to be there for his daughter and so grateful to have them step in and help him, especially when she started asking about boys and when her time of the month first came around. Poe was good at a lot of things, but that was way out of his comfort zone.

He was so proud of the woman his daughter was becoming, but he’d be a fool to hide the fact that he was terrified about her teenage years and all the firsts that came with it — her first kiss, her first heartbreak and, god forbid, her first time. He found himself wishing a lot of the time that he she would just stay little forever.

Poe finally stopped the car about an hour later and she looked around, not recognizing where they were. Small shops lined the street on either side, big windows with their big colorful displays catching people’s attentions.

“Dad, where are we?” She asked as she got out of the car. He looked around for some kind of sign and shrugged.

“Ummm, I’m not really sure. I just kind of drove. Let’s walk around and find out.”

He walked up to the sidewalk and looked back when he saw she wasn’t following him. He gave her a humored smile.

“Come on.”

She looked at him skeptically and caught up with him. They walked by a few stores, taking a minute to look at the items in the window but not going inside. She didn’t seem all that interested, but Poe was hoping there would be something here that would make her forget whatever it was that was troubling her. It wasn’t until they got to the other side of the road that she finally spoke.

“I heard my friends talking about me behind my back.” Poe looked at her and she looked down and played with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“They hurt your feelings.”

She nodded and swallowed hard to keep herself from crying again. Poe put his arm around her shoulder.

“Girls are….young teenage girls especially….” He was at a loss. He had never personally dealt with any kind of girl drama before, so he really had no idea why her friends would do that and what to say to make her feel better.

“In my opinion, because I have no knowledge of how teenage girls operate…I think if you talk about someone behind their back, you’re insecure or jealous. Maybe even a little bit cowardly…because they can’t say it to your face.”

She nodded slowly and sighed. “I don’t like some of the same thing they do.”

“There’s nothing wrong that.”

“I think they think I’m…uncool or something. I don’t know.”

“Sweetheart…” Poe stopped walking and she looked up at him. “You are your own person. If there’s something you don’t like, big or small…you shouldn’t pretend to just because you think it’ll keep them around. I hate pickles with a passion and your Aunt Rey and Aunt Leia don’t understand why…but they don’t think I’m any less cool.”

She bit back a smile. “That’s…not exactly the same thing, dad.”

He shrugged and smiled softly. “My point is…don’t change yourself for anyone and don’t sacrifice your comfort and happiness just to please someone else.”

She knew he was right, he always was…but she couldn’t take him to school with her the next day to help her when she came face-to-face with them. How many more of her friends talked about her behind her back? Who would she talk to? And how long would she feel hurt by this? The questions swirled around in her head. The sadness she had felt earlier had been replaced by anxiety. Poe squeezed her shoulder as if he could sense it and she gave him the smallest of smiles.

She stayed silent and he kept his arm around her as he started walking again. They came across a store that had a shirt she liked in the window and she stopped to look at it.

“Want to go in?” Poe asked. She bit her lip.

“Can we?”

He nodded and gestured towards the door, allowing her to lead the way. She walked inside and looked back at him.

“You know, I hate pickles too.”

“They’re the worst.” She nodded in agreement and let out a giggle and he smiled at the sight of a smile on her face.

They spent hours walking around and Poe let her go to every store she wanted to go to. They talked about everything not related to school until she completely forgot about them and laughed and smiled harder than she thought she could muster up after what had happened at school earlier. She found some clothes that she really liked and Poe bought them for her before stopping for ice cream. They each chose a flavor and gave half of their ice cream to the other, a little tradition they had started a few years prior.

The drive home was happier. Her phone was hooked up to the car’s bluetooth and played her favorite songs, most of which Poe had never even heard of. She sang along, Poe looking at her when questionable lyrics came up. All she did was shrug and sing louder. He eventually turned the music to his favorite classic rock station, to which she laughed as she protested, and then it was Poe’s turn to sing loudly at the top of his lungs. He smiled widely when she started singing along with him, all the bad parts of the day completely forgotten.

What was a bad day quickly became one of the best days she’d had in a long while, and she had her dad to thank for that. She knew she always would.

[permanent tag list] - @dameronsgalaxygal @cloud-leader @multifandomlife22 @frietiemeloen @xxidontwikeitxx @justanotherblonde23

#poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x daughter #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron one shot #modern poe dameron #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

Text

Savior

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Basically, Bucky saves you and then stalks you.

Words: 1596

Warning/notes: it’s just fluff…that’s it. There’s some cursing. At the end is a random day in the future. High chance of typos…like mega high.

He had saved you once; just once. One time you found yourself in a questionable situation with some drunk men who wanted your money. And yes, you were grateful for the rescue, and yes, he was Bucky Barnes; The Winter Soldier; the super sexy, metal-armed, bad boy turned good. But that didn’t mean he was allowed to stalk you, and yet, that’s all he’d done since he handed you your purse back and sent those men to the emergency room.

Every day for two weeks you’d seen him and somehow, despite his skill, it seemed he had failed to notice that you were well aware of him watching. First, it was Maggie’s Diner on a Friday evening as you ate dinner with your friends. Maggie had come over to greet her long-time customers, and as she did, she patted your shoulder with a coy smile and a chuckle, pointing to the back of a man who sat at the counter top.

“Every few minutes he looks your way, Y/N. I think he might have a little crush.” She’d said.

You had looked past her plump form and immediately knew it was him. The baseball cap hiding his brown locks pulled low over his eyes; The black leather jacket snugly fitted over his shoulders with a sleeve that slipped up every time he took a sip of his drink, showing an inch of his metal arm. For who he was, his subtlety was surprisingly lacking.

Your friends had only oohed and awed. Anyone would know he was hot even if only looking at him from behind. There was no way God would give him a body like that and not grant a face to match. But it didn’t faze you. You knew better, you just didn’t know why he was choosing to follow you of all people.

After that, it was seeing him outside of your workplace, watching from across the street and quickly hiding his face if you glanced his way. When you thought he had finally left you alone, you saw him at the local summer carnival. If you played the balloon dart game, he was a few booths down shooting little rotating metal ducks with a toy shotgun like they were the enemy. If you went to the arcade, he was fifteen feet away playing the claw game and winning himself a fairly substantial sized stuffed bear that he later used to duck behind when you whipped around fast to see if you could catch him staring.

He was relentless, you would give him that. But you didn’t know how long he would trail your every move before giving up. It seemed like he would never stop, and you were growing tired of playing the oblivious.

————————————————–

Your eyes bore into the back pages of the wide-open newspaper he’d been pretending to read for the last hour as you sipped your coffee a few tables over. He flicked the top corner down half and inch and, with one eye, peered over it. With your lips around the plastic cup you rose an eyebrow and he quickly straightened the paper again.

You chuckled. There was something cute about how he watched over you like some sort of guardian angel. Cute, of course, if it wasn’t so fucking creepy.

Standing sharply, you tossed your empty cup into the nearest trash can and made your way over to him, then snatched the paper right out of his large hands. You crossed your arms and stared down at him.

“You really don’t give up, huh?”

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in the polished wooden chair. “I, uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. He didn’t know what you were talking about, and yet, he figured out your name. You certainly hadn’t told him before. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around? Like saving the world or something?”

He crossed his arms, staring up at you in sudden slight challenge. “It’s been surprisingly quiet lately. And believe it or not, little old ladies who need help crossing the street prefer Captain America.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

Bucky sighed and removed his cap to run a hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. “Look, I just wanted to make sure you’ve stayed save, that’s all.”

“Well, as you’ve seen, I’ve been a good girl.”

“Yea, you’ve been a good girl,” He said, his eyes meeting yours. You shivered at the way those words passed his lips. “But it’s got nothing to do with your behavior. It’s others. I don’t trust them.”

You glared down at him but he didn’t flinch, only glared back with an intensity that could not be broken. “Can I ask you one thing?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know where I live?”

His fixed stare cracked at your question and his eyes darted to his lap. “…No,” He mumbled, then looked back at you.

You narrowed your gaze and frowned. “Are you lying?”

“…Maybe.”

“Jesus,” You scoffed. “Do you know how creepy that is?”

“It’s not creepy!” He snapped a little too loud, drawing the attention of other coffee-craving patrons. He lowered his voice at the numerous scowls. “It’s good intentions disguised as somewhat crossing a boundary.”

“Somewhat?”

“Yes, somewhat. It could be much worse. I could’ve snooped around your apartment. The worst I’ve done is make sure the locks on your front door can’t be opened with a twisted paper clip.”

“…I should be so mad,” You said. “I should file a restraining order, for fucks sake.”

His eyebrows rose and lips parted as the last thread of his tough composure busted. “You’re not mad?”

“No, I’m…” You uncrossed your arms, shedding your hardened shell. “I don’t know, but I’m—”

“But you’re not mad,” He smiled.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “…No.”

——————————————————–

You groaned at the horrible, grating sound that yanked you out of a deep sleep. Turning your head left and right, you noticed two things that had the corners of your mouth tipping down. One, the clock on your dresser read three in the morning. Two, your boyfriend was not in bed beside you. Then that piercing sound began again.

Throwing the covers off your legs and tiptoeing out of the bedroom, you looked around to find Bucky at your entryway, drilling a barrel bolt and chain lock across the front door. With a breathy chuckle, you stepped up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, then placed a small kiss at the back of his neck.

“Are you aware of the time?” You asked against his skin.

“Almost done,” He replied. He picked up another screw, placed it appropriately, and shocked your eardrums once again with the large electric tool. “There,” He said with satisfaction then turned in your arms.

He set the drill on the side table where your keys lived and wrapped his arms around you.

“Baby…” You started.

He hummed back.

“What are you doing?”

“I forgot to put the locks on last night before bed.”

“It couldn’t wait until morning?”

He shook his head. “I heard a bunch of drunk stumbling in the hallway about a half hour ago. Someone jiggled the doorknob.”

“And is the offender still alive?”

“Oh, Ha Ha.” He said sarcastically. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Somehow I think you sleeping next to me is more effective than a couple locks, safety wise.”

“You can never be too cautious, Doll.”

Snickering, you touched your forehead to his bare chest. “Oh, God…”

“You’re upset.”

You looked up at him and leaned up to softly kiss him. “No, Baby. I just love you. I love that you take such good care of me.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

He tucked some hair behind your ear. “I’m always afraid one day you’ll find me too overprotective.”

Shaking your head, you said “I think you’re just protective enough.”

He smiled and cupped your face, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” You grinned. “You make that clearer every day.”

———————————————————

Extra: Random Day, Two Years Later…

“Apples, check; Chicken, check; Shampoo, check; Weird book that your mother wanted for her birthday, check” You said to yourself as you looked over your list. That was the last of it and thank God; you hated shopping. You were ready to hightail it out of there once you found your husband.

As if summoned at the thought of him, Bucky’s large form appeared at your side. You looked up at him with an affectionate smile that immediately dropped when you saw the puppy-dog expression on his face. Then, you looked down.

“No,” You said sternly and glanced back at the wrinkly piece of white notepad paper in your hands.

“What do you mean ‘no?’ He whined.

“I mean,” You met his eyes, “No.” You stared at the numerous equally shaped boxes bundled in his arms—four of them, by your count—and shook your head. “We don’t need any more.”

“How can you say that?”

Turning your body toward his, you crossed your arms the best you could over your swelling belly. “Because as it is, we have eight, two per room in the apartment and that is if we include the bathroom. I am not changing that to three.”

“Y/N, baby monitors are necessary.”

“Yes, one per room. And don’t think for a second I’m not taking the ones out of the bathroom.”

“And if our baby crawls in there?”

“She won’t. We’ll watch her.”

“Y/N—”

“Put them back, Bucky.”

He huffed. “Fine.”

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marlahey · 4 years ago

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under the same roof part two: an old friend

a harry styles rpf part two of six ratings/warnings: the stalking comes to an alarming head via chase, suggestion of violent intent, aggressive emotions, fuck the patriarchy notes: things get serious, intimacy occurs, we all suffer. moments were edited or cut to reinforce the utter lack of actual romance in a real stalking situation, but I promise we’ve made up for it in later parts! fun fact: on a lighter note, this series should probably just be titled: sweet things that have actually occurred to annie that she forgot she wrote in and so suffers in every edit session.

masterlist | part one | part three (14.12.2020) ... • friday, 4th january 8:34 pm • Blood roars in your ears as you sprint through the parking garage, but the sound isn’t loud enough to drown out the pounding footfalls that aren’t your own. Every gulp of air burns your throat but you can’t stop, you can’t even slow down. The hum of industrial ceiling lights overhead is the only other sound. No one would hear you scream.

You’d heard the second car door after yours, and the initial footsteps. A quick turn of your head was your worst fear realized: the blue-eyed man beelining towards you, so quickly you’d barely had a chance to try and outpace him. A heavy hand landed on your shoulder as the man grabbed a fistful of your cardigan before yanking back on the fabric. Twisting desperately against his hold, you’d heard a faint pop-pop-pop as the stitching around your collar snapped and gave. You’d practically fallen away from him before scrambling upright, sliding with little traction on the dusty concrete beneath your feet, and bolting towards the open center of the lot. Your breath pours out into the air. There are no security cameras. Why are there no security cameras? A white, hot panic inside your head makes it hard to think, but you must. You can’t take the lift as it leads to a dead end, so it’ll have to be the stairs. The torn neck of your sweater leaves one of your shoulders naked to the cold. You came so close to draping a scarf around your shoulders before you left your apartment this morning. Had you kept it on, you could have been dead by now. You tear through the door to the stairwell at the other end of the garage and take the steps by two. At any moment an obstacle could arise—a locked door, a dead phone battery, a hard fall on the stairs—and that would be it for you. You’d be a gruesome headline or a face on a milk carton. You would never see your siblings, or India, or Chowder, or your parents ever again. Hot tears sting the corners of your eyes. On the last flight of stairs before the lobby, the sound of the stairwell door slamming echoes up the passageway. You look instinctively. A black, gloved hand is making its way up the railing. You almost lose your balance bursting through to the lobby, and even though your legs are screaming, you do what all the brochures have ever told you to do and break into another full-fledged run to the lift around the corner. You wish you’d chosen a building with a doorman or security desk—some kind of human checkpoint. “No, no, no,” you beg under your breath, launching an arm between the closing doors. You stumble, half expecting it to be empty, and find yourself face to face with Harry. His eyes skim you over, widening from behind his glasses. You’re still clinging to the doors of the lift. Down the hall and around the bend, the door to the stairwell bangs open again; you wince. Harry’s eyebrows knit together. Thinking on your feet, you lurch inside and drag your hand along the keypad, illuminating just about every random floor up to the penthouses in the twenties, but not eight, and nothing before it. Harry’s eyes dart between yours and the doors. The footsteps in the hall behind you grow louder. You smash the close door button a dozen times, but something in you knows it’s a lost effort. You rush forward and tuck yourself into Harry’s side, tearing his name tag off and stuffing it in your bag. He startles, twisting to look at you, but you stick to your guns and slip your arm around his back. A moment later your eyes meet in the vaguely distorted metallic reflection above the keypad. Harry’s eyes are full of questions; a plea is in yours. For a second time, the doors of the lift begin to close but are stopped by an interjecting hand. A third body enters. It is him. That yellow-grey hair, the wrinkles and the scar on his lip, the worn, leathery skin… Immediately, the man turns to stare at you, and scoffs. You jump, your hand instinctively grasping the back of Harry’s jacket. You will your knees to be still. The lift doors close. It is silent until the car lurches upward. Suddenly you feel a warm, heavy pressure across your shoulders. In the reflection of the doors, you watch Harry’s arm wrap around you. He squeezes once. Your frantic gaze is pinned down by his much more fixed one. He feels so solid pressed into your side, and his eyes are solemn behind his glasses. More serious, maybe, than you’ve ever seen in the last year. Harry’s lips quirk—the suggestion of a smile—before he looks down at his feet: a ruse of casual nonchalance. Your stomach twists. The blue-eyed man sighs impatiently. Harry moves his hand to your waist and pulls you even tighter into his side. The car bounces to a stop on the sixth floor with a ding. As the doors glide open, it dawns on you that you had not thought this all the way through to the end. Do you go with Harry? What if you put Sylvia in danger? What if the man follows you? Harry’s arm drops from your shoulders. The same white hot panic from the garage sears behind your eyes. Is this it? Is Harry about to leave you alone to your fate? You almost miss his hand reaching back for you, like it’s something he does all the time. Harry squeezes, hard enough to nearly be painful. It starts you into motion. Your legs feel stiff and inflexible like they can’t remember how to walk as he pulls you along, keeping himself between you and the blue-eyed man. You’re off. The doors close. Harry glances over his shoulder, your hand still tight in his. He gently guides you to walk in front of him, and you shudder at the thought of the man still watching. You do not hear a third pair of footsteps trailing you, and you do not dare turn around to check. There’s something eerie in walking down a hall identical to your own but knowing that none of these doors are yours. “This is me.” Harry’s voice is low around the jingle of his keys as he nods to the only door in the hallway hung with a wreath. You say nothing as he steps aside to let you through. He peers into the hall one last time once you’re both inside before locking the door, deadbolt, and chain guard. You lean your back against the wall with your arms across your chest, clutching your sides. He looks over at you slowly, hesitates, and takes a step toward you. His Adam's apple bobs. Suddenly the air leaves your lungs entirely and you begin to heave. You feel as though you’d been sprinting on a treadmill for an hour and then stopped immediately, which keeps you from realizing that Harry has been saying your name. Tears gather in your eyes again; if you allowed yourself to blink, they would spill over. You begin to sink against the wall. Harry catches your elbows in his hands, but you keep sinking anyway. He follows you all the way down to the floor. “Sorry,” you gasp. “You’re safe.” Harry just shakes his head. “I’ve got you.” You nod and try to send a few deep breaths to the pit of your stomach, then clear your throat. “Call the police.” Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet, flicking on light switches and digging his phone from out of his bag. You hear, “Yes, hello. I’d like to report… following my neighbor.” Your mind reels. Harry’s voice sounds almost distorted, like you’re underwater. “In my apartment with me.” You catch, “...followed her into the lift,” as well as “Yes,” and “No,” to a series of questions before he reappears with a concentrated frown, watching you. “She’s safe.” You pick yourself up off the floor and Harry gestures to the small two-person dining table. He angles his cellphone down to his chest as he’s pulling the chair out for you. “Do you want to speak with them?” he whispers. You take a deep breath and nod, holding out your hand. Your fingers tremble, so you place it face up on the table instead and turn on the speaker. He may as well find out now; you can’t imagine having to explain all this a second time. “Hello?” “Hello, my name’s Officer Warren. We hear you’ve had quite a scare tonight. I know it’s hard, but try to stay as calm as possible and just answer a few questions for me as best you can.” The fact that the dispatcher is a woman comforts you. “Okay.” “Are you injured?” “No.” “Can you just confirm your full name for me? And your address?” You rattle off your details, noting with strange detachment that you and Harry live precisely two floors apart. His flat is 6F; yours is 8F. “How long have you lived there?” “Almost a year.” “And how long have you been in the UK?” “About two and a half years. I’m a student at UCL.” “I understand you’re with a neighbor. Do you feel as though you’re in immediate danger?” You look up at Harry before your eyes dart to his front door, hesitating for longer than you want to. “No.” “Can you tell me what’s happened?” You close your eyes. “A man tried to grab me in the parking garage.” “Was this a man you’ve met before?” “He’s been following me since June. I see him everywhere I go. It happened the first few times in public places like on my walk home or when I go jogging, but then I started seeing him everywhere.” Your eyes open again. “Like, I’ve seen him on campus and in restaurants where I was eating. He was walking behind me the first time I ever went to Ilford for work, which is completely out of my way. He took the same tube as me once and tried to grab my hand.” You hear Harry’s knuckles crack across the table from you. “And how long ago was that?” “December twentieth.” “Have you ever come to the police with this information?” “Yes. I filed a report at the Lavender Hill station on the first of October and we went through some headshots but none of them were him.” You hear a series of keystrokes. “Yes, I see your file here. And can you describe what happened today?” “I was picking up some archives at the Ilford Historical Society–” “For school?” “Yes. I’m a research assistant. They have a postbox under my advisor’s name. I usually pick up the archives for the week on Thursdays, but I didn’t get around to it until a few hours ago. It’s usually just three or four storage boxes but today there was a sealed yellow envelope—” Your voice runs higher, choked. You turn away from Harry as you swallow another wave of emotion, but your voice is hardly any different when you begin speaking again. When you turn back, Harry’s hand is a little closer to yours on the table. “Today there was this big yellow envelope with my name handwritten on it and I figured it was just something from my advisor, so after I carried everything to the car, I opened it, and it… there were all these pictures of me.” “Are you able to tell where these photos were taken? What you were doing in them?” Your bag sits half open on the table beside you; you can tell without looking that Harry’s followed your eyes to the mustard yellow envelope poking out the top. You don’t want to open it again. You don’t have to. The images are burned behind your eyelids. “There’s one of me on the tube looking at my phone. Another one of me leaving the shops. There’s a few at the gym.” You sniffle. “Most of them are taken through the window of my flat. They must’ve been across the street because you can see me through the blinds and I’m—when I don’t…” You stare at the edge of the table. “When I’m undressing.” You lean your forehead into your hand. Harry is stock still across from you. The pause before the officer speaks again feels like it stretches forever. “Can you tell when the most recent photo was taken?” It takes a beat to admit, “It’s from two nights ago,” and the words taste bitter in your mouth. The clack of a keyboard is audible again through the phone. “You said you’ve been to the Lavender Hill station before? Have you reported these photos yet?” You gather your thoughts. “I was going to go straight there, but I wrote these long descriptions of all the past times I’d seen him. The officer I spoke to the first time I went in, she told me to write down absolutely everything I remembered, so I did—the times of day I’d seen him, where I was, what I was wearing… She said having my own record would help my chances of opening an investigation. I keep all of that at home in my flat, so I decided to go home and grab my notes to bring with me to the station, along with the pictures. I borrow my best friend’s car to commute to Ilford, so I drove straight home.” “And what happened when you got home? In the car park?” You take a deep breath. And then another. Your eyes squeeze shut again. “Take all the time you need.” “I turned into the car park… I pulled into my usual spot. I took off my jacket and left it in the passenger seat, thinking I would come back to it in a minute. I got out of the car and locked it… ” You swallow dryly. “I heard a car door shut behind me. I turned around and saw the man—I recognized him.” “Do you remember what he was wearing?” “He was wearing, um, black gloves, a grey sweater, black jeans, and I think his shoes were black too.” You frown at your hands. “I could hear how quickly he was walking up behind me. I tried to get away, and he—” You swallow. “He grabbed me. Or at least, he tried. He tore the seam of my sweater and I managed to like, pull away. And then I just ran. I was too scared to try the lift so I just took the stairs all the way up to the lobby. But he followed me.” Your eyes flicker up to Harry absently before you go on. “Harry was in the lift—the—my neighbor, so I ran over and put my arm around him to make it seem like I wasn’t alone.” Harry nods at you from across the table. “And the man was able to follow you into the lift?” The tips of your fingers ache at the memory of slamming desperately into the close door button. “Yes.” “Did he try to communicate with you in any way?” You shake your head and then remember she can’t see you. “No. He was just staring at me.” “Has he ever approached you or tried to make contact before?” “Just the one time on the tube and the pictures.” “Were you followed out of the lift?” “No.” “And you’re in your neighbor’s flat now, is that right?” “Yeah.” You run your sleeve beneath your nose with a sniffle. “And the man knows which floor you got off at?” ”Correct.” “Do the windows in both of your flats face out on the same street?” Your stomach drops. “Yes… They do.” “I want you to remain calm and stay on the line, can you do that for me?” It’s deadly quiet as you and Harry look at each other. You feel eerily as though you’ve wound up in a Hitchcock film. “Yes.” “Move away from the windows and find a place in the flat that’s not visible from the street—” The legs of Harry’s chair are scraping the floor before you get the chance to react. “...and do not turn out any lights or change the way any of the blinds are positioned.” “C’mere.” Harry’s voice is gravely urgent. He leads you to the kitchen with a hand between your shoulder blades, and brushes past you to lower the blinds of a small window above the sink. Your eyes widen as your hand reaches toward him. “Harry—” He glances back, too late. “Don’t… ” You stumble. “Don’t fix any more of those.” He nods once. “Yes, don’t touch the blinds. Don’t change anything that would make it look out of the ordinary. If someone has been staking out your building from the same place across the street every night, you could give yourself away and put you both at risk.” “Okay.” Harry leans against the sink with his arms crossed, and you mirror him. “Since you already have a file on record and the whereabouts of this man are still uncertain, it might do more harm than good to have you come in again for questioning at this hour. But we’ll need you to come by first thing in the morning. You absolutely cannot go back to your flat tonight. He knows very well which unit is yours, and he’s clearly found access into the building somehow. Do not turn on the lights, do not fuss with the blinds, do not go to retrieve any belongings. If it’s something dire, an officer can escort you.” “Okay.” “And don’t leave the building, either. If you need a place to stay, there’s a section of the precinct that can hold you till morning. An officer will have to drive you there, too.” “Okay,” you parrot. “Listen carefully. It’s not forever, but right now we need you to keep yourself absolutely out of sight. Anything that could result in your being followed… Well, we would strongly advise against your taking unnecessary risks. We obviously want to keep you and anyone else involved as safe as possible.” “I understand.” “A patrol officer is en route to your address. He’ll stay posted outside the building for a few hours. If something happens, don’t hesitate to call. Is this a number we can redial if need be?” You look up to Harry; he nods fiercely. “Yes.” “Try to get some rest. You’re safe now, and we’ll see you first thing in the morning.” “Thank you, officer.” You pass Harry’s phone back to him before digging through your bag to retrieve your own. The dial tone rings in your ear as you turn to face the living room. You’re sent to voicemail. “Uh… hi, Mom. It’s me. Just give me a call back when you get this, okay? I—um… Everything’s fine I should just… give you an update, so. Anyways. Talk soon. Love you.” You set your phone down on the counter, but can’t manage to meet his eyes. Some part of you had been worried that he would judge you—or worse, pity you. He doesn’t speak, nor does he try to touch you. Your eyes are pulled towards two sets of rainbow-painted handprints stuck to Harry’s fridge—one large, one tiny. A wave of nausea washes over you at the imposition you’ve entitled yourself to, the risk involved, the implications. “Thank you.” Harry jumps at the sound of your voice. “For everything. I should—” you loop an arm through the strap of your bag— “I should go.” “Woah, woah, woah… ” Harry catches your arm before you can take three steps. You freeze. He releases you immediately. “And go where? You heard the officer, yeah?” He’s shaking his head slowly. “You can’t go back to your flat.” “I did hear her,” you counter. It comes out more curt than you had meant it. “There’s a safe place for me to sleep at the precinct… Thank you again, I can show myself out.” “That’s ridiculous—” You turn away and he says your name, once, imploring. It’s more of a plea than a demand, keeping you still. You still have your eyes on the door, but since you’re no longer moving, Harry goes on. “You can stay here, it’s fine. I’ve got a spare bed n’ all. You can sleep in Vi’s room.” Your resolve wavers. His voice is a pitch softer as he asks, “What is it?” Your mouth hangs open a moment before you can find the right words. “I don’t—we don’t…” We don’t know each other seems far too accusatory with everything that’s transpired between you, especially after tonight. You grind your teeth, reeling the words back. Harry’s fingers touch your elbow, hesitating, and when you don’t pull away he wraps his hand gently around your arm. Tears well up in your eyes and you can’t blame them on the guilt, fear, or relief alone… all of it at once leaves you itching to escape. “We’re practically strangers,” you settle on finally. “I put you in danger, and I put your family in danger—” Harry’s thumb rotates in tiny circles in the crook of your arm, a touch so light you can barely feel it. You think unbidden of the lift on New Year’s Eve, and the brush of his lips over yours. You want to fall headlong back into that memory—to abate what is shaping up to be one of the worst nights of your life. “I’m Harry.” You blink. “What?” He smiles at you—a quick, sanguine flicker of a thing. “I’m Harry… Styles. I’m twenty-six. I graduated from Kings with a Bachelors in Art History and Psychology. I’m an Administrative Assistant to the Director of the National Gallery—” his smile is real now, wider— “But sometimes I pick up shifts keepin’ an eye on the gallery for the extra few quid… I have a daughter named Sylvia. She’s almost five. I get her every other week. I grew up in Cheshire. I have a sister named Gemma and my mum’s name is Anne.” You sniffle. “Why are you telling me all this?” “So you and I aren’t strangers anymore.” You have no idea how to respond. “You’ve never been here before,” Harry continues. “If someone’s been keeping close tabs on our building, then maybe this is the safest place for you right now. If I felt you were putting my daughter in harm’s way—” you open your mouth to speak and he raises a finger— “I would ask you to leave… As it is, if you go now, I feel that I would be putting you in harm’s way… And I don’t want to.” The two of you stand at a stalemate. “Please don’t make me.” Harry lets go of your arm and eventually backs up to lean against the sink again. You could leave if you wanted to. Eventually you sigh and drop your bag down to the kitchen floor with a thud. “Are you hungry?” Harry asks. “I was gonna fix something for myself anyway.” You shake your head. “I don’t think I could eat anything right now.” The more powerful urge is to erase this night from memory, to scrub away the feeling of a rough hand on your shoulder. You absently rub your thumb into the sleeve of your shirt where the grime from the door to the stairwell had smeared. Your shoulder is still bare from the gaping hole. Harry tilts his head, as if he’s going to say something more, but you blurt, “Could I use your shower actually?” “Of course.” He leads you to the end of a brief hallway with three adjacent doors, only one of which is open. “Be back in a sec.” Harry emerges moments later with two folded towels, then flicks on the light as you trail behind him. Your eyes are immediately drawn to Harry in the broad mirror that covers the entire wall above the sink. His bathroom is virtually identical to yours, but it’s striking to see his familiar reflection somewhere outside of the lift. Harry pushes aside the curtain to the shower. “Fuck.” He sets the towels down on the toilet seat and hastily gathers up the army of rainbow rubber ducks lined along the rim of the tub, before yanking off a plastic water wheel suction cupped to the faucet. Clear synthetic stickers in the shape of cartoon rocket ships and planets cling to the shower wall which Harry peels off in a stack before scooping out a myriad of other colorful knick-knacks from the bottom of the tub. “Harry, you don’t have to do that.” “I’m just now realizing how mad this must look to someone who isn’t the parent of a four-year-old—” “Harry, please. You’re already doing so much for me. You don’t need to remodel your bathroom.” “Alright, well… ” Harry rises, brushing his hands down the front of his suit trousers with flushed cheeks and glasses halfway down his nose. He cards his fingers through his hair. “Just be careful not to step on those little sparkly buggers. They’re the most painful by far.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” You have to suppress an laugh at the image of him having stepped on every last toy in the tub enough to compare. “So, like, the red is hot and obviously the blue is cold but it’s very sensitive so I find it’s best to just leave it at about three o’clock—wait you…” Harry shakes his head with a frown. “You probably have the same one, don’t you?” You nod, wringing your hands. “Do you have a shirt or something I could borrow for after?” “Of course,” he almost cuts you off, disappearing into the hallway. You perch on the edge of the tub and run the faucet to adjust the temperature. There’s three raps on the door. “Come in!” you call. Harry squeezes through the door and you catch his eyes in the mirror. “Let me know if these fit.” You watch his reflection lift the clean towels, put down the bundle of clothes, and restack the linens on top with the ease of someone who’s clearly used to taking care of someone else. “Thank you, I’m sure they’ll be fine.” He nods and closes the door firmly behind him. Sylvia’s bath wrap, bright yellow and embroidered with her initials, hangs by its duck shaped hood on a hook next to the door. Steam is starting to rise from the shower. You take a deep lungful and step in carefully. Although childrens’ soaps and clutter are unfamiliar, the water pressure is the same as the shower in your apartment, if not better. It pounds down against your back and shoulders, and for a minute you let yourself just stand in the hot spray. It takes several seconds of inner coaxing before you can close your eyes and tilt your head back beneath the water. A hardened blue stare flashes in your mind’s eye, but you push it back determinedly. You think of Harry’s clear, level gaze. You think of the way he’d looked as he pinned a poppy to your chest—as he’d drank from that half-empty bottle of Prosecco. So you turn your attention to the soap instead. It’s strange to see the source of several of the mingling scents you’ve picked up from him in the lift over so many months, and even more strange to pick the bottles up and use them on yourself. But there’s something cathartic in the act of scrubbing yourself raw, especially the spot on your shoulder where you had to wrench yourself away from that painful grip. By the time the last of the shampoo and soap are swirling down the drain, buoying a tiny rubber duck that Harry had missed, you finally feel a bit more like yourself again. The towels are in easy reach. You wrap your hair in one, wind the other around your body, and tiptoe across the bathmat, wading through a junkyard of toys. A hotel toothbrush packaged in plastic lays atop the pile of clothes Harry had left, so you quickly brush your teeth before giving the bathroom a cursory tidy. You have to roll up the cuffs of his sweatpants to your ankles. You can barely see your own reflection, so you crack open the door to air out the steam a bit. Somewhere a kettle shrieks. You creep into the hall, clutching a neat bundle of your clothes and set your things down on the chest table in the entryway before joining him in the kitchen. Harry has changed out of his work suit and into a plain white tee shirt and grey sweatpants. Sundry, mismatched tattoos are scattered all along his left arm and it catches you by surprise. No rings. You have no idea what to do with yourself, faced with the reality that you’re standing in Harry’s flat, wearing his clothes, smelling like him. You lean gingerly against the counter, sort of surprising yourself as you blurt out, “I thought you said you were hungry?” Harry freezes, like he is both realizing you’re there, and also that he contradicted himself. “Lost my appetite I guess. Tea?” “I’d love some, yeah. If there’s enough water. Thanks.” “Sure.” You watch as Harry pulls down a veritable armada of teabags. “Gotta be prepared,” he says with a vaguely self-deprecating smile. “We take our tea seriously over here. These—” Harry gestures— “haven’t got caffeine.” Something tells you that an entire bottle of cold medicine couldn’t knock you out tonight. “Whatever you’re having is fine.” Your phone vibrates against your hip and you pull it out to skim the text from your mom. Hi honey. Sorry I missed your call, hope everything is alright… It’s late for you now so I’ll try back in the morning. Hugs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as guilt taps you on the shoulder. You’re drained and it would be lovely not to rehash tonight’s events for a second time when you know it would do nothing but worry her. Since you’re in reasonably good hands, you lock your phone and shove it back into the pocket of Harry’s sweats. “How do you take it?” Harry murmurs. “With a little bit of milk, if you don’t mind.” He places your tea on the counter beside you before adding the milk. “I don’t mind,” he mocks your accent gently, and it bothers you how good he is at it. Harry passes you the mug. You raise it to your nose and inhale the steam. “Thank you, Harry, for being so… okay with all of this, and for just like, making me feel… ” You trail off, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to have, like, an ounce of normalcy tonight after all that.” You tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. Harry pushes his glasses up his nose with his thumb and idly plays with the tag hanging by a string over the side of his mug. “I’ve heard you take responsibility a dozen times tonight for the danger that someone else put you in,” he says after a minute. His eyes are vaguely unfocused, and trained on the blinds. “Tonight was not your fault. Like, you were smart, brave and all that, but you shouldn’t have had to be.” He takes a sip. “I’m glad I was there.” Harry doesn’t say anything else. It’s cathartic in a way you wouldn’t have expected, to hear him state it back to you so plainly and without nuance. There’s not a thing you could say to that in defense of the argument that you are indeed to blame. But there were other choices I could have made. I shouldn’t have gone running that morning. I should have known to be more vigilant, buying those groceries. It was reckless of me to choose sheer curtains. I should have apparated to class instead of taking the tube. The logic sounds absurd to you in a new way when held up to the light. You absently stir your tea; there’s an orange tabby painted on the ceramic. “Chowder!” Harry’s eyebrows fly up. “Sorry?” “My cat! He’s all on his own in my apartment.” “Does he have water?” “Yeah, and food. And he's a few years old so he’ll be fine. I just feel awful, he’s never spent the night alone.” You shake your head. “Sorry for making you jump, it just crossed my mind.” “No, it’s okay… Do you want—should I go up and check on him for you?” “No, no. That’s not necessary. I’m just, you know, a terrible cat mom.” “Ha!” Harry barks. It’s the loudest sound you’ve ever heard him make. “You don’t even want to… Oh Christ,” he shakes his head, creasing with laughter, “You have no idea.” “What?” You ask after a minute, unable to help yourself from joining in his laughter. His face is turning pink. “Do you have any idea how many nappies I’ve put on backwards? How many haircuts I’ve botched? I mean with my real, human child. I assembled both of Sylvia’s cribs upside down because the instructions were in Japanese. One after the other. It was the same fucking crib.” He deadpans your name at you. “Sylvia’s first word was fuck because Daddy couldn’t shake the habit of saying it all the fucking time.” “Oh my god.” “Yeah. We thought she was just a quiet kid, but then we were getting concerned that she wasn’t speaking by her second birthday. We took her to a speech therapist. So imagine you’re me, watching your daughter in her little highchair with her mum right up in her face, going, “Vi can you say ma-ma? And the child throws her binkie… and yells, Fuck!” You’re laughing so hard it’s completely silent. “Didn’t say it.” He swipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and it bumps up his glasses a little. “Yelled it. Not a thing wrong with her… Oh,” Harry sighs. “Annie wouldn't speak to me for a week.” He shakes his head. “That’s incredible.” “So, like, newsflash… ” He takes a sip of his tea. “Nobody has any idea what they’re doing. There’s no such thing as a perfect parent or, um—cat mum as you said.” “So…” you venture after a pause. “Annie?” Harry laughs once through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright. Fair.” He sets his tea down on the counter. “Thought maybe we’d get to have this conversation over Prosecco,” he says, chuckling dryly. “Sylvia was definitely… unexpected… ” Harry begins delicately. “But she’s, like the funniest person I know and also my favorite person on the planet. So… I dunno. It worked out.” He clears his throat. “She was conceived on the night I met her mum at a pub in Essex and that was that. Haven’t really looked back. Annie—Vi’s mum—is an amazing person. We were never in love or anythin’ even close, but she’s the best co-parent I could ever dream of.” “Vi’s a cute nickname.” “S’her first name, actually.” Harry smiles over the rim of his mug. “Lanh Vi.” His voice dips low and elongates the first syllable. “Lanh means gentle, happy. Vi is a family name. Annie wanted to give that to her parents, a proper Vietnamese name on her birth certificate. Sylvia’s sort of a good compromise for when she goes to school.” Harry stares at some middle distance, smiling like he isn’t even aware he’s doing it. “Annie’s parents took a little convincing that any of this was going to work out—mine too—but I love our unconventional little family, and I’m really looking forward to her wedding. Sylvia’s in store for two really incredible mums.” He looks back at you and shrugs. “It’s not such a bad life. Sometimes I wish there was a more exciting answer.” “That doesn’t seem like a bad life at all.” The corners of Harry’s lips drop a little the moment you open your mouth. His head is tilted slightly as though he’s trying to gauge your reaction. You try to mirror the same, reassuring smile he’d given you earlier, then cover a yawn with your hand. “What time is it?” you ask. Harry checks his phone. “Half ten—or just gone.” “No it’s not,” you frown, but he holds up his phone to show you. “Oh god…” “Time flies when you’re talking about parenthood.” He takes your empty mugs, setting them carefully in the sink. “Thank you.” Without turning around Harry announces, “I think I’m gonna have you sleep in my bed and I’ll take the air mattress in Sylvia’s room.” “No.” You shake your head. “Harry I swear if you insist on that, I’m calling a taxi to the police station.” “No, honestly… They’re the only two rooms in the flat with the blinds consistently drawn, and her room’s empty most nights anyway since I’m such a pushover.” It takes a moment for that comment to sink in and when it does you feel your heart melt a little. “You’ll sleep much better in my bed than on my inherited air mattress from the nineties.” “I won’t,” you lie seamlessly. “I don’t sleep well in new places anyway, so at least one of us should get a good night’s rest.” “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” he relents. You’re glad you don’t have to argue about it. “Thank you.” Harry leads you to the linen cabinet in the hallway and removes a cardboard box from the very top shelf. An enormous dust cloud falls like an avalanche down his shirt and he coughs hysterically, scrunching his nose. “Last chance to change your mind,” Harry croaks, wiping his glasses on the front of his shirt. You shake your head and he turns to the door across from his, where his bed is half visible in shadow. The two of you shuffle into a cubby of a room, and Harry drops the box onto the plush pile rug with a thud. Your neck cranes as you look around the tiny space, about as roomy as the lift. The walls are painted navy blue with silver and gold stars exploding in a galaxy across the walls, and your hand floats to your chest in memory of when Sylvia had pointed at you with a tiny finger, recognizing the shape at the end of the chain hung around your neck. Her bed frame is painted a deep, forest green and the two small pillows upon it are shaped like rain clouds. Plastic dinosaurs of all different sizes and colors line her windowsill. A small, homemade bookshelf is aligned by the bed. “You mind helping me spread it?” Harry’s voice brings you back down to earth, and you grab two corners of the plastic to lay out the mattress like a picnic blanket on the floor. It’s a tight squeeze, but at least it’s a queen. You look down at it with your hands on your hips, and Harry tilts his head, running a hand over his stubble. Harry steps back out into the hallway, ducking into his bedroom. You hear the creak of a closet door and shifting fabric as the beam of light from his room slants across the hall into Sylvia’s, illuminating a diagonal path right up through the wooden slats of her toybox. There’s a small, familiar shadow outline on top. You crouch down to pick up Jojo and his mother in one hand, running your fingers over the soft velvet of their floppy ears. It feels a little odd, to be so comforted by a child’s toy that doesn't even belong to you, but here you are. “I see you’ve found an old friend.” Harry leans against the doorframe, watching you. His arms are full with a clean sheet, spare pillow, and quilt. The fondness in his voice is hard to miss, but you wonder if it’s for his daughter, for the toy, or for you. “I would’ve thought Sylvia brought him to her mom’s, too.” Harry’s lips twitch with amusement before he puts the pillow and quilt on top of Sylvia’s dresser. “She used to take him everywhere.” He visits every corner of the mattress to tuck the sheet around. “Here, let me help you with—” “No, no, it’s always easier like this before you blow it up.” Harry steps into the corners of the room that aren’t completely swallowed up by the giant, deflated bed. He removes a paper lantern night light with constellation cutouts from its outlet, replacing it with the motor to the air mattress. “This part always takes a bit.” The small plastic box sputters into a whine and the mattress begins to inflate. “Just give it a few minutes… S’ old.” Soft whirring fills the room before he speaks over it. “We almost lost him on a trip to Brighton once—” he nods at Jojo, still in your hands— “Vi was inconsolable until we found him wedged between the bed and the wall in the hotel. Managed to convince her that leaving him at home—or at least only to Bridget’s on the first floor while I’m at work—was the best way to keep him safe.” He steals a glance at you and unfolds the massive quilt on top of the bed as it rises, before fluffing the pillow and tossing it to one of the long ends. “Then she started insisting on leaving him here on the weeks she spends at her mum’s.” “How come?” Harry’s smile is somewhere between pointedly self-deprecating and unbelievably loving. “Says she doesn’t want me to be lonely while she’s gone.” Before you can fully process all the ways your heart is both warmed and a little broken, Harry is disappearing into the hall again, returning with a throw blanket and fanning it out over the quilt. “Okay.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “That should do it. Do you want another pillow?” He turns to you suddenly, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I have a couple more on my—” “No, no. This is more than enough… Thank you again, Harry,” You reassure him with the understanding that this is goodnight. Harry runs a hand through his hair and a little puff of dust is drawn out. “If you, um—If you need anything, I’ll be… my bedroom’s just there.” He twists around to point. “Don’t hesitate to like… yeah, wake me up if you need—if you feel… ” He laughs once at himself, exasperated. “Sorry, I’m tired.” You shake your head and smile sympathetically. “So am I.” “Goodnight, then.” Harry backs out into the hallway. He pauses in Sylvia’s doorway, his hand still on the doorknob. At that exact moment, the motor clicks off and the sudden silence feels unbearably loud. “I want you to feel safe here.” The room is so still that you see the shadow against Harry’s neck bob as he swallows in the yellow light of the hall. His eyes are steady and clear. You take a breath in, and nod. “I do,” you say, steadfast. “I promise… Goodnight, Harry.” He shuts the door behind him. • saturday, 5th january 12:46 am •

There had been a knock, of that much you are sure. One solitary rap jolts you from sleep, followed by the raucous succession of a dozen more as you sit up on the air mattress. It stops for a moment. Then starts up again. “Harry?” you whisper into the blackness, your heart suddenly pounding. In your groggy trance, you weren’t sure the first time you heard it if someone was knocking on the door to Sylvia’s room, but by the time your eyes adjust, you’re sure it’s coming from farther away. It stops. You’re still for a minute, careful not to rustle the quilt. There is no sound apart from a faint siren in the distance. You unplug your phone from where it charges beneath the nightlight, squinting at its bright little face. 12:46. Perhaps it’s a police officer? Surely they would have announced themselves, wouldn’t they? You slide down the mattress and creep up to the door, pressing an ear against the wood. There is nothing but the echo of your own blood rushing in your ear. You have to close your eyes and count to three before turning the doorknob. Harry is already in the hall, the door to his bedroom left gaping. He turns to you and immediately brings a finger to his lips. The sound of an open hand smacking against the front door is unmistakable. Harry inches towards the noise. He freezes suddenly, then twists to look at you, reaching his hand back with fingers outspread. Stay here. Harry rounds the corner out of sight until it becomes unbearable to stand there a moment longer. You tiptoe in his wake, and move at the same time he does. The only light in the flat spills from his open bedroom. Here in hall, the shadows are long and dark and Harry’s expression is harder to make out until he glances over his shoulder. He nods at you once before training his eyes on the door again. Your feet move of their own accord, as though they have unilaterally decided that the safest place for you is as close to Harry as possible. It seems jarring to you, that this man in a tee shirt and boxers is the same man who, not a week ago, seemed like a piece of art with his burgundy suit and damp curls; the memory of loose limbs and laughter clashes against the image of him fraught before you. Harry peers through the peephole. Your eyes are cemented to the back of his head and you begin to feel dizzy, only just realizing you’ve been holding your breath. He tenses. In a freezing rush of dread, you suddenly know exactly who is on the other side of that door. You know you shouldn’t panic. Harry raises a finger to his lips again in another soundless imperative and you know—from a place that feels somewhere outside your body—that the last thing you should be doing is opening your mouth. But this is a terror hurtling beyond fight or flight. Your primary functions are in a deadlock with a searing hysteria clamoring for you to scream, and something desperately carnal that believes you could only survive this moment if you were silent enough. Harry is still gesturing at you to keep quiet. He turns his back to the door and approaches you, the weight of his gaze keeping you motionless. He reaches forward and presses his palm firmly against your parted lips. All of a sudden you’re just as close as you were in the lift four nights ago when he tasted like brandy and the beginning of something new. The look he had given you on New Year’s was playful and wanting. In this moment, however, a pair of hard and urgent eyes bore into yours, igniting the pit of your stomach with a different kind of fear. Harry wraps his free hand around your wrist. You blink and blink. Beneath the steel resolve in his face, a desperate question forms: Do you trust me? You want to answer but you don’t know how. So you just keep staring. He pushes you backwards, gently, leading you around the corner and down the hall, his hand cupped to your mouth all the while. Even if you’d wanted to glance at the front door, Harry’s gaze is a magnet to your eyes. He walks you all the way into his bedroom, until you feel the mattress on the backs of your knees. You’d fall if not for Harry letting go of your wrist to guide you down with a hand on your waist. His lips move soundlessly around the words, stay here, and you manage to nod. Only then does he release your mouth. Your eyes can only focus on the closet door directly in front of you. It takes every ounce of your concentration to just keep breathing so you don’t pass out as Harry doubles back out into the hall, leaving you on the edge of his bed. You can feel an outbreak of sweat around your temple and on the back of your neck. You know you’re shaking but that feels distant, too. You have no idea how long Harry is gone, you just know he closes the door upon his return. You’re still trying to pace your breathing as he crouches down in front of you. He has his phone to his ear. You can only catch a few of his words at a time. “My name is Harry Styles… previously reported an, um, incident involving… yes… no… returned… knocked on the door. No, he’s gone now… I waited, to be sure. But I—” There’s a pause. “I think he’s knocking on every door on this floor.” You hear something like a choked gasp. Only when Harry’s eyes dart to yours do you realize it was you. You have put the entire building in danger. “Yes, she’s still here.” His free hand reaches up to your knee as he listens to the dispatcher, but he seems to think better of it at the last moment, worrying the edge of the duvet between his fingers instead. “Right, yes. I understand. I will. Thank you.” Faint ringing replaces the feeling of water in your ears. “They’re sending someone,” he murmurs after hanging up. “He’s gone.” You hear that broken gasp again. “He’s gone, I promise.” Your shoulders cave inward when you feel the full, painful heave of your sob. Tears stream down your cheeks as you cover your face. Harry’s hand lifts again. You shrink away and he immediately moves from you to stand. “I’ll be—” You seize at the first part of him you can reach, grasping a weak fistful of his soft cotton tee. Harry is completely still beneath your trembling fingers. He doesn’t pull away or move closer. He just hovers there, steady. “Please…” You want to ask him to stay. You want to ask for help. You want him to touch you so you know that you’re real—that you’re not in fact still trapped alone in the most terrifying part of a nightmare, but the words are unbearable. The sound of your name in Harry’s mouth undoes something inside you. Through your tears you finally lift your head to find his eyes. His expression seems torn, like he wants to comfort you but doesn’t know how. You’re not sure which one of you bridges the gap, but your forehead lands in the warm slope between his neck and shoulder and that seems to be all the confirmation Harry needs. His hands slide up your back to hold you as you all but collapse into him, crying with enough force that Harry draws you off the bed and onto the floor with him. He smooths one hand up and down the length of your spine as the other wraps so far around your back that you can feel his fingertips hooked over your hip. “S’ok,” he murmurs, his lips pressing into your temple like he intends to seal the words to your skin. Harry doesn’t try to shush you. “S’gonna be alright. ‘M here… I’ve got you. You’re safe… I’ve got you.” When your wracking sobs give way to hiccups and finally to something halfway controllable, he stops talking and just holds you, rocking ever so slightly in a sort of motion that only a parent can do. You have no idea how long you sit like that, a tangle of limbs and soaked collars and cheeks, until you’re finally able to speak. “I’m sorry,” you choke out. “You—” “None of that,” Harry says immediately. You feel his nose dig into your hair, his breath warm as he sighs. “I mean it, alright? No more apologizing for any of this. Might have to make you a jar like the one Annie has for me in her flat.” The thought is strange enough to pull you, however briefly, out of your current misery. “You have an apology jar?” He exhales sharply. “Swear jar, actually.” Your laugh bursts out unexpectedly, sort of wet and weak, but there nonetheless. You feel the soft stroke of his thumb on the back of your head. “That’s more like it.” You draw back and Harry’s grip tightens, just for a moment, before he releases you. He brushes your damp cheeks with the side of his palm before you can do it yourself. You see the same concentration he wore when he’d pinned that Remembrance Day poppy to your jacket. It takes effort to silence the instinct to be ashamed and keep his eyes. “They said it might be a bit before an officer can get up here,” he says, searching your face. “They’re puttin’ together a couple patrol teams to canvas the building and stay outside the rest of the night.” All you can think to do is nod. “Can I get you anything? Water?” “Please,” you reply, grateful. “I should—” you make a vague gesture at yourself— “clean myself up a bit.” Harry opens his mouth like he wants to comment, but just nods instead. You use his shoulder to push yourself to your feet; his hand covers yours and you feel his thumb running across your knuckles. You say, “Thank you,” but it’s not nearly enough. He squeezes gently, staring up at you and saying nothing. You walk on unsteady legs to the bathroom. You can feel his eyes on you even when you close the door. Lacing your fingers atop your head, you sigh at the tearstained, swollen-eyed version of yourself staring back at you in the mirror. After blowing your nose and splashing a few handfuls of water across your face, you join him on his side of the bed. His phone is in his hands. He finishes sending off a long, blue bubble of text before looking up and passing you a water from the nightstand. He runs the tip of his index finger around the rim of his own glass.

You bring the drink to your lips, then lower it immediately; the glass clacks against your teeth with the tremor of your hand. You can feel Harry’s eyes on you even though he doesn’t turn his head. Again, you try taking a sip with the same result and sigh. “I think I’m gonna try my parents again.” “Sure.” You set your water on the nightstand and head to Sylvia’s room, shutting the door behind you. You take a deep breath before collapsing back on the mattress. The stars rotating on the ceiling like a merry-go-round make you nauseous so you unplug the nightlight before dialing. Your mom answers after the first ring, emphasizing your name like a scolding. “Hi, Mom.” “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night in England. Is everything alright?” “That’s actually what I need to talk to you about.” You hardly get a sentence in before you hear her rushing to get your dad and the three of you have an hour-long, emotional crash-course on the last five hours of your life. There isn’t too much to fill in as you’ve kept them more or less updated on the blue-eyed man and your previous trips to the police department. You assure them that you’re in one piece and that you couldn’t have wound up with a more generous host, but that doesn’t assuage your mom from insisting on speaking with the police herself. She makes you promise to stay on the line until the authorities arrive. Before long, you hear a light rap on your door. “Yes?” Harry cracks it open without peeking his head inside. “Police are here—take your time. I’ll go out and speak with them.” “Thanks, Harry… Mom, some officers just arrived I think.” You pinch your phone between your cheek and shoulder, softly close the door behind you. “I’ll call you back once we’re done with everything.” You rush through a quick goodbye and meet Harry in the entryway. He’s thrown on some gym pants and a sweater and his arms are folded across his chest. The fully-uniformed men seem bulky and out of place in the sixth-floor hallway, as though they couldn’t squeeze in Harry’s modest apartment. It’s not like you’re the one in trouble, but your heart skips a little anyway. “… every floor of the building and searched the surrounding perimeter with no sign of anyone matching the description, and from the security footage we seized, we can see that he pulled out of the car park about forty-five minutes ago.” “Okay.” Harry nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Alright. Great.” The officer who had been speaking turns to you. “And you must be the young woman who—” “Yes.” You jerk your head quickly. It’s more like an anxious spasm than a nod. “That’s me.” “We were just filling your neighbor in that we were unable to find the culprit, but the building and surrounding area seem to be clear. If at all possible, we think it would be best for you to stay here just for the night, then come straight to the station in the morning to make a plan.” You simply nod again. “I will.” “You’re flat 8F, is that right?” “That’s correct.” “Were any of these marks on your door before this evening?” The officer pulls a cell phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to reveal the last few pictures in the camera roll. Your stomach drops. He flips through several photos of a long, black streak above the handle of your front door, and a sizable ding in the wood by the door jam. The impact was hard enough to scratch the paint. “No,” you manage. “I don’t recognize those. Did he, um…” “The door didn’t give,” the officer says. It’s just reassuring enough to keep your knees from buckling. He turns to face Harry again. “And you’re certain that the man showed no signs of knowledge that she—that the two of you were in this particular flat?” “Yeah. I watched him make his way down, knocking on a couple more doors.” “Was he stopping by every door?” Harry takes a moment to think. “No,” he replies. “It seemed a bit random if I’m honest.” “Right. Well, keep an eye out for any unusual activity in the next few days, especially on this floor. Don’t hesitate to let us know if anything changes.” The officer looks to you again. “In the meantime, we’ll see you at the station tomorrow?” “Yes, um… ” You clear your throat as your cheeks warm. “I’m sorry. Would one of you be willing to speak with my parents on the phone? They’re a bit worried and want to talk to a professional.” You hold up your cell. “Of course.” After dialing for him, you hand the officer your phone and he begins to engage your mom in what sounds like a very animated, reassuring dialogue. You and Harry are leaned against opposite walls in the hallway, spaced out in exhaustion. You cover a yawn with your hand and catch him doing the same. Do you dare check the time? Your hands absently pat your front and back pockets, and you frown in trying to recall where you’d last set your phone. You roll your eyes in glancing up at the officer pacing in the entryway on the phone with your mother. “S’ just gone two,” Harry mumbles. You make a light noise in the back of your throat. “I’m sorry, Harry.” “That’s a tenner in the apology jar.” You breathe a laugh without humor, shaking your head back and forth against the wall. “I just can’t wait for this day to be over,” you whisper. “Would you like to speak with her again?” The officer’s voice clips into your half-conscious conversation. You hold out your hand and tuck the phone between your cheek and shoulder again as Harry thanks the officers one last time before showing them out. Apparently satisfied with the conversation she’d had with the police, your mother circles back to the matter of your current state of limbo. “You’re sure you’re comfortable staying with this neighbor? Where are you sleeping?” You can practically hear the alarm bells from across the Atlantic. “It’s fine, Mom. We’re friends… sort of.” Friends that drunkenly make out in the lift. “He has a spare mattress. I’m staying in his guest room.” She digests this information in silence. “I’m alright, I promise. It’s just for tonight.” There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I want you to call us, alright? No matter what time it is here or there, I want you to check in with us every day until we know for sure you’re absolutely safe.” “I will,” you vow. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? I’m exhausted.” “Right yes, go get some rest. We love you.” You swallow with a little difficulty. “Love you too.” Harry’s idling by the sink with your empty glasses. “Sorry about that,” you say, and then wince when he gives you a sidelong look. “They can be a bit protective.” He shakes his head, his expression somehow more grave than you were expecting. “I know exactly how they feel.” Harry rubs his eyes under his glasses. “I’m sorry,” he says into his palms. “I’m knackered.” “Yeah, of course… Get some sleep.” You hesitate. “You sure there’s not anything else I can get you?” “I’m sure.” He pinches softly just above your elbow. “See you in the morning.” Harry disappears into the hall. You listen to the sound of his bedroom door click shut before tilting your head to the ceiling and letting your eyelids close, literally twenty feet below your own apartment. You could probably throw a basketball higher than that. You sigh and look back down at your phone on the counter, quickly drafting a text to India and then deleting it. For a minute you stay like that, a statue in the pale light of Harry’s kitchen—the relic of a girl who woke up this morning unscathed. It’s probably for the best that you get some sleep tonight, but standing in front of the nursery with your hand on the doorknob, you can’t bring yourself to face the pitiful air mattress again. You turn to Harry’s bedroom door in defeat. Who on earth are you trying to fool? Heart hammering, you swallow your pride and crack open the door to Harry’s bedroom, stepping gingerly inside. It shuts behind you with a delayed click-click, impossibly loud. Nothing apart from blackness is visible before you, but suddenly comes the sound of a long breath in from somewhere in the room. Blankets rustle. Your fingers tighten on the doorknob behind you. With a tink, soft, yellow light spills over every surface in Harry’s bedroom. His nose scrunches and eyes squint. His hand flounders once against the nightstand before he locates his glasses, pushing them swiftly onto his face. Harry’s expression relaxes as he props himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you. Your face stings with heat, but you hold your ground. His eyes are soft, careful, yet strangely unaffected. Without a word, or the slightest suggestion of ambivalence, Harry reaches out an arm to the opposite side of the mattress, and tosses the corner of the duvet halfway down the bed before meeting your gaze from across the room. It feels like a weakness, to cave and accept his offer. You want to explain yourself, suddenly, but there are no words for this time of night and the chasm you’re hanging over by your fingertips. So you approach the bed in silence and slide beneath his covers. Backs turned to each other, you curl up so far from Harry that your knees hang over the edge of the bed. You hear the cool sliding of blankets once more before absolute stillness. The last image of your day is the dim, golden glow of Harry’s lamp vanishing on the ceiling. • saturday, 5th january 4:07 am • It’s disorienting, adjusting to a room you can immediately tell isn’t your own, momentarily teetering between asleep and awake. It’s even more disorienting when you realize that you are not alone. There’s a knee between yours and a heavy arm slung over your waist. You’ve migrated to the center of the bed somehow during the night, flipped on your back. But what draws your attention the most is the warm breath in the curve of your neck. “Harry?” It was the asleep-half of your brain that had thought to croak his name. You don’t know what kind of reply you’re expecting to receive in this blue, small morning hour. Perhaps you won’t get one at all. Perhaps you’re dreaming. You stare up at the ceiling. If you close your eyes now, would you even remember this come dawn? But the grip around your waist tightens, just for a moment, before you feel his body slide up against yours, a sigh fanning over your cheek. “Yeah.” Harry’s voice is low and gravelly, but unmistakable. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest through the fine cotton of the shirt he’d loaned you, and he sounds surprisingly alert. A small silence lingers. “Alright?” Your eyes stay trained on the ceiling. Are you? Part of you wants him to clarify the question: are you alright after everything that happened tonight? Are you alright… with this? “Yeah,” you breathe. Harry doesn’t say anything else. For a moment you think he’s fallen back asleep but then he shifts closer to you. You watch as the shadow of his arm reaches over your body for your hand—you had left it open and maybe a little vulnerable beside your head on the pillow. You can feel the calluses on Harry’s fingertips as they slide up your palm and find the space between yours. You don’t dare turn your head because there is a question in your eyes that you realize you can no longer ignore, and you are afraid of his answer. So you close your fingers around his and do not speak. Harry exhales. You’re hyper aware of the way his body relaxes as he squeezes your hand. You take a deep breath. You know it’s no use wondering whether or not Harry is going to remember this in the morning. Even if this is a dream, you cannot deny that you’re warm and you’re safe and that you will remember, possibly forever, regardless of whatever happens or doesn’t happen between you. It’s a vaguely scary thought. You close your eyes.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction

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xjoonchildx · 5 years ago

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guarded | jhs x reader | chapter four: cham-pain

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

A/N: hey, you. yes, YOU. has anyone told you that you’re pretty today? well, if not let me be the first. i can’t help but feel lovey-dovey about the love you guys have shown me on this story. thank you so much for everything. i hope you like this chapter and i hope you’ll reach out and let me know either way. big shoutout to the baes @ladyartemesia and @taetaewonderland they know why.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

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At what point do you stop calling them shorts and start calling them panties?

That’s the question Hoseok ponders when he walks into the kitchen to find you precariously perched on tiptoes, straining to reach for something in an overhead cabinet. He lets his gaze linger over the soft skin of your legs, up to your thighs, up higher to where he can damned near see the swell of your ass peeking out from that obscene little scrap of cloth.

What he does next is probably unwise.

What he does next is approach silently from behind, pressing one hand into the small of your back as he reaches over you to get a hold of the jar you’re struggling to grab. And if he enjoys the way your body jolts with surprise beneath his fingertips or the way your hair smells when he’s this close, then that’s his business and no one else’s.

“Thank you,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes and for a moment Hoseok thinks you’re going to scold him for being so bold.

But you don’t.

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

Hoseok shouldn’t be toying with you right now and he knows it. It’s not like you’ve ever been an open book with him, but these past few days you’ve been even more withdrawn -- more in your head than ever before.

Not that you don’t have your reasons.

Shit is off the rails with your case and you’re living with a complete stranger and someone left a live fucking snake in your bedroom a few nights ago.

So if Hoseok has noticed that you walk around in a fog — that the fire he used to see inside of you from time to time seems extinguished — well, that’s certainly understandable.

But he can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to your melancholy. He can’t help but wonder if you actually hold a candle for that idiot you left reeling at the restaurant.

Hoseok can’t stop thinking about that guy.

There is a feeling he can’t shake and it’s not just the urge to beat Kang Donghyuk to a pulp. Hoseok can’t shake the feeling that beneath the dopey smile and the lazy charm and the overall benign affect, there’s something more.

Something Hoseok is determined to figure out.

So he leaves you to your cooking in the kitchen and retreats to the privacy of his room to phone Seokjin. If this piece of shit is up to something, Hoseok is going to make it his personal mission to find it.

And if he finds something?

Then Hoseok will make it his personal mission to make him pay.

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

YOU

“Amsaja -- with Hoseok. Try being nice.”

You think back to your brother’s words as you stand just outside the door to Hoseok’s room, fist raised to knock. But you don’t, at least not right away.

What is your fucking problem?

You remind yourself that you are a grown woman, not some skittish little girl. You remind yourself that Jung Hoseok is just a man.

And then you get a grip.

The door opens after one light knock. You don’t mean to stare, truly you don’t -- but Hoseok is wearing one of those goddamned tank tops again. What happened to suits all day and all night? Suits are a hell of a lot less distracting.

“What’s up?” he asks cautiously.

Your eyes dart from his face to his chest to his arms and finally settle around his neck, where a pair of dog tags hang from a silver chain. You had nearly forgotten that Jung Hoseok made a career of the military before he was one of your brother’s right-hand men.

“I made some Samgyetang,” you say lamely, gesturing to the bowl of soup in your hands.

I made it for you.

“And it’s uh, supposed to be good for a cold,” you add, when he says nothing.

Which you have.

“So, I -- ” you clear your throat, shift your weight back and forth on your feet, “ -- made some.”

For you.

Hoseok stares at the bowl like you’ve brought him a grenade instead of a meal. The puzzled look on his face makes you feel awkward, makes the entire gesture seem silly.

“Never mind,” you say under your breath, turning on your heels.

“Wait --” Hoseok calls quickly, stepping out of his room to follow you, “ -- I didn’t -- I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“It’s just soup,” you say over your shoulder, trying like hell to sound casual and not at all offended.

Hoseok keeps pace behind you into the kitchen; commands your attention with one firm hand on your arm. You turn to face him, averting your gaze from the sweatpants that hang low on his hips and the thin cotton that grips every muscle of his lean chest.

“I didn’t mean to make that weird,” Hoseok says quietly. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had homemade Samgyetang.”

You pull your arm out of his hold.

“Well, it’s there if you want it,” you shrug, brushing past him.

It’s a relief to trade the charged air of the kitchen for the uncomplicated quiet of your room.

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

Hyejin takes her reading glasses off to rub the bridge of her nose.

“I’m not even kidding about my eyesight being shot,” she sighs, reaching for her coffee cup. “It gets worse every day and the print on these depositions does not help.”

“I know,” you mumble, highlighter flying over your own set of fine print. “Sorry.”

“Hey, at least we’re in this together,” she smiles. “Right?”

Her face falls when you don’t return the gesture.

It’s not exactly a secret that you haven’t been firing on all cylinders lately. You are so worn out from the shit going on at work and the shit going on at home that it feels like you don’t have much more to give. You just want to climb into bed and sleep for a week straight.

If only you had that luxury.

Instead, you’re back at it with Hyejin today, trying to figure out a way around the missing digital evidence you so desperately need. The loss of those files was a terrible setback, but you refuse to let it be the end. You still have an entire warehouse full of confiscated guns under lock and key.

Now you just need to get your head in the game.

“You still going to the gala tomorrow night?” Hyejin asks, sipping her coffee.

So much for getting your head in the game.

“Not sure,” you murmur, underlining a key part of the testimony. “Lots of shit going on right now.”

“Yeah, I know things between you and Donghyuk got weird,” Hyejin says carefully.

You stop yourself from laughing out loud.

Donghyuk is so far down your list of fires to fight, you’d nearly forgotten him completely. You probably could forget him if you weren’t subjected to his dirty looks every time the two of you cross paths at the office. You’ve made at least two very awkward cups of coffee standing side-by-side in the past week alone -- but honestly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“That’s -- “ you start and stop before continuing, “ -- not really an issue right now.”

“Okay, sure,” Hyejin concedes. “Just don’t forget that I’m here if you need someone to talk to, alright? You don’t always have to take everything on by yourself.”

You stop your incessant highlighting to look up at your friend and colleague.

Concern is written all over her pretty face and for a moment you entertain the thought of opening up to her. The idea of talking about what’s going on is tempting -- like if you could share just a piece of your burden you could relieve some of the pressure inside of you. But there’s another part of you that worries that you are too pent up to let go of any of this. A part of you that feels like all it will take is one tiny crack for the entire dam to give.

You finally manage to muster one weak smile for your friend, who seems relieved to see any display of emotion out of you.

“Thanks, Hye. I’ll keep that in mind.”

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

You almost skipped tonight. Almost.

But you’d already bought a dress and the tickets were paid for and Hoseok didn’t even flinch when you told him you had to go to a black-tie event.

If only you could say the same for the moment you saw him in the living room.

When Hoseok turned at the sound of your heels on the marble floor, with hands tucked into the pockets of his bespoke black tux, you nearly forgot to breathe. All of the coordinating details, the slim-cut jacket and the perfectly-styled hair and the carefully-crafted bow tie felt like a gut punch.

You’d silently prayed that Hoseok didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered on him for just a beat too long -- or that he didn’t spot the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. The color that must have been made all the more obvious against the rose shade of your gown.

“You ready?”

Hoseok interrupts your thoughts with his usual business-like tone. The one that tells you that this inner monologue about how incredible he looks tonight is painfully one-sided.

You nod, not trusting yourself to use your words.

All things considered, the situation with Donghyuk couldn’t have gone south at a better time. He would have been your date for the night were it not for the blow up at dinner -- and it certainly would have drawn unwanted attention to have two men at your side all evening.

Though with the way Hoseok looks tonight, you imagine the attention will come anyway.

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

There are few things in life rich people enjoy more than pretending to give a shit about poor ones.

They make sport of it, jockeying for position in front of the cameras, gladly shelling out hundreds of thousands of won a plate to prove just how much they care. They spend their evenings drinking top-shelf liquor and eating top-notch catering and convincing themselves that they’re making some kind of sacrifice for the greater good.

A string quartet plays softly in the background as guests mill about, grabbing drinks and hors d'oeuvres off of passing trays. Hoseok is at your side, a glass of water in hand. He is just close enough for you to take in his heady, masculine smell -- but not too close.

You hate that he smells this good.

You hate that he looks this good.

You have tried -- and failed -- to ignore the appreciative stares he’s gotten from some of the gala guests. You already caught one woman ogling outright, gawking unrepentantly while at her own date’s side. When a cocktail server walks by with a carefully-balanced offering of champagne flutes, you grab one right away.

Hoseok, as usual, takes nothing.

You sip your champagne and watch him watching the room.

He certainly looks the part of a society player tonight in his tux, the occasional wrinkle of his nose the only indicator of his disdain for the men and women drinking and dancing around him. When a woman bumps into him while carrying a plate of appetizers, he holds out a hand to help her keep upright and she damned near melts at his reassuring smile.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathes deeply before her eyes dart in your direction.

You look away.

Not once have you ever seen this man smile, and he’s certainly never smiled at you. You turn to slam the rest of your champagne and put the empty flute on a nearby table just as another cocktail server passes with a full tray of drinks.

How fortuitous. You grab another.

There’s a few more minutes of mingling before the guests are asked to take a seat at their assigned tables. Hoseok holds out your chair and you accept.

The interaction, like always, is silent.

You look up from the perfectly staged spread to spot Donghyuk two tables away. Even from a distance you can tell his cheeks look ruddy — like he’s already had way too much to drink. He narrows his eyes when he realizes you are looking and you lift your champagne flute to tip a sarcastic salute in his direction. He scowls back.

“Miss Kim,” a deep voice interrupts your petty exchange. “What a pleasant coincidence.”

You force a smile when your boss and his wife unexpectedly fill two empty seats at your table.

“Mr. Park,” you return quietly. “Nice to see you tonight. And Mrs. Park, of course.”

Mrs. Park’s answering smile is warm and genuine, but the same cannot be said of her husband’s. Of course, the last conversation you had with him one-on-one, he’d practically thrown you out of his office. The smile on his face right now is a bit watery.

“It’s so nice to see you dear,” Mrs. Park says sweetly. “And who is this handsome fellow?”

You falter when you open your mouth to answer, but Hoseok smoothly interjects.

“Yi Sang, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

You close your mouth and turn to smile woodenly at Hoseok, who doesn’t bother to look back.

“Mr. Yi,” your boss extends his hand for a firm handshake, but a strange look passes over his face. “The pleasure is ours.”

Hoseok’s mouth pulls into a tight smile and you down what’s left of your champagne.

A couple you don’t recognize join your table before dinner is served. You do your best to appear engaged in the small talk; nodding when appropriate, smiling during the awkward pauses. But there is an emptiness in you tonight. You spend the entire meal pushing the artfully-arranged dishes around your plate because you find you have no desire for food.

The same cannot be said for the champagne, though. That’s going down quite nicely. Your server dutifully brings another flute as soon as yours is empty.

“I must commend you, Miss Kim, on forging ahead with this case,” Mr. Park says, when the plates have been cleared and after-dinner coffee is being served. “I know it hasn’t been easy after the theft of your files.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat. “Yes, well -- I’m doing my best with what I have left.”

“Of course. It’s important we do what we can to bring these low-lives to justice,” Mr. Kim says slowly. He looks from you to Hoseok with an expression that stops just short of a challenge and the champagne in your stomach seems to come to life. “Organized crime in this city is out of hand. We can’t allow Seoul to descend into chaos because of the trash making a living off of guns and drugs.”

Trash like your brother.

“Right,” you say quietly, swallowing past a lump in your throat. “I’ll do my best.”

Hoseok remains composed at your side, but you don’t miss how his knuckles go white as his grip around the water glass tightens.

Trash like Hoseok.

You swallow another mouthful of champagne.

The couple sitting next to the Parks -- oblivious to the friction at the table -- strike up a conversation about the dessert selection and you’ve never been more glad for small talk. The tension in the air slowly dissipates.

But you keep drinking.

Hoseok leans into you, lips so close they nearly brush the shell of your ear and your entire body goes still. Goosebumps bloom all over when you feel his breath against your skin.

“You should eat something,” he murmurs.

You could almost laugh at the way your stomach seems to fall with disappointment. What were you expecting him to say? Something complimentary? Something reassuring?

What a joke.

All at once you decide you need space, you need air, you need a break from the bullshit you seem to be taking from all sides tonight.

Hoseok’s eyebrows lift as you stand from your seat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you announce to the table, “I need to visit the powder room.”

The champagne seems to hit you the moment you stand and you have to work hard at keeping your steps steady as you make your way out of the ballroom.

You would never admit it, but Hoseok is right.

You really should eat something.

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

hoseok: text me or i’m coming in [11:02 PM ]

You stand in the mirror and stare at your reflection in the dim lighting of the ladies’ room. You’ve been to dozens of these events over the years and it’s never felt as pointless and unnatural to you as it does right now. A part of you hates how much you’ve tied yourself into knots seeking the validation of these pompous assholes. So desperate to be chosen by the chosen few.

hoseok: last chance [11:06 PM ]

Another part of you hates Hoseok.

You hate his constant presence and his constant silence and his constant judgement. It always feels like he’s punishing you for some transgression you don’t even know you’ve committed. Your phone buzzes with a reminder of the waiting texts and you sigh, unlocking the screen to fire off an answer before Hoseok makes good on his threat to storm his way in.

you: i’m fine. be right out [ 11:08 PM ]

You take one last look in the mirror. Have you always looked this tired?

Before dinner -- after you’d meticulously primped for tonight -- you’d been satisfied with what you saw in the mirror. Now all you can see are the shadows under your eyes, the grim set of your mouth. Is this what other people see when they look at you, too?

A knock sounds on the door and you blow out an exasperated breath. Hoseok must be tired of waiting for you to wrap this pity party. You yank the door open with more force than intended, fully prepared to tell him to fuck off.

But it’s Donghyuk on the other side.

You stare at him.

“What do you want?” you hiss, stepping out into the hallway.

“I just want to talk,” Donghyuk says coolly, standing just a bit too close. You grimace at the smell of liquor on his breath. “You still haven’t given me a chance to thank you personally for making me look like an asshole at dinner the other day.”

“Oh, honey -- you don’t need my help to look like an asshole,” you fire back, pushing more space in between you with a firm shove of your fingers to his shoulder. “You do a fine job of that all on your own.”

His laughter blows whiskey-tinged hot air in your direction and you make a face.

“I see you upgraded the bodyguard to dinner date.”

“Shut up, Donghyuk, honestly,” you seethe. You try to step around him to leave, but he blocks you with his body.

“You fucking him now, too?”

You barely register the movement of your own hand before it’s connecting with the side of Donghyuk’s face. You barely register Hoseok’s arrival before he’s between you both, pulling you away and practically shoving Donghyuk to the floor. You barely hear Hoseok’s whispered threats and you nearly miss the way he unbuttons his jacket to ensure Donghyuk sees his gun.

The whole debacle is so fast and so surreal you could almost convince yourself you imagined it.

But there is no imagining the sting still throbbing in your palm.

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

HOSEOK

The trouble tonight started long before you smacked the shit out of Kang Donghyuk.

The trouble started when you walked out of your room in that goddamned gown. Hoseok had not been entirely prepared for you in that dress.

He had only a split second to make sure he wasn’t staring. He jammed his hands into his pockets and forced the most casual demeanor he could muster, but fuck it wasn’t easy. There were a hundred things he could have said in that moment, would have said in that moment -- if you weren’t you and if he weren’t him.

Of course, dinner was a bit of a clusterfuck, too.

Playing dress up with the city’s elites was somehow less enjoyable than Hoseok imagined it would be. The stares from tipsy society girls and the critical looks from their dates were bad enough but your boss laying it on thick with the white knight bullshit at the end was the real icing on the cake. The coded language and the veiled threats that made loud and clear he knew exactly what Hoseok was but wouldn’t say it out loud.

Hoseok saw the way you seemed to retreat even further into yourself during the exchange, silent and thinking.

And drinking.

Hoseok has only ever seen you enjoy the occasional glass of wine with meals. Tonight was an entirely different story. You were on a mission to get wrecked from the moment you sat down; forgoing food for an alarming amount of champagne. Hoseok counted four glasses down before he decided to say something.

Of course, that went over about as well as he’d expected -- and seconds later, you were walking away.

Hoseok hadn’t planned on following you to the bathroom. He hadn’t planned on overhearing the nasty back-and-forth in the hall . And he hadn’t planned on threatening to kill Kang Donghyuk at some ridiculous charity dinner. But when he saw the man get up from his seat to follow you -- Hoseok moved on auto-pilot.

There was no avoiding what came next.

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

You don’t utter a single word on the ride home.

You don’t say a word when Hoseok walks you upstairs, unlocks the door to usher you inside. He’s still securing the new deadbolts when he hears your bedroom door slam shut.

Hoseok scrubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply before loosening the bow tie and slipping it off.

Then he pulls out his phone to text Seokjin.

hoseok: you on him? [ 11:48 PM ]

seokjin: sleeping it off in his car right now. what a slob [ 11:49 PM ]

seokjin: you’re welcome btw [ 11:49 PM ]

hoseok: thx [ 11:50 PM ]

Seconds later, your bedroom door swings open so hard it bounces back off the opposite wall. Hoseok looks up from his phone just as you are storming into the living room, hands still securing the belt to the short robe you’ve just changed into.

You are positively vibrating with a dangerous energy Hoseok can feel clear across the room. Maybe you’ve been sleepwalking through these past few days, but you are definitely awake now.

And angry.

“I don’t need you to win my fights,” you fume, pointing one hostile finger in his direction. “I took care of myself long before you came along and I can take care of myself now.”

Christ, do you have any idea how little you are wearing right now?

Hoseok focuses on that accusing finger because it keeps him from staring at your legs. It also keeps him from opening his mouth and making you madder than you already are.

“I don’t need you or anyone else swooping in with that macho bullshit,” you hiss, bringing your body within inches of his. “I have had enough of men running and ruining every aspect of my life.”

Shit, do you have any idea how close you are right now?

Hoseok can smell the perfume that lingers on your skin when you’re this close. He can see how your pupils are blown wide and your cheeks are flushed with heat when you’re this close.

“Say something,” you demand, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Do something.”

Fuck, you are playing with fire.

You want a fight and Hoseok is this close to giving you one. He has to summon every ounce of his self control to keep his voice and breathing steady. He fists his hands at his sides to keep them from moving.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he replies with careful calm. “You should go to bed.”

“Or what?” you challenge, fingers reaching to unfasten the top buttons of his dress shirt. Hoseok’s entire body tenses under your touch.

“What the hell are you doing?” he says between gritted teeth.

“Checking for a heartbeat,” you murmur. “Looking for signs of life. Is there a real man in there?”

There’s a real man in here, alright, Hoseok thinks darkly. Keep pushing me and you’re going to find out.

“Of course not,” you whisper to yourself, snaking one hand into the collar of his shirt. He flinches when your fingertips brush up against the cool metal of his dog tags. “You’re some kind of robot.”

You pull the tags out from under his collar and Hoseok swallows thickly.

“Just a machine programmed to follow orders, right? My brother’s orders. The Army’s orders,” you pause to read the embossed letters on his tags. ‘Isn’t that right, Captain Jung?”

You gasp when Hoseok’s hand comes up to seize yours. His fingers circle the delicate bones of your wrist and he doesn’t let go, applying a pressure that sure as hell gets your attention.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to,” Hoseok seethes. “People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties. People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

Your stare at him for a moment, eyes wide at his outburst. Then you jerk your wrist out of his hold so violently you nearly fall back with the force of it.

Hoseok freezes when your robe slides down off your shoulder. He stares when his eyes settle on the jagged scar that runs deep across your collarbone.

Fucking hell.

Hoseok traded one bloody business for another when he gave up his rank in the Army for his rank in the Gajog. He’s seen more than his fair share of vicious cuts and nasty wounds.

Whoever did that to you wanted to make sure you’d have to carry it with you for the rest of your life.

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

Tomorrow morning, Hoseok is gonna regret a lot of shit that happened tonight.

He’s going to regret not telling you how beautiful you looked when you walked out of that room. He’s going to regret going out of his way to hurt you with his words.

But most of all, he’s going to regret the moment he looked into your face and saw the anger in your eyes change over into pain.

You yank the robe back over your shoulder, cinch the belt tight — and walk away without another word.

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

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closer-stars · 4 years ago

Text

Heart of Depth (4)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff, a little tension. Genshin Inspired AU Word Count: ~5k Requested: Sort of yeah Content: Yeosang x MC development. More world building. Food stuff. some history, some typical genshin shenanigans. Mild Violence. Mentions of death Note: Surprise lol. I’ve been working on this fic at the same time as gut feeling hence the speedy posting, part 5 to be posted soon. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag list: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult @harubirus

Part 3

Yeosang’s friend, Hongjoong, arrives at your shop today. He waits for you and Wooyoung patiently by the door. Well, you assume it’s Hongjoong based on his mannerisms. He didn’t seem like the men Wooyoung had to fight the night before. The two of you approach your shop carefully: the grip you have on your keys were tight, Wooyoung’s stance was low enough to not get weird glances but low enough to give him enough force to jump should it not be him.

The male notices the two of you and greets you politely. “Hello, I’m Kim Hongjoong, Kang told me about your need for assistance.” The introduction puts your guards down. You remember Yeosang’s description of the male, around Wooyoung’s height, eyes that seem inquisitive, with wavy hair that seem to frame his face. If none of these events had happened, you would’ve assumed he was a model with how he carried himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself and Wooyoung, as you open the shop for the day. Not even a few minutes after, people start pouring into your shop-- some of them with obvious relief on their features. They speak of their worries of the shop having closed down or you and Wooyoung not doing alright. All of which are shut down with reassurances. As the three of you go about with the orders and other needed rituals, you teach Hongjoong the ins and outs of your shop, what to press to make certain types of coffee, how to make foamed milk and so on. “Oh and if you want to create any dishes, feel free to do so. Some of Wooyoung’s creations are on the menu as well.”

Throughout the day, the three of you try to get to know each other more, even asking Hongjoong for tidbits about who Yeosang and San really are and who he really is. He answers simply about himself, a Dendro holder, whose blood is similar to that of San’s. “So how old are you?” Wooyoung asks.

“Younger than San, older than you.” It was a simple answer but enough to give the two of you an idea of how long he has walked the earth. It also explains his oddly shaped pupils but perhaps a detailed rundown of his lineage is for another day.

Wooyoung returns to where the two of you are, just in time to get the gist of the conversation as you guide Hongjoong through making an iced macchiato. “Yeah and most of the earnings made from those dishes go to you.” He eggs the other male on with a cheeky grin on his face. Hongjoong, catching onto his antics, releases a light laugh after having made enough milk foam for the order.

“I’ll consider that.” You let Hongjoong pour the order into a plastic cup for the customer. You don’t miss the lingering gazes from the women as well. Maybe having an attractive barista could help with the sales.

--------

You were back running business as usual. Only since that incident, you had to start closing a little earlier than usual. You had to write on your small board that you’ll only be able to be open until 5PM every day for the next few weeks due to personal reasons. Wooyoung spends the rest of the day in the studio, though he gets creative with the journey there-- using various train lines, or even walking through different streets just to make sure he doesn’t become predictable from the Abyss. He was more worried for you though. Hongjoong as well, walks with you usually: either walking the two of you to your apartment or elsewhere, just for safety. It was part of the agreement after all.

For today the shop has to close early, at least he can be reassured that you’ll be safe with Yeosang for tonight. “Damn, you really dressed up for tonight huh?” Wooyoung muses as he leans against the counter. Hongjoong lingers around Wooyoung’s side. For the entire day, Wooyoung gave the older male a rundown of your relationship with Yeosang-- at least the parts you forgot to add, which generally was the romantic aspect.

To be fair, you did put a little more effort today hoping that Wooyoung wouldn’t notice unless you wanted to be teased. Your blouse, though it can be easily wrinkled, hangs on your body well. It’s also one of your favorites simply for how it feels cool to the touch. You were wearing slacks as well, not your usuals for comfort and practicality but today, knowing Yeosang’s preferences when it comes to dates, it was better to just dress up. “Shush.” You chide him, wrinkling your nose at his teasings. “I know he’s seen me in just shorts or joggers when I’m working but considering it’s a date…” Until now, whenever you say that you’re going on a date with him, your heart beats a little faster. “I figured I might as well... “

The mischievous glint in Wooyoung’s eyes softens just a bit as he snickers at how flustered you look. “Don’t worry about it too much, the two of you have really good dynamics. Guess you could say there’s a spark” He rests against his elbows this time. The pun doesn’t go unnoticed by Hongjoong. “Have you even seen how he looks at you? That guy’s really smitten.” There was also a hint of curiosity behind the soft gaze Yeosang carries for you. He wonders what it is, but if there’s anything being an electro user tells him, it’s patience. “Besides, your shop has garnered a bunch of loyal customers now. They don’t mind the early close especially for personal reasons. At least have fun tonight.”

You look at the clock. It won’t be long until he picks you up from the shop then. “You already know how to lock up this place right?” It won’t be long either until Wooyoung has to head to the studio.

“Of course. The keys are with me and the extra set of keys are at home.” He rolls his eyes in jest at your concern. “Do you have Regalia with you?” He returns.

Regalia’s the name of the bracelet you’ve been wearing since day one of living with Wooyoung’s family. One of the last few things you’ve kept from your family that he’s aware of. He doesn’t usually mind you not wearing it during work but with the recent events, you can only assume this is for your peace of mind. “Yup.” You raise your wrist to his view, and he sees the cool toned beads adorn and accentuate the silver charm that rests just above where your pulse is.

Your vision was peaking under your top, just by your waist, not wanting to bring too much attention to your capabilities but still wanting to stay on the safe side. Underneath the calm facade, lies the same person who’s still wary of everything since then. A figure catches his eye by the door. It’s Yeosang, this time wearing a cream blazer under a simple printed white shirt and dark gray pants and ankle boots. He always manages to make you feel a tad bit underdressed with his fashion sense. You envy Wooyoung’s nonchalance to the fashion differences, then again, Wooyoung’s been confident in his own style. That’s what got him to where he is now.

Just as you were about to ask Wooyoung a question, he beats you to it. “Yes, you look fine. Now go and have your date.” He shooes you off with a wave of his hand. You shoot him a look of mild annoyance for his ability to see through your facade. So with that done, you grab your things on top of the counter and wave him goodbye.

“Call me when something comes up okay?”

He says nothing but shoots you an okay sign, making sure you focus on the man who’s been waiting for you like a lovesick puppy by the door.

Just as you step out of the shop, you’re greeted by a warm smile from him. It’s interesting how that smile made him look younger when he’s already thousands of years older than you. It just comes with the whole Archon responsibility, you suppose. As you approach him, he hands you a bouquet of various flowers-- peeking above the flowers, you see his cheeks bloom into an endearing pink.

“Yeosang what’s this for?” You ask, the wrapped flowers in your hands has you dumbfounded. You weren’t sure if it was a double peonies but you’ve definitely seen this before somehow. You knew that this was a rarity but how he managed to acquire them at the height of their beauty at this time of the year was a feat for you. “What is this?” A white flower, not yet in full bloom, is surrounded by simple greens and hyacinths. You gaze at them for a moment, before returning your gaze to the man in front of you.

The tips of his ears shine bright pink, a stark contrast to his black-blue hair. “I thought you might appreciate another type of flower to be in your shop.” You can’t turn down this gift. Double peonies have been something you would usually see online. To know that these are real ones and they’re in your hands, it was truly an experience. “Neve Jewel.” He answers your question softly

You look at him for a moment, shocked at how he got this flower for you. “How often should I water them?” You ask as you try to look for a vase or a spare pot that you would plant them in for the time being in your shop. You’d love to bring home a sapling of this down the line.

“Every three days.” He says after clearing his throat. If he didn’t, he would’ve stuttered through the tip. The look of pure glee in your eyes made him think that getting you the flowers was a good decision, at least it was good enough to make his chest feel warm. As you look through the pots in your shop, you realize there’s no space for them: looks like you’ll have to carry them for the entirety of the date.

He offers you the crook of his arm, for you to hold onto for the rest of the date. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” You ask as you gently hold onto his arm as he offered. The night was still young and there was so much they could do and for all you know he might pull more surprises.

“Well, for starters, you have the freedom to choose what we eat tonight. I figure it’s only fair to let you choose this time as it was my choice last time.” That’s right, you remember the last restaurant being expensive and him being able to pay with ease. A small part of you wonders if he could cover your further studies or help with the studio Wooyoung also works in.

The power to choose makes you hum in thought. Truthfully the decisions were countless. “How about pizza and pasta? I know a place you might like.” A short pause. “Well, we can look at the menu and see if you like it, if not we go elsewhere.” You offer.

You hate to admit that ever since knowing Yeosang’s the Archon, you started seeing him in a slightly different light. Maybe it’s your insecurities? Wondering who else did he love before you. Was it your jealousy? Wanting to know what he knows about this world and perhaps beyond-- along with his financial security. It can’t be helped, there have been times where you gave up something you eyed for more important things. Living on your own isn’t easy but at least you work at your own pace.

“Something on your mind?” Yeosang asks softly. He doesn’t want anyone listening in on them as he starts noticing fleeting glances at either you or him. It didn’t take much for him to know that your thoughts were running again. Your hand felt loose in his arm, and your footsteps felt like they were floating. It was funny to him how you reminded him of them yet still be your own person.

“Ah?” You hummed, blinking a few times to get back to reality. “Nothing too pressing, just curiosity over how life has been for you since Day 1.” You admit. You know of their existence: of Archons that bestow these visions, of beings that are half human, half something, or even not entirely human that walk with you. To be in their presence though, is another topic entirely. “Along with the chances of meeting the likes of your kind.”

He flashes a small smile at your honesty. “I see. All of which are understandable thoughts. I suppose I can tell you a few stories over dinner.” He promises. There’s something comforting in how he carries no hint of resentment, but it leads to more curiosity of what he has buried in all these years. “If time still permits today, I’ll show you some places that hold significance to me that people nowadays do not know of.”

“You say a lot of promises, Yeosang.” You note teasingly. As you do so, you gesture to the restaurant that you had set your eyes (and stomach) on. “Check out their menu first?”

He looks at the restaurant and chuckles. “My dear, San always pesters me about this place. I don’t eat here as often as he does but trust me, I have no issues with tonight’s choice.” He would come here often for San’s favorite especially after a long night of dealing with awry beings that try to wreck havoc. It’s enough to get him through a few hours until he crashes.

His words reassure you and thus, the two of you enter the premises, finding comfort in a booth, away from any eyes that could wander. After the orders have been made, you were left alone with him once more. From your place, you could watch people walk past the restaurant on one side, while the cars zoom past on the other. Yeosang lets you look around for a moment before he starts telling you some of his stories. “So which one would you like to know about?”

He answers your questions to the best of his ability. Yes, even if people try to recreate the food from the past, it’s still not the same, not even with the same ingredients, things just naturally changes over time and he has come to accept that. His current favorite is fried chicken though, even better if it’s the half-half type. He tells you about a plot of raised land on the other side of the river. You weren’t aware of this story: how that was initially something like a mountain only for him to flatten it with the force of water after an immortal being thought they were greater than the heavens that made them. He admits that the immortal was a dear friend of his who had changed as time passed them by. A god of earthquakes, he tells you. “So with that in mind, it’s impossible to fully wipe out any archon or immortal being.” Your inquisitive and sharp mind warms his heart. Humanity’s curiosity is their greatest downfall. Yet, this is what pushes beings like him to protect you and your kind. It’s what has kept your species going.

“Yes and no. This dear friend of mine, he can’t..” he trails off as he tries to find the right word, tilting his head in thought. “His material body cannot come back but his essence lives on. It explains the tremors we feel occasionally.” Some gods are forgotten as well, buried deep in the oceans he rules in where only the darkest parts of humanity’s consciousness can only remember. Yet from time to time, occurrences happen that tell him that there are people that still remember. Fortunately, before the discussion gets any depressing, the food arrives and he takes this chance to know more about you and anything you’re curious about with these flowers that rest on your lap.

He asks you about the latest social networking apps, he has the basics of where most people are but the other apps that entertain certain niches intrigue him. Though you didn’t have all the answers, he was sure he’d leave this restaurant knowing more than before. He finds out that your passion for baking and making different types of coffee came after you saw Wooyoung struggle juggling his dance team and studies. The daily expenses of buying coffee eventually build up over time so you take matters into your own hands. Now, you’ve got a shop up and running and the rest is pretty much history. He respects you for that. The Archon also realizes that perhaps San was right with this restaurant. Another restaurant to add to his options in the days to come.

The rest of the dinner goes well, lasting for two hours before the two of you decide to leave and walk around somewhere quiet. Somewhere that the two of you could get away from the constant bustle of modern life.

The walk to the quieter side of the city was a fruitful one. The conversation between the two of you never stops as each of you try to understand each other-- especially with you trying to understand his roots along with his riches. “So, you being.. An archon.. Is that how you were able to get that apartment?” You understand that he’s not quite immortal, having the ability to die as well but he does have the ability to live longer than most. You learned that gods can die, but deaths caused by humans have resulted in violent natural happenings.

“Yes and no.” He answers with a slight tilt of his lips. “Some of the objects from the historical collection are mine but I had to pull some legal strings to make the public think it’s from someone else, and for the stockholders to continue funding the museum. Some of them have been bought and sold through me to older gods and Archons who have passed on, some archaic family clans as well and so on.” He hints towards other groups with money that have helped fund his museum and keep them safe, though through less than morally ethical means. Simply put, the museum has helped him amass a big fortune with one part going to his anonymous safety for reasons and the other parts going to other necessities of the community around him.

Something stirs in you to explain something to him. “I suppose I owe you a story as well.” You admit softly. You start to tell him about your family life, how you grew up in a family that was passionate about their jobs: your father, a historian while your mother was a fairly known ceramist who also had a passion for what your father pursued. It’s through the attempts of recreating the pottery of the past that made their names fairly well known in those days-- also making you have a keen interest and skill in the history and the arts. Your father came across certain writings, unfamiliar to the academe but familiar to those who were interested in the taboo. He and your mother got too close, from what you understood. The pursuit of making connections and knowledge cost them their life. They made sure you were safe from everything, keeping you hidden from the perpetrators.

Wooyoung’s parents were close to yours, it took forever in a child's mind before they found you, hiding in a closet with the Regalia in your small hands. Once they found you, they made sure you didn’t see the aftermath. Their urns rest in a quiet columbarium out of town. Since then, you grew up with Wooyoung’s family. It’s not the same as having your actual parents grow with you but they did their best to step into their roles for you and for Wooyoung. “It’s been years, and I’ve learned to cope with the absence so please, don’t worry about me.” You reassure him. You’ve been so accustomed, so annoyed with the looks of pity given to you by others who know this story-- which are usually by word of mouth.

He lets his eyes wander around the scenery in front of him. The way the lights bounce against the water, the quiet hum of people milling about by the water. His eyes catch sight of a small family letting their kids play about by the water. The way you talk about your family makes him wonder how you were like when you were younger. The you he knows now is different from the you Wooyoung has known since he was a child. You don’t step into the same river but water always passes where it came from. Simply put, you are still you. Heavens be damned, because he’s enamored by you.

As you tell your stories, your eyes catch a glimpse of the same family. There’s something in your chest that twists that you cast your eyes downward. The flowers were still in your arms, you didn’t want to leave it in the stale air of the car.

He sees you look down at the flowers, your fingers fiddling with the wrapping and some of the petals. “Feel free to ask questions about them, my dear.”

Giving you that green light to ask immediately had you talking. “Okay, first question, How? I thought this didn’t exist anymore?” You remember the first dinner you had with him, how he bought a painting of the said flower and told you how rare it was. So how did he manage to get an actual one?

He finds a bench, away from people that were there for perhaps the same reasons as the two of you. He pats the spot next to him for you to sit down as well to which you oblige. Once you do so, he looks up at the sky, seeing the faint shimmers of the stars above. The waters will continue to move to a near unrecognizable state yet the stars no matter how much they move, they still look the same. The man next to you tries to figure out his words, but eventually he just decides to say it plainly. “I had the same thoughts as you, about its existence. San was the one who notified me of its reemergence. He found it growing in the museum’s garden, in full bloom every night.”

You stare at the lone blooming flower in your hands, wondering if there’s more in the garden, but one question suddenly nags at you. “Why did you give it to me when you’re heavily attached to this flower?” You were flattered, you can’t deny that-- a rare flower from someone who has been fluttering your heart? That was a unique way to be courted Yet, the lapse in thought bothers you, a rare flower that he obviously holds dear to him, given to you? What made him think of this?

“They were someone dear to me as well.” He starts. His voice takes on a more sober tone, making sure you were comfortable leaning on his shoulder. “A dear immortal as well, just like San and I.” It takes a few moments of silence for you to understand the gravity of their relationship. “They were someone well loved by the people, taught them how to handle resources on an economic point of view with other regions, taught them handiwork beyond that of warfare, a lot of things that were out of my field to put it simply..” He has already accepted and forgiven himself of his shortcomings to become someone like them at that time. “Their favorite flower is this, my love.” He says, his fingers fiddle with the edge of its wrapper. “Everyone associated it with them.” Despite the harsh cold that ice gives, it was also a time for trust. When it was too cold, they’d make shelter out of ice and various twigs and fur. If it was too hot, they provided them with cool winds. It’s why the Neve Jewel glows as such, depending on the season.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t protect them at their time of death.” His eyes stay still at the river that quietly flows past them. “Their last wish to me was to make sure the people survive the journey. Weird isn’t it? The god of water protecting the followers of Ice.” He rests his temple against yours. “Eventually after their passing, Neve Jewels ceased to exist. Until you came along.”

“Yeosang?”

“Mm?”

“What if I’m not them?”

“Yeosang, you know you need to be prepared to accept the fact they might not be your previous lover.”

It’s a question he’s considered since he met you. He admits, it wasn’t easy to consider accepting that you might not return. He remembers the concern in San’s face when he was still so hopeful.

“Of course, grief never leaves you. It always stays with you, you eventually learn how to live with it.” He tips his head in thought, acknowledging the weight of the concern.

You didn’t want to cry here: not when the date was going so well. A soft chuckle leaves your lips to loosen up the tight feeling in your chest. “Mhm, I guess so.” It’s a half hearted answer you have to admit but it was better than letting the silence cue the tears.

“But if you let me, I’ll still love you the same.”

A deep breath loosens the pulsating pain in your head from the unshed tears. “I guess life does work weirdly.” You add under your breath, leaning against his shoulder as you fiddle with the wrapping of the gifted flower.

He readjusts himself to make sure you don’t get uncomfortable. There’s something in your words that tells him, it would be better to shift the topic. “I’m a little disheartened that i never got to tour you around the museum but that’s alright, one of these days, I’ll bring you around, show you my favorite works and tell you some stories behind them.”

“I’d like that, sounds like you got a lot you’d like to share too.” You muse softly, taking in the scent of nature and him.

“I catch you lingering by the entrance sometimes.” Even though he has invited you and Wooyoung to stay in the museum’s offices with him for the sake of safety, you’d just linger by the souvenirs. You remember Wooyoung proposing the idea of having a small shop next to the souvenirs, but you shot it down. It’s not because you don’t think it’ll do well but because who else will manage the shop? Hongjoong’s a good candidate but until you’re certain he’ll stay after this mess.

With how everything is going, you wonder if he finds time to rest. “Please, you’ve got a lot on your plate. I’d rather not add to that, Yeosang.” You say with a breathy laugh of embarrassment.

“You know that I don’t mind your presence.” He’s been spending his hours with you after work for the past few months. “I wouldn’t have asked you on a date, if I did mind.” He tilts your chin gently to look at him.

His eyes, holy shit, you could drown in how they look: shades of blue with hints of green and streaks of white. The ocean resides in this man and you’d be damned if you didn’t feel yourself melt in his touch. “If it still isn’t obvious, my dear, I would like to ask you, if you are willing to be my lover?”

Something flashes at the corner of your eye, and it’s coming straight at you.

#my writings #yeosang fanfic #yeosang series #ateez series #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez au #ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #imagine this part with the previous part #too much would have happened in one chapter and i didn't want that

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reidgraygubler · 4 years ago

Text

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 3

Title: A Different Type of High (part three)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: mostly fluff, but there is some angst

Content Warning: swearing, mentions of withdrawal and symptoms of withdrawal, talks of depression and suicide (but not for a sentence), mentions of overdose, (if i missed anything that needs to be tagged, please let me know!)

Word Count: 6,148

Summary: Spencer keeps his promise and takes Reader to get coffee before NA. While at the coffee shop, Reader meets one of Spencer’s co-workers and finds out who he actually works for.

A/N: i don’t have much to say other than… i don’t know if it actually snows in quantico virginia or dc. everywhere i’ve looked told me yes and told me no.. so i just made it snow. so if im wrong about that sorry o.o and, this one mentions the episode ‘elephant’s memory’ season 3 episode 16 (i think) anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist! and here’s a series moodboard i made on pintrest!

previous part series masterlist next part

{***}{***}{***}

Three firm knocks came from the front door of my apartment. I looked towards the door as I struggled to tie my shoes. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as I stood up. My sweater was on the hook by the front door, so I can’t even excuse myself for running behind. It was just my anxiety causing me to be a little slow.

So with that, I walked up to the front door to answer it. I’m not sure why I was expecting anyone other than Spencer, but for some reason, my body was telling me it was someone else. But when I opened the door, a smile spread across my face when I saw Spencer.

Small snowflakes were sitting, and melting, in his hair as he stood in the hallway outside my own world. His nose and cheeks were a light rosy pink color because of the coldness outside. A dark plaid scarf was wrapped around his neck and hung over his unbuttoned jacket. And his eyes had a certain sparkle that I couldn’t seem to look away from.

“Hey,” Spencer smiled at me as he ruffled his hair, getting the snowflakes out. I stayed silent for a moment too long and kept my eyes on him.

“Hey,” I blinked and shook my head, “I’m almost done… I, uh, was just… Do you want to come… Come in,” I kept my voice low as I asked. I stepped back and pulled the door open.

“Thanks,” he smiled before stepping into my apartment. I looked around my home, realizing that it was a little on the messier side.

“Sorry… Sorry for the mess. I usually don’t… I don’t really have visitors here. And, I guess I sort of forgot that you were coming over,” I bit my lips together.

“Oh, don’t… Don’t worry about it, really. My apartment is pretty messy too,” he brushed my messiness off like it was nothing. I looked around my home one last time before grabbing my sweater off the hook. “It’s starting to snow a little hard out there, we should get going,” Spencer cringed as he looked towards the window, which was covered by the cheap dollar store curtains.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m all ready,” I looked at him and smiled. He looked back at me before raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have a coat?” He asked, watching as I grabbed my apartment keys. I shoved them in my pocket as I looked at him.

“No, this is enough,” I smiled at him. Spencer nodded before following me out. “So, where was your trip to?” I looked up at Spencer as we stepped onto the sidewalk. He was wrapping a scarf around his neck before tucking it away into his coat.

“Someplace in Texas,” he nodded as he buttoned the last button. He smiled at me before putting an arm around me. I just assumed he did it because I didn’t have an actual coat and just a sweater. “Work stuff… Kinda scary…”

“How does a work trip get scary?” I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at the ground. A very fine layer of snow was dusting the sidewalk, letting our footprints leave tracks as we walked. The snow was coming down like little cotton balls, so our footprints didn’t last very long. I always forget how cold it gets in the Winter.

“Well, uh,” Spencer kept his voice low as he spoke. I raised an eyebrow before looking back up at him. “It’s a long story,” he added in an even lower voice.

“I have time for a long story,” I mumbled with a shrug.

“It’s a really long story,” he looked down at me. I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows. It’d take a lot to get this story from him. I’m not even sure if it would be worth the fight...

The chilliness of the air nipped at the back of my neck and arms through my sweater, causing me to shiver. Spencer looked down at me with concern in his eyes. “We need to get you a proper jacket. It’s too cold out for you to be walking in just a sweater and jeans,” he spoke, his tone coming up an octave. I refrained from rolling my eyes because of him changing the subject. I’ll of course bring it up later. He’s clearly not telling me anything about what happened.

“I’m okay, really. With just this,” I tugged on my sweater. Spencer looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. “Really, Spencer. It’s fine. I don’t think I have money for a coat anyways,” I shrugged it off as nothing. Spencer looked away from me, thinking about something to say. Then he suddenly pulled his scarf off and wrapped it around my neck. “I’m fine!” I exclaimed as I stepped away from him. “Spencer, if being cold is the only thing that gives me feeling, then let me be cold,” I looked up at him, “I’m going through enough withdrawal to be depressed and shit. Just let me be cold,” I pulled the scarf off and handed it back over to him. The scarf stayed draped in my hand, swaying in the wind, between Spencer and me.

Spencer stared at the scarf in my hand before looking up at my face. I couldn’t exactly read the expression he wore, but he was definitely upset about my sudden mood change. He slowly shook his head as he pushed the scarf to me.

“Keep it. If you don’t want a jacket and you won’t let me buy you one, I want you to keep my scarf,” he looked up at my face before taking the scarf from my hand. He carefully wrapped it around my neck and placed his hands on my shoulders. I rolled my eyes before smiling at him. “Please, I have another one at home,”

“Are you too stubborn to take no for an answer?” I asked as I started walking again. Spencer laughed as he caught up to my pace. I smiled as he returned his arm around my shoulders. I leaned more into his embrace.

“That would be correct,” he looked down at me and smiled. I rolled my eyes again and shook my head.

We stayed silent on the remainder of the walk, it wasn’t a far walk from my apartment to the coffee shop. Occasionally, Spencer would crack a joke or two, causing me to laugh. Which was good. I missed a good laugh or two.

“So, do any of your work friends know… about this?” I looked up at Spencer as we walked side-by-side into a coffee shop. It was probably a good bet to say that he probably frequents more often than not. “This being you and going to NA, you and you’re… and you and me,” I stopped myself from saying any more, mostly because I knew he hated when we talked about our issues outside of NA or the community center. I understood why he hated it, but it didn’t leave much left to talk about.

“No, no they don’t,” he mumbled as we stepped in line. There were three or four other people in front of us. Just a short wait, that’s it. I’m okay with waiting, in all honesty. The longer we’re here, the longer we are away from the community center. And God knows we both hate that place... “And I’d prefer if it stayed that way,” he spoke, mostly to himself, like he was reminding himself that no one knew of this secret life he has.

“I see,” I whispered and stepped closer to him. Spencer looked down at me before wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I looked down and smiled as he held me closer. “I’ve never been here before,” I looked around the cafe, taking in the atmosphere of the place. It was comfy and cozy. As opposed to the outside, which was cold and snowy.

“Pretty good. Although, it’s kinda hard for me to say no to coffee,” he laughed as he stepped forward in line. I returned the laughter and nodded.

“What do you get? Normal black coffee? Or a fun drink?” I looked up at him. Spencer looked back down at me and thought.

“Usually just plain coffee with cream and some sugar,” he nodded as he looked towards the front at the menu. I followed his gaze and looked over the menu myself. “What about you?”

“Uh,” I shifted on my feet and looked back at his face, “I just... I don’t really drink coffee or anything,” I crossed my arms over my chest. Spencer hummed as he looked down at me. “I guess hot chocolate is okay,” I whispered and looked back up at Spencer.

“Hot chocolate, pretty good,” he spoke as he shoved his other hand in his pocket to pull out his wallet. We both silently stepped up to the counter.

“Hey there, what can I get you guys?” The barista had a certain chipper-ness to her tone. It was probably from all the caffeine she consumes on a daily basis. Or it was the fact that she’s been awake for a million hours and is just tired. Probably the former...

“Large coffee, plain… Room for sugar and cream,” Spencer smiled at the barista. I shoved my hands in my pocket, hoping to find a spare bill or two. But when I pulled my hand out and it was empty, I frowned. Of course, I don’t have extra money. I’m a 22-year-old drug addict (Recovering… Recovering drug addict), who buys street drugs and can barely pay rent on time. Why would I have extra money shoved into my pocket?

“I don’t need anything,” I looked up at Spencer and forced a fake smile on my lips. He frowned and looked at the barista, who was watching the two of us with a friendly smile.

“No, no, my treat. Don’t worry about it,” He gestured to the counter. He removed his arm from my shoulder and pulled money from his wallet. I looked at him with wide eyes before looking back at the barista.

“Uh, small hot chocolate… Thanks,” I kept my voice low, mostly because my anxiety was going crazy. No one’s ever gotten me a drink before, much less anything.

The barista smiled at Spencer and I before taking the money from him. I glanced at him, watching him place the change into the tip jar. He looked down at me with a small smile before guiding me over to where a sign that said “Pick Up Here” sat.

“You didn’t have to buy me a drink, Spencer,” I whispered as we stayed close to one another. He shrugged as he shoved both hands into his pocket. “No, seriously, it’s okay,”

“It isn’t okay, because it’s cold outside and having a nice hot drink is always nice.” Spencer looked down at me and shrugged, “Just accept the kind gesture,” he lifted a hand and placed it on my shoulder.

“I’ve never had someone just buy me something before. I mean,” I stopped myself from talking because the end of that statement had to do with drugs. “Ya know?” I glanced at him, hoping he’d just know what I meant.

“Well, that’ll have to change, won’t it,” he whispered and smiled softly. I stared at him and shrugged. I shifted my gaze from his face and to the ground between us.

“Here’s that hot chocolate and coffee for you two.” A different barista smiled at Spencer and I as he placed two paper cups on the counter. Spencer grabbed both cups and handed one over to me. We both turned to leave.

“Listen, Spencer, hot chocolate is one thing. But a coat? That’s a whole other thing,” I spoke before taking a sip of my hot chocolate. I hummed as the warmth spread through my body. He smiled at me before grasping my hand.

“C’mon,” Spencer started as he pulled me towards the door of the cafe. I could feel a smile tug on my lips as we walked past a new rush of people.

“Reid?” a woman’s voice spoke, stopping Spencer and I in our tracks. He looked away from me and towards the owner of the voice. I followed his gaze and saw a thin brunette. I didn’t like the way he pulled his hand away from mine like he didn’t want to be caught with someone.

“H-Hi, Emily,” Spencer stared at her with wide eyes. The tone and shakiness in his voice definitely told the person and I that he was anxious that this was happening. Which was valid, considering we were just talking about his friends and co-workers and it’d be bad if they found out about NA.

“Emily… Prentiss. I work with Spencer,” She smiled as she looked at me and stuck out a hand. Spencer still has to tell me what his occupation is. Whenever I asked him where he works, he always said he didn’t like talking about it or that it’d worry me. So, this’ll be a fantastic conversation topic on the way to the community center.

I copied the same stare that Spencer held in his eyes. My eyes were glued to her hand. And, no doubt was my anxiety higher than his. “And you are,” she asked after a moment of my staring and silence. Her smile was still kind, but it was a little worrisome. And, her stare scared me, almost like she was reading me or something.

“Right, right, sorry,” I muttered as I placed my hand in hers. I muttered my name and looked at her. She raised her eyebrow before her eyes shifted to look at Spencer.

“How do you know Spencer,” Emily asked, pulling her hand away from mine. I glanced at Spencer, silently pleading for him to take the lead on this question. I really didn’t want to answer this question because I didn’t know how to answer it.

“Friend from the library,” Spencer spoke up with a certain… fakeness to his tone. It was obvious he was lying. It looked like Emily picked up on that too. With the way she pointedly stared at Spencer.

“How do you think I met him?” I looked up at her and shrugged. I looked at the clock that was hanging on the wall and sighed. “If we’re walking, we’re gonna be late,” I looked back at Spencer and spoke firmly. Spencer looked down at me and nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Emily,” Spencer looked back at his friend and smiled. Emily looked between the two of us before allowing us to leave.

“It was nice meeting you,” she smiled at me as we finally left. I flashed her a nervous smile just as the door closed.

Once we were finally outside, Spencer wrapped his arm back around me. I could feel my body get frigid, I played it off as the temperature of the outside even though it was the return of Spencer’s affection. I really enjoyed the affection, but what I didn’t like was his sudden lack of affection the second we see someone he knows. I understand why he did it, but I hated it. I’m a secret.

“Who’s Emily?” I asked, my tone low. I tried not to sound jealous. Spencer’s my best friend, and that’s it. I don’t like anyone like that, and I probably never will. “I mean, I know she’s someone you work with… But you never tell me anything about what you do for work, Spencer,”

“She’s, uh,” he looked down at me. I kept my eyes away from him and stayed silent as I waited for my answer. “Yeah, she’s one of my co-workers.” He nodded. I looked back up at him and furrowed my eyebrows.

“Where is it you guys work? Because it’s clearly not a Starbucks,” I asked, pressing him again about his occupation. “I mean, because if it is Starbucks, can you get me a job?” I smiled at him. Spencer laughed and shook his head. “Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me where you work… But can you describe where you work?”

“No it’s not Starbucks,” he looked down at me and smiled softly. And with that, our conversation about his occupation ended. I tried not sounding or acting upset. But that’s okay. I’ll get over it.

“Thanks for the hot chocolate,” I looked up at him and smiled. He returned the smile before taking a sip of his coffee.

{***}{***}{***}

“I just don’t understand… Why can’t you tell me?” I looked at Spencer as we walked towards the chairs. He glanced down at me before gesturing towards two chairs. I sat down before him, then watched as he sat down beside me. “Do you work someplace super duper embarrassing? Oh my god, are you a stripper?” I turned to look up at him. Spencer glared at me, a teeny-tiny smile growing on his lips. “Oh my god, you are,” I whispered as I moved closer to him. My butt was on the very edge of my chair so I could be as close as I could to him. “Can you show me somethi-”

“What, no! I’m not a stripper,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows before laughing. I returned the laughter and looked up at him. He looked over his shoulders to see if anyone was nearby, or close enough to hear our conversation. “Why don’t we talk about this when we’re done here… No one here needs to hear our conversation,” Spencer whispered as he looked back at me. I looked at him before reaching out to hold his hand. He flinched slightly when I touched his hand. I looked up at him before blinking. As I went to pull my hand away from him, his grip tightened around my hand. “Does that sound good? I’ll be honest and answer any questions you have,” he looked down at our hands and nodded. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, whether that be saliva or nerves he was swallowing back. A light shade of pink grew on his face, coming up from his neck.

“Yeah, yeah that works,” I looked down at my lap. The scarf was draped over my legs, keeping me warm a little bit. Jacob stood up in the middle of the circle to introduce everyone, and I already wanted the night to be over. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Spencer looking over at me as I silently prayed for death to take me now. “My place or yours?” I smiled softly before looking back at him.

“Yours since we’re already walking back there,” he dropped his head to his shoulder before looking at me. I smiled and turned to face Jacob.

{***}{***}{***}

“Uh, I don’t have much in the means of food. I might have a can of spaghetti-o’s… If you’re hungry,” I spoke as I pulled the scarf off my neck and placed it on the hook, along with my sweater.

“Oh, I’ll just have a glass of water,” Spencer spoke as he pulled his coat off. He placed his coat right on the hook beside my sweater. I nodded before walking over to the small kitchenette area.

“You can have a seat anywhere, couch, armchair, floor... “ I grabbed two glasses before filling them with water. I walked back to the living room, my eyes down on the ground.

“So,” I whispered as I set the glasses on the coffee table. Spencer, who was sitting on the couch, leaned over and picked one up. I sat on the opposite end of the couch before curling up into the corner. “Emily seems very nice,” I looked at him, watching as he sipped his water.

“She is… Everyone I work with is like family to me,” Spencer looked at me before placing his glass back on the coffee table. “It’s frustrating because...” he started, but he didn’t finish his thought. I furrowed my eyebrows and stared at him.

“What’s frustrating?” I asked, watching as he furrowed his eyebrows. He looked back at me for a moment before exhaling.

“It’s frustrating… Because I constantly ask for help and no one helps.” Spencer looked down at his lap. I raised my eyebrow as I turned to face him more.

“How are you asking for help? And… I thought you said no one knows,” I whispered as I laid my head on the back of the couch. Spencer glanced at me before looking back down at his hands. He was pulling at fingers, his joints quietly popping. “Spencer, if no one knows what’s going on, then they can’t help you,” I kept my voice low because I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. I’m sure with Spencer I couldn’t ever say the wrong thing. I mean, he couldn’t say the wrong thing to me…

“No, no… I think they know… And that scares me,” he whispered as he looked back at his hands. “I’ve been with them for so long, and they know me enough to know when something’s wrong,” he shrugged before shifting in his seat.

“What is it you do for work? You still haven’t told me,” I looked back at him as I asked. His gaze shifted between the couch and my face. The way his eyes shifted across my face and his silence told me he was trying to find the words to say but was having a hard time formulating them.

“I work for the FBI,” he whispered, dropping his gaze away from my face.

I could feel my heart drop to my stomach and a certain sickness rise up my esophagus. It took everything in me not to be sick at the moment. My hand balled up into a tight fist, and I could feel my nails digging into my palms so hard, I’m sure if they weren’t nubs I would have bled. The FBI… The police… People who arrest people who buy and sell drugs illegally. People like me...

“The… The FBI?” I asked in a whisper. My voice was shaky as I spoke. Spencer looked back at me and nodded lightly. I shifted in my seat, my body wanting to leave. “You’re not… You’re not an undercover agent, are you?” I swallowed roughly as I stared at him.

“What? No,” Spencer scowled as he looked at me. I looked away from him, mouthing the word ‘Sorry,’ but not even meaning the apology. “I’m not an undercover agent, and I’m not going to arrest you. No, I’m like you. I’m trying too get better.” He whispered as he looked back down on the couch. “Last week, when I was on the work trip… I was saving a kid… Some teenager… He was… He was bullied growing up and in high school. And, he was…”

“Victim turned bad guy?” I asked, interrupting him. He glanced over at me and nodded lightly.

“Yeah, yeah that’s basically what had happened. They were going to shoot him,” he whispered. I glanced at him and noted that tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“They? They being the other members of your team?” I wrinkled my nose as I asked. He glanced at me again and nodded. I moved to stand up, but Spencer reached out and grabbed my wrist to stop me from standing. I looked at him with wide eyes and terror on my face. His features softened as he looked at me, realizing that this was getting too real for me too fast.

“And, I… I couldn’t let this kid die. So I stood between this kid, this kid that I only knew so much about, and nine police officers and federal agents and their guns,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he went on. My eyes grew wet as he spoke.

“That’s really stupid of you, Spencer,” I whispered as I shift back to be sitting on the couch. Spencer laughed lightly and nodded. “Don’t… Don’t do that again,” I rubbed the underside of my nose and shook my head.

“Yeah, it was stupid of me, wasn’t it… But, this kid is alive,” he whispered. I looked over at him and watched as he moved closer to me. “You can trust me. I’m trying every bit as you are to get better,” he spoke as he readjusted his grip from my wrist to my hand. I swallowed roughly and looked down at our hands.

“You… I know we don’t know we don’t know each other too well… But you can’t die, Spencer. I don’t care if it’s because of work, because of a bad guy, or because of someone at work, or if it’s because of drugs… But, you can’t die,” I whispered as I looked back at him. I could really feel the tears racing down my cheeks. “I’ve never been clean as long as I have been. I don’t think I can do this without you,” I roughly rubbed my cheeks and shook my head. “I’m… I’m sorry, that’s stupid,” I scoffed and shook my head.

“That’s not stupid. Nothing about it all is stupid.” Spencer looked at me as he spoke. He lifted a hand to wipe my cheeks with a thumb. I looked at him before looking at the ground. “I’m having a rough time… With, uh, with, well, you know. I’ve stopped, uh, it. And last week’s case was the first case without it. I just didn’t care what happened, even if that meant dying.” He whispered as his grip on my hand tightened. “If you can do it… I can do it,”

“Accountability buddies,” I smiled as I reminded him of our promise to each other. Spencer looked back at me and smiled.

“Yes, accountability buddies,” he sighed as he pulled me close for a hug. I took a deep breath, breathing in his smell. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” I wiped my cheeks again, “Mister FBI Agent,” I looked up at him and smiled, “Can you stay the night?” I asked, looking away from his face and at the messy coffee table.

“Are you sure?” He looked down at me as he rested his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him and nodded.

“I think it’d make me feel better… Knowing that you’re… That you’re here,” I glanced at him. I wasn’t sure if I was embarrassed or not. But, I definitely felt weird asking him to stay here. Just something about him being near for the night made me feel safe. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I understand if it’s weird or what-”

“Yeah, I think I can make that work,” he nodded and looked at me. I smiled before throwing my arms back around him. “Just don't be surprised if I’m not here when you wake up,” he laughed lightly as rested his hands on my back, “I just… I know I’ll have to be at the office early,” he further explained.

“That’s okay,” I nodded and looked up at him, “I promise I won’t make it a habit… Of asking you to stay the night, that is,” I looked away from him and shrugged. Spencer laughed and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” he muttered. I probably wasn’t supposed to hear him say that, but I did. And it kinda made me feel happy, like unusually happy. “Is it alright if I use the bathroom?” He asked as he stood up.

“Oh, yeah, yep,” I copied his action and stood up. I looked to the ground as I lead him towards the bathroom, “Here you go,” I gestured into the open room. Spencer smiled at me before entering, pressing the door behind him. I stared at the surface of the door before stepping away. My fingers were tapping together as I walked back to the living room. My anxiety was a little high, and I wasn’t sure why, and the tapping was helping me calm down a bit. I had no secrets in the bathroom, nothing embarrassing or dangerous for him to see.

I silently went back to sit on the couch, pulling my throw blanket over my shoulders. My apartment wasn’t necessarily cold. But there was enough of a chill to be noticeable. Well, to me at least. I’m not so sure about Spencer. I know I could just turn the heat up, but heating bills are expensive.

I instinctively stood up when the bathroom door clicked open. Spencer stepped out, drying his hands on his shirt. I internally cringed at my lack of paper towels or hand towels in the bathroom.

“Sorry,” I looked up at him and cringed. He looked back at me and shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he smiled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. I stared at him for a moment before walking away from the couches. “I really don’t have an issue sleeping on the couch,” he took a larger step to walk beside me. I glanced at me and shrugged.

“It’s cold,” I pointed out as we walked closer to my room. Spencer looked at me and smiled. “Besides, my bed can hold two people,” I smiled, mostly to myself. My bed wasn’t big, to begin with, two people probably shouldn’t be sharing. But, here we are… Because I didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Okay, okay,” Spencer laughed lightly as we entered the room. I looked up at himand smiled more as he looked at my bed. “If you say so,”

{***}{***}{***}

Okay, I was right, yet wrong at the same time. My bed can hold two people. But, it shouldn’t. Even though I’m smaller than Spencer, we were both on the very edge of the mattress. We had been in bed for an hour, and it’d been about 45 minutes since I shut the light off, leaving us in total darkness. I wouldn’t say I was uncomfortable, but it was difficult to be comfortable.

I rolled over onto my side, my back facing Spencer. Spencer was stiff on top of the blanket, making it impossible to get comfortable under it. He laid perfectly still on his back with his hands folded on his stomach.

“You know you can get under the blanket,” I spoke out loud as I looked up at him. He looked over at me, and it was clear that he hadn’t fallen asleep yet either. “Or, I can go get the blanket from the living room and you can use that,” I added in a whisper.

“It’s fine,” he nodded before shifting to move the blanket.

Once Spencer was actually under the blanket, he rolled on his side, so my back was pressed against his chest. My body stiffened once he relaxed. After a few minutes, I finally let my body relax and melt into the bed… That was until Spencer draped his arm over my body.

“It’s okay,” I spoke before he even got the chance to move away from me, “It’s fine, you’re… You can stay there,” I shivered because I was cold and not because of my sudden anxiety. I knew he could sense my nerves. “It’s fine, really, Spencer,” I placed a hand on top of his to keep him from moving away from me. “Are you asleep?” I whispered, already knowing the answer. I knew we both wouldn’t be asleep anytime soon. The cuddling happening between us is obviously something we’ve never experienced before. I mean, I don’t know about Spencer, but I’ve never cuddled another human being other than my own mother (but even then she hadn’t cuddled me in more than 10 years).

“Yes, I’m still awake,” he spoke, his voice low. His grip around me got a little tighter, pulling me closer to his chest. The way he held on to me was comparable to a child holding their stuffed animal, and I was honestly okay with it. “I’m assuming you’re still awake, considering you just asked me a question,”

“I don’t usually fall asleep for a while after I go to bed,” I mumbled, pulling the blanket closer to me, “I spend most of my nights in bed, awake till 4 am,” I sighed. I silently hoped that tonight would be different though.

“I’m sorry about that,” Spencer whispered. I shrugged as I shifted closer to him and further to the middle of the bed. “Maybe you should try to sleep earlier tonight,” “Yeah… Maybe,”

{***}{***}{***}

I woke up before him. Our legs were tangled together, and he was holding me close against his chest. For the first time in a long time, I actually slept well. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the enormous space heater beside me, or because another person was actually in bed with me, but I was getting very hot.

I looked up at Spencer’s face, wanting to stay like this for a while. Although, I knew we couldn’t stay like this. He’d have to leave soon to go to work. He just looked so peaceful asleep. And, I was so comfortable lying here…

I widened my eyes as I stared at him. My heart started beating faster, and I wasn’t sure if I could get it to slow. Part of me was worried that it’d wake him up, and another part of me was okay with it all. But, why was I worried as much as I was? And, why was it only when I was with Spencer I felt this way? What was going on? Crap...

I quickly closed my eyes and nuzzled my body closer to him when I saw that he started stirring. I threw my arms over his body and pressed my face to his chest. His heart beating and breath was somewhat soothing for me.

Spencer carefully shifted in his space before pulling my arms off him. I refrained from pouting. The bed shifted as Spencer sat up in the bed, partly bringing the blanket with him. He tossed the blanket back to me, lightly covering me again.

“Do you have to go to work,” I whined as I looked at Spencer as he slid out of my bed. He looked down at me with wide eyes.

“I thought you were asleep,” he half muttered. I sat up before rubbing my eyes. Sleep? Pfft, I never sleep. He should know that! We just talked about it last night. “And, yes, I have to go to work,” he stood up and turned to look at me. I looked up at him and frowned.

“Nah, I never sleep, we talked about that last night,” I shook my head. Spencer sat at the foot of the bed to put his shoes back on. “I just have a bed to lay in and wallow in self-pity when I’m not at the community center,” I rubbed my nose. I pushed the blanket off me and crawled over to sit beside him. “And when I’m not with you,” I looked up at him.

“You don’t do anything during the week?” He looked over at me with a raised eyebrow. I shrugged and shook my head. “Really?”

“I mean, Wednesdays are really the only days I have stuff. I guess I could do chores and stuff,” I looked towards the door, remembering the mess in my living room, “I know what you’re thinking, I should get a job. But that’s so hard. I don’t have any job experience,”

“I never said I was thinking that,” Spencer turned to face me. I dropped my shoulders and looked up at him. “How do you-”

“I’m friends with the owner of the building and he knows I live on hard times. And, mom had some money left behind,” I dropped my head so I wasn’t looking at him.

“I’m not judging you,” he spoke, his tone very insistent. I sighed and nodded.

“You should go, before you’re late,” I looked back up at him, “I don’t want to be the reason why you’re late. Emily already knows about me. We don’t need the others asking about me. Some random girl you slept with,” I smiled. Spencer looked over at me, trying to hold back his smile.

“You’re not going to stay in bed all day, are you?” He asked, standing up. I looked up at him and shook my head.

“I told you, I can do chores and stuff,” I shrugged and looked around my room, this time at the laundry room. “Will I see you again before next Wednesday?” I asked as I moved closer to the edge of the bed.

“That’ll entirely depend on work,”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Agent Spencer,” I smiled at him before standing up. Spencer glared at me for a moment before laughing, “Are you like 007?” I asked leading him back out of my room.

“No, I’m not like James Bond,”

a different type of high taglist: @shameleswhorehourstm, @itsametaphorbriansblog, @bxtchboy69, @sammypotato67, @seninjakitey

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Alliance

Chapter 1 – The Bounty

Summary: The child has fallen into the arms of the infamous Black Sun crime organization. In order to get him back they offer the Mandalorian a trade, one life for another.

Authors notes/warning: Heres the first part hope you all enjoy it! Let me know if you want to be tagged! Also there one weirdly large space inbetween two paragraphs I blame the app. TW: blood, swearing, humans being sold

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles

Word count: 4.0K

Galactic Core, Coruscant

Mandos POV

The Mandalorian walks quickly along the pavement of the galaxy’s capital planet moving between the diverse cast of races skirting in and out the doors of the skyscrapers lining the streets. He’s in a hurry, he’s not here for business or pleasure. He is here for the only thing that matters, the child. He had been taken by the Black Sun crime syndicate. If he wasn’t so concerned for the child’s well-being, he’d be embarrassed at having lost him to a band of mercenaries and gangsters. He enters into the underground bunker pushing open the doors, knocking out a guard in the process.

“Where is he?” the modulated voice reverberates through the empty hall.

“Petulance will get you nowhere Mando.” A sharp voice fills the air as a woman appears from a nearby hallway, she’s tall, slender, green, almost reptilian in appearance . Her dark black hair was fashioned into a high ponytail. It was Savan, the niece of the recently deceased Prince Xizor and the leader of the Black Sun crime organization.

“Where is he” the Mandalorian asks again, this time hovering his hand over his blaster.

“Let’s try this again,” the voice says “keeping in mind you hold no cards here.”

“What do you want Savan?” He asks.

“ A simple favour really and knowing your reputation I believe an agreement between the two of us can be reached.” She walks down towards him, black nails gently dragging along his armour as she circles behind him. “In layman’s terms, you do something for me and I will do something for you.” Her hand stops on his chest plate.

“Armours not for sale” He states flatly. She tuts.

“I would never ask a Mandalorian to break his creed. No I speak of your ability as a bounty hunter. I know you do not work for free, but I believe you will make an exception for such precious cargo” she says summoning the egg, revealing the child “I assume we have a deal.”

“Let me speak with him then yes.”

“Any move out of line, even one step, the child dies. You understand?” He nods and heads over to the bassinette.

“Hey kid, I’ll be back for you soon, don’t give them too much trouble” he says, lovingly stroking the kids head ”What do you need?” he asks standing up.

“Money, unfortunately credits are far and few between since Xizor's death. I have heard whispers of an asset that I believe will sell for a high price on the black market, putting the Black Sun back on top. A witch of Vryssa. I am assuming you can link her location from the name. The planet is located in the outer rim territories, Dalicron sector, the coordinates are K-19. If you are not back within five days I will assume you have failed.”

“I won’t” he deadpans.

“Many have said the same thing yet here we are. Whoever this so called witch is, she is dangerous”

“Must be a valuable asset, to expend so many men.”

“You have no idea,” Savan says. “Now go, five days Mandalorian, or the child’s future will fall into my hands.”

He exits the Black Suns headquarters. If this witch was as dangerous as Savan was to have him believe then he’d be grateful for another set of hands.

Landing on Navarro, he makes his way over to the bar, hoping to find who he’s looking for. He enters into a crowd cheering on what appears to be a drinking contest, placing a gold bar on the counter and pushing it towards the two contestants, “Moneys on the soldier.” Slamming down an empty glass, Cara Dune wipes her mouth and exclaims “Mando! What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Looking for some help on a job.” He retorts.

“Well you came to the right place. How can I be of assistance.” He explains the situation and the two make their way to the Razor Crest. “You know the bounty hunter Fett, heard he went to Vryssa, took out a whole city to get someone. Heard him talk about buldobeasts, some kind of invisible creature that could rip you limb from limb” she says with a wicked smile.

“This your way of asking me how much the job pays?”

“Maybe” she says sitting down in the seat next to him.

“Nothing, not for me, got some credits with your name on them though, if we're successful.”

“Please Mando, when have we ever failed?” She laughs “You think it’s really a witch” she ponders.

“I don’t even know what a witch is.” he says, landing the ship.

Outer rim, Vryssa

“Well must be nice” Cara says, exiting the ship and looking around.

“What?” He asks, dropping down from the ship's belly.

“Not having the worst ship in the lot.” She laughs, the visor turns to her offering an undeniable look of annoyance. She’s right, but he’d never admit it. The ship stands out amongst the low brow technology of the planet. An outcrop, barely touched by the hand of the empire or the republic, nothing more than a refueling station. A good place to hide he thinks. They enter a run-down inn, Cara taps on the front desk getting the keeper's attention “We're looking for a girl.”

“Not that kind of establishment. Try down the road.” The Mandalorian grabs the guy by the collar, usually he’d be more diplomatic, but this was a time sensitive job.

“He doesn’t like to ask twice,” Cara says, “a woman, a so-called witch, ring any bells.”

“Ay she’s a myth nothing more than a rumour to scare children away from the woods. There’s no magic here.” Dropping the guy on his feet and brushing him off the Mandalorian exits the bar with Cara behind him in search of the woods.

“It’s a whole forested planet, you should have asked the guy which woods he meant.” Cara exclaims in frustration. Before the Mandalorian can respond a small figure belonging to a Gree woman appears.

“I know of whom you seek. My name’s Miwa and I'll tell ya where to find your witch, for a price.”

“The price is your life” He says, hand reaching to his blaster.

“Fair enough,” she says, slightly disappointed, but seemingly unsurprised, “Old woman landed, maybe 25 years ago, didn’t say a word. She had a baby, wandered off into the forest, never seen again. Some people claim to hear her in the woods messing with their heads, least they get too close. Others say she turned into a buldobeast preying on any who enter the woods without her permission. I’ve heard claims that she sacrificed the child in order to gain eternal youth, think that’s why we keep seeing you lot show up. They think her blood can elongate life.”

“Where’s the last place she was seen?” Mando asks, not interested in fables and myths. The Gree gesture for them to follow her, she leads them to a small pathway. “This is where they go in, she must be worth a fortune, for the trouble she’s worth.” Miwa says as Cara and Mando enter the woods. With each step the path seems to shrink and the trees seemingly get taller, the two moons offering little in ways of light.

“You believe in folk tales Mando?” Cara ask, he gives her a look of disbelief

“Hey don’t judge I didn’t until we got in here” she says. He pauses, pulling out his scope, in the distance he sees a small stone cabin, seemingly empty. The perimeters littered with armour, and what he can only assume are the remains of the bounty hunters it once belonged to. He offers it to Cara and she looks through it. “Shit” she mutters

“Hopefully, she won’t be expecting two of us” he replies.

Your POV

You stride through the forest weaving between the large conifers. They stretch high, blocking out the light emitted from the twin moons, they’re old, as old as the planet itself. You’re in pursuit of your next meal, a juvenile Acalay that you’ve been tracking for miles. The large crustaceans were introduced to the forests when an incompetent smuggler forgot to lock their gate while refueling in a time before the empire. They have roamed the forests ever since, but they have become far and few between in recent years, due in part to their popularity in gladiatorial battles. For an untrained hunter their size would be intimidating, but your grandmother had taught you the way long ago, so for you its size indicated months worth of food. Silence was key, one wrong move, one misstep, one branch cracking, and one of its six claws would snap you in half like the twig that gave you away. You had taken out larger ones at a younger age. Yes, your grandmother had taught you how to hunt, how to track, how to feel the earth around you

She had also taught you about your mother, who died saving you and your father executed for not revealing your whereabouts. As a child she would tell you that you were one of the galaxy's best kept secrets. Quickly, you realized you were not like the other children and as you continued to grow the puzzle of your past was slowly pieced together. She would tell you stories of the old war, and how it came to be. How your mother fought against a cult in order to maintain a balance in the universe. With each new revelation you became increasingly aware that your existence was to be kept hidden. On your eightieth birthday your grandmother explained how your mother was a jedi and that you shared her gift, an ability to use the force. That’s why you were here on this planet, for safekeeping. She told you she had been training you in the ways of the jedi, as she had trained your mother, and that she would continue to do so until her time came. So you lived alone, here amongst the trees. Well, not completely alone, a small vulptice kept you company. It was adapted to a forest environment with a body of roots, a belly covered in deep green moss and grass growing over top. Every spring it would bloom flowers of brilliant colours. You had named it Anya and it had been your companion, and closest friend over the years. The mysticism of your grandmother's arrival had sparked rumors, ones that stretched far and wide. The locals had labelled her a witch, and you had become a legend of sorts. These rumors brought outsiders, with their flashy weapons and armour hard as steel. Since your grandmother's passing it had only gotten worse. Fortunately, you were an able fighter, primed to win even when up against advanced weaponry. Those who had doubted your abilities now littered the path to your house. A warning to those who would come sooner or later. You remember her words as you spot your target, “Breath child, put your focus on the tip of the arrow, listen to the breeze and it will guide you.” you lift the arrow stretching the sinew chord back until your thumb brushes against your nose. You're about to loose the arrow when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone’s here. You rush back leaping through the branches, silently moving towards your home. You stop above the stone cottage, staring down you see a tall figure approaching. It moves towards the door, avoiding the helmets and bones of those who came before. Silently you float to the ground, taking aim you make your presence known “drop the blaster”. Your voice cuts through the silence and the figure turns around. A Mandalorian. Your grandmother had told you of the Mandalorian race, this would not be an easy task. Mandos POV Placing the blaster on the floor, he slowly turns around, where had she come from? He hadn’t heard anyone approaching, normally he was more in tune with his surroundings. He must be distracted. Slowly he turns around, prepared to face whatever awaits him, but as his gaze sets on you he’s taken aback. You weren't an old lady or a wicked creature, but a young woman. The light of the two moons revealed the features of your face unobscured by the brown cloak that was loosely wrapped around you. The light’s enough to make out a glimmer of purple in the eyes, a strand of white hair and faint purple markings etched along your cheek and brow bones. “Why are you here” you ask, voice level, emotionless. “Don’t even think about it.” you interject before he can answer your first question, or make a grab for a concealed weapon. “I see 15 points of entry for this arrow 4 of which will hit vital organs. The closest hospital worth any salt is a planet away. I don’t know what brought you here but you should leave. Now.” “I cant” he responds

“Then I’m sorry” you respond. Before you have time to loose the arrow, Cara appears from behind you knocking you in the back of the head with her blaster. You hit the floor, as you do Cara pulls back your hood revealing the rest of your face making sure you’re knocked out.

“Maybe she did sacrifice a kid for eternal life” Cara remarks, cuffing your hands and feet taking note of the ruin symbols tattooed on your wrists.

“ Probably the kid the old woman had with her when she landed.” He says lifting your body and throwing it over his shoulder with ease.

“Can probably get some credits for this, as well” she says, picking up the small fox-like creature that's appeared from behind a nearby bush. Placing it into a cage before heading back to the Razor Crest.

“She floated down from that tree, that’s how she snuck up on you. I’m not crazy Mando, it’s not the woods I know what I saw.” Cara says as he dials up the ship.

“Didn’t say anything.” he says as he jumps the ship into hyperspace.

“The look was enough. What do you think will happen to her if her blood isn’t actually life elongating?” she asks.

“Not our problem.” He says

Your POV

You open your eyes blinking slowly so as to adjust to the fluorescent lighting coming from what you can only assume is the ship belonging to the bounty hunters who had nabbed you. Your first thought goes to Anya, and when you see her asleep in a nearby cage you breathe a sigh of relief. You shake your head, unable to believe after years of dodging bounty hunters one had caught you. It was your own fault, should have expected two.

“Bastards” you mutter, using the force you slip your cuffs you reach over and hack open the restraints of your feet. You reach into the cage and pet Anya, best she stays asleep for now, until you could figure a way out of this mess. You open up the armoury, seeing that your weapons had also been taken in the ambush “Assholes” you say. You’re about to reach in when you feel a presence behind you. Turing around you clang into the Mandalorians heavily armoured chest.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be.” the modulated voice coming from the helmet says, as he somehow manages to re-bind your hands and close the armoury all at once. You offer him a swift kick to the shin, but end up hurting yourself instead.

“Fucking beskar” you murmur. “At least tell me who you're taking me to, it’d be nice to know who's putting this much effort into meeting me.” No response. He decides to bring you up to the cockpit to keep an eye on you.

”You must be the muscle that hit me on the head” you say to the statuesque woman sitting in the front seat shining a weapon.

“Sorry about that, just part of the job, Cara Dune.” She says offering you her hand and a smile. You lift up your arms motioning to the cuffs constraining you. Slowly she retracts her hands offering you a nod instead.

“How long do we have?” He asks.

“Just over two days, we'll have the kid back soon enough.” Cara says.

“Look please you don’t have to do this, I haven’t committed any crimes.” you say causing Cara to laugh

“What about the bodies in your yard.” She says.

“They were offered a choice to leave. Anything I did, I did to defend myself” You respond defensively.

Cara smiles, “Well I’m going to rest. Good luck with this.” She says gesturing to you before exiting the cockpit. You shuffle into her seat trying to get the guy in the armour to talk to you.

“Hey, ya Hi. What are they paying you? I'll double it. I’m good for it. Promise”

“Not paying me, it’s a trade.” He says

“For your kid, I can help you get him back”

“This isn’t a negotiation, now stop talking or I’ll bring you in cold.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you say leaning back defeatedly into the chair. “At least tell me what I’m getting myself into who found out?” you ask, nervous that someone had figured out that you were force sensitive. This gets a reaction, the T of the helmet finally turning to face you.

“You don’t know do you?” you say relieved, maybe you’d be fine after all.

“Don’t know what.” Now it was your turn to be silent.

Core Galaxy, Coruscant

You arrive on Coruscant, the noise of the city, and metallic buildings have you completely out of your element, there’s no using the force here, not in such public domain. Under the circumstances you weren’t even sure if you could. You’re led into a building by the Mandalorian, with Cara walking behind holding Anya in her cage. They stop in front of an oblong table and a tall, elegant woman appears from a nearby hallway, the likes of which you’ve never seen. She smiles as she approaches you with a knife. “and with a few hours to spare, excellent job.” She says.

“ The child” he says, you can feel the stress coming off of him, you’re sure she can as well.

“All things come...” she pauses “to those who wait” she finishes, as she cuts into your arm with the knife catching the light purple liquid in a small vial before handing it over to a Klatooinian, dressed all in black.

“Who are you?” you ask

“I hear your blood extends life is that true” She says, blatantly ignoring your question.

“You’re a woman of high intelligence, why don’t you tell me yourself.”

She smiles, “I figured as much.” The Klatooinian re-enters with the blood shaking his head no before exiting the room again

“Unfortunate, I had hoped you would be of use to us.” The stress of the Mandalorian has now changed to panic. “Do not worry Mandalorian the child will be returned to you. You have completed your task”

“Am I free to go then?” you ask hopefully, she pauses for a while staring at you.

“No, just because we know the truth does not mean the rest of the galaxy needs to” she approaches you again taking your cheeks in her hand moving your head around “with a confirmation of authenticity from myself you could sell for thousands of credits. Maybe even more considering your appearance, I suggest the two of you stay for the auction once she is sold then I will return the child to you. As a gesture of good faith, I will not separate you from your pet.” She pauses.

“You waiting for a thank you or something?” you ask as the Klatooinian takes your restraints from the Mandalorian and leads you away.

Mandos POV

The next morning he and Cara make their way into a large auction room packed full of buyers and sellers from around the galaxy, looking to deal in illegal goods.

“Good to know the black market is still thriving” Cara mutters. They spot Savan and make their way towards her, stopping just below the stage she's standing on.

“Thank you all for joining us today, the doors are now closed and will remain as such until the auction is completed. As the hosts, we will have the last billed item. Thank you and good luck.” She steps down towards the duo, as the auctioneer begins the bidding. She opens up the egg returning the small green child to the Mandalorian. Upon seeing his adoptive parent the child begins to coo happily. The Mandalorian picks the kid up cradling him in his left arm as they watch the auction play out. After a few hours, the call for the last item arrives and Savan makes her way up onto the stage once again.

“On behalf of the Black Sun we bring to you a rare and beautiful specimen from the outer rim. Her blood is said to elongate life, a fact which we have found to be true. A strong fighter and a great beauty she would do well anywhere from the gladiator rings to the halls of any prestigious bath house. Her blood will sell for thousands a jar. She is a gift from us to you all. Shall we start the bidding at 5 thousand credits.” After a heated bidding war you sell for the count of 200 thousand credits, to a trainer from a gladiatorial sect. He takes the chains from Savan “you’re going to be good for business.” he says smiling at you, much to your disgust. He begins to lead you away when Anya makes her appearance out from behind your cloak. You try to coax her back into hiding, but she's too curious for her own good.

“I have no need for this.” he says, kicking at her, she dodges the foot and bites down on his shin. In retaliation the trainer pulls out his blasters and shoots her dead causing you to drop to your knees. The child who had been watching you intently lets out a cry looking up to the Mandalorian. He passes the child to Cara and begins to make his way towards you. “Get up” he hears the trainer say through gritted teeth. The crack of a whip echoes throughout the hall and he sees you fall to the ground before being forced back up, walking you over to the ship. He makes it to you managing to grab one of your wrists. Using all your remaining strength you turn around and spit in his face, what he saw in your eyes wasn’t fear, but rage. “Hey buddy, keep your hands off the merchandise” the trainer says and with one last tug he pulls you away. The bleeding wounds on your calves are the last thing he sees as you disappear into the hangar. He wipes the spit off his helmet as Cara catches up to him, placing the child back into his arms. “Well that went well”. She says

The child begins to fuss, “What?” He asks it gently. The child’s tiny green hand points over to the carcass of the vulptice on the floor. “No,” he says, wagging his finger, not wanting a dead carcass stinking up his ship. The child keeps fussing and unable to deny him he places him on the floor and the kid runs over to the thing. His eyes close “No, don’t” the Mandalorian starts, but it’s too late the child falls over batting his eyelids sleepily as the fox slowly stands up. It makes its way over to the child

“Get away from him” He shouts protectively, but to his surprise the fox licks the child's face, making it giggle. “Great, now they’ve bonded” He says knowing he’d never be able to get rid of it now.

“Congrats on your ever growing family Mando” Cara responds slapping him on the back.

#alliance #the mandolarian #star wars #mando x you #mando x reader #din dijarin x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #din dijarin x reader #chapter 1 #the Bounty

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